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gaemkyuu · 3 years

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Of Kings & Queens (Part 5)

Warnings: none! A/N: We’re almost to the end! I’ve already finished the entire series, just proof reading the last part but also contemplating if I should change the way it ends... Regardless, hope you enjoy this part! AU!Prince Charlie Gillespie x Fictional Character Disclaimer: This is a FICITONAL writing piece! In no way do I claim characters in this piece act this way in real life.

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Part 1/Part 2/Part 3/Part 4/Part 5/Part 6

Olivia sat in her seat at the small dining table that was arranged for them in the atrium, lost in her thoughts. She wasn’t quite sure what possessed her to request this rendez-vous with Charlie in such a formal manner to her father and it bothered her that she was actually nervous. She had never felt this way before and it made her feel insecure. The desire to rule the Kingdom on her own had always been the forefront of her vision, yet before falling into a restless sleep she could only think about Charlie. Savannah was concerned this morning when she woke Olivia to get her ready for the day, as it looked like Olivia had barely slept. She took a deep breath and gave a big sigh, looking out the glass windows into the beautiful day and listening to the birds chirping.

“Am I interrupting something?” she jumped at the amused voice and immediately Charlie looked apologetic. “I didn’t mean to scare you... You okay?”

“Yeah, I was just thinking about stuff. Hungry?” Olivia had asked the guards and attendants to leave them in peace and that she would call on someone if they were needed. On the table in front of them were dainty pastries, both sweet and savory, along with a pot of tea. She frowned as she forgot to drink her tea and it now sat in its cup lukewarm.

“Starving. Mind if I move the chair?” she shook her head no and instead of sitting across from her, Charlie now sat beside her. She made the first move by putting one of her favorite pastries on Charlie’s plate and then took one for herself. He poured himself a cup of tea, something Olivia had never seen another man do before. She admired his casualness around him, almost as though there were no formalities. Just two people having a nice breakfast, in the beautiful morning sunlight, enjoying each other’s company. “Guess I made quite the impression on you last night to be summoned to breakfast this morning?”

“I wanted to thank you, actually. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you didn’t follow me out into the garden. Savannah expresses her gratitude too, that’s why she gave us some extra sweets” Olivia couldn’t understand why she felt so excited. She was doing her best to maintain her composure, but she would be lying if she said that she wasn’t fighting the urge to bounce her leg.

“You didn’t need to put this on to thank me, but these strawberry tart are extremely delicious” Olivia giggled as she wiped a crumb off the corner of his mouth, the gesture making him blush. She thought that was extremely cute and she didn’t realize that she was smiling big for him, until he took another bite and smiled back smugly. Her face felt a rush of heat and she cleared her throat awkwardly. “So what’s on your mind?”

“What do you mean?” Charlie chuckled, but accidently inhaled while chewing and choked a bit on the flaky pastry, making Olivia laugh. Charlie sipped on some water and cleared his throat, making sure to dust off any crumbs on him.

“You have a beautiful laugh Princess” she flushed at his compliment and drank her tea hoping to hide her expression. “I mean it. It’s genuine, not snooty at all”

“Olivia is fine, and you’re being nice. I’ve been told I laugh too loudly” Charlie looked at her baffled and confused at the statement.

“What? How are you supposed to laugh, like hihihihihi” his high pitched imitation made her laugh again and he joined in on the laughter this time. They engaged in a ‘who could make the most ridiculous laugh’ battle and by the end of it they were clutching their sides and gasping for air. “You’re too funny”

“My lady?” they didn’t realize that Savannah had knocked on the door, and both of them froze for a moment, thinking their families had caught them being fooling around. “My sincerest apologies for interrupting, but it’s nearly time for his highness to meet with the rest of the Council”

“Thank you Savannah, we shall finish up quickly” Savannah gave her a sad smile, apologetic but duty called. Olivia’s smile faltered as the door closed, remembering that there was an important Council meeting between the Kingdoms of the Nation, but she wasn’t allowed to attend. Charlie noticed this and took her hand in his.

“Don’t let it discourage you Liv. If you could take my place, I’d let you. You’ll be a part of Council decisions one day, they’d be stupid not to let you.” She smiled at the nickname he had given her and at the words of encouragement. As much as she wanted to believe Charlie, she knew that the chances that her presence was requested at the Council meeting was slim. “I really enjoyed our time together... Think we could do this again?”

“When are you leaving?” he paused for a second to think.

“In about three days, but knowing Pat, I’ll be in and out of Nation Affairs meetings. Say the word and I’ll sneak out!” she smiled at his rebelliousness.

“Then I shall see you later today and tomorrow and the day after that” the smile on his face was huge and he kissed the back of her hand in appreciation. He stood as the doors opened and their guards stepped in to escort them to their respective schedules. Giving her a dashing smile and a formal bow, he winked before leaving her. As he stepped out the doors of the atrium he looked back at her once more and smiled. Savannah noticed the giant smile and blush that crept onto Olivia’s face and gave her a small teasing nudge.

“So we have a contender?” Olivia rolled her eyes at her friend and began walking to their next affair.

***

True to her word, Olivia and Charlie met up several times over the course of three days. Some days they were arranged formally between both families and other times it would be Charlie climbing onto Olivia’s balcony while she was playing the piano. They truly enjoyed each other’s company and sense of humour, and by seeing one another, they were able to breathe comfortably. Much to their displeasure, the three days passed quicker than they wished, and as they walked the Palace gardens the night before Charlie left, a heavy and serious silence hung between them. The Royal Families had dinner together and the two of them kept making glances towards each other, each exchanging a silent conversation. After many exchanges and courses later, Prince Jeremy suggested they go for an evening stroll, and Charlie was quick to catch on.

Their feet lead them to the same place where they met, the garden’s fountain. Charlie gestured for her to take a seat, which Olivia did and he sat down beside her. Neither said a word, but Olivia rested her head on his shoulder. The physical contact between them had increased, but never amounted to anything more than holding hands or sitting closely to one another. However, anyone could see that these gestures were more than just friendly.

“What will happen when you leave tomorrow?” Olivia dared to start the conversation, knowing that if she left it to Charlie, it probably wouldn’t happen. Charlie shifted uncomfortably for a moment, but not enough to move Olivia’s head off his shoulder.

“I return to the North and you stay here” she scoffed at his plain response, knowing that he was intentionally not answering her question to push her buttons.

“Charlie I’m serious. What is this?” she took her head off his shoulder and angled her body towards him, taking both hands in hers. “I don’t want to jump the gun and make you marry me. That wouldn’t be fair to you or me. We’ve just met” she could see a slight look of hurt cross his eyes and he straightened his spine.

“Have I been misunderstanding our rendez-vous?” Olivia’s eyes widened at the misunderstanding.

“No! No, I mean I really like you, like, like you like you. I just don’t know if this is normal?” Charlie looked confused at her confession. “I don’t know what this is! Like are we a thing? Like do we get married right away or...?” Then it clicked.

“Liv, have you never had a crush before? Or court someone before?” her face became a deep crimson and she avoided eye contact. “So you mean to tell me Princess Olivia has never been on a date prior to her birthday?”

“Well, to be fair I had other priorities. I mean there were people who were interested, I just never had the time of day or interest for them...” She felt shy at the confession, but Charlie’s ego was about to burst. His parents had set him up on multiple dates in hopes that one female would catch his eye and they could officially start a courtship, but it had never gotten past a few one night stands.

“Well, I guess I should ask you then. Where do you want this to go?” Olivia bit her lip, a habit she had when she felt shy to admit something. It drove Charlie wild as he could only imagine how soft her lips would feel against his.

“I mean, I want to keep seeing you and maybe we could talk about getting married, but it kinda feels too soon to talk about it now, y’know?” Charlie chuckled and kissed both of her hands.

“So why don’t we start with courtship? It means that we commit ourselves to each other with marriage in mind, but not so official that our parents can start planning our wedding. We could always call off the courtship if it ever came to that” Charlie didn’t like thinking about the last part in his idea. He already knew that Olivia was a keeper and that to find someone better than her would be impossible, but he didn’t want to force himself onto her given her current situation.

“I would like that very much... We have to tell our families, don’t we?” he nodded and Olivia rolled her eyes, hating that they had to officially let people into their private world. No doubt would she hear about courtship rules from her mother. She gave a big sigh, hating the fact that she couldn’t keep this special thing between the two of them.

“If you sigh any deeper, you might pass out” she elbowed Charlie lightly, as he draped his coat around her, shielding her from the cool breeze of the evening. He pulled her close as she laid her head on his shoulder again, but this time his arm was wrapped around her and he rested his head on top of hers. “Regardless of how much they force themselves to get involved, nothing will change between you and I, Liv”

“I just wish for once that I could keep this to myself. Once we announce our courtship, you know my mom will be on my twenty four seven. Your mom will probably start shopping for wedding bands” He kissed her head softly and held her tightly.

“Then let them Liv. We have our own thing that no one can take away, I promise you.” Olivia moved her head so that she could find reassurance in his eyes. She had come to love the fact that she could read Charlie simply by looking at his eyes. She smiled back at him and nodded her head, accepting his promise. He smiled back and cupped her cheek gently. “Have you ever been kissed?”

“Charlie, I just told you that I turned down every suitor, what makes you think that I-” he stopped her mid-sentence by gently kissing her lips, her eyes fluttering closed. She could see colours exploding behind her closed eyes and as she leaned into the kiss, Charlie took that as a sign to deepen it. Olivia felt scared, nervous, excited and happy. Sure this was all new to her, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was right. As Charlie broke the kiss and leaned into her forehead with his, she found herself slightly out of breath. “Wow...”

“You can say that again”

***

The night after their kiss in the garden, they announced their courtship to their families before Charlie and King Patrick returned to the Northern Kingdom. It would take them three days to arrive back to their palace, in which Charlie would write his first letter to Olivia. This started a never ending stream of letters back and forth between the two lovers that would arrive every week. Olivia fell hard for Charlie and Charlie fell hard for Olivia, something their families were pleased with.

Olivia learned that courtship meant that they would continue to get to know each other and work towards the goal of marriage. She also learned that the amount of touching, cuddling and their kiss was not part of courting. According to her mother, acts of intimacy should occur after marriage, something that Olivia noted to be careful of the next time Charlie and her met. After all, the kisses that they exchanged that evening and before they left made Olivia blush instantly.

It had been 6 months since she had last had the opportunity to have a moment alone with Charlie. They had seen each other at Jeremy’s Coronation and wedding, but they were being watched, so sneaking away was nearly impossible. But that didn’t stop Charlie from climbing into your guest room and stealing a quick kiss and I love you, before jumping off the balcony again. She whispered ‘I love you too’ after him, feeling giddy inside at his confession, but that was the only interaction they were able to have.

It came to a shock that as Olivia was reading in the library, she heard the trumpets sound, notifying the Palace that a Royal guest had arrived. Running to the window, Olivia saw that it was indeed Charlie and she sprinted out of the library to meet him in the throne room, catching Savannah on her way over. She paused before entering the room, letting Savannah fix her up before she presented herself. The servants opened the door at her signal and she gracefully made her way down the throne room. She resisted every urge to run and jump into his arms, but the closer she got she could tell something was heavily burdening him.

“Princess, thank you for joining us so promptly. Prince Charles has asked to see you and speak with you privately.” the King gave her a knowing look, hinting at what was about to happen, in which Olivia would be happy about, but she knew Charlie well enough at this point to notice his demeanour was different. He seemed tense and avoided her eyes, knowing that if he let her see them, she would know something is wrong.

“It would be an honour, your Majesty.” She gave a polite curtsy to her father and Charlie. “Prince Charles, if it suits you, would you like to accompany me to the library parlour?” he nodded, the silence remaining, but he followed her lead out of the throne room. They walked the halls silently and Olivia began to worry. Something was definitely bothering him, as by now he would’ve made a quip or remark. As they arrived to their destination she dismissed the servants and guards requesting a moment of privacy with the Prince, but as soon as the door shut, Charlie’s lips were on hers, desperate. She reciprocated the kiss by holding his face, but she also broke it searching his eyes for answers. “Tell me what’s wrong”

Charlie avoided her eyes and walked away from her, pacing the parlour as she took a seat in the red leather chaise, patting a spot next to her for him. He paced around the room a few moments more, running his hands through his hair, but Olivia sat patiently, waiting for him. Finally, he plopped down next to her, head in his hands. She rubbed his back in hopes that she could offer some sort of comfort.

“Marry me.”

The statement came out a shock to Olivia. She knew her feelings were true and that she would gladly say yes, but the way he was acting made it seemed forced and unsure. Charlie saw the hesitation and confusion on her face and sighed.

“Patrick said that if I don’t propose and marry you soon, I’ll be arranged to marry someone else.” She now understood the anxiety and panic in his body language, but she couldn’t help but ask questions.

“To who?” Charlie groaned in frustration, standing up and pacing again.

“Some chick from a foreign Nation that our Nation wants to do trade with. They want some sort of way to seal the deal and Patrick offered me.” his voice became more frantic as he explained the situation.

“Is she beautiful?” Olivia knew it was a stupid question, but her insecurity got the best of her. The question did cause Charlie to stop pacing and kneel before her.

“What does it matter Liv? I love you! I can’t marry someone else” She saw the love for her in his eyes, but she also saw desperation and fear.

“You’re asking me to marry you, but you don’t seem quite happy about it... What else are you keeping from me?” the question came out quiet, but as she finished it was as though time had stopped and completely silenced itself for them.

“The wedding has to be in a month's time, meaning I will be crowned in two weeks, if you accept” Charlie knew what this meant. This marriage would solidify Olivia’s place as Queen and not King. She felt a lump in her throat which she tried to swallow but wouldn’t go away.

During their written exchanges, Olivia would update Charlie on her situation of trying to convince her parents to consider going against tradition and Charlie would give her ideas on new ways to convince them. In their exchanges, Charlie had suggested ruling as a united couple, where King and Queen were equal in the Council. He had suggested the idea as he knew King Jeremy and Queen Carolynn would support the decision. In addition, King Owen would agree to it. It felt as though Olivia was close to convincing them, but this marriage would seal the deal on all the hard work she had put in to convincing them. If she accepted his proposal now, she would marry right away and forfeit any chances of her becoming King. If she declined his proposal, she would have a higher chance at becoming King, but in return she would forfeit Charlie to another woman in a foreign nation.

“If I say yes to this, I will solidify everything that my mother wanted for me. I give up every hope and dream I had of becoming King.” she knew she should be happy that she would be married to Charlie, but she couldn’t help but feel trapped, like she had no say in the situation other than yes or no.

“This isn’t how I wanted this to go, believe me. But I can’t marry someone I don’t love Liv. I can’t marry someone that isn’t you” Charlie hated that he was asking this of her. “I know what I’m asking from you isn’t fair, and if I could do this any other way I would, but I’ve run out of time Liv.” Tears that had welled up in her eyes finally spilled over, and she felt awful. “Talk to me, love. It’s just you and me.”

“I hate that everything is always being decided for me... I love you, I do and I should be happy that you’re asking me to marry you, but you’re not asking me, you’re being forced to.” she sniffled as he wiped a tear from her face. “I hate that people who aren’t us are making us live our lives in ways that they see fit, completely disregarding you and me...” her voice trembled as she tried to maintain her composure. “I know that in due time you would’ve asked me to marry you and I would gladly accept, but it should’ve been when we were ready. When I had finally convinced my parents that we would rule over the land equally... but what choice do we have now?”

Charlie moved to sit beside her and held her in his arms. She cried into his shoulder at how unfair things felt in the moment. He said nothing, knowing that there wasn’t anything that could be said to remedy the situation. Finally, Charlie pulled away from Olivia and held her face in his hands.

