#now whose laughing about silly armor huh

[bluedillylee]

Theory 2: while geralt and jaskier were separated geralt’s beetle mutations finally kicked in and now he’s got wings

theory 1

#the witcher #geralt #jaskier #now whose laughing about silly armor huh #it was beetle mutations all along

[fanfoolishness]

five denials and a truth (The Mandalorian)

Written for @fake-starwars-fan, who suggested this idea.  Five times Din Djarin denies he is a father, and one time he doesn’t.  Canon-compliant, spoilers for seasons 1 and 2, and gets angsty as hell. I’m so sorry, Din.  Featuring Din, Grogu, Omera, the Armorer, Peli Motto, Ahsoka Tano, Boba Fett, and Cara Dune.  3800 words.

***

i.

The sun fell beneath the crowns of the trees, leaving them awash in blues and golds, and the insects sang their chorus in the growing shadows.  Din Djarin sat at the edge of the fire, watching the child play with the other children.  Wariness hummed in the back of his mind, long years of training deeply entrenched despite the seeming peace of Sorgan.  Still, though, it was hard to remain battle-ready here, as the children laughed and played their silly games.

Omera sat on the log beside him, waving a hand to her daughter.  The girl took off eagerly to join the others.  Pinpoint flashes of light sparkled around the children as they played, the evening lightning-beetles taking wing.

“The children love your son,” she said, turning back to Din, her eyes aglow in the firelight.  “I’ve never seen a youngling like him, but they’ve truly taken to him.  My daughter’s quite envious of his frog-catching skills.”  She chuckled, voice sweet and warm.

“He’s not my son,” said Din in polite, careful tones.  He shifted slightly on the log.

Omera tilted her head.  He found her direct eye contact discomfiting, but he did not look away.  “Because he isn’t human?”

He shook his head slightly.  “No.  That has nothing to do with it.”

“Then what?  I see the way you watch out for him.  You’re watching him now, making sure he isn’t getting into trouble,” she said lightly.  “Every parent does it.”

“There are terrible people after him,” said Din, feeling uneasy in a way he couldn’t pin down.  Imps, bounty hunters, who knew what else?  The less said about it, the better.  “I’m just trying to protect him until I can find a safe place for him, that’s all.”

She arched an eyebrow as the child toddled over to them, holding a squirming lightning-beetle in his small hands, its green-gold light pulsing between his fingertips.  “Looks like he has something to show you.”

Din bent down, reaching out to take the child’s hands.  “You, uh, you caught this?” he asked gruffly.  “Huh.”  He’d seen the other children trying to do the same and failing, the agile beetles getting the better of them.  Despite himself, he was impressed.  

“Good for you.  Just don’t  -- no!  Drop it!”  He pulled the squirming beetle out of the child’s mouth and tossed it aside, watching it flash up into the sky.  The child looked at him with big eyes, ears sinking down to his shoulders.

“Oh, they’re perfectly safe to eat,” said Omera, laughing.  “We eat them now and then if things are lean.”

“Oh,” said Din.  He felt his mouth form into a smile, a reflexive action beneath the helmet.  “Uh, sorry,” he said to the child.  “Maybe next time.”

The child took another step forward, then leaned against Din’s leg, small arms curling around his shin.  Then he was off again, toddling back to the children and the waiting lightning-beetles.

“If you aren’t his father,” asked Omera, “what’s stopping you?”  She gazed at him, her face kind, her eyes questioning.  

“I’m not what he needs,” Din said.  He turned away from her, staring off into the forest, where the bandits waited.  “That’s all.”

***

ii.

The Armorer watched Din Djarin carefully, grateful that another member of the Tribe had survived.  Of course, he and his actions were the reason so many had fallen, but the Creed was unflinchingly clear.  Death in the service of protecting another Mandalorian or a foundling was the noblest end to a warrior’s life.  The price had been paid, and paid again, and she bore him no anger for it.

She asked to see the child, to see the one whose protection had merited the fragmentation and destruction of the Tribe.  The creature stared up at her, clearly tired and frail, but its eyes held a spirit she understood.  This one had seen suffering.  It was always written in the eyes of those who did not hide their faces.

She saw, too, the way Djarin angled himself toward the child.  She had heard of how he had protected it, blaster, body and beskar, against the storm that drove him from the planet.  And she remembered the tale of the enemy that had helped him defeat the mudhorn.  She began to understand.

She explained to Djarin what he must do, what the Creed demanded.  No matter that the child was linked to the Jedi, nor that Djarin knew not where to find them.  He was a resourceful man.  She had faith that he would fulfill the Creed.

The others pressed him to leave, their urgency clear.  The Imperials were coming, as they had come upon them before in the night, and she understood their fear.  They knew not the Way of the Mandalore, the honor of a warrior’s death.

Djarin dissented.  “I’m staying.  I need to help her, and I need to heal.”

His desire to assist was welcome, but she knew that this was not his path.  His path was clear. It lay in the child’s wide eyes, in his small hands, in the way Djarin spoke of the foundling with a measured distance she knew he did not keep.  The truth could not be hidden.  A Mandalorian could fool an outsider, but she was the Armorer, and the depth of his feelings toward the child was laid bare in voice and stance.

“You must go,” she said firmly.  “A foundling is in your care.  By Creed, until it is of age or reunited with its own kind, you are as its father.”

You already are, she wished to say, but she did not.  He was not ready.  Not yet.  Denial showed plain in the set of his shoulders.

“This is the Way,” she said instead, voice brisk.  “You have earned your Signet.”  Her hands were swift and precise upon his pauldron, affixing the gleaming mudhorn to its rightful place.  

There it was, the emotion she knew lay deep within him.  “Thank you,” he said, and she saw the warrior’s heart within him gentled, humbled, made vulnerable.  “I will wear it with honor.”  

There were certain truths she had long known.  The best warriors did not harden their hearts.  Too hard, and they found their deaths too quickly, the potential glory of their sacrifice fading into a meaningless waste.  Yet those that succumbed to the pain of the world could be too soft, losing the will to fight and turning to the follies of pacifism.  

The finest warriors, the truest, walked wounded through the world.  It was their battles that burned brightest in the minds of their people, their struggles that most honored the Way of the Mandalore.  

She watched Djarin and the child leave with the others, and she waited, her hammer at the ready.  She would protect the beskar and buy time for those of her Tribe to escape.  She knew she would not fall this day.  

Beneath her helmet, she smiled.  For she believed Clan Mudhorn would earn their place in legend.

***

iii.

Din returned to Peli Motto’s shop, laden with supplies from the market.  Ammunition, food and water for himself and the kid, a few more packs of bacta patches.  Wouldn’t do to head out into the deep desert unprepared, and he wasn’t sure this mining town Peli was talking about really still existed.  He unloaded the supplies onto the ramp into the Crest, and turned to look for the kid.  He’s fine, he reminded himself, but he still hated how hard it was to leave the kid sometimes, how he always felt like something was missing when the kid wasn’t in his sight.

As expected, Peli was in her office, the kid in her lap.  She was having an animated discussion with him, judging by the way his ears quivered.  As Din drew near he picked up some of their conversation.

“So there I was, fighting an infestation of womp rats the size of banthas, and this no-good nerfherder shows up wanting to know why his ship’s not ready.  I tried telling him the droids were overrun and that I’d already busted one blaster trying to shoot the damn things, and he had the nerve to -- Mando!  Back from the market, huh?” Peli asked, looking up at him.  

The kid let out an excited squeal and reached towards him.  Reluctantly, Peli lifted him up, and Din took him into his arms.  The kid settled down in the crook of his elbow like he’d been there all his life, and Din finally relaxed.

“Not the best selection I’ve ever seen, but I got what we needed,” he said.  “Thanks for watching the kid.  He’s gotten me into trouble with more than one vendor.  Sticky fingers.”  And having the ability to move things with his mind, while impressive, wasn’t exactly a good recipe when combined with a youngling who was hungry all the time.  Din tilted his helmet down to look at the kid, his mouth tugging invisibly into a grin beneath the beskar.

“This angel?” Peli scoffed.  “I don’t believe it.”  Din simply looked at her, and she relented, “Okay, okay, he ate half my lunch when I wasn’t looking, and tried to eat a sand roach when I was.  I get your point.”

“I told you to be good for Peli,” scolded Din.  The kid let out a small, sad burble, and he sighed.  “I know, I know.  You didn’t mean it.”  He reached up, fingers cuffing gently against the kid’s cheek.

“You guys should do more business on Tatooine,” said Peli, leaning back in her chair and taking a long drink of caf.  “Always a pleasure.  It warms my sandblasted heart, seeing you two.”

Din nearly choked.  “Excuse me?”

“You know what I mean!” she said, waving her hands.  “Mos Eisley’s got some pretty nasty dealings in the back alleys.  Orphaned younglings, drunks, slavers looking for easy marks…   It’s just nice to see a dad actually taking care of his kid for once.”

Din was still.  The kid grabbed his thumb with one small hand, holding it tight, and reflexively he curled his hand closer to the little one.  He didn’t speak.

Peli raised her brows, looking concerned.  “Did I say something wrong?”

“I…”  He swallowed.  “I’m not his father.”

“Well, I don’t know what exactly you look like under that armor, but no shit, Mando,” she said.  “But dads aren’t just a blood thing.  I thought -- I mean, the way you take care of him, and all.  You’d do anything for this kid, or I don’t know a damn thing.”

“I would,” he said slowly.  “Do anything for him.”  The kid brushed his hand against his cuirass, his claws making tiny ting noises against the beskar.  

“But you’re not his dad.”

If you aren’t his father, what’s stopping you?

You are as its father.

“He’s a foundling,” said Din, and he fought to keep his voice steady.  “I would die for him.  This is the Way.”

Peli held out her hands skeptically, face shifting into clear confusion.  “And again, you’re not his dad?  I’m not getting the distinction here.”

He looked down at the kid, whose ears quivered with curiosity, his mouth slightly open as if asking a question.  

Red robes, blaster fire, the smell of smoke, the sound of screams --

Until it is reunited with its own kind --

“It’s complicated,” he said, turning away from her.  “Thanks again for watching him.  We’d better get a move on before it starts getting dark.”  

He headed back out toward the ship and the speeder, her indignant voice following him.  “It’s noon, but whatever you say, Mando!”

***

iv.

Mist lay heavy in the secluded forest, muffling the sounds of the grazing beasts in the distance, the township far away.  Din stared out at the falling darkness, his stomach twisting.  It was nearly time.  Time to fulfill his quest, to deliver the child.

Time to say goodbye to Grogu.

His feet felt heavy, so heavy, though the distance to the little sleeping area from the hold was only a few steps away.  He stood in the doorway, watching the child sleep in the small hammock.  He’d picked up the cloth in a small market on a forgotten world.  He remembered asking the shopkeeper if it was soft enough for a youngling, remembered taking his glove off to make sure the fabric wasn’t itchy.  He remembered the kid -- Grogu -- cooing to himself that first night in the hammock, remembered how well the kid had slept.  

He remembered how he’d laid awake half the night, missing the kid curled up on his chest.

Din raised his hands.  They trembled.  

This is what I came to do.  This is for him.

“Wake up, buddy,” he said, voice breaking.  “It’s time to say goodbye.”  He reached a hand into the hammock, brushing against Grogu’s chest.  The kid made a small, sleepy sigh, a sigh he’d heard dozens, hundreds of times now, a sigh that had become as familiar and homey as the engine’s hum.  He lifted him carefully out of the hammock, but Grogu just yawned, smacking his lips, and closed his eyes again.

Din sat down, leaning against the wall with Grogu on his knee.  He looked at him.  Really looked, though his vision blurred.  I have… I have to remember.    

He drank in the sight of those long, delicate ears, soft with thin white fuzz on the edges, the inner skin shell-pink rimmed with mossy green.  He memorized the curious ridges and bumps on his forehead, between his eyes, remembering how they crinkled when the kid was happy and flattened when the kid was being obstinate.  He looked at the mouth that had eaten a horrifying number of frogs and spiders, and nearly laughed despite himself.

Grogu’s hand twitched, curling over Din’s fingertip.  Din shifted his thumb to cover the back of his small hand, and the kid blinked sleepy eyes at him.  Those eyes, so wide, so curious, so expressive.  He would never forget them.  

“You’re gonna love being a Jedi,” Din whispered.  “You’ll learn how to use your powers.  You’ll get even stronger.  You’ll see.”  You won’t need me.

Grogu’s weight on his knee was so light.  

Funny, then, that Din felt so crushed.  

He bowed over the kid, arms curling around his small body.  Grogu leaned into him, and Din held him, and he told himself that it was time.

He was never sure, looking back, how he piloted the ship safely back to the town and landed it without a hitch.  He only remembered walking down the ramp, seeing the Jedi Ahsoka waiting for them, and going cold, cold, cold.

They regarded each other for a moment.  The Jedi’s eyes were sad and distant.  She gazed down at Grogu, nestled in Din’s arms.  

“You’re like a father to him,” she said finally.  “I cannot train him.”

His legs felt fuzzy and weak.  He straightened up, forcing himself to stand firm.  He had to try again, for the kid’s sake.  “You made me a promise, and I held up my end,” he accused.

The Jedi spoke.  Part of him held onto her words, kept them safe, directions to a planet, another option to find more Jedi.  He could do this.

The other part of him was dizzy, punchdrunk, even as he held the kid safely in his arms.  You’re like a father to him echoed, and somehow the words struck deeper than they ever had before.  He ached with them, ached for them to be real -- weren’t Jedi supposed to be noble?  Weren’t they supposed to tell the truth?

But he knew he couldn’t be that lucky.  

He thanked her politely for the information, and set a course for Tython.

***    

v.      

“We’re coming up on Nevarro,” came Fett’s voice in his ear, and Din jerked awake.

It took him a moment to get his bearings.  This wasn’t the Crest.  This was Slave I.  This was Boba Fett.  Fennec Shand was down below.  And Grogu was… gone.

His head reeled. Gone.  Not safe in the arms of a Jedi, no future secured and sheltered.  He’d been stolen, been lost.  Under his watch.

“You still asleep?” Fett asked, glancing back.  His helmet rested beside him, half-cleaned of its scorch marks and scars.  Fett had been busy while he was sleeping.