“Olivia, I love you. You don’t have to say yes.” Olivia cried harder as he said this, knowing very well that Charlie would let her walk away and marry someone else so that she could live out her dream. She knew deep down that if she let Charlie go, she would regret it forever. For the first time, there was something that outweighed her desire of becoming King, and that something was Charlie. Through her soft sobs, she nodded her head and stuttered her answer. “Liv?”

“Yes, Charlie. I will marry you”

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#charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie imagines #owen joyner #imagine #fanfiction #jeremy shada

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creative-frequency · 4 years

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Cal Kestis x Reader: DEAR STAR SYSTEM Ch. 01

Word count: 1772 Pairing: Cal Kestis x Female Reader Summary/Contains: Friends to lovers, mild angst, canon-rewrite. As part of the Mantis’ crew, you’re off to save the Jedi on Bracca. Notes: I have loads of plans for this fic, lots of fluff included. Don’t judge me for starting another multi-chap, I don’t know how to stop.

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DEAR STAR SYSTEM // 01

“On Bracca?” you repeat and jump on the cockpit chair. You catch a flash of the serious look on Cere’s face.

“We need to go now,” she urges the ship’s captain and pilot, Greez Dritus.

Greez’s four arms are working in triple speed, a forgotten Salthia bean muffin in one of them. Greez absolutely hates crumbs and the cockpit of the Mantis is food-forbidden area, but this is a more pressing matter than a muffin.

A Jedi – detected hiding on Bracca. The Imperial Inquisitors are already on the move and so should your small crew if you are to reach the Jedi first.

The first glimpse you catch of him is dirt and flaring ginger hair.

Cere tells him to keep moving until you’re able to pick him up. You’re trying to pace Greez from freaking out. There is too much going on, including a moving train, Imperial troopers everywhere, several TIE fighters and a few Inquisitors flying around. You wish you could say it’s just another day saving the galaxy but you’re likely at least half as scared shitless as Greez, and he’s handling the Mantis expertly.

If you get through this, you really need to start complimenting him more often.

The Jedi is on the move. An Imperial fighter zooms past you and, no matter how much Cere yells, it drops an explosive on the train, making it break in half and derail. The train’s roof turns into a slide.

“Front of the train!” you shout and point to where the Jedi will inevitably fall down.

Greez steers the Mantis as close as he dares.

The drawbridge is open and the Jedi catches the edge. Before you can run to see if there’s any way you can help, he has already fallen down and the whole ship is shaking from the incoming Imperial fire. Greez curses heavily.

“He fell!” Cere shouts. You help her inside.

“Go down!” You try to peer below in the rain, to see any movement – or a couple of flashing lightsabers, a red and a blue one. A classic showdown but it’s not one of those days when you want to meet an Imperial Inquisitor.

“Shoot!” you scream so that Greez jolts and grabs the gun control. He blasts the Inquisitor, effectively separating the lightsaber fight.

Cere opens the drawbridge again. “Get on board!”

The Jedi scrambles up from the smoking ground, clearly injured and clutching his lightsaber. Cere pulls him inside and throws him right into your open arms when he tries to stay dallying by the doorway.

The poor guy looks like a scazz hit with a flash bomb. He is wet from the rain, dirty and shaking from the adrenaline. He barely meets your eyes before taking a broad distance and lighting up his weapon.

“Captain!”

It’s your signal to leave Bracca.

Cere slams the button and just as the ship doors close, the Inquisitor’s lightsaber leaves a molten slash on the metal.

Another thing Greez won’t be happy about.

The Jedi stares at you for a fleeting second, lightsaber in tow and ready, and sprints to the cockpit to see the Second Sister slam against the windshield. She uses the Force to wrestle control of the ship from Greez and the Mantis starts to spin recklessly. All warning sounds burst into a chaotic song and you try to hold on for your life and not bump into the blue lightsaber. Someone is going to get an earful about flight safety later.

Cere leaps forward and turns the steering wheel briskly. The Second Sister falls off the ship.

For a couple of short breaths, everyone waits. No one dares to put the collective thought of “did we really make it?” out there. Greez and Cere look at each other before he gets up and pulls the handle down. The Mantis jumps into hyperspace, to safety.

The Jedi withdraws his weapon at Greez’s behest and you finally risk taking a heavy breath.

Cal Kestis, he introduces himself. Cere explains the situation as best as she can and as far as she believes is required. Cal keeps rolling his right shoulder, flinching and grinding his teeth as he paces back and forth behind the holotable. His eyes skip between the three of you constantly, still wary and considering the possibility that he isn’t completely safe.

None of you can blame him. He’s been on the run for years to have survived this far. The encounter with the Inquisitor just cut all ties to his runaway life and made him a known fugitive.

“How do you know so much?” Cal asks, still slightly out of breath, “And why’d you help me?”

“We track Imperial communications. We heard the Inquisitors were heading to Bracca,” Cere says calmly, “So we made our move.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the bounty on Jedi these days anyway?” Cal asks in a menacing tone and looks at you on his left side.

“That’s gratitude for ya,” Greez states in a blaming tone, pointing at Cal. Cere sends a silencing look the pilot’s way.

“Look, I get it,” she continues, “You’ve been surviving on your own for so long that it’s impossible to trust anyone. And it’s what’s kept you alive.”

The experience of every surviving Jedi is different but when it comes to staying alive and under the radar, Cere knows what she’s talking about. What she says makes you think back to when you first hopped aboard the Mantis. Your situation was nowhere near as bad as the Jedi’s, but Cere has a way of bringing people together; giving, if not hope, then at least a direction.

Cal doesn’t look convinced.

“But this is about something bigger… Than just surviving,” Cere says. Her voice takes an almost pleading tone.

“Like what?” Cal asks, mildly curious but guarded.

“Like rebuilding the Jedi Order.”

Cere lets the silence sit in. Cal stares at her incredulously, trying to find the words.

“You three?” he questions quietly, scared of giving purchase to hope, “Anybody else?” He looks around as if to see more people in the ship. You notice the way his eyes enliven despite himself and already feel bad for what he’s going to learn next.

“Oh, we’re not good enough for you?” Greez bridles in his usual way.

“The Jedi Council?” Cal asks carefully and looks at Cere. A small shine of hope sparks in his eyes.

She cannot reply.

You step forward, hands folded on your chest and say: “They’re gone.”

Cere nods slightly in accord.

“Oh… So I’m all you’ve got.” Cal’s gaze sinks to the floor from you, disappointed. All those distant dreams about someone restoring the Order, while he works as a rigger on Bracca, are shattered. He knew things were bad but that didn’t stop him from hoping, somewhere deep inside in a place that was never to see daylight. Not that there was much daylight on Bracca anyways.

Your weight shifts from one foot to another, waiting for Cere to say something. She inhales deeply.

“Captain. Set a course for Bogano.”

“Aye, aye.” Greez steps back into the cockpit.

“In the meantime… Try and relax,” Cere says to Cal in a comforting tone. She motions towards the lounging area. “Go. You’re safe. For now,” she adds and goes after Greez.

Cal is left standing awkwardly in front of you, looking like a lost puppy. His ginger hair and dark blue clothes are dripping wet from the rain, covered in soot and the occasional dash of blood. He looks pale and as miserable as can be. You feel genuinely bad for him. He’s still inconspicuously rolling the shoulder.

“Does it hurt?” You nod towards his right arm.

“Uh, it’s nothing,” he replies instantly and lets go of it. The adrenaline is dying down and the pain gets more invasive with every heartbeat.

“Sit down. I’ll find you a stim.” You leave to dig through the containers, watching from the corner of your eye as Cal tentatively sits by the table and looks around him. If Greez dares to complain about wet stains on the sofa, you’ll eat him alive.

The Mantis is not large but it has everything you need. Though, you will be one cabin short now that your crew is expanded into four members.

“Here.” You hand the healing stim to Cal and sit a respectable distance away from him. Even the freckles dotting his skin look pale. He must be hurting.

Cal nods hesitantly and mumbles thanks before injecting it into his shoulder.

“Better?”

“Yeah, better.”

An awkward silence falls. You don’t want to push him into talking if he doesn’t feel like it. Greez and Cere are arguing about the Inquisitors in the cockpit. How to avoid them better. How to stay better informed on their moves. It’s a conversation you don’t want Cal to hear so soon after what happened.

He clears his throat and glances at you, trying to avoid staring. From what he can gather, you’re a human with no visible affiliations. Probably a bit older than him. He gets a very mixed feeling about you but that might be because he’s been used to pushing the Force down and not using it. It feels… odd to try to lean on it now. Like using a regained limb.

On top of it all, he’s afraid of breaking that limb again.

“How’d you get here?” Cal asks to push the surfacing thoughts away. He takes another glance at you. This time it lasts longer.

“Not nearly as fashionably as you. Less explosions,” you reply and flash him a smile that’s hopefully friendly.

He huffs, an almost chuckle, and you feel him relaxing just a little. His shoulder has stopped twitching and he looks more at you than the floor.

“I ran into Cere and decided I want to do something with my life,” you say.

“You weren’t a Jedi, were you? Or somehow related to the Order?” Cal’s voice finally loses the high alert undertone.

“Nah, nothing like that. I had… other engagements,” you explain vaguely.

Cal really wants to ask but decides he doesn’t meet the requirements to unlock your possibly tragic past. Not yet. Why would you even want to open up to a stranger you just met. He just needs something else to think about than what he just went through. Bracca is already far behind, both in distance and his life.

“There’s a free bed in the back if you’d like to rest,” you say and get up from the sofa. Cere and Greez have agreed to disagree and Cal looks a bit more at ease.

“Yeah, thanks.”

Next Chapter

#cal kestis x reader #cal kestis #jedi fallen order #swjfo #swjfo fanfiction #star wars #cere junda #greez dritus #dear star system #my writings

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littleshebear · 4 years

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Little Bird

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4

AO3 Link

Zavala uncovers the exact circumstances of Amanda's arrival in the City. Amanda makes a visit to the Tower, with permission this time.

Content warning for childhood trauma, parental loss. First half of this is a little heavy.

___________________________

A hunter turned this way and that before shrugging and letting his arms flop to his sides. He shook his head, scanning the landscape. This place used to be an industrial area, it was littered with rusted old machinery and large concrete pipes exposed by years of erosion. There were a few derelict buildings dotted here and there, crumbed into nothing but concrete shells from years of abandonment and neglect. In short, the area was rich with hiding places for this thing that he had been tracking for the last half hour.

“It was right here! Where did it go?”

“Shhhh,” his Ghost hissed. “I still have it on radar. It’s close. Eleven o’clock. About ten feet in front, see that drainage pipe?”

The hunter nodded and drew his side arm. It was only one contact, but whatever it was, it was small but he wouldn’t let this go until he understood what it was. They were too close to the City to be cavalier about this.

“See if this turns out to be a rabbit…” He tailed off, sighing.

“It isn’t. Too big.”

“Dreg?” He asked as he crept forward.

“Too small.”

“Dog?” Whatever this was, it was fast, and almost certainly evading them on purpose. There was purpose in its movements. “Aw, I hope it’s a dog.”

He paused beside the pipe, listening for movement. He sidestepped and dropped down in front of the pipe in one smooth movement, raising his gun at his quarry. When his Ghost’s light fell on his target he gasped and immediately holstered his weapon.

A child cowered at the other end, pressed up against a metal grate choked with vegetation. Her blonde hair was damp and hung limply around her face. She held up one tiny hand to shield her eyes from his Ghost’s light. She was bleeding, the cuts on her fingers suggesting she had been trying, in vain, to shift the metal grid barring her escape.

“It’s just a kid…” He breathed before squatting down to fit into the pipe. He extended a hand toward her. “It’s okay, I won’t hurt you. Come out, niñita , it’s all right. Why are you out here all by yourself?”

She swallowed hard and edged forward, shuffling as she went, not taking her eyes off the hunter.

“That’s it,” he beckoned, “Come on, niñita, it’ll be alright.”

She got just within touching distance and dashed forward, ducking under his arm and shoving him to the side with all the force she could muster.

“Hey!” The hunter cried out. He tried to straighten up only to dunt his helmet on the roof of the pipe. “Ow.” He shuffled out awkwardly to see the child running as fast as she could away from him. It was then that he noticed she was missing one shoe, giving her an awkward, loping gait that would have been amusing if the circumstances were different. He ran after her, his longer legs easily closing the distance. He caught her around the waist, only to be met with shrieking and little fists drumming on his arms.

He frantically shooshed her, “ Niñita, niñita, stop! I’m a Guardian, I’m here to help.”

His Ghost swivelled around and dropped down to her eye level. “Please calm down.” She ignored this latest entreaty and tried to wriggle out of the hunter’s arms. “Take off your helmet. She’s afraid, show her your face, let her see you’re human.”

“She’ll make a break for it again.”

His Ghost sighed and dipped his spines. “I’ll transmat it to the ship.” The Hunter’s helmet disappeared with a whooshing sound and he risked loosening his grip enough to turn her around to face him. He hunkered down to her level and smiled.

“There, see? Look, I’m human, I’m not going to hurt you, you’re gonna be okay.” She kept tugging backward and away from him until he said, “I’ll take you home, I’ll take you to The City, it’s not far.”

She stilled, finally looking him in the eye. She didn’t speak, her heavy, uneven breathing being the only sound she made.

The hunter nodded encouragingly, “That’s right, The City. Is your family there?”

She shook her head and managed to wrench one arm free, which she used to wipe her running nose on her sleeve.

“Then where are they? Why are you all by yourself?”

She set her lips into a thin line and swallowed hard before speaking. “How far is it? The City?” The words emerged thin and strangulated, something between a hiss and a squeak.

“Not far,” he shrugged, “few hours by sparrow.”

She took a sharp, deep breath and screwed her eyes tightly shut as tears spilled over and left clean streaks through the dirt on her face. When she exhaled it came out as an ear-splitting scream that seemed to go on forever.

The Ghost shied backwards while the Hunter pulled her into a hug, muffling her next wail against his shoulder.

“Turn it off.” Zavala rises from his seat and turns his back on the Ghost who was projecting the recording of the day he and his Guardian found Amanda in the wilds. He stares out his office window across the City, working a muscle in his jaw as he processes what he’s just seen.

“Did we do something wrong?”

Zavala turns back around to face the Hunter, who’s perched on the edge of a chair on the other side of the desk. Cayde had told him which of his scouts to speak to about the circumstances of Amanda’s arrival in the City.

“Did we handle that badly? Is that why we’re here?” Ramos continues. Zavala can see why this man would struggle with a game of deception. His emotions are writ large in his behaviour. The scout looks up at Zavala with large, brown spaniel eyes, his brows knit together. He had taken off his gloves half way through his Ghost’s recounting of that day’s events and he grips them tightly in his lap, worrying them and turning them this way and that in his hands.

“I checked the records. Ramos, that’s your man. Good guy, great scout, terrible poker player,” Cayde had told him. For once, he’d had the good grace not to pry too deeply about why Zavala was so interested in this particular scout report. Zavala must have looked even more serious than usual.

“No,” Zavala assures him. “No, you’re to be commended, both of you.” He manages to muster a sad smile.

Ramos breathes out but still fidgets with his gloves. “Oh. Thank you Commander.” He manages to muster a lop-sided smile. “When you’re a Hunter and you get summoned to the Titan Vanguard you just assume, you know. Not that I’m saying you’re a hard ass, I mean, it’s just-

“Ramos. It’s fine. Relax, before you strain something.”

“Yes sir,” Ramos mumbles, setting back into his chair.

“What happened next?” Zavala sits down, rests his elbows on his desk and threads his fingers together.

“Nothing I didn’t cover in the report. She quieted down not long after, all cried out, I guess. I took her to a hospital to get her checked out.”

“Did she say anything?”

Ramos shakes his head. “Not really. She said she was sorry a couple times.”

“What was she sorry about?”

“She didn’t say, and honestly, Sir,” Ramos tips his head to the side and shrugs, “I didn’t want to push her.” He takes a deep breath before speaking again. “I went back out and scouted the area. I found a battle site, fairly fresh. Few burned out vehicles, some overturned supply crates. No survivors. No bodies.”

Zavala closes his eyes. “How long do you think she was alone for?”

“Hard to say, she couldn’t have lasted that long, alone. A day, maybe two? She was really good at hiding though, bless her. Gave us the runaround.” A heavy silence falls between them. Ramos picks at a loose thread on his gauntlets. “Her feet were bleeding.”

Zavala opens his eyes again, while the Hunter just stares glumly at his lap. “You did well Ramos. She’s alive because of you. Be proud.”

He mumbles a thank you, then looks worried again. “Why are you asking me about this now? Did something happen to her, is she okay?”

“She will be. She’s doing remarkably well all things considered.”

“Do you think,” he falters, then rallies, “Do you think I could go see her maybe? Just say hi?”

“In time, perhaps. For now, she’s a little fragile, I think.”

“Right, right.” He nods, his understanding not counter-acting his disappointment. “Was there anything else, sir?”

“No, thank you for coming in, you’re dismissed.” Ramos rises to leave. “If,” Zavala interrupts, “If you need to talk to someone about what happened, I can help with that.”

Ramos frowns, “I just talked to you about it.”

Zavala smiles softly, “No, I mean, talk to someone in a professional capacity. Counselling.”

“Oh…” Ramos says, comprehension dawning across his face. “You mean like a Talk -talk. That might be good.”

“I’ll have my Ghost send you some names.” He makes a show of sorting through some paperwork on his desk until Ramos leaves then slumps back in his chair. He sits in silent contemplation, staring at the ceiling, wondering what to do with this information. He almost doesn’t notice when Izanami appears beside him.

“I was relieved when you took a posting in the City,” his Ghost says gently, “I thought it would mean you wouldn’t have to see things like that again.”

“You think I should close my eyes to what happens outside the walls?”

“Of course not, nor do I think you would.” She bumps her shell against his shoulder, the tips of her spines tapping on the metal armour there. “But I reserve the right to worry about you.”

He holds his hand out for her to settle in his palm, almost a reflex after all these years with her by his side. “I needed to know. I knew it wouldn’t be pleasant. No wonder she doesn’t feel safe. They were so close. She went through all that to get to this City,” he sighs deeply before continuing, “And it’s failing her.”

“I keep telling you Zavala. You can’t save all of them.”

“No,” he concedes, “But I can try and save this one.”

While she can accept that a school trip to the Tower is a good deal more exciting than an average school day, Amanda allows herself a degree of smugness. As she trooped in with her schoolmates, all of them clad in garish luminous jackets, accompanied by their teacher and a few more adult minders, she thought back to her hangar misadventure. In comparison to sneaking into the hangar, alone, this is old-hat to her. Positively pedestrian. She must admit though, the man currently speaking to them is fascinating. She wonders where he got that helmet from and where its missing horn went.

“So, in conclusion, adversity breeds strength!” Shaxx exclaims, slamming a huge fist into his open palm as he addresses the group of children from the orphanage. They stare up at him, slack-jawed and necks craned. “Never regret mistakes, it’s how you learn. Follow your dreams! Be bold, take risks! I’ve heard so many Guardians complain about getting exploded from grenades,” He snorts, “The explosion isn’t the thing to focus on, it’s the getting up and carrying on. I get exploded all the time!” He pauses in his speech when he hears their teacher pointedly clear her throat. She subtly shakes her head at him, eyes wide and pleading. A few seconds of awkward silence pass before he points down to the rapt school party in front of him and states, “But stay in school! Listen to your teachers. Any questions? Yes you, blonde girl.”

“Why does your helmet only got one horn?” Asks Amanda.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older. Anyone else? You!” He points to a girl towards the back of the group. “Fierce-looking lass with the pigtails.”

“What are those bones up there?”

“Ahamkara, wish dragon. Dangerous beasts, I killed this one,” he replies, inclining his head in appreciation of the chorus of ‘wows’ and gasps that ripple through the group.

“Can we fight in the Crucible?” Asks one eager lad, not waiting for permission to speak despite sticking his hand in the air.

Shaxx throws his head back and laughs, his shoulders heaving. “Of course not. You’re only children.”

“What about when we’re older?”

He stops laughing abruptly and shakes his head. “No. Seriously, no. Guardians only.”

“But you said-“

“All right children, I think we’ve taken up enough of Lord Shaxx’s valuable time. Let’s all thank him and move on,” their teacher interjects breathlessly. “Commander Zavala very kindly offered us to have a look at the Vanguard Hall, won’t that be exciting? Don’t wander off, do as the tour frame says and don’t touch anything.”

Shaxx places his hands on his hips and nods to each pair of children as they pass by, not noticing the look of relief on the teacher and escort’s faces as they leave.

“How was that Arcite?” Shaxx calls across the corridor to his frame companion. “I thought that went well.”

“Very well my Lord! Inspiring!”

Shaxx gives a self-satisfied nod. “I think so too.”

Ikora glances up from her studies as the children troop in, two by two. She scowls, unable to drown out the excited chatter of children and the droning of the guide Frame explaining the history and purpose of the Vanguard Hall.

“I can’t believe you agreed to this,” she says to Zavala through clenched teeth. “I feel like I’m in a zoo.”

“I didn’t agree to it,” Zavala replies, drawing himself up and placing his hands behind his back. “I suggested it. I want them to feel like they have a stake in the City, so I want them to see how we protect them, that we value them. This makes it less abstract for them. They might feel more secure if they actually see us at work.”

“Guardian/Civilian relations? I thought that’s what Cayde’s sports day nonsense was for.”

“Nonsense? Cayde protests. “Dodgeball is a noble endeavour, I’ll have you know.”

“The purpose of this exercise is two-fold.” Zavala continues, ignoring Cayde’s indignation. “Framing this visit as educational, as school-work also means they might be more inclined to find this place boring and not sneak up here. I want to take away the Tower’s mystique.”

“Playing some three-dimensional chess there,” Says Cayde, “That’s strategy. Two birds, one stone. See Ikora? That’s why he’s Commander, we need to get on his level.”

“Just promise this won’t be a frequent occurrence,” Ikora sighs.

“We’ll see how this turns out then-“

“Psst! Commander!”

Zavala turns to find the source of the hissed interruption; a grinning Amanda Holliday, her chin resting on one of the railings surrounding the upper level of the hall. One of her pants pockets bulges out sideways, with a little scrap of luminous fabric spilling out. If only those high visibility jackets were harder to take off and not so easy to conceal.

“Amanda, what are you doing?” He demands.

“Hi!” She waves, excited and oblivious. “Didja get my letter?”

“I did. Apology accepted, now get back to your classmates before you feel the need to write me another apology. Do you want this to turn into another hangar incident?”

“Hey!” Cayde calls across the table. “You got me in trouble for that, how come I didn’t get an apology?”

“No I didn’t. I didn’t rat you out,” Amanda responds, using the railing to pull herself up onto her tiptoes.

“You told me you were waiting on your mom!”

“I said she was an engineer, and she was. I never actually said she was in the hangar.”

“So, a child has broken away from the group, Cayde is losing an argument to said child…” Ikora shoots a lopsided smile at Zavala, who has taken to pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Has the Tower’s mystique been sufficiently dispelled?”

“Cayde, let this be an object lesson in not making assumptions,” Zavala announces, blocking out Ikora’s teasing. “And Amanda Holliday, please get back to your group.”

“Are those guns?” Amanda drops down to her haunches and cocks her head to the side to get a better look outside the window at the end of the Hall. “They’re huge!”

“Anti-aircraft cannon,” Cayde says, gleefully. “In case any Fallen Ketches get too close. Aren’t they great?”

“Yeah! How do they work? How did you get them up there?” Exclaims Amanda. “You gonna fire ‘em?”

“Obviously not-“ begins Ikora.

Zavala glares at each of them in turn. “Ikora, I will handle this. Cayde, do not encourage her. Amanda, Get back to your classmates and I shall consider it,”

“Yes Sir!” Amanda hops to her feet, waves frantically then makes her way back to the group, expertly weaving her way around frames, furniture and civilian workers to hide herself from her classmates and school staff.

Ikora watches her progress across the hall and smiles softly. “One has to admire her ability to avoid being seen unless she wills it.”

“Indeed. It’s a survival technique,” Zavala mutters, almost to himself. He bunches his fists and leans on the table for a few moments, before pushing himself up by his knuckles. “Mr. Jiang. I believe the defence cannon are due for a test fire?”

The City Forces soldier Zavala had called upon stares at him for a second, glances at the tablet in his hand, then back to Zavala. “I don’t think so, Sir? Not for a couple weeks?”

“We’re due.” Zavala assures him. He raises his voice to address the children at the other end of the Hall. “We are about to conduct an ordinance test. Nothing to be alarmed about. Cover your ears please.”

The Frame escorting the children looks as confused as a humanoid robot can, then reassures the children not to worry. The children for their part, clamp their hands over their ears, snap to attention and train their eyes on the window at the end of the hall.

Jiang sounds out a countdown to fire. When he reaches zero, the floor under their feet vibrates and there’s a muffled boom from outside the room.

Zavala looks up at the children, half expecting fear. They wait for the vibrations to subside before erupting into cheers and applause.

He breaks into a smile, a rare, public indulgence as he looks up and makes eye contact with Amanda. He may not have broken the mystique of the Tower, he can’t say if this made her feel safer but as he watches her clap and jump up and down on the spot, he knows it was worth it.

“You getting broody, Zav?” Cayde asks, following his gaze.

“Nonsense, Cayde.” Zavala looks away from Amanda and turns his attention to Jiang. “Targeting telemetry on my desk by tomorrow, yes?”

“Yes sir,” Jiang replies hesitantly. “So…am I to reschedule the…scheduled test, sir?”

Zavala, nods slowly. “Yes, you’re clear to reschedule, assuming everything is within parameters.” He briefly raises his hand to Amanda, who waves back at him as she and the other children retreat through the doorway.

“Yeah, you’re not fooling anyone,” says Cayde. “That’s it, I’m roping you in to help with the next dodgeball match.”

“I’m busy,” Zavala counters, dropping his gaze to watch a live patrol feed coming through on his tablet.

“I haven’t even decided on a date yet!”

“I’ll think of something.”

____________________

A/N: Full disclosure, "I get exploded all the time," isn't something I came up with, it's in-game dialogue but I love it too much.

Ever since Forsaken dropped, I couldn't stop thinking about Amanda describing how she lost her parents. Losing her dad that close to the city was just too heartbreaking to handwave away. As upsetting as it is, I didn't think I could properly tackle her as a character but ignore that aspect of her past.

#Destiny fanfiction #My writing #Amanda Holliday #Commander Zavala #kidfic #Zavala

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seriousbusinessforhumans · 4 years

Link

Jun 6

As someone who went through the training, hiring, and socialization of a career in law enforcement, I wanted to give a first-hand account of why I believe police officers are the way they are......I believe that if everyone understood how we’re trained and brought up in the profession, it would inform the demands our communities should be making of a new way of community safety.

One night during briefing, our watch commander told us that the city council had requested a new zero tolerance policy....against homeless people collecting cans from recycling bins. See, the city had some kickback deal with the waste management company where waste management got paid by the government for our expected tonnage of recycling........Sarge called me over to assist him. He was detaining a 70 year old immigrant who spoke no English, who he’d seen picking a coke can out of a trash bin. He ordered me to arrest her for stealing trash. I said, “Sarge, c’mon, she’s an old lady.” He said, “I don’t give a shit. Hook her up, that’s an order.” And… I did. She cried the entire way to the station and all through the booking process. I couldn’t even comfort her because I didn’t speak Spanish. I felt disgusting but I was ordered to make this arrest and I wasn’t willing to lose my job for her.

We used to have informal contests for who could cite or arrest someone for the weirdest law. DUI on a bicycle, non-regulation number of brooms on your tow truck (27700(a)(1) of the California Vehicle Code)… shit like that.

In fact, let me tell you about an extremely formative experience: in my police academy class, we had a clique of around six trainees who routinely bullied and harassed other students: intentionally scuffing another trainee’s shoes to get them in trouble during inspection, sexually harassing female trainees, cracking racist jokes, and so on. Every quarter, we were to write anonymous evaluations of our squadmates. I wrote scathing accounts of their behavior, thinking I was helping keep bad apples out of law enforcement and believing I would be protected. Instead, the academy staff read my complaints to them out loud and outed me to them and never punished them, causing me to get harassed for the rest of my academy class. That’s how I learned that even police leadership hates rats. That’s why no one is “changing things from the inside.” They can’t, the structure won’t allow it.

I knew cops that intentionally provoked anger in suspects so they could claim they were assaulted. I was particularly good at winding people up verbally until they lashed out so I could fight them. Nobody spoke out. Nobody stood up. Nobody betrayed the code.

Every police academy is different but all of them share certain features: taught by old cops, run like a paramilitary bootcamp, strong emphasis on protecting yourself more than anyone else. The majority of my time in the academy was spent doing aggressive physical training and watching video after video after video of police officers being murdered on duty.

I want to highlight this: nearly everyone coming into law enforcement is bombarded with dash cam footage of police officers being ambushed and killed. Over and over and over. Colorless VHS mortality plays, cops screaming for help over their radios, their bodies going limp as a pair of tail lights speed away into a grainy black horizon. In my case, with commentary from an old racist cop who used to brag about assaulting Black Panthers.

Many cops fantasize about getting to kill someone in the line of duty, egged on by others that have. One of my training officers told me about the time he shot and killed a mentally ill homeless man wielding a big stick. He bragged that he “slept like a baby” that night.

DO THE BASTARDS EVER HELP?

Reading the above, you may be tempted to ask whether cops ever do anything good. And the answer is, sure, sometimes. In fact, most officers I worked with thought they were usually helping the helpless and protecting the safety of innocent people. During my tenure in law enforcement, I protected women from domestic abusers, arrested cold-blooded murderers and child molesters, and comforted families who lost children to car accidents and other tragedies. I helped connect struggling people in my community with local resources for food, shelter, and counseling. I deescalated situations that could have turned violent and talked a lot of people down from making the biggest mistake of their lives. I worked with plenty of officers who were individually kind, bought food for homeless residents, or otherwise showed care for their community.

The question is this: did I need a gun and sweeping police powers to help the average person on the average night? The answer is no. When I was doing my best work as a cop, I was doing mediocre work as a therapist or a social worker. My good deeds were listening to people failed by the system and trying to unite them with any crumbs of resources the structure was currently denying them.

Instead of wasting time with minor tweaks, I recommend exploring the following ideas:

No more qualified immunity. Police officers should be personally liable for all decisions they make in the line of duty.

No more civil asset forfeiture. Did you know that every year, citizens like you lose more cash and property to unaccountable civil asset forfeiture than to all burglaries combined? The police can steal your stuff without charging you with a crime and it makes some police departments very rich.

Break the power of police unions. Police unions make it nearly impossible to fire bad cops and incentivize protecting them to protect the power of the union. A police union is not a labor union; police officers are powerful state agents, not exploited workers.

Require malpractice insurance. Doctors must pay for insurance in case they botch a surgery, police officers should do the same for botching a police raid or other use of force. If human decency won’t motivate police to respect human life, perhaps hitting their wallet might.