“No,” said Din, trying to clear his head.  He lapsed into silence.

“It’s a fair plan,” said Fett.  “I hope it works.  For the sake of the child.”

“You didn’t have to --” Din started.  They’d been through this already, though, and he knew it would be insulting to keep up his protests.  “I’m… grateful for the help.  Thank you.”

Fett shrugged. “We tracked you for a while, you know.  Before Tython.”

Din stared straight ahead.  He didn’t care about that.  But he realized in the waiting quiet that Fett expected an answer.  “I didn’t know.”  

There; the man should take it as a compliment.  Din knew he wasn’t easy to track.

“I saw how you were with the child.”  Fett’s scarred face was thoughtful.  There was something complicated there behind the older man’s eyes, but Din couldn’t read it, unsettled and numb as he was.

“I was to return him to the Jedi,” Din forced out.  “I failed him.”

“You took care of him,” Fett pointed out.  “I saw it.  That’s not nothing.”  

“He was a foundling,” he said mechanically.  “Any Mandalorian would have done the same.  The Creed demands --”

Fett sighed.  “You can keep your Creed.”  The words still sounded so wrong -- to view the Creed as a myth, it was sacrilege.  Still, though, he’d seen the chain code, and he knew Fett’s claim was valid.

Din watched the other man cautiously, but was taken aback by the next words Fett spoke.  “You were a father to him.  That much was clear.”

Din chuckled, a brittle, awful sound.  It hurt his throat.  “People keep telling me that.”

“Are they wrong?”

He thought of Grogu taken, held captive by droids’ arms harsh and cold.  He thought of him in a cell, thought of tests and needles and experiments, thought of the little youngling toddling after him and laughing sweetly about cookies.  He thought of standing there helplessly on the rocky slopes of Tython, watching the world end.

He was grateful, not for the first time, for the helmet shielding his face.  “Does it matter?” he gritted, and Nevarro loomed before them.

***

vi.

Cara Dune caught up to him, about six months later.

He’d been half-expecting her for some time.  Knew that rumors of his doings would reach certain ears.  Knew that she’d put two and two together.  Even if he no longer wore beskar, he knew the patterns would be noticed.

She found him in a scuzzy bar on an ocean moon, where the damp seeped into everything and the cold never faded.  She sat beside him, tossing a few credits onto the bar, and was rewarded with a sea-brewed ale.  She drank about half before she finally turned to face him.

“Hey, Mando.”

He didn’t look at her.  Didn’t want to see the pity in her face.  He could hear it well enough in her voice.

“I knew I’d see you again,” he said quietly.  “Galaxy’s never as big as it seems.”

“No,” she said.  “I guess it isn’t.”

In the silence, water dripped, dripped, dripped behind the bar, a constant rhythm.

“I know it was you,” she said presently.  “The Imperial bases on Corux and Raethe.  Two cruisers downed, the troops dead long before the ships crashed.  Imps dead in the streets of a dozen backwaters.  And a lot of high-ranking officers found in pieces.”

“A lot of people hate the Empire,” he said.  He took a drink of his ale.  He hated the taste, and hated the burn more.

“Not a lot of people hate them like you do.”  Lightning-fast, she twitched aside the cloak hanging over his hip, revealing the Darksaber hanging like an anchor at his side.  He ignored her, covering it again with his cloak.  “Let’s just say you have a signature style these days.”

Din glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.  She looked different, hair a little shorter, upgraded armor, a new insignia on her shoulder.  And sympathy etched in every line of her face.  He looked away, shaken.

“So what?” he asked.  “Don’t tell me the New Republic has a problem with fewer Imps running around.”

“They don’t.  They’d probably give you a medal, if they knew who was behind it,” said Cara.  She finished her drink.  “I have a problem with it.”

He nearly snorted into his foul ale.  “Really.  You’re worried about the Imps.”

“I’m worried about you, Din Djarin.”

He froze.  She’d never used his name before.  Slowly, he turned to stare at her, fully aware that his naked face was on display.  “Stop.”

Cara flushed.  “I was on the ground at that Maelstrom-class cruiser.  I saw what you did to them.  It wasn’t…”  Her mouth twisted.  “Killing Imps doesn’t bother me.  You know that.  But that was… brutal.”

“Again,” he said defensively, “you’re worried about them?”

“About what it’s doing to you,” she said, her voice flat.  “Mandalorians… I thought you were known for noble kills --”

“I’m not a Mandalorian,” he spat.

She pounded a fist into the table, a sharp crack that left a mark on the flimsy surface.  “You’re torturing yourself about letting him go.  This isn’t you, Mando.  And I think a part of you knows it.”

The weight of the last several months loomed.  It pressed.  It shattered, a shield failing, a dam breaking.  He saw the Darksaber flaring, scorching, searing, amputating, saw his bare hands on the hilt, saw the bodies piled.  He remembered enjoying it in a way that felt sick, felt dirty, an insult to the Way of the Mandalore, but he’d already burned that bridge, hadn’t he?  Already bared his face to the child, to the Jedi, to all of them; already desecrated his beskar; already severed his clan of two into one, alone --

“I know,” he said hoarsely, ashamed.  “I know it’s wrong.  I -- I broke the Creed --”

She reached up slowly, rested her hand on his shoulder.  She waited, her eyes soft.  

He bowed his head, shaking.  “And I gave him up,” he whispered, burying his damp face in his hands.  “I lost my son.”

My son.

The truth he’d hid from so long flared white-hot, burning through him.  Denial had done nothing for him; all it had done was rob him of the chance to tell Grogu how much he loved him before it was too late.  It hadn’t saved him from this agony at all.  The pain roared, a howling void opening up within him, a darkness he could never hope to see through.

“I was his father,” he choked.  “What am I now?”

Cara’s hand was firm on his shoulder, steady, kind; but she had no answers for him.  In the end, the only sounds were his broken breathing and the drip, drip, drip behind the bar.

#the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #din djarin #noromo mando #din djarin + grogu #cara dune #boba fett #ahsoka tano #peli motto #the armorer #omera #my mando fic #ugh this is toooooo sad whyyyy

[nitewrighter]

#46 & #57

You didn’t say a pairing so I’m picking Symmarah because it’s been 10,000 years since I’ve written them. And here they get fancy outfits to make out in!!!!

46. Long Kiss

57. Breaking The Kiss To Say Something, Staying So Close That You’re Murmuring Into Each Other’s Mouths

------

Satya flaked some sugar crystals off of the rim of her blue mocktail with her fingernail. It was a tropical confection, whose sweetness was offset by basil and cucumber. She wasn’t terribly attached to it, but it at least kept men from repeatedly offering to buy her a drink, and it was pleasing to look at. That and the other view. She looked out over the balcony across the glittering buildings of Dubai. Vishkar had taken a lot of notes on design from Dubai’s glamorous high-rises, high tech and luxury, images they were all too eager to co-opt to make their visions of order go down easier for the communities they took advantage of. Satya couldn’t help feeling a little unmoored now that she was out of it, and yet at the same time, there was a clear reality to what she was looking at that gave her more comfort than Vishkar ever could. 

The mission was going smoothly. The plan was that Satya would enter the Gala, set up a teleporter in the bathroom, then Genji would enter the building through the teleporter and steal the Axiom corporation’s highly illegal attempt at an omnicell replica before it could be sold to Talon... by crawling through those filthy, filthy vents. Simple snatch and grab. Satya’s shoulders bunched up in a shudder just thinking about all the dust and dirt sticking to the metal with the moisture of people’s exhalations the ninja was crawling through. Back on the watchpoint she was more in her element... as strange as it was to think that, now. She liked controlling the environment, and she didn’t feel very in control of this environment. In this mission, she felt more like a glorified teleporter in a fancy dress. Of course, she knew they should hope that all missions go as smoothly as this one, but still, the frustration of waiting was starting to get to her. 

She gave a glance back to the crowd just inside the glass doors leading into ballroom. In theory, this was Satya’s crowd, though if you asked her, no crowd was her crowd. She didn’t like crowds. She looked down at her one-shouldered, peacock blue gown and fidgeted her leg in and out of the thigh slit. Her hair was woven into a turquoise and pearl-studded braid snaking over her shoulder, and she sported an elegant gold nose ring. She felt a little silly--yes her Architech credentials were what gave Overwatch an ‘in’ to this gala and thus the very dangerous tech being passed through it, but sometimes it was hard not to feel like a walking teleporter when it came to off-watchpoint work. The industrial air conditioning of the building still felt cool on her skin as the gentle breeze of the balcony’s elevation and the hot climes of the city puffed on her, warm as breath. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, the lights of the city still blooming on the inside of her eyelids, rolling her fingers along the stem of her cocktail glass. 

“Pretty stuffy in there, huh?” an easygoing, vaguely Arabic-accented voice piped up from a few steps away and Satya’s eyes flicked open. Her head jerked in the direction of the sound of the voice to see Pharah leaning against the balcony guardrail.

“Fareeha?” Symmetra’s voice was low. Pharah was dressed in a sleekly fitted navy blue tuxedo with satin lapels, her hair swept up in a high ponytail with those same gold beaded locks clacking against each other at her temples as she tilted her head.

“Hey, Satya,” she said it so easily as she casually pushed off the guardrail, like her voice didn’t make Satya’s heart pound against her ribs.

“I-I wasn’t going to set up another teleporter until I got the signal from Genji,” Satya stammered out, blinking, her eyes flicking up and down Pharah’s outfit, “How did you get in?”

“Technically, I didn’t go through the building. Get this: There’s virtually no security on the helipad,” Pharah said incredulously, putting one hand on her hip with a lopsided smile, “I know Helix had its problems, but that’s just disgraceful.”

“Am I supposed to believe you just... swooped down and were wearing a freshly-pressed tux beneath your Raptora armor?”

Pharah gave her a tight-lipped conspiratorial grin and a short waggle of her dark eyebrows as she stepped toward Satya, and Satya felt her face burning. “You’re ridiculous, sometimes,” said Satya.

“Well if it meant being with you while you’re looking like this...” said Pharah, her voice trailing off as she gently lifted Satya’s braid from her shoulder and let it slip over her palm with its own weight.

“Weren’t you supposed to be patrolling the airspace with Echo?” said Satya, smoothing the delicately jointed fingers of her prosthetic hand down Pharah’s lapel.

“We’re less likely to be picked up as an aerial disturbance if there’s just one of us in the air,” said Pharah with a lazy shrug, “I didn’t want to compromise the mission.”

“Oh, we can’t have the mission be compromised, perish the thought!” said Satya with mock distress in her voice.

“And of course, I had to rescue you,” said Pharah,

“Oh, this is a rescue?” said Satya, arching an eyebrow.

Pharah ran her thumb along the sharp angle of Satya’s jawline before letting her fingers uncurl along the side of Satya’s face, her fingernails only grazing the silky surface of Satya’s hair, with a steadiness and precision you wouldn’t expect from someone who regularly lugs around a rocket launcher, and yet could only be from someone like her. Pharah leaned in close but paused, her nose barely touching Satya’s.

“If you want,” there was that easiness in her voice again, and something about it got under Satya’s skin, a prickling of ‘oh how dare you’ that manifested as a frustrated giddiness. Satya just scoffed, setting the  before closing the the distance between them, bringing her mouth over Pharah’s.

Pharah made a short ‘mm’ sound on contact, and Satya wasn’t sure if it was the suddenness of her kiss or if it was the taste of that ridiculous blue mocktail on her tongue.  Pharah’s hand cupped to the side of her face now, and her other arm wound around Satya’s lower back. She could smell the ghost of raptora fuel on her, mingling alongside Pharah’s cypress-and-amber perfume. Satya let her bare leg snake out of the slit in her dress to smooth down the pantleg of Pharah’s tuxedo, her own years in dance lending her plenty of balance with Pharah supporting her as they kissed, slow and deep. It was a distraction she was happy to let occupy all corners of her mind and senses, given how long she had been stuck waiting and on edge, she welcomed the simultaneous sensations of being elevated and submerged. Everything was Fareeha and it slowed all her movements like water.

Pharah pulled back slightly, “Satya--” she started, but her voice was husky and that just made Satya kiss her again and she instinctively met her.

 Satya half remembered herself and managed to make a questioning, “Mm-hmm?” with their mouths closed over each other. Satya’s hands brushed down the front of Pharah’s jacket before trailing around her waist as she pressed herself against Pharah’s body even through the layers of the tuxedo, Satya could make out the solidity of Pharah’s powerful muscles as she supported her weight.

“I... was--just...” Pharah’s words were broken between kisses before Satya finally seemed to get enough of a hold of herself to pull back, one arm drape around Pharah’s shoulders and the other still at her waist. They were both breathless. Pharah tucked the beaded hair at her temple back before clearing her throat, “I.. just realized the last time we got dressed up like this was...”

“Oasis,” Satya finished the thought and Pharah’s hand brushed down her side. 

“Mm,” Pharah trailed the back of her knuckles down Satya’s braid.

“This is is a bit of a reversal, isn’t it?” said Satya with a slight smile, “Last time was a date that turned into a mission, this time is a mission that turns into...”

“Hey, we’re still on the clock,” said Pharah with a playful chin chuck. 

“I assure you, the mission is going completely according to pla--” Satya moved to gesture airily but ended up knocking her mocktail off over the edge of the guardrail and she flinched to alertness with a sharp gasp. Both Satya and Pharah leaned over the guardrail and watched as the cocktail glass and its virgin blue contents tumbled and spiraled down, down, down, dozens of stories until distance made it shrink to nothingness. They were too high up to hear it shattering against the streets of Dubai below. Satya’s hands were cupped over her mouth in horror. A few beats of shocked silence passed.

“So... what was that about not compromising the mission?” said Pharah with a sly grin.

“Oh you--!” Satya smacked a palm against Pharah’s arm in scolding and Pharah just burst out laughing before pulling Satya into another kiss-littered embrace.

#symmarah #symmetra #pharah #satya vaswani #Fareeha Amari

[watcher-ofthe-sky]

“I’d like you to leave now” with erzajane bc it’s me hello

Of Veiled Everythings Behind Vague Nothings 

Read on AO3 Summary: Now that she thought about it, she wondered how sinking and heavy this word must be: carrying the weight of all the feelings which we feel. Nothing, she had said that day, when in turn she had meant everything.

A/N: @gaymirajane​ Thank you for sending the request! <3 I am sorry for getting to this only now. I was going for a 5 sentence angst but I wanted a happy ending for them. Even though it is fast-paced, I hope you will like it. *** And that's the thing about longing stares It's born from just one single glance But it dies, and it dies, and it dies A million little times Taylor Swift - illicit affairs ***

Mirajane remembered the clear blue sky on that day like the back of her hand. She remembered the brightness of the day and golden glow of the leaves as the sunlight kissed them. She remembered the quiet, soft things because that's how the world had felt like when Erza had smiled at her and all the collective memories of their past and present had rushed in front of her like comets colliding with the atmosphere and burning bright, but oh so beautifully. The thudding of her heart had silenced all the sounds around them and the only thing that mattered was its rhythm whose tempo was set by the mere smile of the woman in front of her. 

"Mirajane?" Erza had asked, waving a hand in front of her, trying to get her attention. "Shall we go?"

"Huh?" she had blinked, still in trance. Looking around at the bandits they had captured on the mission, she had finally said. "Yeah."

And then Erza had laughed. "What were you thinking?"

She had laughed and Mirajane couldn't stop hearing the echo of it. Everything felt warm suddenly and she didn't know what to do with this overwhelming wave of emotions crashing inside of her. 

"N-Nothing," she had said and swallowed thickly. "I think I am a little tired after the fight."

Erza had looked at her again with her scrutinizing gaze, a flicker of concern rippling on her face before she had nodded and fallen back in pace with her as they took the culprits to the magic council. 

And as they walked side by side, Mirajane couldn't help but notice the scarlet hair flying in the wind and soft skin cradled in the heavy armor. 

Nothing, she had said that day.  Now that she thought about it, she wondered how sinking and heavy this word must be: carrying the weight of all the feelings which we feel. 

Nothing, she had said that day, when in turn she had meant everything.

***

From then on, it was a spiral down the path of pain and longing. A stolen glance here, a brush of hand there-- it was as if Mirajane was trying to collect the little moments, trying to get whatever she can and slip them into these envelopes inside her heart which were opened only in the solemn trust of night. This is how darkness makes space for us--by opening her palms and letting us unfurl ourselves; bit by bit; one secret at a time.

Her heart was a riot; torn apart between this blossom of new feelings and the warning signs flashing because of the ache that was tied along with these emotions. 

Because if there was one thing that Mirajane Strauss knew, it was that Erza Scarlet won't ever look at her the way she looks at her.

***

It was during the return from one of the guild masters meetings where they had accompanied Master Makarov to help with the paperwork when they had met Jellal. Now that crime sorciere was an officially recognized guild, Queen Hisui had asked him to accompany his guild in all the official matters too. 

"Jellal," Erza had smiled at him; soft and serene. "How have you been?"

Mirajane had moved away to give them privacy as they talked. From the distance, she looked at them; how they fell into a familiar pattern like pieces that fit together perfectly. Suddenly, she had felt nauseous, like a knife was gutted through her and was twisting her insides. She hated herself for feeling like this. Erza, after all, could never belong to her. 

Jealousy is an ugly emotion that veils the reasoning and blinds us. It displays the intensity of our desires and how they tuck at the corners of our hearts, molding it into something darker. But that's what makes us human. What are we if stripped away from our desires and the limits that bind them? 

Tears stinging her eyes, she looked away and focused on the sky, when a few droplets showered over her.

The sky wasn't clear and blue anymore.

"Here," she had heard a voice beside her. Erza stood by her side, holding an umbrella over their head. "Sorry, I had only one in my Requip space. We'll have to share."

Mirajane had sighed, trying to not let the tears drop. Another walk in silence, their shoulders bumped as they tried to fit together in the tiny space when the rain poured heavily around them.

As they headed home together, she had her wondered if Erza too had a longing tucked in her heart for Jellal. Did she too wait for him to come and silence the storm that brewed inside her core when she thought about him? Was she tired too?

A few more steps later, Mirajane had said, “Fuck it,” and yanked the umbrella from Erza’s hand closed. The Requip Mage had gawked at her. “What are you doing?”

“We are already soaked from the other side and this isn’t even helping. I would rather enjoy the rain,” she had said and spread her arms, palms open and eyes closed, as she inhaled the scent of the rain. 

Water drops slowly trickled down her cheek and she didn’t know if it was rain or her tears which had tried so hard to swallow before. But the clog in her throat was settling down and her lips almost curled into a smile as she let herself soak in the pouring rain. Maybe the water was carrying away her pain, even if for a moment.

When she had finally opened her eyes, Erza was looking at her. And there was such tenderness and fondness in her eyes that had set Mirajane's skin blaze. She had torn apart her gaze only to notice the droplets trickling down Erza's face, down to the crook of her neck and then lower still. 

Cheeks heating up, she looked away again. 

Walking through the rain, they had finally reached Staurass' house and it's only then Mirajane realized how close they were to her home before she pushed away the umbrella. 

“It seems that you couldn't wait a little longer,” Erza had laughed. 

“Yeah, yeah, I do feel silly now,” she had said, pushing down the embarrassment. 

“No,” Erza had said, “I loved seeing you like this.”

It's then that their gaze met and the Requip mage had reached out to put away a strand behind Mirajane's ear. 

She then smiled at her fondly again like she had before and it made Mirajane feel so weak because why, why, why Erza do this to her? Why does she open her heart like this and make her feel so warm? 

What was Mirajane supposed to do with all of this love in her heart? Where was she supposed to put it down? She was an ocean of love crashing and flooding all over.

And sometimes, these floods and tides only cause destruction. 

She had pulled Erza closer and threading her fingers in her scarlet locks, she had closed the gap between them, brushing her lips to hers.

In those mere moments, it had felt as if she was breathing after a long time. All the ache inside her bones ceased to exist and what was left was this longing melting into a gentle love.

Before the reality poured down over her like cold water, waking her out of her senses.

She jerked and pulled back, pushing Erza away from her who was looking at her with eyes widened in shock.

“Mi-Mira--”

“I am sorry,” she had blurted before she could stop herself. “It was nothing.”

Ah. 

But it was everything.

“What?” Erza had swallowed. “What do you mean?”

I love you.

“You need to leave.”

“Mira--wait,”

So much.

“Erza,” she had pleased. “Go away. Please .”

And just like that, Mirajane had closed the gate and then slumped down on the ground, burying her head in her hands.

Such is the pain of love--how it can melt down the world into these soft things while in another moment, it can leave you shivering in its coldness. How it can make you soar but can too pull you down in the deepest trenches. 

As Mira cried her heart out, a small part of her wondered about the time when she had almost felt Erza kissing her back.

***

As unlikely as it was, Mirajane didn’t go to the guildhall for the next few days to avoid Erza. She didn’t know what to say to her which won’t break their friendship or leave an awkwardness hanging thick in the air. There was no way it was nothing, even Erza must have known that.

Maybe the only thing left was to own and tell her the truth; to assure her that maybe one day this will pass. 

Except she didn’t want it to pass.

Pushing herself out of her house, she had made her way to Fairy Hills to talk to Erza. She didn’t want the silence between them to give way to a fault. 

Before she could have reached there, she had found Erza sitting on the log in the nearby clearing. Even from the distance, Mirajane could see the pained expressions on Erza’s face.

It had made her heart clench to think that she was the reason for her pain.

“Er--”

“Erza.”

Her voice was cut off by another. What Mirajane didn’t see was Jellal walking toward Erza and then sitting beside her. 

“Jellal…” Erza had whispered before breaking down into sobs. The said man shifted closer and then pulled her into an embrace, arm thrown around her protectively. In a comfort. 

Mirajane had wanted to puke. 

She wanted her gut to stop feeling sick like this as she watched the two of them sitting like that.

Something dark had crawled inside her and then suddenly it had hit her why Erza had almost kissed her back that day.

Pity.

Maybe it was fucking pity that Erza had felt and she didn’t want to break her friend’s heart like that. So, she had shown mercy and gave in, possibly trying to humor her.

Because of course, there was only one person who can ever reside in Erza’s heart and that person can never be Mirajane. It was foolish to even think about it and get hopes up.

Erza couldn’t have found a worse way to reject her.

Turning back on her heel, Mira had walked away. 

She was done.

***

Presently, Mirajane stared out at the trees from the window of the train, tiredness weighing her down. After that day, for the first time in forever after Lisanna’s supposed ‘death’, she had taken a two-week-long mission around the southern borders of Fiore, in the hope that she would be able to gather the broken pieces of her. She wanted to go as far as possible. But it has been a week now and she was only feeling worse than before. 

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Her love for Erza was something gentle and tender. It was like a warm sun on winter sun. It was soft whispers yet at the same time, it was a feeling for being sure. It was a strong foundation on which she had slowly built herself. 

How then, such tenderness could turn into shards which sliced her heart?

The train came to a halt and she stepped down, pulling the paper from her pocket, she read the address of her client’s house.

When she finally reached the destination and stepped out of the ride, fingers were wrapped around her wrist and she was yanked into a corner.

“What the--”

In the darkness, under the pale moonlight, her eyes widened in shock as she saw Erza in front of her. Her hair was disheveled and her skin looked pale and grey and she looked so fragile.

“Erza? What are you doing here?” she asked, noticing the dark circles under the woman’s eyes.

But the Requip mage only shook her head and gritted, “Not. A. Word.”

It’s only then Mirajane noticed how infuriated the other woman was.

Finally releasing her grip, Erza too a step back and glared at her. “Do you even have the slightest idea how worried I was? You fucking disappeared. Just like that. Do you know how much I had to coax Lisanna into giving me the information about this job?”

Mirajane didn’t know what she was supposed to her. Her heart was broken and she had needed some space where Erza’s face won’t be a constant reminder of her pain. But running away hadn’t helped either. She was hurt.

“Why?” she said, voice thick and blunt, “Were you worried that I would get in some trouble and hurt myself? Were you feeling pity for me?”

Erza’s face crumpled into a mix of confusion and rage. “What are you even saying, Mira? You know I have never thought of you like that.”

And she knew. She knew that she didn’t mean the words she was spewing out, but it was also in the act of self-preservation. If she hurt Erza enough to make her go, maybe her own pain will hurt less. Seeing her in front of her only pulled apart the wounds she was trying so hard to close.

Eyes shut tight, she exhaled and said, “I’d like you to leave now.”

“No,” came the answer; strong and sure.

“I don’t need you here, Erza,” she did, “I took this mission because I wanted to be alone.”

“Mira--why are you being like this? We can talk about what happened,” Erza pleaded, sadness evident in her voice.

What was there to talk about? How was Mirajane supposed to say, “You came into my life and ruined my heart and now every soft thing in this world is a reminder of you.” 

“Go. Away.”

“Not this time!” Erza shouted and Mirajane opened her eyes to see tears rolling down Erza’s face. “I am not going away this time. I won’t let you shut me away because I need you .”

All the hardness Mira had pulled to protect herself was crumbling down. “What do you want to talk about, Erza? You couldn’t have made it clearer already that you don’t feel the same. I know you love Jellal.”

“Wh--We--I do not love Jellal, Mira,” Erza said incredulously. “I fucking kissed you back before you pushed me away!”

“Didn’t you do that because you took pity on me?” Mirajane snarled.

“What?! No! I kissed you back because I love you.”

A tear slid down Mirajane’s cheek. “What?” she whispered.

“I love you,” Erza said softly, giving her a small smile through her tears. She stepped forward and cupped Mirajane’s face. “I kissed you back because I am in love with you and have been for a long time. I just...I love you and I don’t know what else to say except that I love you. I don’t know any other word which could tell what I feel for you. You make me feel so much and I want to spend my life feeling like this. When you kissed me I was shocked because I didn’t know it is was real.”

Mirajane broke down into sobs and it felt like she would burst open because how can a human contain so much love in such a tiny body? 

“I love you too. So much, ” she cried. 

Erza chuckled and relief washed over her face. She swiped her thumb across Mira’s face to wipe away the tears and Mirajane looked down at her lips and slowly leaned. Under the glowing moon and the stars who twinkled in a knowing wink and a sly smile as if they know the secrets of the lovers of the night, they slowly kissed; soft and shy.

In that moment, Mirajane existed only in the places where Erza touched her and holding her closer till no space existed between them, she kissed her deeper, deeper, deeper, till all her nothings became everything. *** [A/N]: Lol, it's dramatic than necessary but who cares? I was trying to get out of my writer's block for the reverse bb fic because I was ending up deleting everything I was writing so I went back to do the requests which I forget are still in my inbox... Thank you for reading! *** @femslashfairies @fuckyeaherzaxmirajane

#erzajane #erza x mirajane #erza scarlet #mirajane strauss #mirza #fairy tail #my writing #my fic #fic requests #asks #answered asks #gaymirajane #i have a test tomorrow #but I wanted to get this out of my system

[boarix]

Wraith in the Ruins: A Fallout 4 Story Part XXII

The Crown of the Monster Queen

Trigger warnings: canon violence, language, gun, drug and alcohol use. Mature/sexual content.

Please enjoy!

…..

…..

It was his turn at watch, but when Wraith checked the bedroll, Danse was nowhere to be found. His power armor was gone as well, “What the heck?” She pushed down a brief surge of fear, “Probably has the internal military clock and is already up… off having a pee…” The two of them were on their way to Breakheart Banks to clear a super mutant camp, and the little nervous voice in her head was suggesting that he had taken it upon himself to scout, or even worse, engage the pack without her. “He doesn’t strike me as the impetuous type… goddammit.” She waited patiently for all of five seconds before suiting up and going to look for him.

The previous evening Danse had frowned at Wraith’s suggestion to camp on the river, “In light of our power armor, it is ill advised to bivouac with water to your back.”

His pushback irritated her, “I thought you said you’d follow my lead on this trip, considering it’s for the Minutemen. Besides, in light of the existence of mirelurks, we would be more likely to retreat inland. Plus,” she folded her arms and smiled at him, “it’s pretty here.”

Your stupid blimp is at the airport. The airport is on a peninsula. With water around it!

He raised a voluminous eyebrow and glanced around, “I suppose the visibility is optimal at this location. And this outcropping of sandstone should provide concealment for a smokeless fire as well as a vantage point,” he gave her a slight smile of his own, “to watch for said mirelurks.”