Defund, demilitarize, and disarm cops. Thousands of police departments own assault rifles, armored personnel carriers, and stuff you’d see in a warzone. Police officers have grants and huge budgets to spend on guns, ammo, body armor, and combat training. 99% of calls for service require no armed response, yet when all you have is a gun, every problem feels like target practice. Cities are not safer when unaccountable bullies have a monopoly on state violence and the equipment to execute that monopoly.

(Selected segments of the article)

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angelofthequeers · 4 years

Text

Hold Me By Both Hands: Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

Chapter 6 | Chapter 8 | AO3 link

“But I don’t understand!” Adrien protests. “I already practiced my piano enough yesterday after school!”

“Your father has decided that you would benefit from extra practice,” Nathalie says in her usual monotone. “He’s displeased with your progress.”

“This isn’t fair!” Adrien clenches his fists. “He never had a problem with my playing until two weeks ago!”

Nathalie says nothing, leaving Adrien to come to the realisation of what exactly is going on.

“Ever since I gave the brooch back to him,” he says. “He’s still punishing me for that?”

“The agreement was that you could return to school,” Nathalie says. “But your father feels that your priorities are…not aligned with his.”

“But I was going to see Nino today! Nathalie, please, I haven’t seen my friends in weeks!”

“You see them at school.”

“That’s not the same and you know it!”

But arguing with Nathalie is like arguing with a brick wall, and Adrien’s pretty sure that he’d used up his quota of “get his own way” when he’d convinced Gabriel and Nathalie to let him go to school in the first place. So, rather than spend the next hour wasting his breath, he stomps off to his room and unlocks his phone to bring up his recording of the song that Gabriel’s been having him practice.

“Ah, nothing like a nice night with my only love!” Plagg sighs when Adrien sets the phone on his piano. “Camembert!”

“I don’t think so,” Adrien says. “You were right about sneaking out the other night. I’ll be damned if I miss out on seeing my friends just because Father’s still mad at me. Plagg, claws out!”

Once he’s transformed, Chat Noir double checks that his recording is playing perfectly before cracking his window open and leaping out. But there’s a fatal flaw in his plan: where is he meant to go? Nino’s expecting Adrien, not Chat Noir, and he’ll know that Adrien’s been trapped when Adrien doesn’t show up. And although he loves his classmates, is he really close enough to impose on any of them as his superhero alter ego?

He’s so lost in thought as he bounds through Paris, with the cool morning air streaming through his messy hair, that he doesn’t realise where he’s ended up until a familiar smell of warm cookies reaches his nostrils. Oh. When did he arrive at the Dupain-Cheng bakery? Maybe Marinette won’t mind comforting a stray cat. He could certainly do with more cookies after the one she’d given him in class the other day.

The smell of cookies is coming from the top of the building and invokes an automatic reaction: cat smells Dupain-Cheng cookies, cat must acquire Dupain-Cheng cookies, no matter the cost. The source of the smell happens to be one Marinette Dupain-Cheng, who’s sitting cross-legged in a chair on her rooftop balcony in a soft red cardigan, a white shirt, and a pair of pale pink pyjama pants. The cookies that have drawn Chat Noir in like a hooked fish are on a small glass table, piled haphazardly on a plate to be selected at random intervals by Marinette while she writes something in her semi-circle diary. His classmate looks so peaceful like this, not at all the flustered mess that she turns into whenever he’s around as Adrien, that Chat Noir can’t help but stare from the brick wall rising up behind Marinette’s balcony, where he’s perched.

“I can talk to him with the mask!” she mumbles. “Should I just pretend I’ve got the damn thing on every time I see him?”

Oh. Does Marinette like someone? Chat Noir probably shouldn’t be listening in like this. Not only does she think she’s alone, but she also doesn’t know that her friend is behind the mask of the stray cat currently eavesdropping like an awkward child. At least, he’s pretty sure she’s his friend. Sometimes, he wonders if she’d truly forgiven him after the gum incident, what with how weird she acts around him.

“Games! He likes video games!” Marinette scribbles something down, then groans. “Stupid, stupid! I already know this! Him and those damn green –” Having thrown her head back in exasperation while grabbing a cookie, she catches sight of Chat Noir when her eyes are on their way back down to the diary. For a moment, neither of them say anything, too busy playing a silent game of chicken to see who’ll freak out first. Chat Noir decides to take the initiative.

“Hey, princess,” he says, pasting on his signature Chat Noir smirk. “Sounds like you’re in a bit of a pickle.”

“Were you spying on me?” Marinette slams her diary shut with wide eyes. Chat Noir hastens to shake his head.

“No, no! I just smelled the delicious smell of Dupain-Cheng cookies with my kitty nose and like a helpless stray, I was compelled to investigate. I didn’t hear anything before whatever you were saying about a mask.”

“Nothing important. Just forget what you heard.” Marinette tilts her head and nods at her cookies. “You said you were sniffing out some cookies?”

“Oh, you are an angel!” Chat Noir leaps down to Marinette’s balcony and lets himself fall into her other balcony seat, shooting Marinette finger guns as he does so. She looks thoroughly unimpressed, so he hastens to grab a cookie and bite into it. He can’t help the moan that escapes him when the warm, gooey chocolate chips melt across his tongue, and Marinette looks away with pink cheeks. “Cat got your tongue, Marinette?”

“Uh – it’s nothing.” Marinette shakes her head, making her dark pigtails swing around her face. “You just…reminded me of someone.”

“That someone wouldn’t happen to be this mystery boy, would he?” Chat Noir says. Marinette’s cheeks flush darker. Ah. Bingo. And Chat Noir’s pretty sure he’s got an idea of who this boy is.

“No!” she says too quickly.

“Aww, you can talk to me, Mari!” Chat Noir wiggles his eyebrows. “Would this mystery boy perhaps be associated with the colour green?”

Now Marinette’s cheeks are fire-truck red. “N-No! No way! Shut up! I’ll push you off this balcony!”

Chat Noir leans in to commence the kill. “If you’re really crushing on Max, I can totally work something out for my favourite civilian –”

“Max?” Marinette blinks, then stares for a moment, then bursts into laughter so raucous that she slides down her seat with tears streaming down her face as she clutches her belly. Okay. Not exactly the reaction that Chat Noir had been anticipating.

“I take it I’m wrong?” he finally says. He doesn’t get an answer until Marinette’s pulled herself back up in her seat and wiped her damp cheeks, hiccupping as her laughter dies down.

“Max? What gave you that idea?” she says.

“You mentioned that this mystery boy likes video games. And he wears green.”

“And that’s why you don’t eavesdrop!” Marinette waggles her finger. “Naughty kitty! Me and Max? He’s a cool friend but that’s all! And haven’t you seen the way he looks at Kim?”

“He, uh…what?” Huh. Maybe Chat Noir should pay a little more attention to his classmates.

“No, the mystery boy is not Max,” Marinette says, her shoulders still shaking with the last of her laughter. “He’s none of your business. Why are you even here? There’s no akuma around, is there?”

“No, nothing like that,” Chat Noir says. “Can’t a stray cat just visit his favourite civilian?”

Marinette raises an eyebrow, so he caves.

“Oh, fine. Things got…tense at home, so I bounced for a bit. I smelled Dupain-Cheng cookies when I was jumping around like the cool cat I am.”

“Aww, kitty.” Marinette’s grey eyes crinkle. “You know you can come here anytime, right?”

“Such a noble and kind princess, taking pity on a mangy alley cat,” Chat Noir pretends to sniffle. Marinette just rolls her eyes and throws a cookie at him, and she only nails him in the face because he hadn’t been expecting it. Yep. That’s it. Totally not because his cat-like reflexes had failed him.

“I’m serious, though,” Marinette says. “I know you don’t know me very well, but I’m always open to lend an ear. And a cookie. Maybe a macaron next time.”

“Careful, princess,” Chat Noir grins. “If you feed the animals, they’ll keep coming back.”

“I think it’s a bit too late for that,” Marinette says dryly, pointing at the cookie crumbs on his face.

“And I’m serious, though.” Chat Noir shuffles in his seat so that he can cross his legs and actually sit like a dysfunctional human being for once. “I appreciate the offer. You seem like a cool girl, Marinette. And I’ve heard nothing but good things about you.” He actually knows her, not that he can just up and say that unless he wants to give her a major identity clue.

“Who’ve you been talking to behind my back?” Marinette says with a mock-glare.

“Oh, this person and that person,” Chat Noir says airily. “No one you should worry your pretty little head about.”

“Patronise me again and I will throw you off the balcony,” Marinette says, jabbing her pen at him. Chat Noir just grins.

“Ah, but cats always land on their feet,” he says.

“We could test that for science,” Marinette says innocently. Chat Noir snorts and holds his hands up.

“Okay, okay,” he says. “Whatever you say, my princess.”

“My princess?” Marinette raises an eyebrow. “Careful. Your lady will think you’re cheating on her.”

“I would never!” Chat Noir slumps dramatically and clasps his chest. “Ladybug’s the only one for me!”

“Dork,” Marinette giggles. Her laughter is like aural sunshine, only outmatched by the beautiful laugh that belongs to Ladybug, and although Chat Noir’s probably overstayed his welcome, being able to forget his suffocating life for just a little while with a dear friend is probably the best gift that Marinette’s ever given him. Minus the cookies, of course.

“Well, I hate to deprive you of my dashing good looks, but this cat should be getting home before he’s found out and loses a life,” Chat Noir sighs, jumping to his feet and stretching.

“What a shame,” Marinette deadpans. “Whatever will I do without you?”

“I know.” Chat Noir nods solemnly. “Your life is ever so grey without me. But fear not, princess, I shall return for more cookies!”

“Take your time,” Marinette says. She opens her diary and then raises an eyebrow at him. “Well?”

“Rude,” Chat Noir sniffs. “See if I come back now.”

“Oh, you will. I fed you, remember?”

“Very true. Very true.” Chat Noir shoots her finger guns for the second time that morning and then hauls himself onto her balcony railing. “Goodbye for now, princess!” He leaps away before Marinette can let loose with another scathing remark, and although every jump and step brings him closer to his gilded cage, it doesn’t seem as cold and lonely after his talk with Marinette. It’s nice to know that he’s got a friend when in the mask because, as much as he loves Ladybug, he doesn’t exactly have a reliable way of calling her up. Although Marinette is just as sassy as his lady so really, he couldn’t have made a better friend as Chat Noir. If only she could talk to Adrien that way.

“Sorry I couldn’t make it,” Adrien’s saying to Nino as Marinette and Alya take their seats behind the boys. “My father tightened my schedule and he didn’t even have the decency to tell me himself. He made Nathalie tell me.”

“Dude, that’s rough,” Nino grimaces. “Why’s he being so uncool?”

“He’s still mad about when I stole the book and the brooch. He says my “priorities are not aligned with his”.”

“What?” Marinette bursts out. Adrien and Nino jump, and she flushes and looks down when Adrien looks right at her. “S-Sorry. I didn’t mean to overhear. I just…that’s rubbish!”

“I know, right?” Adrien says. “I pointed out that you guys protested, but Nathalie said that was just to let me go back to school. I don’t get my father sometimes…he says I’m precious to him, then he goes and locks me up again!”

How does Adrien know that Gabriel had said that to Ladybug and Chat Noir about him? Huh. Gabriel must have had a heartfelt chat with him after being the Collector, which just makes this even more bullshit.

“And I can’t even get angry or I’ll probably get turned into Bubbler again,” Nino grumbles.

“I’d turn into Lady Wifi if it’d let me kick your dad’s butt,” Alya says.

“I don’t know what my akuma name would be,” Marinette says. “Probably something like Princess Justice. What?” she adds when Alya raises an eyebrow. “Akuma names aren’t my forte. I’m a fashion designer, not a supervillain.”

“You don’t need to get angry for me,” Adrien says, smiling around at the three of them. Butterflies erupt in Marinette’s stomach when that smile passes over her. “Really. I appreciate you three just letting me vent.”

“Well, that’s what we’re here for!” Marinette babbles, pointedly ignoring Alya’s smirk from next to her. Adrien’s smile just widens like a solar flare, melting Marinette from the inside out.

“Thanks, Marinette,” he says. He opens his mouth to say something else, but Ms Bustier calls for their attention at that moment, so he’s forced to turn back to the front and end the conversation there.

But try as she might, Marinette just can’t seem to pay attention. This is so unfair! Why shouldn’t Adrien get to hang out with his friends just because he made a mistake? One that he’d fixed? Gabriel has the book and the (fake) brooch, so there’s no need to take it out on Adrien anymore! Again, Marinette wonders if being the Collector had spooked him, but that’s still no excuse! Alya’s father hadn’t locked her up just because he’d been akumatised into Animan that one time, and Alya’s doing just fine!

Actually, she’s got a nasty habit of running into danger for the Ladyblog and she’d been kidnapped by Prime Queen after Ladybug and Chat Noir had saved Chloé, but that’s beside the point!

The next morning, Marinette ensures that she wakes up early enough to put her plan into action. The bakery’s already open, of course, but Marinette’s always allowed to grab whatever she wants from the freshly-baked pastries, so long as she doesn’t go overboard and take a whole batch or something. Perks of being a baker’s daughter. Ha. Take that, Chloé.

“What are you doing?” Tikki says as Marinette sets an empty pastry box down on the counter.

“Adrien was so upset yesterday because of his father cracking down on his schedule!” Marinette says. She grabs a warm croissant with the utmost of care so that her klutz curse doesn’t come into play, then places it into the box. “I want to do something nice for him!”

“That’s so sweet of you, Marinette!” Tikki says. “Oooh, what about those new pistachio macarons?”

“Right!” Marinette snatches up a couple of green macarons and adds them to the box. “They’re such a gorgeous green!” Just like his eyes…

Once she’s packed the box full of goodies, Marinette shuts it and picks it up with such care that it might as well be a priceless treasure, and then she’s off to school to deliver her gift, early for once in her life.

“Oooh! Marinette, you are a gem!” Alya says when Marinette finds her in the courtyard. She makes grabby hands. “Gimme!”

“Hey!” Marinette holds the pastry box out of reach. “No touchy! They’re not for you!”

“Hmph,” Alya huffs. “I see how it is. You’ll give fresh pastries to Adrien but not to me.”

“Your father’s not being a complete tool,” Marinette says. Alya grimaces.

“Okay, point. But girl, if he doesn’t marry you after this, I’m gonna marry you myself just to rub it in his face that I’ll get yummy treats every day.”

“I may be bi, but I do have standards,” Marinette drawls.

“Excuse me? You wish you could do better than moi.” Alya gestures to herself.

“Hey, girls!” says a voice from behind Marinette and Alya. Marinette shrieks and jumps away from Adrien, her heart ready to yeet itself out through her throat, while Alya just rolls her eyes and kisses Nino hello. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you, Marinette!”

“You didn’t! You just…surprised me!” Marinette takes a deep breath and thrusts the box at Adrien before she can chicken out. “Here! Freshly baked this morning!”

“Aww, seriously?” Nino whines as a wide-eyed Adrien takes the box and opens it to inhale the delicious scent of warm pastries. “Why don’t I get freshly baked stuff?”

“Because we’re going to talk over there,” Alya says, grabbing Nino’s hand and dragging him off. Marinette’s not sure whether to kill Alya or thank her on bent knee for leaving her alone with Adrien.

“You were so upset yesterday because of your dad!” Marinette says. “So, I thought you might appreciate some sweet treats!”

“Marinette, you are an angel,” Adrien says, and Marinette only just manages to fight back the silly giggle that tries to escape her, both that Adrien called her an angel and because Chat Noir had said the exact same thing on the weekend. Is the way to a boy’s heart really through his stomach?

“I’m glad you like it!” she says. “It’s so not cool of your father to punish you for a mistake that you fixed.”

“I know but…what can I do? I can’t exactly go up to him and tell him that he can’t control my life anymore,” Adrien says.

“Why not?” Marinette says.

“Because I never see him for more than five minutes a month,” Adrien says, and Marinette can’t help the snort that escapes her at that.

“I feel so bad for laughing,” she says as her shoulders shake with suppressed laughter.

“Don’t,” Adrien says with a cheeky smile. “I wouldn’t have made that joke if I wasn’t okay with you laughing at it.”

“But it’s so sad! That’s why I feel bad for laughing!”

“Well, if I didn’t joke about it, I’d just cry all the time,” Adrien says. “Humour’s how I cope. If I had an alter ego, I’d channel all the jokes I can’t make as me into him.”

“Ugh, like Chat Noir,” Marinette says. “His damn puns, I swear –”

“Hey! Chat Noir’s not that bad!”

“He is! He came to visit me on the weekend because he smelled cookies and I nearly threw him off the balcony! His puns are awful!”

“Don’t you mean –”

“Don’t you dare say it –”

“– clawful?”

“That’s it.” Marinette grabs for the pastry box. “I’m confiscating these until you learn to behave.”

“Nuh uh,” Adrien says and holds the box high above Marinette’s head. “I’m taller than you, so I win.”

“You’re an arse, is what you are,” Marinette mumbles. But Adrien swiftly earns her forgiveness when he offers her one of the pistachio macarons and they bite into their green treats together.

“Honestly, I’m really grateful for this, Marinette,” Adrien says. “Not just because it was a really nice thing to do, but because I’ve always been afraid that…we weren’t really friends?”

“What?” Marinette’s heart sinks into her stomach. No wonder Adrien’s never seemed to show any interest in her, if he hasn’t even considered them friends! “What gave you that idea?”

“Just the way you’ve always been weird around me. I guess I was scared that you never really liked me or forgave me for the gum thing, and you were just putting up with me. But this conversation was really cool. You’re really cool.”

Oh. Oh. Maybe Tikki had been on to something after all when it comes to not being able to talk to Adrien. “Trust me, I’ve always liked you,” she says. “As a friend! Yeah! We’re friends!”

“Oh, thank god.” Adrien’s shoulders slump. “I didn’t know what to do about it. Confrontation’s never been my strong suit.”

“Trust me, you don’t have to worry about that at all,” Marinette says. “I was weird because…I’m weird! Not because I don’t like you! Because I don’t! Dislike you, that is! I do like you!” She groans and facepalms. “I’m a disaster, is what I am.”

“Well, so long as I get amazing treats out of it, you can be as much of a disaster as you want,” Adrien says. Then he winks.

Dear lord. This boy is not making it easy to interact with him normally. What the hell did she do to deserve this?

#miraculous ladybug #ml fic #aotq fic #aotq: hold me #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #adrinette #adrienette #marichat #djwifi #marinette you're hopeless #and adrien you're oblivious

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 5 years

Text

Superheroes By Day (Queen fic)

Summary: Queen are rock stars by night, superheroes by day. Each member has his own exceptional powers. They assemble for an important mission cerca 1986. Also, cellphones exist.

Inspiration: Totally random, pure ridiculousness, plz enjoy.

Warnings: Language.

Link to all my writing HERE

My burner phone rings. They always call me. I’m the only one who can be trusted to pick up.

“This is John.”

Freddie always loses his phone; he would lose his moustache if it wasn’t attached. Brian spends too much time frolicking with and rehabilitating forest creatures, so his phone goes dead and he can never charge it because surprise surprise, there are no wall sockets in the fucking woods. Rog is hopeless, hopeless. Last time they gave him a phone it ended up at the bottom of a jacuzzi tub in Morocco. I’ll let you try to figure that one out.

I listen to our latest mission, jotting down a few notes with the pen and notepad I keep in my fanny pack. Yes, I use a fanny pack. You would too if you had four kids. Shut up about it.

“You are tasked with assembling the others.”

I sigh, quite dramatically. “Can’t you...I don’t know, send limos or something?”

“Complete the mission, John.” They hang up. Superheroes get a lot less fanfare than rock stars.

I sprint outside and jump into my Mercedes-Benz 190E. I turn the key in the ignition. Nothing.

“No!” I gasp. I try again. Nothing. “No no no!”

I rush back inside the house. Veronica is taking fish sticks out of the oven and forking them onto plates for the kids.

“Babe, there’s something wrong with the Benz!”

“Oh,” she replies, unbothered. “Well I can take it to the shop tomorrow.”

“But I need it now! I have a mission!”

She peers out the kitchen window and into the driveway. “What’s wrong with the minivan?”

I follow her gaze, horrified. “Babe, love of my life, I cannot pick up the band in a Plymouth Voyager.”

“Why not?” she replies innocently. “Kids, lunch is ready!” I hear the stampede beginning upstairs. Veronica looks at me with her eyebrows raised. “Do you want the van or not?”

I tug at my permed hair in exasperation. “Okay, okay, I’ll take the van!”

She tosses me the keys and I’m out the door like a bolt of lightning. The Voyager roars to life without any hesitation.

I arrive at Brian’s house first. I honk precisely six times: the secret honk, the we-have-a-mission honk. A neighbor lady leans out her window, shakes her fist menacingly, and calls me a barmy wanker. Thanks, lady.

Brian toddles out of his house looking very sensible: button-up shirt, slim white trousers, general demeanor of a brooding academic. And then there are the clogs.

“You, ah, you’re not going to trip in those?” I venture.

He glares at me and slips wordlessly into the passenger’s seat. The Plymouth Voyager pulls out of his driveway. I fumble with the radio, and eventually find a good song. It’s disco. I bop my head and sing along, entirely offkey. Brian stares sullenly out the window and presumably wishes for death.

Roger is next. Six honks.

“Good god, there must be a more practical way to communicate in this day and age!” Brian says.

“I could try turning up the disco,” I suggest. He is not amused.

Rog is wearing all black, including his prescription sunglasses. He climbs into the back seat. “Good morning, gentlemen!” he announces cheerfully. He reaches into the pocket of his sweatpants and produces an entire bottle of tequila.

“It’s 2:37 p.m., Rog,” Brian informs him.

Rog recoils, bewildered, then shrugs. He knocks back a few swallows of tequila and glances around the minivan. “Ooo, there are cupholders!”

I return to singing disco. Brian peers back at Rog. “Give me a swig of that.”

Freddie is waiting at the curb with a lit cigarette between his fingers. I roll up beside him. He appraises the Plymouth Voyager.

“Um, excuse me, but what the fuck.”

“I know, I know, the Benz wouldn’t start. Why are you out here already? Did someone call you? Did you actually know where your phone was?”

“Oh no, darling, the cats just don’t like me smoking indoors.”

“Whatever you say, Fred.”

“Miko sneezes terribly!”

He crawls into the back seat with Rog. They immediately begin giggling and shoving each other and inventing drinking games.

“Okay,” Freddie instructs, “every time Bri says something pretentious you have to take a shot.”

“Fred, I’ll fucking die!”

Brian buries his head in his hands. I clear my throat as I speed through traffic. “Um, is anyone actually interested in the mission?”

They settle down. “Oh yeah,” Roger says. “Go ahead, Deaks.”

“There is a family in Ealing whose dog, Mr. Doodles, has been stolen, probably to be held for ransom. We’re in pursuit of the burglar.”

“Wait, isn’t he going to be, like, way ahead of us by now?” Bri asks, ever the skeptic.

Roger rolls his eyes. “Fortunately, we happen to have...” He does jazz hands. “Superpowers!”

“Right. I’ll find him.” Freddie rubs his temples and closes his eyes in concentration. He has a dash of telepathy, but it only works on bad guys. Thank god for that, or the constant bombardment of space nonsense and disjointed basslines and naked women and car engine revs from us would completely drown out anything useful. “He’s heading west on Warwick Road!”

I put the pedal to the metal and within a few minutes we’ve spotted him. The Plymouth Voyager squeals to a halt along the sidewalk. All four of us dive out of the van and into the street.

The burglar is tall and burly and wearing a black ski mask, how original. He’s also cloaked in a tremendously tacky mustard yellow coat and carrying a satchel that likely contains the aforementioned Mr. Doodles. He sees us and pulls a gun out of his international fashion crime of a coat.

Roger unleashes a sonic scream—“aaaaaAAAAAAAhhhhAAAAAAAAAA!”—and the gun flies out of the burglar’s hand. He curses in frustration.

“Avian friends, attack!” Brian calls out. A flock of ducks descend upon the burglar, swooping and pecking at him. He attempts to smack them away clumsily.

Freddie flies to the burglar’s side. Did I mention Freddie can fly? Well, he can fly. Short distances, anyway. “That coat is awful and you should feel bad about it.”

Now it’s my turn: snark so savage it can incapacitate a wrongdoer in seconds.

Freddie, reading the burglar’s deepest thoughts and darkest fears, gives me the information I need. “Deaky, he’s still traumatized from middle school algebra! Talk about algebra!”

“Quadratic equations! Polynomials!”

“Ahh!” the burglar screams, crumpling to the ground. He loses his grip on the satchel, and a small white ball of fluff tumbles out. Mr. Doodles barks, panicked and disoriented, and Brian rushes over to comfort him.

I shout: “If x times seven equals 49, what is the value of x?!”

“Please stop! I’ll do anything!” The burglar writhes helplessly, vanquished.

Brian laughs, cradling Mr. Doodles in his arms. “Pathetic!”

I unzip my fanny pack and sift through the stationary and toast crumbs. “Oh dammit, I forgot the handcuffs!”

“I got it,” Rog says. He reaches into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulls out a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs. He clicks them around the burglar’s wrists and flashes a grin. Oh my god. Did I really just see that? Oh my god. “Do you need a blindfold too—?”

“No, Roger.”

The police arrive to take the thwarted burglar away and return Mr. Doodles to his rightful owners. Brian thanks the ducks kindly and feeds them cracked corn from his outstretched palm. Roger argues with the police because he wants to be sure he gets his fuzzy handcuffs back.

“Alright, darlings.” Freddie claps his hands together. “Job well done. Back to Garden Lodge. I’ll have Jim put some cookies in the oven for us.”

Roger raises his tequila bottle into the air and winks. “I’ll make the tea.”

#queen #queen fanfic #queen fanfiction #freddie mercury #brian may #john deacon #roger taylor #queen imagine

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beheadingofmakai · 6 years

Text

Artificial

Nothing important, just a short exercise to get a feel of a character I’ll be using for a tabletop game. Keep this in mind when reading this, as it is less a nuanced story and more “the concept put into practice”. As such, not all information is readily available, and won’t be, as her development will happen through the game proper. It’s a short story about one Lisbeth Elstad, who can be best described as a “walking pharmacy”.

---------

“One... Two of them... No peepers from inside the building itself. Regular windows, not polarized, likely bulletproofed and magic-warded, no cameras that I can see, and the surrounding buildings don’t seem to be theirs, but...”

Through the binoculars, a pair of silver eyes scouted through a remote location by the hole in a wall of an abandoned building. This wasn’t the middle of nowhere, this wasn’t some backwater hole, it was merely a less bustling part of Southern California, so the well oiled cogs of society were alive and running just four stories underneath. A werewolf in a suit, running late for his job interview, a harpy rollerblading, carefully using her wings to balance herself while her human friend, wearing a matching neon green sweatshirt, instructed her how to better use her torso to handle the shifts in weight efficiently, smiles on their faces. This wasn’t your old village or the dumps, this was the city, with all the eyes and ears that come with the package. It wasn’t an option for Lisbeth Elstad to draw attention to herself while trying to get into that building by the squalid dead end street. She was unaffiliated with any sort of law enforcement or any sort of organization whatsoever. This was a one woman war running on bread crumbs that were ambiguous and obscure at best. It was less a wild goose chase as much as it was trying to find a tsuchinoko sleeping on a bed of four leaf clovers, neatly across the pot of gold by the rainbow’s end. That was more than enough for her to deem it worth a shot.

“...This stinks. That rat lied to me through his teeth! This info has to be wrong, this place is wide open like the legs of a cheap prostitute, and no matter how much I look at it, this can’t be affiliated with them at all, not with this Olympic gold medal level of incompetence. They were pros, these guys are peanuts at best... And yet...” And yet, she had nothing else to go on. Every clue, every tip, every trail she had followed so far had gone cold. This was all she had left. If she couldn’t find anything here, then that was that, it was back to square one again. Frustrated and resolute in equal parts, the girl put away her binoculars in one of her three satchels and descended the abandoned apartment complex’s stairs. The plan was simple: Get in that building, confirm if they are affiliated with them, and take any information of value by reason or by force.

Lisbeth made her way to the dead end by using the back alleys to call less attention to herself, what with the two-headed wolf pelt poised over her shoulders and all. She romanced the idea of saying, “Oh, this? Nah, don’t worry! I’m just a model on my way to the Rafael Laurel Feral Collection! Please come to cheer on me!” if she were to catch the eye of someone, but quickly discarded this clever ploy, preferring to stick to the shadows. When she was finally in position, she once again confirmed that it was merely two sentries by the door of the so called “Clement & Sibbens Law Firm”, no doubt a front for more morally bankrupt endeavors. They were dressed with security guard outfits, sure, but it was clear simply by looking at them that they were two-bit thugs at best. After a few seconds of pondering, the girl nodded to herself and seemed to have come up with an optimal plan for infiltration. Producing a small brown glass jar and a bottle of water, Lisbeth first poured some water in the jar, and then she extended her palm over the jar. From a hole in the center of Lisbeth’s hand, a pungent dark yellow substance oozed into the jar. “First, we dilute the sulfur mustard a bit...” she muttered to herself, as she was wont to do when working with chemicals, “we stir it a bit to let them coalesce, and after some hydrogen and oxygen...” -- as she murmured, the chemicals she mentioned were injected into the brew through the hole in her hands -- “...we have a very weak variant of mustard gas, high in oxygen, diluted, and without much kick.” As her substance was complete, the girl then dipped her finger lightly into the brew and gently rubbed it against her eyelids, blinking a couple of times. Soon enough, her eyes were red, little tears trailing down her cheeks. Dragging her hand across the ground at her feet, Lisbeth then rubbed her dirty hands across her pale face and, as a finishing touch, with a pristine scalpel produced from her breast pocket, she gave herself a little cut across the cheek. Step one was almost complete! The girl removed her black, pointy hat and her elegant black dress jacket, placing it neatly on the floor on top of her two-headed wolf pelt. The result: A fragile looking girl in a white shirt and black suit pants, eyes red from crying and her face dirty and bloody. She looked like the perfect victim.

---------

“...So, how much longer ‘till we change shifts?”

“We’ve literally been here around an hour, man.”

“This sucks, dude, bossman could at least let us bring our earbuds so we can jam out and no die of boredom, there’s nothing fun about standing here for five hours!”

“It used to be seven before we got more whiny kids like you, just tough it out and stop bit--”

“Ahhhh! Someone, please help me!”

The guards’ casual dialogue came to an abrupt end when the shrill screams of a girl flooded their ears. In this comparatively isolated dead end, two blocks away from the bustle and hustle of daily life, this was certainly not common. Their necks craned to meet the source of the voice and, sure as rain, they found it: A girl almost tripping on her own feet, desperately running, heavily panting, eyes red and face stained with tears, blood, and dirt. She looked like a waiter or receptionist, by the looks of her clothes, and was clearly a civilian.

“Huh? Hey, what’s wrong? Are you alright, ma’am?” the more experienced guard asked, approaching her and trying to see what was it she was running from. “Stop yelling, it’s fine!”