The small cove had a clear view of the river as well as a relatively easy escape route up and into a small cluster of sheltering trees. Wraith and Danse collected dry driftwood along the shoreline and while he started the fire she disembarked her power armor to start meal prep.

“You should practice doing more tasks while in the armor.”

“Okay, but after I finish setting this tripod up, I’m going to go water those bushes,” She gave him a significant look, “and that’s not a task one does in the suit, correct?”

His eyebrows knit, “That’s too close to camp for a latrine, knight.”  

Proud of herself for choosing such a great campsite, Wraith sported a large grin while she made dinner. She was in a good enough mood that she turned her radio on low and hummed tunelessly along with the music. She noticed Danse watching her, an inscrutable look on his face, “You need something, Paladin Danse? You’re just kinda spacing out o’er there.”

He blinked and shook his head, “Negative,” He lowered his eyes and his voice, “I was simply lost in thought.”

Mama Murphy had told Wraith that she could “save a soul lost in steel” and she had taken that to mean Elder Maxson. To that end she had reconsidered her previous rejection of Danse’s invitation to join the Brotherhood. Now, she figured the best way to gain the elder’s ear and remain in his good graces was to play friendly with his apparent favorite. Initially she had been put off by Danse’s stiff and formal demeanor and had put him in the same category of irritating as Rhys, but after spending more time with him her opinion had begun to soften. Somewhat.

“No problem. You know, if there’s something bothering you, I’m happy to listen.”

He looked surprised, “Oh! That’s not... Thank you. I’m going to do a perimeter check, if time permits…”

“Chow will be ready in about ten.”

Can’t wait to get away from me, huh?

“Acknowledged.”

They hadn’t spoken very much after that and the silence was less than comfortable. Wraith had volunteered first watch and had been relieved to put some distance between them.

Now she was worried for him (underneath the irritation) and she set a brisk pace as she stomped southward along the shore. She hadn’t gotten very far when she heard a shrill whistle from behind her. Whipping around, she lost her balance. The shoreline had angled upward sharply to form a cliff and she had a scary moment where she attempted to pinwheel her arms as she teetered dangerously close to the edge.

Danse came charging to her rescue, “I got you!” He whipped off his helmet, a glare created from worry on his face, and immediately launched into a graphic lecture on the finer points of drowning in power armor, “… and furthermore the joints and cockpit are not water tight. Ha… although this allows for a greater mobility… ha… it will fill quickly,” As he spoke a grin kept pulling on the corner of his mouth as the image of her flailing arms kept playing over in his mind, “and so standard procedure maintains you must keep a level head and wait until the water has completely filled… ha… the quick release… ha ha…” The smile had gotten free and now there was no denying he was laughing.  

Wraith was not amused, “You picked a helluva time to develop a sense of humor!”

“You…” He stopped trying to fight it, “your arms!”

Wraith sighed and chuckled, “Yeah, yeah.” She shoved him playfully, “Where were you?! I don’t think it’s standard procedure to disappear like that.”

He pointed back toward camp, “You walked right past me, knight. I hailed you but you must not have heard me over the noise generated by a quick march.”

“Okay, but why were you up already?”

He kept a perfectly straight face, “Morning constitutional.”

Wraith’s laugh came out like a bark, “HA!” She shook her head and smiled, “Okay. Okay.” Turning away from him, she headed back to camp. “Paladin Danse, I think we have been working next to each other but not with each other.”

“Agreed.”

“So we need to communicate better, right? No more one-word answers…”

“Agreed.” He smiled at her when she turned around to give him an incredulous look, “That was a joke, knight.”

“That’s another thing; call me ‘Wraith’, please.” They were back at the campsite and she exited her armor, kicked off her boots and crawled into the bedroll.

“That’s too…”

“You call Haylen and Rhys by their names. You guys are a bonded team, right?” She yawned expansively, “We need to be a team too. So start bonding.”

He chuckled, “I believe that works both ways, knight. I’m going to patrol now; we can bond over super mutant eradication later today.”

“OORAH!”

“AD VICTORIAM!”

That afternoon the pair scouted the super mutant camp before falling back to work on a plan. To her surprise, Danse was all for just the two of them clearing the site and not calling for reinforcements.

Maybe he’s more reckless then I thought…  

On the eastern edge of the former farm was a small lookout tower with a single super mutant in residence. After Wraith quietly dispatched the occupant, they set up a perimeter of mines then both took up position in the tower. Picking their targets, they began their first volley.

The mines were quickly exhausted as the humanoids swarmed the tower. This was all part of the plan and Wraith, whose armor was modded for melee, vaulted over the rail to smash and chop their opponents; keeping them clear of her teammate. The two of them stayed in constant communication: calling encouragement and tips back and forth to one another. It was working out fairly well until the alpha, a huge and imposing primus, got a couple of hits on Danse. The mutant called his two remaining pack mates back to him at the encampment’s main structure, and ducked back into cover before Wraith could return fire.

“Are you alright?!” Wraith retreated back toward the tower, crouched as low as the armor would let her.

“Affirmative. Taking cover.”

She put the tower between her and the primus and removed her helmet, “What’s your status?”

“Shoulder’s a little hot, but no stimpak required. This monster has fought the Brotherhood before.”

“Or, at the very least, opponents in power armor. Can you get a shot on either of his brutes?”

“Both, actually.”

“Okay, pick one.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m gonna kill the other one, silly.”

His small grunt indicated his annoyance at her oversimplification, “I understand. What I’m asking is ‘then what’?”

“Well, we’ll see, but I’m hoping the big guy will be motivated to come out of cover once he sees how much fun wrestling with me can be.” She winked at him.

He chuckled, “Put your helmet back on, knight. I’ll take the one on the left.”

“Fantastic. I’ll signal you when I’m in position.”

To get within striking distance, Wraith looped right, part way down the steep, rocky hill that overlooked the river while trying desperately to be stealthy in the power armor. Rather than stare at her intended target, she kept her eyes on a tuft of grass just in front of them.

You don’t feel me. I’m not here. You somehow can’t see this large, metal suit coming to kill you…

Once satisfied with her position, she uncovered the small mirror on her gauntlet and sent a ray of light back toward Danse. After counting to three she launched herself at her intended victim. She could hear her teammate’s plasma rifle hit the brute on the left just as she slammed her gauntlet’s bayonet through her brute’s closest knee. The impact forced their legs together and when Wraith raised her arm to flip them onto their back, the incredibly sharp instrument sliced right through, severing the leg completely. A quick chop at the neck beheaded the humanoid and Wraith was satisfied to see a large puddle of green where Danse’s mutant had been standing.

All according to plan.

“TIME TO DIE, HUMAN!”

The primus, on the second level of the farmhouse, took several shots at Wraith through the floorboards, clipping her helmet while she attempted a somersault which she couldn’t complete, “DammitFUCK!” She was able to roll away to the other side of the structure and get to her feet, but dropped her rifle and was shot two more times in the process, “Fucking ARMOR! Now I know why Deacon fuckin’ hates this shit!”

The primus laughed at her, “HA! BUCKET HEAD IN THE DIRT LIKE A MOLE RAT! HAHAHAHAHAA!”

“OH YEAH? WELL, PUNY GREENSKIN IS AFRAID TO FIGHT ME WITHOUT A GUN!”

The primus howled in rage; swinging his fists as he thundered down the shack steps to prove her wrong. Just as Wraith moved to meet him, an alarm sounded which indicated her fusion core was low.

Gotta wrap this up quick.

The alpha was an excellent fighter and Wraith, having some small difficulty adjusting to the suit’s more limited range of motion, got her bell rung a couple of times. She backed away as they grappled, hoping to bring him into range of Danse’s rifle, but when she cleared the building, she could see the paladin was no longer in the tower.

Gotta wrap this up quicker!

She trusted that her partner would circle around the other side of the building as soon as he lost sight of her, probably even taking the same route she did, so she didn’t panic. She was tired of being bashed around though so she caught up her opponents arms at his wrists and held on for dear life.

“GAAAAAARRR! LET GO, BUCKET HEAD!” Flexing powerfully, the great mutant lifted Wraith a couple of feet off the ground in his attempts to free himself from her grasp. He shook her back and forth but when that didn’t work, he raised his arms even higher before slamming her violently back to earth.

She was able to keep her feet and her grip, “HA! Can’t get rid of me that easily!” She heard a gasp behind her and was able to turn her head just enough to see Danse was watching them, “Don’t just stand there being impressed! Help me!”

Danse flinched guiltily before blasting the primus to green goo, “Are we clear, knight?”

Wraith doffed her helmet and patted her sore head experimentally, “Yeah, he was the last of ‘em.”

Danse removed his own helmet and was beaming at her, “Outstanding! Are you sound?”

“I hear ringing, if that’s what you mean.”

He chuckled, gave her a hefty pat on the back and ducked into the shack staircase, “We should check to see if they had any valuable equipment…” he turned back to her when Wraith didn’t immediately follow, “Are you seriously injured?”

“My core’s spent.”

He frowned, “You should still be able to move…” He smiled at her when she stuck her lip out at him, “I’ll just switch it out for you. I didn’t realize it was so low. I thought you said you went through the checklist I gave you…”

“Danse, I really like working on power armor…”

“As do I.”

“But, fighting in it…”

“Practice makes perfect, knight.” He gave her another pat, this time more gentle and affectionate, “You’re all set. AD VICTORIAM!”

“Oorah.”    

…..

…..

“Emogene…” Hancock narrowed his eyes as he repeated Wraith, “Emogene…” He turned away from her and looked to MacCready, “Emogene? That Cabot dame? Isn’t she…”

“Dead? Yeah. I’m pretty sure.”

Hancock looked down at Infamy who had flopped backward and was lying on the floor, “What the hell’s she mean?”

Panting, they weakly waved him away, “I couldn’t begin to guess.”

Hancock knit his brow and briefly entertained the images of choking the life out of the glowing one as he walked past them on the way to the staircase, “Nicky… I need Valentine...” He took the steps two at a time with MacCready, Deacon and Danse hot on his heels.

“You’re thinking you got something?” MacCready tried but failed to keep the desperation from his voice.

Hancock paused before picking up the Radio Freedom receiver, “What I’m thinkin’ is that we need to find out where Wraith hid the alien artifact that started this shit.”

“Alien artifact?” Deacon’s eyes widened, “Like, UFOs? I leave for a little while and you guys are picking fights with aliens?”

“Why are you looking at me?”

“Well, MacFeisty, I just assume it was you…”

“WHAT THE HECK IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!”

“Will you boys be quiet?! I’m on the phone!”

The minutemen operator who answered was less than courteous, “It’s the middle of the night and I’m not your errand boy, Mayor Hancock. Furthermore, this line is strictly for Minutemen personnel, and not for your personal use.”

“May I?” Danse accepted the receiver and lit into the unfortunate solider at full volume, “SPECIALIST REGIS, THIS IS CAPTAIN DANSE. THIS IS AN URGENT MATTER AND YOU WILL PERSONALLY COLLECT NICK VALENTINE AND BRING HIM TO THE RADIO AT ALL SPEED OR I WILL PERSONALLY SEE TO IT YOU ARE ON LATRINE DUTY UNTIL THE DAY YOU EXPIRE! IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?!”

MacCready smirked at him, “Well, I guess you’re useful to have around after all.”  

In a few short minutes, Valentine’s worried voice came through the speakers, “John? What’s going on?”

“Tell me everything about what went down with Emogene Cabot.”

…..

Mama Murphy sighed, “Child, I know I can be of use. The Buffout won’t kill me. It’s my choice regardless.”

Sofie prickled at being called a child, “Ms. Murphy, what you do with your free time is none of my concern. That being said, I will not condone the recreational use of chems. As for your being of use,” her smile was forced; her perfect teeth a stark contrast against her scarred lips, “I’m sure Wraith wouldn’t want you to risk your health to help her.” The tiny ghoulette returned her gaze to the reports on her desk, brooking no further argument.

Murphy sighed again as she rose stiffly to her feet, “Thank you for seeing me, then.” After she left Sofie’s office she had fully intended to go home to her chair, but found herself walking through the door of the clinic instead. “Hello? Noah? Are you in here, son?”

The handsome young man poked his head out of a supply closet, “Hiya, Mama! How can I help you today?”

“I need you to give me some Buffout and then write down everything I say after.”

He blinked rapidly for a moment, “Uh… I’m a medic, not a chem dealer?”

“Semantics.”

He frowned, “I think the subject matter is a little more complicated…”

“Wraith needs my help. Our help. I can feel it…” She half closed her eyes and reached a hand out toward the ceiling as if the vision was tangible and she could pull it from the air, “I can just see…” She let her arm drop, “Please. I’d prefer if someone is with me; my memory ain’t what it was when I was young. But if you won’t help this old lady out, I’ll still find my own way to what The Sight wants me to see.”

Williams bit his lip, his dark eyes troubled, “This goes against what the doc taught us… but I seem to remember her also telling us to explore and discover new science, so… loophole?” He ducked back into the closet, “How many do you need?”

“Just one, child. Get ready to take notes.” She settled into the office loveseat, tossed the pill into her mouth with a casual negligence and closed her eyes, “Ohhhh, that’s the stuff. Feels like I could tear down a building, ha ha.” After a few seconds her eyes opened and when she spoke her voice was different: a cadence closer to chanting, “The one who can’t speak will tell them where. I can see them descending into the deepest dark where there is no air. Power’s lesser, ravaged twin calls to it. Guarded only by an ancient, unseeing eye, they seek and find their sorrow at the very bottom of the world.”

Williams felt compelled to the edge of his seat. After a few moments of silence so absolute, he could hear his heartbeat in his ears, he touched the elderly woman on her arm, “Mama Murphy? Are you okay?”

She sniffled and wiped a tear from her eye, “I… think so. Oh dear. Oh no…” Alarmed, Williams half stood but she waved him back to his seat, “I’m okay, son. Oh, Noah, I didn’t see him come back. Child, I fear he’ll be lost to the darkness.”

…..

…..

“DARN IT, GERTY! MOOOOVE!” MacCready shoved at Bossy’s brahmin, “How can you have two heads, BUT NO BRAINS AT ALL?!”

The caravan from Goodneighbor to Sanctuary had been ambushed by super mutants near Lexington and in her attempt to flee, the terrified bovine had trapped the merc in the doorway of one of the town’s many dilapidated buildings.

“Damn it, MacCready, will ya stop playin’ with Gertrude and give us a hand?! The hell I’m payin’ ya for?!”

Diving between the brahmin’s front legs, the young man had to roll to the side as one of the mutants attempted to stomp him with a large green foot. He unsheathed his bayonet as he went and stabbed viciously, piercing the limb. When the humanoid involuntarily lurched downward, MacCready vaulted to his feet and slashed their throat from ear to ear before spinning away and shooting two more mutants who were closing in on the bawling cow.

Bossy nodded at him, “Now, that’s caps well spent.”

“Hancock’s caps, you mean?”

“Bah…”

Just as MacCready felt they were making a dent in the mutants, a mob of ferals, attracted by the commotion, attacked as well, “What is going ON TODAY?!” He dodged a roundhouse from a super mutant that when it made contact with the feral behind him, all but annihilated the ghoul’s misshapen head, “Thanks!” MacCready smiled at the mutant then shot him in the eye. He was knocked flat a moment later as a tangle of ferals verses mutant crashed into him. He got the breath knocked out of him and panic settled in as he realized they were being overwhelmed by the sheer chaos.

“CHOOOOOO CHOOOOOOOO! HERE COMES THE PAIN TRAIN!”

Wraith, wearing her power armor and wielding a rocket sledge, came crashing into the middle of the brawl; scattering ferals and mutants alike. Danse followed right behind her, strategically reducing the mob’s numbers to green puddles as he came.

There was moment when Danse nearly shot a caravanner, but for MacCready slamming his rifle butt into Danse’s arm, forcing him to miss.

“SHE’S NOT A FERAL YOU DUMBASS!”

Wraith stepped in between the two men as it looked like it might come to blows, “Easy boys. We’re all allies here…”

“Yes, it’s fortuitous that we happened by. Otherwise this group of… wastelanders, would have surely been killed…”

MacCready stepped around Wraith to hiss in Danse’s face, “We were doing just fine…”

“Must’ve been hard to get an accurate assessment from your back…”

Wraith saw the deadly look in MacCready’s eye and quickly intervened, “Whoa, whoa! Knock it off, Danse.” She turned back to MacCready, “I’m sorry about that…” She was interrupted by a message from Radio Freedom and after listening intently to her Pip-Boy for a moment she smiled apologetically at him, donned her helmet and left with Danse as quickly as she had arrived.

It was much later that night when Hancock crossed through the mostly empty bar and poked his head into the V.I.P. section of the Third Rail. There he found an extremely morose MacCready, well into his drink, “What’s the good word, little brother?”

After answering with an impressive burp, the young man patted the couch seat next to him, “Comere ‘nd cheer me up.”

Hancock slung an arm around to squeeze his shoulder as he sat next to him, “I see yer drinkin’ with purpose. Bossy said ya had a bit of a dust-up today…”

He waved the comment away, “’Snot that. I saw Wraith.”

Hancock made a face, “Still stomping around with the full metal jackass?”

MacCready laughed, but it tapered off to growl, “Can’t believe she ditched me for that tin can. What the heck’s she doing helping the Brotherhood of Squeal for anyway?”

“Well, I think she’s mostly touring ol’ rusty bottom ‘round the Commonwealth helpin’ Minutemen settlers. She wants him to see the plight of the people on the ground so when he flies up and reports to that balloon-wielding clown they call ‘Elder’, maybe he’ll have a more down-to-earth sensibility, you feel me?”

MacCready guzzled the last half of his beer and belched again, “I feel they should’ve mindeded their own busses… boise… butts, back to the Captinnal…”

“Or, better still, puncture their zeppelin on Trinity Tower and,” Hancock ran his thumb through the air while blowing a raspberry, “cast themselves out to sea in one long fart.”

MacCready laughed so hard he nearly fell off his seat, “Whew! Isneedsome air!”

Hancock helped him up the stairs, but hesitated when they opened the door to a substantial storm, “Oops, looks like this air’s damper than usual…”

The merc gently pushed off of him, removed his cap and stepped out into the torrent; closing his eyes and lifting his chin to let the rain wash his face, “Feels good…”

Hancock caught his breath as the young man turned and smiled at him just as lightning flashed across the sky; turning his eyes a brilliant aquamarine. He stepped out into the deluge, caught MacCready under his arm and led him past the doors to the bar and into the Old State House proper, “Can’t have you getting’ sick, now…”

Once up the winding stair, the ghoul led him to his bed and eased him down on it, “You can sleep it off here…” he helped him out of his gear and stooped to help with his boots as well.

“You gonna take my pants off too, big man?”

It would be so easy. Hancock could picture it in his mind: pushing MacCready onto his back, his mouth on his, hands exploring the young man’s warm, lean-muscled skin in search of scars… But when he brought his dark eyes level with MacCready’s brilliant blue ones, he hesitated. Yes, there was lust there, but it was the bleary-eyed-non-specific lust of someone lost in drink. He leaned in close, pushed his damp hair from his brow and planted a kiss on the merc’s forehead, “Ask me again when yer sober.”

When the ghoul turned to walk away, MacCready caught at his hand, “Please… just… I don’t want to be alone… Would you read to me? I… wanna to hear your voice.”

Hancock’s sigh was weary, but he smiled kindly down at him, “Whatever you need from me.”

…..

…..

“I need you to stop naggin’, that’s what I need!”

“It might be that Strong is the only thing keeping her at bay, and now you’re running off on a wild goose chase…”

“Nicky, I’m not…”

“When you know you have people who can go for you!”

Hancock stopped his jog, closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “Valentine, you have my permission to shoot me if Radiance turns me feral, alright?!”

“Christ, John!”

“I should be able to restrain you in the event that you are mentally incapacitated.” Danse’s armor squeaked slightly as he pantomimed a hug.

Hancock chuckled at him, “Thanks, brother.”

After much debate, Hancock and Danse had left the Peabody Safehouse, stopped at Diamond City to pick up Valentine and were now making their way to the Cabot’s home.

“Besides, Nicky, she’ll have more of a fight on her hands: I’m stone sober.” He resumed running, “I think the closer you are to being out of your mind the easier she can get in it.”

“I can see that being a possibility; you said most of your people just had headaches, but the ones who were steady users went feral.”

“Were you imbibing on the day in question?” Danse tried to phrase the question as politely as possible.

“Well, no. I was watching my grand baby. But, I wasn’t exactly in the best frame of mind, you feel me?” Hancock picked up the pace, “Wraith missing, and Preston named General as if she had died. Not to mention that my people were going feral all around me and I had no idea why.” He grunted uncomfortably, “This is all getting a little too touchy feely…”

“So, high mental anxiety paired with what? Your being a ghoul? Still feel like we’re missing a piece of this puzzle.”

“According to Mother Isolde, some of the human Children of Atom were suffering from headaches as well. No doubt from when Radiance was in the Glowing Sea gathering feral ghouls.”

Valentine was breathing hard trying to keep up, “When I questioned Infamy, they said most of the horde had been from their efforts and that Radiance had stolen them.”

“The piece we are missing is that alien headband…”

“There’s no way, Hancock.” Valentine talked louder when the ghoul tried to object, “There wasn’t enough left of anything after Deegan shot Emogene!”

“Well, if I see what’s left lying cold and still in the ground instead of floating around terrorizing the neighborhood, then I’ll have nothin’ more to say ‘bout it!”

Valentine took point when they reached the Cabot House and the patrolling sentry bot seemed to recognize him as he was allowed to ring the intercom, “This is Nick Valentine calling, and I was hoping to talk to Jack, if he’s available.”

Edward Deegan’s tone was cool, “What’s this about?”

“We’d like to talk about the unfortunate events that took place on the day that Ms. Cabot passed…”

“You’ve a lot of nerve, Valentine…”

Hancock gently pushed Nick aside, “You been keeping up with this Radiance business?”

“Hancock? Uh, yeah sure. Why?”

“Wraith says she’s Emogene.”

The door practically flew off of its hinges and Deegan, backlit yet clearly enraged, stood huffing in its frame, “HOW FUCKING DARE YOU?!”

“Edward?!” Jack’s voice came drifting down the stairs, “Who on earth are you bellowing at?!”

“It’s Nick Valentine, Hancock and some Minuteman-In-A-Can…”

“Well, let them in!”

The angry ghoul stabbed a finger at Hancock, “Just you watch yourself. You hear?”

As he listened to Valentine briefly outline Wraith’s current plight and the subsequent revelation that Radiance was Emogene, Jack grew increasingly agitated, “I question the validity of any claim made by the former general as she is clearly insane.”

There was a heavy, ominous silence as Wraith’s three friends were shocked to speechlessness. This was followed by absolute bedlam, as all five of them started yelling at and to each other. After a few minutes, the noise took on yet another layer of volume as Jack’s mother Wilhelmina walked into their living room banging two pots together. Then silence reigned again as they all stopped to stare at her.

“Gracious! Five grown men yelling like little boys. What on earth is the matter with you all?”

“Please, Mother, it’s nothing I can’t…”

“Hush now, Jack. Don’t presume to tell me it’s ‘nothing’.” She turned to Valentine and gave him a toe to crown look, “Who are you, young man?”

He chuckled at her choice of words, removed his hat and dipped his head respectfully, “Mrs. Cabot, I’m Detective Nick Valentine, P.I.”

“Oh, that’s right. You were with my Emogene…” She fell in on herself for a moment then straitened and gave him a hard look, “What do you want with what’s left of my family?”

Doffing his helmet, Danse dropped to one knee, “Apologies, Miss, but we would like to pay our respects to your late daughter. Such a tragedy was her passing we would lay a laurel on her gravesite, but only with your approval.” As all eyes turned to him, he maintained a look that was a masterful mix of chivalry, humility and sorrow; the perfect personification of a knight.

Wilhelmina was completely entranced and stood gazing at him for a moment, “Yes. Yes of course. She’s entombed in the family crypt at Wildwood Cemetery.”

“Mother! These ruffians fully intend on disturbing her grave and you just told them where to go!”

“Now, don’t be ridiculous, Jack. Why should they want to do that?”

Although he was irritated by the pomp of the Cabot household, Hancock wasn’t without sympathy for a mother who had lost a child. He followed the example set by his companions and removed his hat, “We’ve no intention of desecrating a quiet grave, ma’am.”

Jack glared daggers at him, “I shall be going along to make sure of it.” He turned to Deegan, “Edward?”

The family guardian sighed heavily, “Yeah, Jack, me too.”

The group left almost immediately yet the sun had set by the time they arrived at the cemetery. They paused at the broken gate and crouched low, expecting to see feral ghouls wandering around. However, all was quiet and the only thing moving was a swirling mist that had settled into the graveyard.

The scene sent chill fingers up his spine and Valentine found to be very fitting, “Like the set of a horror flick…”

Jack scoffed at him, turned on his flashlight, stood up abruptly and briskly led the way through to the mausoleums built in to the eastern embankment. His pace slowed as the beam of light reached what was meant to be his sister’s final resting place, “How…”

The concrete building had been blasted apart from within.

“Looks like she’s not in at the moment. Perhaps we should check back later?” Hancock was smug.

“Fascinating!” Jack turned to Deegan, “I was shocked that any part of her head remained. The bullet must have fully struck the artifact! I gave what I thought was the total remains of it to Wraith, per her insistence, but I must have been mistaken. A small portion must have remained. Perhaps the combination of radiation…” He spun away from Deegan and grabbed Valentine by the arms, “I must go and speak with Wraith!”

Valentine blinked a few times before looking over at Danse and Hancock, “Anyone else just get whiplash?”

…..

“I don’t trust you…”

“Naturally.”

“And I don’t like you.”

“Oh! I’m terribly hurt.”

Once again Wraith and Infamy were together in the void of her consciousness. No longer pure white, there was a yellow-green haze overhead that bent down to meet with the horizon. Wraith theorized that because none of it was technically real, the coloration was a way that her mind had come to terms with Radiance’s barrier. It gave her something to push against so she had grudgingly admitted that Atom’s Assassin was apparently helping. The glowing one had danced around her gloating and so she wanted to make sure they understood what their relationship was.

“Once I’m free of her then I’m going to make sure I’m free of you.” Even though it wouldn’t take her away from them, she turned her back and walked away anyway.

Infamy followed behind, skipping, “And here I thought I was beginning to grow on you, hahaha!”

“I’m pretty sure there’s a cream for that...” Wraith trailed off as she felt a change in the void. If air existed there it suddenly became heavy and hot. She turned back to tell Infamy off if it was something they were doing, but the words died on her lips. Radiance was standing right behind them.

Infamy turned as well and took a few steps backward to get outside of striking range, “Looks like your chaperone is here. Curfew already? Hmm. Seems sooner than usual…”  

“Infamy, you should leave,” There was something different about this Radiance: something more solid. More like the version that tormented Wraith with the memories of Marie’s death. More like the one that had burned her, “I don’t think this is a proxy…”

Radiance had locked eyes with her opposing glowing one, “You. I thought I could ignore someone as weak as you.” She glanced at the barrier, “You’re becoming a problem, I see. I’m close enough now though. Close enough…”

“Infamy! Leave! Leave NOW!” Using all her strength, Wraith ejected her ally before Radiance could destroy them. Then, left alone with her tormentor, she lifted her chin defiantly.

Wraith’s display of strength and nerve thrilled the monster queen, “Yessss. Beloved, you are strong!” She took a step closer, her arms out wide, “Imagine how much more powerful you could be if only you would join with me. Give yourself to me, my love. I could give you such pleasure…”

Wraith growled at her, “Never. You don’t love me. You don’t love anyone.”

“You’re wrong! From the moment I met you when came to rescue me from that silly preacher, I have loved you.”

“Prove it. Let me out.”

Radiance seemed to flicker out of focus and just for a moment, an image of Emogene Cabot flashed in her place, “We can’t. You have something we must have. We are incomplete without it.” Now the glowing one turned up the heat and sent tendrils of chartreuse flames crawling across the unseen floor toward Wraith, “You must tell us! Tell us where we can find the rest! Tell us where our crown is!”  

…..

…..  