“Th-the Veiled...! That Veiled, with big claws and fangs...! He tried to take my blood in broad daylight! Please, please, he’s coming! I escaped by sheer luck, but he’s coming, oh, lord! Please help me!” the woman hysterically explained, clinging to the guard’s broad chest like a terrified rat.

The guard immediately stood in front of her, facing the direction she came running from, hand already on his pistol. “A Vampire!? In broad daylight!? Tsk, cocky bastard... Must be a real tough one to not mind the sun! These damn Veiled, sub-human pieces of trash, you take your eyes away from them for a moment and they immediately turn on you! Hey, kid! Come here, back me up, this one’s going to be tough!”

“Wh-what’s it got to do with us, man?!” the terrified underling shot back, clearly no having any of this bee’s wax. “Let her run, his beef is with her, not with us!”

“Idiot, I couldn’t care less about the girl! If he’s hungry enough to hunt in daylight, he may just be desperate and may go after anyone! If he goes inside the office, we’re done for!” chastised the senior. The less experienced guard simply resigned himself, nodding and standing side by side with his colleague.

“S-say, mister guard...”

“Don’t talk to us, we have to focus on that damn Veiled! We drop our guard for a second he’ll-- Urk...!”

“...How come you are just security guards, and yet pack guns? Hmm, mister guard? Why, oh why, would that be?”

The older guard plummeted and began convulsing on the floor, foaming at the mouth, his neck pulsating with veins, scraping at the ground helplessly with curled fingers. Before the rookie guard could react, the girl had already begun dashing towards him. He took a wild swing, a panicked reaction more than anything, which she gracefully ducked under, grabbing him by the shoulders with both hands and hitting him in the crotch with an ascending knee, putting all of her weight behind the attack while pulling herself towards him by the shoulder to maximize this ball-busting critical to infernal heights.

“Grrkk!”

As the guard crumpled, submerged in pain and his eyes spinning, he felt a hand grasp his head from behind, smashing his face against the asphalt.

“Do not make any noise or I’ll pierce your jugular,” Lisbeth explain with a calm, neutral voice. “If you scream, talk, or move in any way that I don’t particularly like...”

Lisbeth deliberately placed her free hand in his field of vision. The pale hand with long fingers, like a piano player’s, had a distinctive feature: A hole in the palm. Then, suddenly, a stake-like spike protruded from the hole, long, thick, and deadly, a single droplet of an indigo substance dripping from the tip.

“You see this? This is my ‘syringe’. You know how it hurts like hell when a bee stings? Well, that’s because of the venom more than the sting itself. You see that dear chum over there undergoing cardiac arrest? He got nice and intimate with the venom dripping from this here syringe, and for the low, low price of your noncooperation, you can join him right this moment, so you’ll tell me and give me what I want, or you can have a hot date with Saint Peter and tell him all about how it felt like when your bodily functions all shot down one by one as your body burned from within. Alternatively, nod thrice if you wish to cooperate and walk away from this one instead.”

And thrice he nodded.

“I want to enter this building. Nod once if I can walk in, nod twice if I need a key or any sort of verification.” The guard nodded once, but Lisbeth simply sighed, not particularly convinced. “I have some nice, nice sodium thiopental on me. That’s nerdspeak for ‘truth serum’, and overdosing you on that will not only get me what I want, but also leave you with lasting neurological damage, so please, be a darling and just dispense the... Uh, spill the... Aw, shucks, what was the term... The beans! Yes, please, deposit all of the beans here, if you would”.

After some silence, he nodded twice and whispered, “the keys are on my left vest pocket. Slow day, so no one is in aside from us, a couple of more guys, and Mister Clement,” his voice cracking once or twice during the sentence.

“And how’s the building’s layout? Any basements? Three paltry floors can’t be all this delightful office has to offer, hm?”

“...Who are y--”

The guard immediately felt pressure from Lisbeth’s spike threatening to bore a hole in his jugular. “Hey, now, love, don’t answer a question with a question. Where I come from, that gets you injected with neurotoxins.”

“...It’s got a large basement, two floors, you can only get there via the elevator. This is really all I know, I just started working here two weeks ago, please, you don’t have to do this!”

“Hmmmm... Ok! I’ll be taking this key, then, now... On your feet. Slowly.”

Taking the key, Lisbeth helped the terrified man stand up, and patted him one the shoulder. “See? I told you you could walk away!” But before the guard could take one step forward, Lisbeth’s wicked thorn found purchase on his left arm.

“Wh-what!? I thought we ha--” but her hand immediately covered his mouth.

“I said you could walk away, but I didn’t specify you’d do so alive. Now, be a darling and make a nice show for me, hm?”

The guard cursed her, or at least attempted to do so, but whatever words he intended to use were lost in his pained screaming as he burst into flames almost instantly. What Lisbeth injected him with wasn’t poison or a neurotoxin, it was something far more sinister, one of the many shames of human ingenuity, a reminder that somewhere out there, a scientist once thought “what if I could make the world burn?”. Napalm, injected directly to the bloodstream. “Why in the world did you think I told you to nod in order to communicate? The moment you spoke, you spoiled our agreement, Not talking was literally the second instruction I gave you,” the blonde muttered to herself.

With deft agility, Lisbeth left the smoldering man to scream and run at his leisure as she hid back in her back alley, the slow chemical painfully, slowly burning him away like the loudest candle in the fair, prompting a group of seven men burst out of the building to pursue the burning sod not long after. As they futilely tried to put out the napalm flames, stubborn as a mule as they are, Lisbeth simply dusted off her coat and her pelt, calmly wearing them again. A black jacket with elegant gold details with matching black pants and boots, a pelt of a two-headed wolf providing a feral contrast to her elegant attire, and a pointed hat, right out of the witches’ tales. From her second satchel, Lisbeth produced her last item: A blank, featureless mask, which covered her face while still letting locks of her cream blonde hair spill in front of it.

As the men were distracted by their doomed companions, one weakly twitching as the poison devoured him from within, the other flailing wildly and making a commotion, Lisbeth calmly walked inside the building unnoticed.

“If they are speaking like that oh so openly about the Veiled, then this might be worth checking out,” a somewhat annoyed Lisbeth remarked, indulging in her habit of conversing with herself.

---------

Carpeted floor, old metal cabinets, and steel chairs neatly lined up in front of a TV comprised the interior of the supposed Law Firm. Sure enough, this looked like an accommodating waiting room for consultations and other such licitations. The illusion would hold up pretty well if it weren’t for the rather sizable amount of armed men that stormed out of the building mere moments ago. As fun and wholesome as a man undergoing cardiac arrest next to someone burning to death can be, these are merely distractions and won’t last forever. Understanding this, Lisbeth took a good look at the building’s frame, lightly but quickly knocking on the walls to see which walls were hollow and which were firm, giving knowing nods after each tock tock and each knock knock. With a good idea of which walls were essential and which weren’t in the thankfully simply designed structure, Lisbeth took a deep breath and concentrated.

“...I say, I loathe doing this every time, but you gotta do what you gotta do... Here goes nothing. Can’t afford to skim it with all these guys packing heat” the masked girl murmured as she chatted with herself, halfheartedly laughing. One or two unsuspecting fools were one thing, but seven angry, buff men? Lisbeth shall take a rain check on that, thank you very much.

The veins in the blonde’s arm bulged as her arm was suddenly grew red and swollen, then purple and grotesque, and finally almost black and fully sickening. With some clearly pained grunting, the arm’s mass finally began to subside, and as it did, a clay-like, brick red substance came out of the hole in her hand. “Hurts like hell every damn time...”, she lamented as she spread some of it on the door frame, on the crevasse behind the reception desk, under the rug, and in a couple of other places. On each of the little mounds of clay, she stuck a little pin. Without looking back and while clutching her pained arm, Lisbeth made her way to the elevator. It was an old model with rusty binder-style curtain doors. A little plaque to the left of it read “Authorized Personnel Only”. She simply snorted and pressed the unlabeled button on the bottom of the panel, descending where, hopefully, the truth awaited her.

---------

The stagnant air of the dark basement wasn’t the worst aspect of it at all. In stark contrast with the pristine, welcoming presentation of the first floor, this basement was putrid. Crude wooden tables, assorted bottles of alcohol, a dart board (with no bullseyes on it, tragically enough), a table of billiards, and plenty of nasty looking utensils right out of a cheap gore B-movie. For someone with a mask, Lisbeth’s expression sure screamed “disgusted and furious”. It seems no one was home, at least not on this floor, but the same couldn’t be said about the first floor anymore. Footsteps, and many of them, tumbled and stomped above Lisbeth’s head. Calmly producing a small controller-like device, Lisbeth pressed the red button with an “>:)” emblazoned on it, a symphony of explosions and screams filling the air with the harmony of a trap well set and executed. Before she could celebrate, however, an unexpected scream came from the end of the hallway, something between terror and surprise in a beautiful if somewhat grating high pitch.

“Who’s there!? Please, by all means, make a sudden move so I can melt your face off with a clear conscience!” Lisbeth yelled at the source of the scream, receiving no answer. Protruding spikes from both of her hands, she cautiously advanced towards what looked like a cell at the end of a poorly lit hallway. Inside the cell, a little girl with long, thin horns huddled to the corner, terrified, tears streaming down her face. She was very thing and no doubt ill, if her labored breathing was any indication.

“P-please... Don’t... Don’t...”

Lisbeth came to a full stop upon realizing just whose face she threatened to melt off. “Ah, no, wait, hold on, I’m not one of th--”

“Stay away! What did I do to you people!? Why are you doing this to me! I want my mom! Stay away!” snapped the child, throwing a dog’s bowl that seemed to be from where she’d been eating the last few days. The sight couldn’t be more lamentable.

“Jeez... Yeah, of course you’d be wary if I look like this...” Lisbeth muttered to herself, for once cursing her choice of attire. Before she could sulk anymore, however, a light bulb shone above her head. “Hey, hey, I’m not going to get close, I just wanna show you something nice. Look at my hand.”

“...?” the child’s curiosity was roused, and she intently looked at the black-clad girl’s hand. The distinctive glove she wore lacked fabric where the palm is, kind of like fingerless gloves except an aggregate of one hundred times more pretentious. What caught her eye, however, wasn’t the strange glove, it was the hole in the center of her palm. Before she could craft a question about it in her tiny little mouth, however, a gentle jet of cold air blew from it, and soon after, beautiful snowflakes filled the cell. “W-wow! Snow...!? I’ve never seen snow! It’s so pretty! How are you doing that?”

As she produced more snowflakes with one hand, Lisbeth slowly removed her mask with the other, a friendly smile meeting the child’s cheerful expression. “By gently blowing a controlled amount of liquid nitrogen, I can freeze the natural humidity in the air, that is, the small amount of water in the air just enough to cause it to crystallize! In this way, if I manage the output in relation to room temperature and, if applicable, altitude, I can--” but she quickly shut her own mouth when she noticed the horribly perplexed expression on the poor child’s face.

“...U-uhh...?”

“...Magic, my dear friend!”

“Wow!”

Sometimes, less is more.

“My name is Lisbeth. Lisbeth Elstad,” she kindly explained as she approached slowly, until she finally was next to the child. “I have a hypothesis that your name must be really cute, given how cute you are, so would you mind sharing it with me? For science, of course.”

“I’m Marcela Toreca!” the child answered, no longer afraid of Lisbeth.

“Hypothesis confirmed! What a nice name, you little sweetling... Say, I need to ask you a few things, but if it becomes too hard to answer, don’t sweat it, ok? I’m here to more or less dismantle the place. How... How long have you been here? Why are you here?”

Marcela’s face immediately went grim again, tears welling in her eyes. “They... They kidnapped me. Snatched me when I was on the park with mama and papa, I saw them beat them up, yelled at them over something, and I’ve been here for four days. They... They were going to sell me tomorrow, and they, they sometimes would take the branding iron there and--”

Whatever came after that, Lisbeth didn’t hear as she hugged the child close. “Tug on the pelt. Grab it with all of your might and tug on it. Try to rip it if you want. Don’t say anything else, just rip and tug.” And so the child did, gripping the wolf pelt with all the strength her little hands could muster, pulling at it. It wasn’t necessary to make her relive those events anymore. “Marcela, your skin is pretty pale, and I noticed you have trouble breathing. I’m kind of in a hurry here, so I can’t really check you thoroughly, but I have a shot that’ll help you.”

The child shook with a single, potent goosebump. “U-uh, no, I’m fi--”

“You aren’t afraid of shots, aren’t you, darling? My, my, and here I thought I’d show you some more snow tricks, but alas, they are only for brave kids!”

“Uuuh... F-fine! I ain’t afraid of no needle!”

Lisbeth couldn’t help but smile. Producing a long, thin syringe filled with a green liquid from one of her satchels, Lisbeth gently held Marcela’s wrist and extended her arm. “Ok now! Close your eyes and don’t open them no matter what, ok? It won’t take more than a minute.”

With a nod and a smile, Marcela closed her eyes. Lisbeth discreetly put away the syringe and protruded one of her hand spikes, gently pressing it against a vein on Marcela’s arm and pumping her full of vitamins, nutrients, and mild energizers. Then, after retracting her spike, Lisbeth produced a different, empty syringe from her satchel. “Ok, open your eyes now.”

“...Did I do good?”

“Now, don’t tell anyone I said this, but I’ve met plenty of kickass kids in my time, but you? Easily the kickassest... Kickassetest? You did great.”

The little horned girl couldn’t help but smile. “Miss... Are you going to get me out of here?”

Lisbeth gestured a cross with both of her index fingers. “Not if you call me ‘Miss’ again! Lis is fine, I’m not much older than you. I’ll get you out of here, but first, I need to finish my own business here. Once I’m done with that, I assure you that no one will hound you again, and I’ll take you back outside. So be good like hydrogen and stay put here until I’m done, ok?”

“No! I-I’ll help you, Lis! Th-that guy has a weird trick! He shot my dad from the front, but the bullet hit him in the back somehow! If you go in alone, he’ll kill you! I’m strong, I’ll help you!” the resolute little Marcela declared, putting up her little dukes.

“...Ah, how am I gonna say no to this? Ok, but on one condition: I have a special potion that will help you become stronger. You can come with me only, and only if you take it. Howzat sound?”

“Fine! Even if it’s another i-injection,” -- Marcela’s voice cracked -- “I’ll accompany Lis! Give it to me!”

“Hmhm! Brave little pancake, ain’tcha? Ok, here’s the potion.”

With a sudden yet gentle and careful motion, Lis’ palm cradled the petite girl’s face, a mildly sweet and ether-like odor blanketing Marcela’s nostrils. The tiny girl quickly collapsed, Lisbeth catching her and settling her down gently. “A jet of chloroform always gets the job done, doesn’t it? Sleep tight, Marcela.”

Wearing her mask once anew, the resolute girl made her way to the staircase at the end of the poorly lit corridor, making sure her footsteps would be silent, the unexplored second basement floor beckoning every violent urge in her already trembling body. Tilting her mask sideways just slightly, Lisbeth nibbled on the tip of one of her spikes, “snacking” on liquid diazepam to calm herself. “Let’s have some words, you and I, Mister Clement...”

---------

The second floor basement was vastly different. It wasn’t luxurious by any definition, but it didn’t feel cramped, had no cells, and felt more like a little gathering spot with touches of mancave, given the plenty bookcases, billiards table, bar, and other such “classy” entertainment staples, all of which would have had an endearing air were it not for the whole Veiled trafficking. If anything, it’s correct to say this place wasn’t luxurious yet, as it was clear it was slowly but surely being furnished little by little to resemble some sort of mafia underground hangout, the kind wacky and villainous art collectors seem to always have in the movies. At the far end of the spacious basement, on an elevated section, not yet carpeted, a large leather chair with two arms barely peeking on the arm rest were Lisbeth’s goal. That had to be Clement. Controlling her breathing and making sure her footsteps were silent, the girl managed no more than three steps before a voice froze her in place.