“Ah, here you are.” Danse had been looking all over the Prydwen for Wraith and it had been Proctor Ingram that suggested he check the forecastle of the airship. “I take it your audience with the elder didn’t go as you had expected?” The wind was intense and he practically had to shout in order for her to hear, “It’s certainly bracing out here!”

Wraith stood at the very tip of the narrow beam. She was in her power armor, but had removed her helmet and was staring at the city, “No. It went pretty much exactly how I expected.”

“What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you, knight.”

She chuckled humorlessly, and turned her head to smile sadly at him, “I’m on the precipice, Paladin Danse. I’m going to have to make decisions soon. Hard choices…” She could see he was confused and concerned. The concern was genuine and she felt a guilty tug at her heart. “I’m having a hard time getting through to him. I thought that I should… find it easier. He doesn’t want to hear me.”

“Take the time to remember why we’re out here; the elder has only the highest concern for the citizenry of the Commonwealth…”

“All her citizens?”

“You mean ghouls?”

“Don’t make that face.” She walked back toward him and had a brief moment of disorientation as she wasn’t used to looking down to talk to him, “Daisy. Remember Daisy?”

“The shopkeep in Goodneighbor? What about i… her?”

“You very much enjoyed speaking with her… don’t shake your head!” Wraith let herself sound angry, “Your elder would have her ejected from any B.O.S. settlement and forced out into the ruins.”

“Simply to protect any human citizen from the day when it… she, inevitably goes feral...”

“No human has ever acted spontaneously out of passion and hurt or even murdered someone? Besides that, there is a distinct lack of evidence that all ghouls would go feral given enough time.” Saddened, Wraith swallowed a few times to prevent herself from crying, “I guess I’ve failed with you too.”

Danse looked slightly panicked, “Failed? How do you mean, knight?”

“I’ve grown to like you, Danse. I feel like we’ve become friends. How do you feel about us?”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times. Unaccustomed to heart-to-heart conversations, he was struggling to articulate how he felt about her, “I’ve told you off-the-record, personal information. Things I’ve never told anyone. You’ve become a confidant; a true friend.”

“I’m glad.” Her smile was sad. She let her eyes drop to the airport and was quiet for a moment. “Do you know where I got this?” She drew Kremvh’s Tooth and held it aloft so that the setting sun glinted off the wicked-looking blade; making it seem as if it was made of fire. “Hancock and I were responding to a Minutemen call at Dunwich Borers. There was a raider clan there. Bedlam. That was the name of their leader.” She sheathed the ornate knife and returned her eyes to the ground below, “After the fight we pushed forward. I guess we felt like tough shit and were looking for trouble. I saw some stuff. Never could explain… anyway,” She looked back at Danse who was listening intently, “There was a well… or something and I decided I was going to show off for Hancock. I dove in and swam to the bottom which is where I found the knife. I can hold my breath for a very, very long time, but I didn’t tell him that. About half way back I saw him. He had jumped in, fully intending to save me. Except now he was half drowned and I ended up towing him to the surface. After he caught his breath, do you know what the first thing he said to me was?”

“I couldn’t begin to guess.”

“He said ‘Whoa! That’s a badass knife!’ and asked if he could hold it.”

“Knight…”

“He risked his life in an attempt to save mine…”

“I don’t see how that’s rel…”

“Of course it’s relevant!” She wasn’t shouting just because of the wind anymore, “He’s a ghoul, yes, but that doesn’t preclude him from being a caring person! A citizen of the Commonwealth! Why should his wellbeing be any less a priority?” She pushed on when he didn’t answer, “I hope that you will spend some time thinking about what I’ve said. For now, we should go our separate ways.”

“I’m afraid I don’t quite understand…”

“I know you don’t, Danse. And that’s upsetting.”

“I’ll… verify if there’s a vertibird available for you…”

“No need.”

“No! Do not jump from here. If you land in the water…” He trailed off as Wraith had already vaulted over the railing. He saw her land safely and was impressed despite his frustration. He stood at the rail for a long while; letting the harsh wind buffet him as the sun went down.

…..

…..

Infamy stood, dazed, “She kicked me out. She kicked me out?! She kicked me out!”

“Stop saying that! What the heck are you even talking about?”

They acted as if they couldn’t hear MacCready and ran up the basement steps, “Ohhhh, Strong! Where are you my great green galoot?”

“STRONG IS NOT YOUR ANYTHING!” The massive humanoid had been sitting in the doorway cleaning Smashy but now lurched to his feet to glare at the glowing one.

“Never mind. Radiance is here! Somewhere…”

“How do you know?” MacCready ran out into the yard with Strong. Peering through his binoculars he rotated in a circle.

“She crashed my session with our problem child.” They scrunched up their face, “Wraith just might have saved my life. Not sure if it was just self-preservation or if she genuinely cares what happens to me. She is the sort who would act automatically altruistically. Yet again, I like to think I have a way with people, you understand…”

“Will you shut up?! Jeez! You’re making it hard to concentrate!”

“Never realized one might need their ears to see. But, then again, you are the professional.”

“GHOUL’S SKIN WOULD MAKE A NICE BELT AND HAT!”

Infamy took the hint.

“I don’t see any glowing lights. I think you should still go out, Strong. Even if we can’t see her we want her to see you.”

He nodding then threw back his head and bellowed mightily, “RADIANCE! STRONG WILL RIP YOU APART AND PRESENT YOUR GUTS TO ALPHA!”

Deacon, haven taken an earlier shift, was napping on the couch when he heard their commotion. He joined MacCready on the lawn with his own pair of binoculars just as the super mutant jogged away, “Infamy, what‘s Radiance’s range?”

“For me it’s a few hundred feet or so. Might be more, might be less with your caged monster.”

“I don’t see Radiance but I do see our intrepid trio… Looks like they brought guests.”

The two groups came together and brought one another up to speed. Danse woke Curie and afterword they moved en masse to the basement. Rather than greet them with her customary threat display, Wraith gazed vacantly off into a shadow-filled corner. Apart from Deacon, who stayed near the staircase, they fanned out around the cage and stood in silent uncertainty.

“You thinkin’ she might be duking it out right now?”

“Could be. It’s hard to tell…”

“I suppose I should try to get back in. As much as I love being here this close with you all, breathing in your various body odors, no sense standing around waiting for something to happen.” Infamy sat cross-legged on the rough-hewn floor and closed their eyes.

To the shock of all, Wraith suddenly lunged across her prison, reached through the bars and grabbed Infamy by their foot. They struggled helplessly as she lifted them completely off the floor before violently slamming them to the ground as if she were cracking a whip.

Hancock and Danse leapt to an attempted rescue; each grabbing ahold of one of her arms. She laughed manically as they struggled. Jack, Deegan and Deacon joined in as well while MacCready ran up the stairs for the syringer.  

“Emogene! It’s your brother. Please stop.” Jack pleaded with his sister, “If that’s you, then talk to me! Tell me how I can help you. What do you want?!”

She let go of the unconscious glowing one and shook herself free. When she spoke it was still Wraith’s voice, but the tone and enunciation were just different enough, it was if someone was doing an impression of her, “What do I want? I want it all, you simpleton!” She spread Wraith’s arms and spun in a circle, “I want power and love and to indulge in their delights for all time.” She came to a stop and leveled a murderous gaze at her brother, “I want the artifact. All of it. You will tell me where the rest of my crown is or I will burn Wraith from her mind and leave you all with her broken husk.”

“It won’t make a difference either way, you hag. You’ll still try and kill us all; even if we give you what you want.” MacCready leveled the rifle at her but didn’t pull the trigger.

“O’er my dead body.”

“That’s the idea, Hancock.” She smiled at him evilly, “Though in your case, I’ll be making an exception. I will see you dance for me, just like you did for Wraith.”  

“I don’t know you, sister. I’m thinkin’ I don’t want to. And I don’t think you thought this through.” He spread his arms and gestured to the group, “Ain’t a one of us who knows where your dime-store crown is.” He leveled a finger at her, “There’s only one person on this entire planet who knows, and you’re squatting in her brain!” He shook his finger back and forth, “I would think that you’d play this a little nicer; you get more with sugar than salt.”

She yawned, “Ugh, what a bore. I forgot how much you like to hear yourself talk.”

“He’s talking a lot of sense, Emogene.” Valentine stepped over Infamy’s prone form and stood just outside of her reach, “Give this up. There is a chance we could still help you. Curie here is an excellent doc. Not to mention your brother…”

“MY BROTHER?!” She gripped the cage bars and leaned forward to shriek at him, “MY BROTHER HAD ME KILLED!”

“I… no… I…”

“NO!” Deegan wouldn’t let that stand, “Your brother sent Valentine and Wraith to try and help you. I… I shot you, Emogene. I thought you had killed everyone. That you’d become a monster. And the only way I could save the memory of a girl that I’ve known since she was a child…” The ghoul closed his eyes and looked away, unable to continue.

“Oh, poor Edward. Poor sweet fool; I am a monster! And just to prove… what?” She took a step back, her eyes confused “How? How did you find me?!” Confusion turned to fear, “NO! GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU BRUTISH, GREEN…”

As suddenly as she had become Radiance, Wraith returned to herself. She shook her head a few times before leaning into the bars, “I could really use an aspirin.”

Deacon stepped over Infamy and reached out a hand to touch her, but caught himself and pulled it back, “How much time do you have?”

“Ah, the eternal question.” She was happy to see a few half smiles on her friends’ faces, “I’m not sure. I don’t even know all of what just happened.” She popped her chin at Atom’s Assassin, “They alright?”

Hancock nudged them with a boot and seemed satisfied that their groaning was indicative of good health, “Yeah, I’m sure they’ll mend.” He pushed his tricorn back to clunk foreheads with her, “You sound better, sunshine.”

“She must’ve dropped the barrier completely. How did you manage that?”

“I sicked Strong on her.” MacCready came to give her a kiss, “I hope he eats her or, whatever.”

Curie passed a bottle in-between them, “Excusez-moi, Madame, but please drink this.” She beamed as Wraith drank it down without question, “You see, Monsieur Deacon; it does not taste like frowns!”

“That’s… not exactly what I said.”

Danse made a mental note that Deacon had once again taken a step back so the others would have room. It irritated him but he wasn’t sure why. He waited until Wraith had finished chugging Curie’s health drink before reaching through the bars to give her a bear-hug that was almost crushing. He didn’t trust himself to speak so held her quietly for a few moments while gently patting her back.

Wraith caught sight of Jack and pointed an accusatory finger at him, “You! You made this mess. You had better damn well help me clean it up!”

“I’m not entirely sure…”

“Tell me how to block the artifacts effects!”

“I’m not sure…”

“How about a goddamn tinfoil hat?!”

“Block nothin’,” Hancock was holding one of Wraith’s hands, “destroy is more my thinkin’, you feel me?”

“Unfortunately, that is quite impossible. The artifact is simply too powerful; it cannot be destroyed by any means…”

“Clearly, it ain’t.”

Valentine nodded and gestured to Wraith, “I was wondering about that too. You mentioned that it was indestructible, but maybe it only makes you think that it is. It’s proven to be vulnerable against an AMR, at any rate.”

“It’s sentient, then?” Danse was making a face.

“Absolutely.”

“Well, then, let’s go get it, strap it to a mini nuke and call it a day.” MacCready turned to Wraith, “So?”

“So what?”

He blinked a few times, her confusion having confused him, “So, uh. Where’s it at?”

She released Hancock’s hand and folded her arms, “Nope!” She started to laugh and shook her head, “Ha ha. You almost had me, Radiance.” She took a few steps back away from her friends and shook her finger at the ceiling, “There’s no way I’m telling you where it is so you can just sit and spin.”

“She thinks she’s… that we’re…”

“Not real.” Hancock was crushingly disappointed.

“But of course we are real. Why should this not be so?”

Once again Wraith’s eyes glazed over and she growled lowly. There was a collective groan and Curie began to softly cry. Danse held her and whispered soft words of encouragement into her ear.

MacCready clenched and unclenched his fists, “She went someplace by herself.” He seemed to be speaking to the ceiling, “No, that’s not right. She took Dogmeat!” He turned to Valentine, “Wraith went off someplace, just her and Dogmeat, right after you got hurt. That must’ve been when she ditched the alien thingy!”

“So the dog knows? Maybe. Does that help us?”

He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by someone yelling through the Radio Freedom speakers. The group trouped up the stairs to hear better, leaving Infamy in the tender care of the concrete floor.

“I’m not sure if you heard me; this is Mama Murphy. Noah, dear, I know how these work. Probably better then you, sweetheart, so stop pushing buttons. Hello, kids? Is anyone at home?”

Hancock picked up the receiver, “Murphy? What’s happening?”

“Hancock, I’ve seen the way to help Wraith.”

.....

Thank you so much for reading! Like what you read? Looking for more? Please see my masterlink post tagged under Wraith in the Ruins (also my pinned post). As always, if you have any questions/concerns/comments please drop by and send an ask. Anon too. =^..^=

#wraith in the ruins #fallout companions #john hancock #hancock #fallout 4 #fallout fanfic #fallout fanfiction #deacon #danse #maccready #fallout curie #fallout strong #nick valentine

[mianite-season-3]

Unofficial Season Three - Chapter 3

Calm Before the Storm

Jordan’s mind whirled as he was thrown in and out of fragmented sleep, punctuated by nightmares of suffocation and attacks of mobs whose colors were wrong. His heart raced and it took him almost half an hour every time he woke up to calm himself down out of his frantic state. The process repeated, and did nothing but exhaust him. Deep breaths turned into gulps of air as he was pulled back into unconsciousness and his vision blurred as he drowned over and over again.

It only got marginally better when he was awake, and the only thing that grounded him to reality was Tom’s hand that occasionally brushed against his side as the other man slept or Tucker’s leg that was somehow invading his space. Jordan cherished the physical touch, grounding himself on it and reminding himself that he was not alone.

Finally, he gathered the energy to fling open his eyes and stay awake. He sat up and rubbed at his eyes, scrubbing away a trail of dried tears off his cheek as he scanned the room. Nothing had changed. His friends were all still fast asleep down the line of beds, with both couples now holding each other tightly in their sleep. The dogpile of wolves were still fast asleep in the corner, with the addition of Silly who’d curled up beside Alpha.