“That’s far enough, madame. You seriously didn’t think you’d be able to sneak up on me after detonating bombs on the first floor, right?”

In a split second and with her eyes wide with shock, Lisbeth tumbled out of the way, a bullet grazing her left shoulder from behind, a little grunt escaping her lips. The chair turned around, and sitting on it was a man in his early 30s, slicked back black hair with piercing blue eyes, his exquisite white suit looked less like a legal adviser’s and more like an hedonist’s pajamas, save for the single glove he wore over his right hand, and dung beetles everywhere in the world felt a strange sense of attraction to his shit eating grin. “You made me wait quite a bit, Exter. I hope you have a good reason to have made a mess of my office without a warrant. And here I thought I had made a good network. So, who snitched on me? I bet it was Harland! I always suspected him of being an undercover rat, hah!”

“Hah, don’t lump me together with those wusses. Exter’s aren’t worth the filth stuck to the sole of my boots. I’m here on behalf of no one but myself. I just wanted to have a little chat with you, see? I need to know the legality of disfiguring someone’s face with a lead pipe, Mister Lawman, so please help me out here.”

“...Hold on, you’re not an Exter?” Clement first looked genuinely confused for a second, and then simply let out a guffaw. “Ahahah! Oh, well, slap my ass and call me Cindy! You, you’re here alone? Unaffiliated? Well, that makes things easier.” Without further ado, he pointed the gun at Lisbeth and pulled the trigger. The sound very distinctly came from the pistol, but the bullet struck Lisbeth square in the back, making her lurch forward momentarily before she collapsed with a pained wimper. “If you’re not with anyone, then I have no interest in whatever information I can get out of you.”

“Why, that’s very rude, mister Clement, heh,” the girl laughed as she slowly rose from the ground. none the worse for wear. “At least let me finish talking. I suspected you’d have one of those after a little tip I got from a certain girl, but seeing you fire it confirmed it. That right there is a Rennard DZ87 ‘Mitsuhide’, isn’t it? Also known as the ‘Backshooter’, a popular enchanted handgun.”

Clement simply scratched his head. “Huh... Hey, how come you didn’t die? People usually do when I shoot them.”

“Ballistic gelatin,” explained the girl, tapping her back. “Never go in without some preparation. Put some there when I heard you had a habit of shooting people’s backs. I got some bad news for you, sweetheart, but that gun right there is useless. All the DZ87 does is use basic portal magic to teleport the bullet at the muzzle to a portal behind whatever is on its crosshairs. It’s an effective gun if you’re fighting completely mundane people or rookies, but otherwise, it’s just a gimmicky gun for, as the more crass denizens of the streets would say, pussies.”

“You mean to tell me you carry ballistic freaking gelatin with you everywhere you go? Why not just wear kevlar?”

“Good question! Why don’t you come a little close to good ol’ Lis and find out for yourself?”

The foes locked eyes for some silent moments, and when the calm was over, the storm began. Lisbeth produced some sort of little rubbery object, akin to an uninflated balloon, and pressed it against her hand’s hole, quickly filling it with a light green liquid, and the “balloon” filled, it gradually lost elasticity until it became a perfectly sealed glass orb, full of the liquid. This whole process happened in a second, and without losing any more time, she lobbed it Clement-wards, who dodged the flung weapon.

“Throwing balls versus a pistol? You must be out of your m--!”

Clement had to call a rain check on his very important taunting, however, when he heard the glass orb shatter behind him. The liquid inside the orb, as soon as it made contact with air, burst into a noxious miasma, a toxic gas that threatened to blanket him. Rapidly reacting, Clement leaped down from his high ground, evading the toxic gas, but before he knew it, Lisbeth was already making a rush for him, spikes hungry for his veins protruding from her palms. Clement took aim, and as he was pulling the trigger, Lisbeth turned her back to him.

“What...? Idiot, you could at least try to dodge the bullet instead of giving your back to m--Urgh!”

The gun went off, but the one struck was Clement. As he double over in pain, a swift kick from Lisbeth disarmed him, and another right on the chin floored him.

“Didn’t I explain before? The DZ87 makes a portal behind whatever is in its crosshairs. No one uses Mitsuhides on real combat anymore because of how utterly simplistic, outdated, and unreliable they are. All I had to do was give my back to you while being sufficiently close to you, and the portal, still technically behind me, is generated at a fixed distance, which happens to put you between the bullet and I. Even at the apex of their popularity, Mitsuhides were a side arm, and never a main weapon. You’d use the Mitsuhide with another firearm or weapon to keep your opponent guessing. If the bullet is always going to come from behind, it becomes trivial to deal with it,” the spiked girl explained with a matter-of-fact tone, almost as if dealing with a child. “You’ve never fought anything more dangerous than the parents of the innocent Veiled whose children you’ve abducted, am I right?”

“H-hey now, please! I’m just a lawyer! No need to get-- Hey, you said you wanted info, right? I’ll talk, I’ll talk! Just please promise you won’t kill me!”

Lisbeth’s eyes were looking not at a human being, but at garbage right now. “You’re quite the honest person, are you not? Talk, before I change my mind.”

“Thank you, thank you!” Clement said almost as if worshiping her. “...Hold on, before I start, you might want to do something about that Minotaur over there. She’s looking sickly, and, well, we haven’t fed her in two days,” the host explained as he pointed behind Lisbeth, towards the elevator.

“What!? Marcela, did you wake up alre--”

As soon as she turned around, something cold and sharp like the beak of a scythe found purchase on Lisbeth’s right side, sinking deep into her. She spat blood and fumbled her feet a bit before a kick sent her barreling to the floor, fresh vermilion spilling out of her wound.

“Hey, Miss Lecture, maybe don’t take your eyes off your enemy, dumbass.”

As Lisbeth turned around, Clement dipped his left hand on some of the blood left behind by her and used it to slick his hair back again. It had to be his left hand, after all, because his right arm was currently a massive metallic sickle. Moments later, the sickle turned back into a prosthetic arm.

“A Technomancer!?”

“Yup. That ‘dee zee’... Whatever you called it pistol was just insurance. I do practice some magic of my own, I mean, you’d have to be crazy not to if you’re in this business.” Clement’s jovial explanation ceased immediately after he noticed not as much blood as he expected was flowing “Hm? I thought the wound was deeper, you’re not dead yet. Again. You’re starting to piss me off, girl.” To be fair to Clement, it is pretty frustrating when people won’t die.

Upon closer inspection, Lisbeth was indeed wounded and bleeding but the wolf pelt had not been pierced at all. It was the impact itself more than any slashing damage that harmed Lisbeth. “And once again, she saved me...” Lisbeth murmured, clutching the pelt tightly before standing up.

Clement’s assault continued, his mechanical arm changing shapes to axes and swords and sickles, trying to mince Lisbeth into a pile of flesh and agony, but she kept her body parts where they should be by evading the attacks. However, it wasn’t graceful dodging, it was more akin to a headless chicken trying not to get diced up, something Clement picked up on. It was almost as if Lisbeth was afraid. As Clement advanced on her with a sword-arm, Lisbeth put chairs and other pieces of furniture between them, obstacles that were easily cleft in twain by the Technomancer.

“...Hm? Oh... Oh! I see!” Clement declared, his eyes shining with the light of realization. “You... You are deadly afraid. You piece of shit kid. You clothes made it hard to notice, but now that I get a good look at you, not only are you just a kid, you’re trembling in your boots.”

“...Oh, please, of course my body language is going to be all weird during a life or death situation!”

“No.” boldly interrupted Clement, calling Lisbeth out on her bluff. “That’s not merely adrenaline, that’s fear. I know fear when I see it. When you abduct Veiled, you see fear. When their children are abducted, you see fear. When leave them beaten bloody as you take their children, you see fear. In your body language, demeanor, and words, I see it, girl. I see fear. You can’t fool a merchant of fear in the subject of his trade.”

“S-shut up, I’m two steps away from killing you, what the hell do you know!?” Lisbeth yelled back, losing her cool.

“I understand it, even! Girl, you dispatched my men and casually strolled in because it all went according to your plan. You’re very smart, I’ll give you that, but the moment things went off the rails, the moment things stopped going according to your plan... You panicked. The moment you saw my mechanical arm, your whole facade fell through. You expected a punk ass bitch with a gun, but you found a Technomancer instead. You do not know how to play it by ear!”

“...!” One didn’t have to look at Lisbeth’s face behind her mask to know she had been read like an open book. As if to confirm Clement’s words, Lisbeth filled two more orbs with a white powder and recklessly, or it’d be more accurate to say sloppily, threw them at his assailant. The lawyer simply snatched one of the air with his left hand, while moved out of the way of the other. As it landed on the floor, the orb shattered, causing a small explosion that left a little, short lived fire where it landed.

“...White phosphorous, huh? It’s what they use in incendiary rounds, if I have my chemistry right. Still, a fire that little means you were very sloppy in producing it. Maybe, the quality of the things that come out of those holes in your hands depends on your focus. Pissing your pants as you are right now, you can’t even make a proper explosion, I’d wager,” Clement summarized, taking his sweet time in purpose to fully indulge in the helplessness of the girl in front him. “What kind of magic is this? I’ve never seen anything like it. You can just make things with those holes? It’s some sort of Conjuration or Alchemy, if I had to take a shot in the dark... It looks more like playing with chemicals more than any real magic. Just some artificial cheap tricks, perfect for an artificial cheap girl who has to fake her bravery! I’ll have plenty of time to see how it all works after I cut your arms off.”

Lisbeth’s response was to throw more orbs, but nothing worked against him in this chaotic state of mind. The plan had gone awry, and Lisbeth no longer knew what to do. Why? How come someone who got this far today was suddenly so inept and incompetent? Why was she suddenly a scared little nobody, when she had been oh so efficient mere minutes ago?

Well, the answer is simple.

“...Kudos to you, kid,” Clement chided, half seriously, half in jest. “It takes balls to do what you did when you are such a massive coward. That mask, that outfit, it’s all out to evoke fear, to make you look big, eh?”

“Shut up!” Lisbeth retorted, producing her spikes and lunging at Clement with a panicked leap, only to meet a metallic hammer-arm face first, her body being flung to a bookcase like a helpless rag doll as her mask clattered against the floor. As she tried to get on her feet, her body simply wouldn’t comply.

“Ahh... Ahh... Damn it, come on, stand...! Hhr...! That’s two or three ribs... Come on! Stand up! W-wait, where is my mask... Where is it...!”

“You know,” Clement continued, talking leisurely as the fight was as good as won. “I didn’t know what I expected behind that mask, but it sure as hell wasn’t an ugly ass kid with tears streaming down her face. I feel like a god damned idiot for having been tricked by you in the first place. As soon as I am done with you, I’m going to take it out on that little shit upstairs. You have only yourself to blame.”

“You...! Why do you kidnap Veiled children!? Is human trafficking that fun!? Are you really that desperate for some cash!?” the furious Lisbeth lashed out, crawling away from him, huddling against the bookcase she was flung against.

Clement simply blinked. “It’s not human trafficking, though? It’s just Veiled kids, no biggie.”

“...What?”

“Oh, come on, it’s just some garbage from the other side that shouldn’t be here in the first place! I wouldn’t do this with an actual fucking person, get real! Its just a Veiled! It’s like cattle! You take the young, and let the old make more young, and then take them again! It’s good business.”

“Good business, huh...? I see, it’s good business. Ripping children away from their parents is good business to you... So we are just good business to you, huh? Good to know, really good to know!”

“Hm? Wh--”

Clement had seen fear plenty of times, but there was something else he was very familiar with: Anger. He saw anger every time a Veiled parent would have their children taken away from them. He saw anger every time a Veiled children would get sold off to the highest bidder. He saw anger every time a helpless parent tried their hardest and was beaten to a pulp by him and his thugs. He knew anger when he saw it, and right now?

Lisbeth’s face wasn’t one of fear, not exclusively. She was afraid, for sure, but there was something far more potent that that in her lithe frame right now, causing it to shake not from fear anymore.

And that was the blistering, white, hot anger that her silver eyes exuded with naught an attempt to curb it.

Protruding her hand spikes, Lisbeth impaled herself and let out a primal scream as her veins bulged unnaturally. Not two seconds later, she less jumped and more exploded towards Clement with far more force and speed than her body type and musculature would suggest, quickly releasing a burst of liquid nitrogen to encase her right hand in a block of ice that smashed against the face of the Technomancer, his world spinning for a second. He swiped back at her, catching her with a well placed right hook, a literal hook, mind you, that should have pierced her real well. And it would have, had it not been for the ice shield Lisbeth quickly made with another burst of liquid nitrogen to intercept the hook. Clement acted fast, however, and used his regular hand to streak a punch right across the girl’s face with all of his strength. Surely, with their weight and height differences, she really should’ve felt this one, right?

Nope.

Unfazed, Lisbeth swung her left hand this time as if to respond in kind, a white phosphorous-enhanced flaming uppercut that connected squarely with his jaw, quickly followed by another meteoric downwards hammer punch from the frozen hand, making him spit blood and a molar.

“S-shit, what the hell! How the hell...!”

“I pumped myself full of steroids and painkillers, darling. You are so, as they say on less reputable streets, fucked right now!”

Clement desperately turned his arm into a blade again and lunged at her, and surprisingly, found purchase, piercing the girl... And then, she grabbed onto the arm, and pulled him closer and closer.

“...! Did you intentionally...!? Wait, wait, are you nuts?! Wait!”

“Nuts? No, just desperate and short on time. Bare your neck.”

Clement’s begging fell on empty ears as Lisbeth’s left hand, swollen and charred with the burns from her own fire punch, protruded that nasty, flesh-hungry spike that quickly found its way to the veins in his neck, injecting something that quickly paralyzed Clement and made him burn from within. Pulling herself away from the arm that was currently running her through, Lisbeth, who wobbled and struggled to walk straight, one hand pressed tightly against her wound, approached his (obviously pretentious) whiskey cabinet, poured herself a glass, and drank it in one shot.

“...Even your taste in whiskey fucking sucks,” she quipped. Getting four more glasses, she lined them up in front of the poisoned Clement, and filled each with different, strange liquids directly from her hand holes. The first one was electric blue, the next, transparent, like water, followed by a light green liquid, and last but not least, a brown, sludge-like substance.

“Alright, Clement, we’re going to play something I like to call the Apothecary's Game. The rules are simple: In front of you are four glasses. Three of them are poison, but one of them is an antidote to the poison I just injected you with.”

“...What the hell is this?” Clement snarled, unable to move but seemingly able to speak.

“I didn’t give you a full dose of the venom, just enough to disable you... For now, anyways. That dose will turn lethal, given enough time, so your clock is ticking. Now, you can try and pick one of the glasses in front of you, giving you a 25% chance of picking the right choice. Pick wrong, however, and you will have drank a full dose of another poison. The two venoms in you will react really, really badly together, and you’ll die slowly and very painfully. Here’s where it gets fun!” -- Lisbeth cheerfully announced as she fastened her mask back in place, back in-character -- “If you give me information I want, and I believe you, I’ll take away one of the duds. Give me three answers I am looking for, and you’ll only be left with the antidote! Fair, isn’t it?”

“Fair like a gun to the temple, you maniac...”

“That’s rich coming from the child kidnapper. Alright, question one: How did you get this gig rolling? I heard you once worked with one Mister Sibbens, but he doesn’t seem to be around today.”