The man sucked in a deep, agonizingly slow breath. Then another. And one more. He focused his senses in on the mundane. The wrinkling of the bedsheets as Tom flipped onto his other side. The soft snores coming from the opposite side of the room. The soft blanket that Jordan was rubbing between his fingers.

Then, a sound invaded that wasn’t part of the mundane. Shuffling footsteps he realized, approaching from right outside the door. He quickly laid back down and pretended to sleep, though there was no chance of that now.

A petite shadowy figure appeared in the entrance within moments of him lying down, which transformed into Star’s white clad person once she turned towards one of the bookshelf walls. Jordan watched as she carefully made her way over to one of the bookshelves, furthest away from him, partially obscured by Tucker’s foot.

The small girl stood there for a while, holding something in her hands and staring at it while facing the wall. He kept his breathing deep, feeling almost as if he were intruding on a private moment.

That is, until Tom kicked out in his sleep and nailed him right behind his knee. Jordan cursed inadvertently and Star’s head whipped around, her golden eyes glowing brighter than he thought was possible as he curled his knee to his chest. He silently cursed his friend for being both a restless sleeper and a strong kicker.

“You were awake... the whole time?” Star hissed. Cautious, the older man sat up and nodded slowly.

“...Why?”

“Huh?”

Golden eyes rolled. “Why are you awake? All of your friends passed out the instant they got into bed.”

Jordan grabbed at the edge of the blanket, twisting it and fidgeting with it. “I... just can’t sleep. Bad dreams.”

Something in her expression softened. “Yeah, they suck.” Star turned back to the bookshelf, tapping her thumb against the spine of the book in her hands as she thought. Suddenly, she slide the book back onto the shelf with a satisfying clunk and headed towards the door, glancing over her shoulder at Jordan as she left the room.

“If you really can’t sleep, I can show you something cool.” With that, she left.

The man stared at the doorway for a second before looking around at his friends sleeping peacefully beside him. He should try to get some sleep. None that he’d gotten so far would hold him over for the next day, he was sure.

But the thought of facing his nightmares again pulled him out of the bed and sent him cautiously padding after the strange teen with the golden eyes.

  “Star?” he called out quietly after he left the side room. A waving shadow from the other room caught his attention, and he poked his head into the room. Vibrant colors and bright light assaulted his eyes and he squinted against the natural beauty.

He’d gotten a quick look of the room before, but as he stepped past the threshold he realized he hadn’t fully comprehended how beautiful a farm and grassy green field was ever before.

Star had everything organized, with crops like wheat and carrots planted in nine by nine plots while melons and pumpkins lied past them in rows. She had sugar cane and cactus growing in efficient configurations and as he moved further into the room, posts of jungle wood with cocoa growing on them popped out.

“It’s so... normal in here,” Jordan mumbled to himself, brushing his fingers against a fully grown wheat crop in wonder.

The teen stepped out from a little room a bit ahead of where he was stood and caught the last part of his comment. Her head tilted to the side in mild confusion. “I mean, I don’t know if normal’s the word... But there is beauty in it, I guess.”

“But... the world outside is so... so...” Jordan waved his arms emphatically to prove his point. Star just stared at him.

“The world outside is so... what?” She stepped closer to him, curiosity and humor in her shining eyes. She clearly thought he was some kind of crazy, or at the very least sleep deprived.

He blew out a breath of air and a strand of hair fluttered into his face. “You know, it’s so... not normal! All the blocks are out of place! There’s no grass, or trees, or beaches, or anything!”

The girl’s stare got more incredulous. Then she broke a smile and laughed. “Oh, I get it. Nice joke.” Star brushed past him and nimbly hopped around the crops and waved for Jordan to follow her. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“I’m not joking, Star,” He added, following after her and taking extra care not to trample any crops. “This land is weird, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“And I suppose you’re also going to try to tell me the sky is yellow and creepers are red.” Star rolled her eyes at the impossibility.

“Hey, red creepers exist!”

The teen snickered as she lead him past a fenced in pasture with docile cows, bleating sheep and clucking chickens padding around. One pig looked up as they passed, quickly deciding the humans weren’t there to feed it carrots and going back to sniffing at the ground.

Jordan reached out a hand and rubbed the ears of a sheep that stuck its head over the fence, smiling when it bleated happily in response.

“Up here,” Star said, one hand on a ladder against the wall. She swarmed up it like a monkey and was soon out of Jordan’s sight. He quickly followed her up, his eyes suddenly assaulted by darkness as he blinked rapidly to regain some sight.

He nearly fell back down the ladder as he blindly grabbed out for the next rung and grabbed at thin air, but his muscles froze and kept him stable.

“Star, what is up here?” His voice echoed back at him and a thought came to him. “You’re not gonna kill me, are you?”

A snort answered his question. “If I was going to do that, my wolves would have ripped you apart the minute they surrounded you. Gods, you’re paranoid as well as crazy.” Jordan couldn’t tell if she was teasing or not. He decided she was, for his own sanity.

It wasn’t like he could do anything about it if she did choose to kill him, anyways.

Soft rays of silver light suddenly flooded the area, and Jordan took in a one by two hallway that lead towards a glass window. Golden eyes hovered as Star poked her head out from behind the wall, silently inviting him forward with a wave.

He cautiously clambered up onto the floor and approached the glass, gasping as he looked out.

The land was in shadow, with only the full moon on the horizon casting dull silver slivers onto the hills. Mobs upon mobs shambled around, and he watched an enderman grab a wooden block from a hillside and carry it proudly.

“Isn’t it pretty?” The teen sighed, gazing wistfully out at the dark quilted world. He nodded slowly. “I come up here every now and again, when it all gets to be a bit too much. Calms me down.”

“How can you be calm when there’s that many mobs down there?” He asked, gesturing to the posse of skeletons not far from what he remembered as the door.

“They can’t get at me. I did have an enderman steal a piece of my door once though, that skeleton’s arrow hurt like a bitch.” Star rubbed the joint between her shoulder and collarbone, and let out a long sigh.

They stood in silence for a while, each admiring a different part of the scenery. Jordan was still marveling at the fact that Star didn’t seem fazed by the amount of hostile creatures just outside her door, even though it was near amounts he only remembered seeing during the blood moon in Ruxomar. He studied her out of the corner of his eye.

This girl had been through a lot, clearly. If the nonchalant attitude towards past injuries wasn’t clue enough, the way she carried herself was a dead give away. Her hand was never far away from the iron sword at her side, which glowed dimly with enchantments. She stood tall and from what he could tell, she was well-toned beneath her white armor. And more than anything, she was closed off. Jordan couldn’t really get a read on her, at least not as much as he would have liked. She gave off a similar feeling that Martha or Wag did, where they had a lot of baggage but no inclination to tell anyone what was bothering them.

Although, Jordan realized, she wasn’t nearly as good as the other two were. As the teen took in a shaky breath, he noticed her shoulders shuddering and a tear running down her cheek, illuminated silver by the setting moon.

Unconsciously he found himself gently placing a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort her as best he could.

She stood still for a moment, then ripped away from his touch and stepping back, wiping her face furiously with her sleeve.

“Please... don’t...” Star’s voice wavered, and she rubbed the spot he’d had his hand on with her opposite arm. “Don’t touch me.”

“Sorry...”

Her eyes bored into his mind as Star stared at him, her mind racing a million miles a second. “I think you should go back to your friends now.”

“I don’t know--”

“Go! ...Please...”

He jumped as her voice cracked, and took no time to retreat back down the hallway. Once again he fumbled with the top of the ladder, clinging tightly to it until both his feet were planted.

As he descended, he thought he heard a small cry echo out from above him.

  He squinted as he placed his feet back onto the grassy ground of the farming area, comforted by the snorts and scuffling of the penned animals. A chicken came strutting over to him and regarded him with its dark beady eyes. Jordan could almost hear the chicken mocking him with its cluck.

“Do you know what’s up with her?” he asked the animal, who only tilted its head and pecked at the ground in response. “She’s so hard to understand. She shows me her secret little hidey hole and then like five minutes later asks me to leave.”

The chicken clucked.

“I know, it is kinda rude isn’t it?” he commented, reflecting on the fact that he was talking to a chicken. “Why she gotta be darude?”

Jordan chuckled at his stupid joke. The chicken wasn’t amused. It walked away, and the man stifled a yawn.

He rubbed at his eyes and made his way back out of the small paradise, into the chest room and back into the side room where he crawled into bed and curled up, asleep in mere seconds.

Jordan didn’t even notice when Tom’s arm found its way around his waist again, as the younger man searched for something close and familiar.

#saphira writes s3 #mianite season 3 #mianite s3

[stillthewordgirl]

LOT/CC fic: Kruos (ch. 1 of 5)

I was researching something for work and came across the fact that" "kruos," in ancient Greek, means "icy cold."

"Huh," said the part of my brain that is always thinking about writing fanfic, "reminds me of Chronos. What if..."

This is done and will be posted in five chapters; right now I'm planning Mondays and Thursdays. Many thanks to LarielRomeniel for the beta. I promise I'll get back to my other WIPs now that this is no longer dominating my brain. :)

CaptainCanary. As always. Can also be read here on AO3 or here on FF.net.

"Wake."

The tall man jerks awake, a gasp rattling in his lungs, straining immediately against the restraints holding him to the bed. He stops nearly immediately as their strength becomes apparent, and injuring himself helps no one--but inside, his brain is working furiously.

The clearing. Mick. And then the Time Master strolling out of the woods, bounty hunters by his side, pointing their guns first at Mick...and then at him.

No. We'll take this one.

The...issue...with his partner forgotten for the moment, Leonard had steadied his hand on the cold gun, glancing down at Mick to see if they were on the same page with this, at least. He saw understanding in Mick's eyes...and then nothing, the world vanishing in a flash of light as one of the bounty hunters hit him with some sort of weapon.

And now, that same Time Bastard stands there, smiling down at him.

"Hello, Mr. Snart," he says smoothly. "I understand we have quite a bit of work to do. Unless you're interested in... a partnership of sorts? You seem to have a rather...pragmatic...background."

Work. He can figure out what that means, based on the restraints and the man's earlier words. They want to use him as a weapon, one to take out the team, all those silly heroes for whom he's shown such scorn.

The ones on whose behalf he’d turned against his oldest friend.

He inhales, watching the Time Bastard from underneath lowered lids, wondering if he could play along for a while, learn a bit more, perhaps steal some sort of interesting time technology. But there’s a dangerous quality to the man’s watchfulness, and he thinks about what Hunter has said about the Time Council, their refusal to save his family, to deal with this asshole named Vandal Savage, to save the world.

Some things are too cold even for him.

Well, at any rate, he'll be damned if he'll be their lapdog without a fight. He stares at the other man, mask fixed in place as firmly as it's ever been, knowing that to show weakness here will mean doom.

Then he smiles. It's a very cold smile.

"Fuck," he says distinctly, "off."

The Waverider is there, waiting. Staring at it, knowing full well he has no choice, Mick Rory prepares himself for one of the hardest things he's ever had to do.

The Time Master had known it, too.

“Well, well,” he’d said, staring at the tableau before him, at Len holding his cold gun on Mick, at Mick sprawled on the ground, both of them staring at the unexpected newcomer. “It would seem we’re somewhat earlier than planned.”

He’d looked at the armored figures flanking him, both of whom were ignoring Snart—the one who was actually armed—and shook his head. "No. We'll take this one," he'd told the others, pointing at Leonard, staring at Mick with distaste. "He's by far the smarter of the two. I want cleverness. This time.”

While he’d been talking, though, Leonard had glanced down at Mick, and the bigger man had seen the expression on his face—the “hell with whatever our beef was, there’s a common threat now” look. Mick had been about to nod, just a tiny bit, enough to show that he agreed—but there was a flash of light, and Len had fallen, in the utterly limp fashion of the unconscious or the dead.

Mick had tried to surge back to his feet, only to halt as both the figures pointed their weapons at him, in a way that suggested that this time, their shot would be deadly. One of them looked toward the Time Master…who’d shaken his head.

“He’s not our problem,” the man said. “Not now.” He motioned toward Leonard, and one of the armored men moved to hoist the unconscious crook to his shoulders, also snatching up the cold gun as his cohort kept a gun on Mick. “He’s a dead man, anyway. There’s nothing out here, and he’ll never go back to the ship, not after what he did.”

With those words, he turned his back on Mick, as if he were nothing, and the bounty hunter carrying Snart fell in just behind him. The other one kept his weapon trained on Mick until they’d vanished, then shook his head, raised his weapon, and tapped a handheld control, winking out even as Mick had lunged for him.

Only one thing to do. Not only did he not want to starve out here—or face the team when they came looking for Snart—but he’d be damned if he let those Time Bastards do…whatever they’d do…to Snart. The only one who got to hurt that smug jerk, he thought grumpily as he started trudging back to the Waverider, was him.

Standing here now, looking at the ship, though, he wonders if he’d made the right decision. No matter how pissed he’d been at Hunter’s words, at Snart’s betrayal in Star City, bringing the pirates to the ship had been a stupid-as-fuck idea. Sure, he’d figured that Snart would back him up, but…

Mick shakes his head again, then raises his hands in the air to show his lack of weapons and slowly approaches the Waverider. When he’s close enough, he figures, he raises his voice too.

“Hey,” he bellows, in the direction of the ship, “um, anyone there?” Stupid, Mick, of course they are. “There’s sort of a problem. Open up!”

He’s right. Someone’s here; someone’s been watching for Snart. The hatch begins to open after only a minute or so go by, and it’s somehow no surprise at all that it’s Sara who starts to stalk down toward him. The captain, hovering a step or two behind her, tries to catch her shoulder, but Sara gives him a withering glance as she slips away and takes a few more steps toward Mick. Behind them, he can see the others approaching, Haircut and the professor and the kid and Kendra, but his eyes remain on Sara.

“Where the hell is he?” she hisses, and she can see the flash of a knife in her hand. “Ray, go find…”

But Mick interrupts her, shaking his head, and raising his hands just a little higher. "The Time Masters," he tells her numbly, ignoring Hunter's gasp of surprise, the muttering from the rest of the team. "They were here. They took Snart."

Sara's eyes widen, then narrow. He can tell, though, that she believes him, that she’s even now plotting how to get his partner back. Her eyes are just as cold as Snart's could get, sometimes, when someone had threatened to hurt someone he...cared...about.

Somewhere in the back of his head, a few pieces click together, and a couple of things suddenly make sense. Huh. Well, how 'bout that? he thinks to himself, remembering the look on Snart's face earlier when he'd threatened Sara. 'Splains a lot...

But there are bigger fish to burn, right now.

"The rest of it, it don't matter," he tells them, hands held out before him, trying to emphasize his lack of weapons. "I can promise or whatever you want, or you can keep me in the brig. I may not get why Snart wanted to stick with you lunatics..." He tries very hard not to look at Sara. “…but those Time Bastards don't get to mess with my partner."

"Even though you threatened to kill him yourself?" Kendra's voice is cold. The bird woman stands with her arms crossed, regarding him. Mick is impressed.

"Ain't ever had a brother, have you?" he asks before he realizes what he’s about to say. "Wouldn't have done it. Just...getting a few things straight."

"Was Leonard right, though?" Sara's voice is very, very cold, and while she'd been staring over his shoulder into the woods with worry in her eyes a moment ago, she's completely focused on him now. "Would you have killed his sister? My sister?"

"My wife?" Stein says softly in the background. Mick doesn't have the heart to look at him, though, staring at Sara instead.

Fact is, he’s not sure what he would have done in the heat of the moment. He’s always…done things he regretted, in situations like that. Leonard knew that. He’d always tried to protect Mick from doing the shit he’d regret later, just like Mick had protect him, way back when, in juvie.

But all the rage that'd filled him when he’d heard Rip’s words earlier, when he’d watched Snart pick this team over him…it’s drained away, now. And what's left? It's 110 percent directed at the Time Bastards.

"I burn hot," he told her shortly. "Always have." He saw recognition in her eyes and nodded, guessing that Snart'd been talking. "Can I tell you what I mighta done in that...in that...then? Nope. He mighta even been right. But now’s not then. And now I’m far more pissed at those Time Bastards.”

She doesn't look happy. Well, he can't blame her; he'd burned her pretty good not that long ago, before Snart had tagged him with the cold gun. (Why hadn’t he guessed? Snart’s not one to go running to just anyone’s rescue. But he’d done it in 1975, and in 2046...)

It all seems so stupid now. Time pirates? Seriously? He keeps his hands held out, eyes on her, ignoring the noises the so-called captain is making.

Finally, Sara glances behind her at the team. Whatever she sees, she nods, and turns back to him.

“OK by me,” she says. “No heat gun, though. And you stay in the brig until we get some things figured out.”

Rip has had enough, now. “Isn’t my opinion of any bearing on this question?” he asks, sarcasm worthy of Snart thick in his voice. “This is, after all, my ship.”

"I know," Sara tells him. "I just don't care."

Mick can't help it. He laughs.

No wonder Snart likes her.

The Time Masters had been right about one thing. Leonard Snart is smarter than Mick Rory. Not that Mick is stupid, not at all like he sometimes pretends to be, but Leonard has the sort of brains that could have, in another place and time, made him a prodigy. (In something other than safecracking.) It is, in truth, the sort of thing the Time Masters respect, far more than they respect brute strength, in anyone other than their bounty hunters.

But what they hadn't taken into account is that Leonard has his own sort of strength, not just the physical sort built painstakingly by a wiry, underfed kid determined to be strong, but a mental toughness also built up over the years, a sort of emotional scar tissue layered over his inner core. He has far more of a sense of self-worth than Mick's ever had, though no action of his father's.

Don't ever let anyone hurt you.

He never fully managed it, though. There aren’t many who could, no, not at all, but oh, those rare few can hurt him horribly.

Mick can do it with rare skill. Lisa could destroy him if she wanted to.

Barry, against Leonard’s own will, had gotten under his skin with his words of heroes and a better future. And lately, oh, lately, he's let someone else in. (He clings to the memory of a compact form huddled in his jacket, curled into his side in the cold, getting past his defenses, getting under his skin.)

What's it like, dying?

There, in the Vanishing Point, he finds out. The Time Masters hurt him. They hurt him in ways Lewis Snart, with all his flair for causing pain both mental and physical, never dreamed of. They break him down to his component parts (in some ways literally) and remake him; they drown him in his own blood or burn him to a cinder, and then bring him back, gasping and weak. He fights, not only or even mostly for the team, but because he is Leonard goddamn Snart, and he’s no one’s servant, no one’s victim, and no one’s puppet.

Never again.

It’s been minutes, it’s been forever, when his tormentor, the only one he ever really sees, looks away and frowns, stepping to the side and out of his very limited field of view. But Leonard can hear, and he closes his aching eyes to concentrate as the voices rise.

“…a mistake, Declan,” he hears, as the newcomer speaks urgently to his main captor. “…should have stayed with the plan…”

“This one was the better choice." Declan...oh, the demon has a name...sounds annoyed, but also a bit defensive. "You'd have me take that...thug? This one is highly intelligent; it makes the task more difficult, but..."

"This one has less reason to betray that ridiculous team Hunter put together. And ties to it that complicate matters." The voices lower to murmurs again, then rise. "If you can't break through soon, the Council has decreed that you must drop him back there and take the other instead."

"Surely, he's dead..." Declan sounds disbelieving.

"Not so. And if he knows to blame this one for his dilemma, we may be able to salvage the original plan."

Mick. They're going to take Mick if he doesn't break.

Mick, with all his rage and hate. Mick, who'd burned Sara, who'd made him choose.

Mick, whose sense of worth has always been shaky, who's far less likely to manage to retain that inner core of self, to battle back even if these Time Bastards take him. Who's already tried to kill the team once, and who, underestimated, could tear through them like a forest fire, burned corpses in his wake. Who will all too likely blame Leonard, and pursue his revenge...

Leonard makes his decision. He fights a little longer, for appearance's sake...and then he lets go, lets himself drown, swamped immediately by a sea of whispers telling him that he's a bounty hunter, that he's always been a bounty hunter, that the Time Masters know best, that they're working to save the world, that Rip Hunter's team has betrayed him, that they need to be ended.

But deep inside, he has that spar to cling to, that hidden corner to hide, propped up by sheer will and four pillars, four people, four sets of memories. Lisa. Mick. Barry. ... Sara.

He starts giving them the answers they want. It's easy, far too easy, and the hidden core of Leonard cringes at it, wraps itself a little more firmly in its tiny corner, buries itself just a little better.

With each day, with each answer, with every twinge of betrayal, that core's a little more hidden. Eventually, they let him out for training sessions; he learns to pilot a time ship, to read the timeline, to operate the weapons and equipment they offer him. Declan, a proud smile on his face, takes credit for how fast he soaks everything up, the best "recruit" in millennia, and accepts the apologies of those who doubted him with a gracious nod.

And when they're satisfied that he's ready, that Leonard is gone, they give him his new name--"Kruos," icy cold—and his cold gun, newly revamped and powered up. He loses track of how many missions they send him on over the next—2? 20? 200?--years, but he excels at all of them, always bringing his target back, whether it's dead or alive. His name becomes a byword for trouble over all the timescape, a source of fear and panic.

And then they send him to kill the team.

They make Mick repeat what the Time Bastard said, again and again, and if he hadn't realized that the dismissal (again) hurt then, well, he realizes it now. Sara picks up on this eventually, and the kid, of all people, and they shut the questioning down. Eventually, they're all just standing there, starting at each other, and Hunter sighs, running a hand down his face before closing his eyes.

"So, they meant to take Mr. Rory, but got there 'early,' " he says, eyes still closed. "At a guess, I'd say Mr. Snart wasn't planning to...do what we'd feared, after all. And they would have picked Mr. Rory up after he'd been marooned."

Hearing those words, something loosens in Mick's chest, something he hadn't even realized had been tight. Snart wouldn't have killed him. Even after...he glances at Sara, an unfamiliar feeling of guilt rising. Sara glances back at him, eyes softening just a little, then looks at Hunter, expression hardening again.

"What you'd feared?" she says tersely. "Everyone on this ship was all too willing to let him do it. Myself included. Even though I knew what it'd do to him."

"Ms. Lance..."

But Sara waves away Hunter's protests, as well as the murmurs of the rest of the team. "It's besides the point now," she says, gaze sharpening. "After everything he's done for this team, we are not leaving him to... whatever those bastards will do. We are not."

"Sara...Sara, it's already too late." Hunter lifts his hands in a placating manner. "It was too late when they took him. The Vanishing Point, it exists in all times, and none. As far as he's concerned, they've had him for centuries by now. More." He sighs. "At a guess, they took him to become a bounty hunter. They're masters at...at brainwashing. And they have reasons to want someone who knows this team."

It takes them all a moment to digest that. From Sara's intake of breath, she makes the connection first, but Mick's right behind her.

"You mean, he mighta been that armored asshole I flattened with the car?" he asked in horror. "Oh, fuck. I'm gonna pay for that."

"He tried to kill us," Ray says numbly. "He really did. That can't be Snart."

"He didn't try. Not really."

They all turn to look at Jax, who stares back. "You all'd left me in the ship, remember?" he points out. "And yeah, he took some potshots at it, and you guys when you got back, but he didn't hit anyone. And he could have. I remember watching, thought he'd gone to Stormtrooper weapons school or something, but this makes more sense. No way someone as highly trained as you say would miss at that range."

"He could have shot Aldus," Kendra murmurs, remembering her son, now safely tucked away in a location of Hunter's choosing. "He didn't."

"You're all acting as if there's something left there." Rip's voice is layered with sorrow that sounds like it's real, and that's the only reason Mick doesn't flatten him for those words. "There isn't. I...it's not pretty, what they do, the induction process. Most people don't survive. I'd always been taught that it was OK, that they only took people who had no other option, but...I think we've established the Time Masters aren't what I always thought they were."

He shakes his head. "If we go to the Vanishing Point looking for him, we. Will. Die." The Brit's voice is flat. "If we carry on...well. He'll show up. I can guarantee it. They took Mr. Snart for a reason, to hurt this team and to have someone who knows best how to get to us. I just pray that you'll all be able to do what's necessary when the time comes."

Sara frowns at those words, and glances at the professor, for some reason. Mick just shakes his head.

"Snart's tougher than that," he says. "If Jax is right..."

"We shall see, Mr. Rory. We shall see."

Hunter insists they carry on to the 1950s, where he's pinpointed some odd occurrences—OK, murders--that may lead to Savage. Mick, at whom Rip is still looking sideways, gets to cool his heels back in the brig, but Ray and Kendra get to play house, while Rip and Jax take on other roles and Stein and Sara go undercover in a local hospital.

There's a particularly cute nurse there, and that, on top of other feelings stirred up recently, have Sara unsettled, ill at ease. She winds up kissing the woman—Lindsey—but backing away, even more unsettled by emotions she hasn't dealt with since she'd died.

“That's the thing that sucks about feelings," she tells Stein, "you realize how much you can hurt someone...or get hurt."

It's not just Lindsey, if she's being honest with herself, something she tends to avoid where stuff like this is concerned. It's the memory of a black leather jacket draped around her shoulders, booze and card games and "that's not you anymore." The tendrils of an attraction that was taken away before it'd even coalesced into a possibility.

If things had continued as they were, she might have just shrugged it off, continued to flirt, to banter, to tease, treating the whole thing like a game while shying from anything more. But now, she just can't help wondering...

Nothing, of course, goes quite as planned; Ray and Kendra barely escape Savage, while Jax gets turned into a bat...thing...and is only just barely saved by Mick, who's finally been allowed out of the brig. His actions go a long way toward getting the others to trust him again, and that makes Sara smile, but it's still a profoundly disturbed and uneasy assassin who prepares to leave the '50s with her teammates—and good riddance to the whole decade, she thinks.

She's approaching the Waverider with Ray and Kendra and saying as much when a ruckus up ahead makes them all start. Sara sees the other ship first, sees it fire on the Waverider before coming around to land in the field, and it almost feels like her heart skips a beat in her chest.

"It's him," she whispers, breaking into a run. "Ray, Kendra, it's the bounty hunter. It's..."

She can't say it.

She's not precisely dressed for fighting, but she has weapons on her, of course. She sheds the coat before she even reaches the scene, collapsed bo extended and ready, and watches as Firestorm soars out of the Waverider's hatch, sending a warning blast toward the tall figure advancing on the ship, a figure that raises a gun and send a blue-white blast toward the enemy.

The blast hits a medium-sized maple tree instead, and the whole thing immediately goes white, then shatters.

Ice.

Rip and Mick have taken cover behind the lowered hatch, and Sara joins them breathlessly. She looks at Rip, who shakes his head, staring at the melting remnants of the tree.

"They must know we've figured it out now," he says. "They've given him his own weapon back, for just a little more of that intimidation factor." He takes a deep breath. "I knew there was a bounty hunter who had an ice weapon, but I never dreamed..."

"Snart's gun never could do that before," Mick breathes, watching another tree shatter and fall. "I wonder what they could do to mine..."

"Mr. Rory!"

"Just kidding."

Kendra's hawked out now, and she and Firestorm are harrying the bounty hunter. Rip starts explaining how they should all just leave now, and Mick is arguing with him, but Sara's thinking about how... Leonard, she's still going to hope it's Leonard... could have just stayed in his ship and shot the Waverider where it's resting, or easily tagged Jax and Stein just a moment ago.

And then she makes a break for it, ignoring Rip's loud "Sara!" from behind her.

The bounty hunter sees her coming and aims a blast at her while she's still some distance away. It's easy to elude, however, and she actually uses the icy patch of ground to turn her dash into a slide, wondering if she can get close enough to land a blow that incapacitates without causing lasting damage.

No such luck. As she hit the rough ground at the end of the patch, a tree root causes her to lose her footing for just a heartbeat, a real distracted amateur's move, she thinks with annoyance. While she keeps her feet, by the time she's back in stance and ready to attack, he's pointing the gun straight at her, face still hidden by the mask, silent and obdurate.

She uses the only weapon with a chance of working.

"Leonard," she tells him, "fight it."

A long moment passes, and she'd swear the figure almost cocks its head in a very Snart-like gesture. But then he speaks.

"My name," the metallic voice informs her, "is Kruos."

#captain canary #sara lance #leonard snart #legends of tomorrow #kruos