“...I killed Sibbens.” -- it seems Clement had given up on lying, fearing the repercussions of being caught -- “We originally only took cases that involved Veiled trying to get a citizenship here on the Human World. Sibbens was very much a philanthropist in this regard, and would sometimes not even charge Veiled if they didn’t have the means...”

“And you, of course, didn’t like that very much.”

“Heh, nope, not at all. I studied law to get paid accordingly, not to run a charity, much less one for sub-human freaks. Eventually, I staged his death, pinned the blame on a Veiled, and what do you know? The Exters fully bought into it.”

Lisbeth grabbed the glass with the light green fluid and tossed it across the room. “That’s one dud down. How did you get away with it for so long?”

“I still take cases, see? Veiled cases. I defend them, I vouch for them, I get them their citizenships, and play the part of the hero. I use a system much like the ‘decimation’ of the Roman Army: Every tenth Veiled family that comes, I get my boys to abduct their kids and threaten them to keep silent or risk getting their children killed. Even if they speak out against me, I have a bunch of other Veiled that will defend me, as I got them their citizenship for cheap. Then, I sell the Veiled kids in the black market for high prices. Pretty good system that guarantees no one snitches on you and, if they do, nothing happens anyways... Well, at least until an ugly masked bitch ruined it all.”

Lisbeth, however, didn’t react at all for a few seconds, and simply tossed the glass with the blue liquid away after a short delay. “It’s always money for your type, huh? That’s all we amount to when placed in front of you and your money: Obstacles to be removed, the consequences be damned. Ripping families apart is just so fun to you, isn’t it? Bad whiskey and a tacky mancave justifies it all for you, I gather. Last question: Were you involved in what happened to the White Silhouette?”

Clement looked visibly puzzled. “White... Silhouette? As in, the extremely efficient and deadly Doppel corps? They got crushed mysteriously some time ago, didn’t they?”

Lisbeth nodded. “Were you involved?”

“Not at all, I’m not that big of a player.”

“And do you know who could have done it? Do you have any clues? Any idea of where one could begin to look for answers?”

“I’ve seriously no idea of who could’ve done that... Why do you care so much for that?”

“I’m the one making the questions, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, yeah... But really, I’ve nothing to do with that, nor do I know who could have done it.”

“...Alright.” Lisbeth sighed, grabbing the glass with the transparent liquid and tossing it. “You’ve earned it. Here’s the antidote.” And just as she said that, Lisbeth also tossed away the antidote, the glass shattering against a bookcase, staining several books with the brown sludge.

“Wh-what the fuck!? We had a deal!”

“It wasn’t a deal, it was a game. I don’t deal with serial kidnappers, and even less with lawyers. Kindly fuck off to the afterlife, please.” As if to call the curtain on this horrible specimen, Lisbeth’s spike dug into his neck one last time, pumping him full of the venom, making Clement undergo seizures as he bled from his eyes and frothed at the mouth, an ugly end for an ugly man.

Examining the elevated section where Lisbeth first spotted Clement, the Alchemist found a computer, conveniently on and accessible. Gripping her silver cross pendant, Lisbeth pulled on its bottom to remove what seemed to be a detachable section akin to a cap, revealing a USB drive. Plugging it into the computer, Lisbeth copied and pasted everything she could find in the terminal to it. Once she was done, Lisbeth copied an executable program onto the desktop, unplugged her drive, and ran the program, bricking the computer in mere seconds.

“...Until I am done going through this data, I can’t know for sure if he lied or not, but it seems he’s unrelated, making this a waste of time for the most part. Well, at least the world is one child kidnapper down...” And as she walked one, one could swear she also said “...And one lawyer down...” under her breath.

Putting the cap on her USB drive, Lisbeth called for the elevator, feebly and barely holding herself together, the kickback from the steroids and the waning effect of the painkillers making her really feel her sustained wounds. “...Better just bear with it... If I keep injecting this stuff, I’ll really OD...”

---------

The sky grew pink over the Clement & Sibbens Law Firm office. Bodies and rubble adorned the first floor of the building as Lisbeth emerged from the elevator with the still asleep Marcela in her arms. Carrying her away, Lisbeth noticed, much to her relief, that despite there having been a literal explosion, it seems authorities were not yet in the area. “...The fact that they’ve taken so long to come check this out means they knew this was a front. I wonder how many of the local cops are under Clement’s pockets... Well, were under his pockets. Still, I should hurry.”

As she walked away through the back alleys and away from more populated areas, Lisbeth collapsed, both her and Marcela meeting the ground, unable to go on any longer with her wounds, particularly her broken ribs and the lower left side of her torso, which had been completely run through with Clement’s blade-arm. As much as she produced morphine in her body, she had accumulated far more damage than she could handle. As she lay on the floor, bleeding out, Lisbeth couldn’t help but feel a bit of relief.

It was all so scary. It can finally end. She did her best, right? This much was enough. Time and time again, she ended up in terrifying situations, acting as if she was on top of it all where in reality all she wanted was to scream. The mask looked intimidating, but it was all to conceal her terrified expression and her crying. She couldn’t help crying during battle. These clothes were so heavy, the pelt was so asphyxiating, both physically and mentally, an eternal reminder of who she must avenge.

But none of that mattered now, right? She could go. She could finally rest. She tried her best. Oluwasanmi and the Mercury Witch would welcome her in the afterlife, after so long, right? She could almost see them, the gentle giant and the rowdy witch, arms spread open, waiting for her...

“...Bullshit...”

It was only a matter of walking to the end of the light, where Father and Mother awaited her...

“...They aren’t my parents...”

Mere footsteps away...

“They never found the fucking bodies! They aren’t dead! Until I see the bodies, I won’t--”

Of course it’s never that easy. Even cowards have their pride. Even if a coward hates every moment of it, once cornered, once pressured, they will bare their fangs. It’s not that Lisbeth has nothing to lose, it’s that she lost it all already.

Some might take that as a sign to call it quits.

But Lisbeth isn’t like that.

Lisbeth shot awake, but the blinding pain caused by her sudden movement immediately made her inch back onto the bed. Wait... Bed?

“...Where... Just where am I?”

“Well, good morning, Miss Hero.”

White sheets, a window, medical equipment, and a woman in a suit sitting on the other side of the room. This was a hospital if she ever saw one.

“How...”

“How did you get here? Well, one Miss Marcela Toreca called us from a payphone, emergency call, and told us where to find you. It seems your good deed saved your life.”

“Marcela--! Where is she!?”

“Relax. She’s in the room adjacent to this one, she’s--”

“Malnutritioned and has a case of Plonar’s Disease! If we don’t treat the gangrene on the base of her horns, she might become a vegetable or even die!”

The woman in the suit whistled and clapped. “Well, now, that’s quite the accurate diagnosis. You are correct on all accounts and she’s being treated. You’ll be delighted to know her parents were contacted and they are in there, too. They really want to thank you for saving their disappeared daughter.”

Upon hearing this, Lisbeth visibly sank into her bed. “Ah... Well, that’s good to know... But now, you... Are no nurse, are you?”

The suited woman simply giggled. “Indeed I am not. Miss ‘Lisbeth’, was it? Unless you fed Marcela a false name, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance... Now, on behalf of the California NEST of Exters, I have some questions I’d like you to answer. And please don’t try to, ah, finesse your way out of this one. I’ll tell you right now we have the whole building surrounded.”

“...It doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice, then,” Lisbeth murmured, clearly displeased.

“Whether that is your name or not is irrelevant, really, because we know something for sure, courtesy of that tattoo on the back of your hand, Miss White Silhouette.”

“...Ah.”

Just now realizing she had been stripped of all her clothes to be put in a hospital gown, that also included her gloves, and with her gloves gone, the Canis Major tattoo on the back of her left hand was fully visible.

“A genuine article, too. So you’re the sole survivor of the White Silhouette, huh? Well, Miss Lisbeth, we can’t have an ex-Doppel just running around in Exter turf like this, you no doubt understand. Depending on your cooperation, we might be able to reach some sort of compromise. I am sure we can both benefit from this, hmhm.”

Lisbeth could only listen to this office fox flap her gums. With the damage she sustained, she knew better than anyone, better than any of these doctors, that her body would break down should she try anything. It seems the gig was finally up.

It was this encounter that brought the story of “Lisbeth Elstad” to an end and that marked the beginning of the story “Lisbeth Elstad, Exter”, a story about a coward who has decide to face everything to recover what she lost, even if all she can recover is ‘closure’.

But that story is one for another day, for another medium.

#code:lisbeth #format: special #length: medium

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voyages-extraordinaires · 6 years

Text

CR: ~VE~ Chapter 22

I’m not done yet.

I throw open the door to my room and begin my pursuit. I look around for any sign of Nemo, but he’s already disappeared from view.

I curse under my breath and begin to run in one direction, dashing down the spiral staircase two at a time.

“Woah, Polly-chan--?” Barbicane sidesteps so that I don’t crash into him. “What’s going on?”

“Where is he?” I grab the engineer by the collar and pull him down to my height. “Where did Nemo go?!”

Barbicane shakes his head. “I don’t know, I haven’t seen him! Polly-chan, what happened? How are you feeling?”

“Forget me! Nemo’s not making any sense!”

Barbicane looks at me with a confused expression. “Like... usual, or...?”

The words aren’t coming, it’s like I’m trying to work around a wall of fog that’s stopping any rationality from reaching my voice.

“Damnit...!” I clench my fists in frustration.

“Hold on,” says Barbicane. He takes a step back and holds my shoulders so we’re eye-to-eye. “Slow down, talk to the handsome genius engineer, okay?”

“I can’t slow down,” I shake my head, fighting his warmth. “Not when I’m so worried about him...”

Nemo... what is he thinking? Did I go too deep? Did my love hurt him? I know he told me that he was being honest with me, but... there are too many different sides, too many different faces, and I’m confused. Would he be better if I really did leave? Have I been selfishly pushing my wants on him this whole time...?

I cover my face with my hands. Barbicane doesn’t need to see me like this, nobody does.

“You know what I think you need?” asks Barbicane. “I think you need a nice hot drink and a biscuit. Nemo’s not going anywhere, I can promise you that.”

I slowly look up at him from my hands. He won’t stop smiling at me. He’s so... calming, like a big family dog.

I take a deep breath, trying not to be sucked in by his infectious smile and bright eyes. “How can you be so sure after what he did yesterday?”

"Well... we talked a lot,” says Barbicane. “... and I trust him. He’s actually a pretty honest guy, in his own weird way.”

Then a frown stretches over his face. “He messed up badly when he drugged you, though, and there’s no way in hell I’m excusing him for it.”

He crosses his arms as he lets out a resigned sigh, “But... I really think he was scared. He doesn’t have a good track record with other people, you know? He was muttering something about how he’s too great to be understood... and I think you might be one of the few people who’s actually tried to understand him. Finding someone who will listen to your problems and be there for you... I mean, I think it’s great! But, for someone like Nemo... yeah, that’s scary stuff.”

I look at Barbicane’s confident features. He’s not lying, I can tell from his expression. Barbicane is always honest and up front, pretty much the opposite of Nemo. Why couldn’t I have fallen in love with him, instead?

Finally, I relent: “I guess it’s my turn to have tea time, isn’t it?”

He ruffles my hair, grinning. “Nah, this is just a drink between friends. Come on in.”

-----

Barbicane’s room is just as comfortable as he is. It’s warm, with wrenches and bolts and all kinds of fun little gadgets strewn about on the tables and chairs. This is a place of creativity.

When I came in, Barbicane immediately cleared off a chair and made me sit before wrapping me up in a blanket. It really wasn’t needed, but he insisted: “The cutest girls are the coziest girls!”

It isn’t long before Barbicane pushes open the door to his room and carries in a tray with two cups and a plate of cookies.

“Just finished icing these babies up when we ran into each other,” he says with a grin. “Nemo was having a major freakout earlier about lavender. Didn’t get much out of him, but he did say it was for you. So, I thought I’d make you some lavender shortbread for when you wake up.”

He sets the tray down on the one empty space of his writing desk.

“Wanted to make lavender icing, too, but Nemo ran off with the stuff before I could stop him... so I made rose water icing instead. That sound good?”

I just stare at him, my brain having a hard time wrapping around all the words that he said. Finally, I smile and happily take a cookie off of the tray.

“Thank you, Barbicane... this was hardly necessary, but it was very kind of you. I do love lavender...” I say, my face flushing.

“I would always wear the oil because it helps calm me down,” I continue. “I mentioned it to Nemo once, and I’m afraid he ran off with the concept!”

Remembering it makes me so happy. I felt so warm when I’d hug him and surround myself with that scent.

Oh, Nemo, what I wouldn’t give to go back to our more innocent times. Just to forget about everything that’s happened on this island. To just... be with you, without worry and without question.

Barbicane pulls out a chair from among a pile of metal and sits backwards on it, leaning his head and arms on the back.

“So he CAN be romantic, huh?” he says with a grin.

I try the cookie, its aromatic flavor tickling my palette. There’s a bite of mint to it, which makes sense as the plants are related. Science and baking really do go hand in hand.

“Do you know what he did with the lavender he took?” I smile. “He put it by my bed because he wanted me to have sweet dreams.”

“Woah, now, that’s a pretty impressive move! Maybe he should have declared me a rival in romance instead of science....” he thinks about it, then wrinkles his nose. “Actually, scratch that. Yeah, I never said that. Don’t you dare tell him I said that, Polly-chan!”

I hold a hand over my mouth to hide my crumb-filled laughter, and I quickly down a cup of tea.

“What, Barbicane, doesn’t Cardia have a favorite flower?” I ask.

Barbicane scratches his cheek nervously. “Y-You know, she actually... she actually likes all kinds of flowers. She’s so happy she can finally touch them. It’s really, really cute! I’m much better at expressing my feelings through food, though.”

I have a feeling that everything ‘his angel’ does is really, really cute in his eyes... but it’s sweet.

“You know, talking about Cardia-chan like this...” Barbicane trails off. “Nemo’s actually the one who gave me some pretty good advice about telling her how I feel. Of course, I haven’t done it yet, it just doesn’t feel like the right time... b-but yeah, I mean, it sounds like he knows what he’s talking about!”

I begin to take another cookie, then stop and take a sip of my tea instead, trying to think of how to voice my worries.

“Barbicane... did you know about him?”

“Hrm?” Barbicane looks at me with a mouthful of cookie.

“About Nemo, I mean,” I say.

“You’ve gotta be more specific when it comes to Nemo,” says Barbicane. “Did I know about... what? His weird fashion sense? That he sometimes naps with cucumbers over his eyes?”

I stare at Barbicane for a second. “Wait.... really? N-No, that’s not what I meant! I meant the ‘real’ Nemo!”

“The ‘real’ Nemo, huh...?” Barbicane looks down at his teacup. “You know, I feel like that might be where some of these problems are coming from.”

I look up at him with wide eyes.

“It’s not that there’s more than one Nemo or... or one is more ‘real’ than the other,” says Barbicane. “I mean, that might’ve been the case once, I don’t know, I’m not an expert on the guy or anything... man, this is confusing. But the Nemo that he shows us every day is the same as that quiet guy at tea time.”

I look down into my teacup and stir it. “So, you aren’t worried about the fact that he’s hiding things from us?” I ask.

Barbicane shakes his head. “Not really, we all hide things. It doesn’t mean that we’re being dishonest, or that we don’t care about the people we’re talking to. We might be hiding something because we don’t want to hurt, or maybe it’s something that scares us, or maybe it just has nothing to do with who we are now. But we’re still the same person inside, Polly-chan.”

He tilts his head and smiles. “You fell in love with him before you learned about his past, right? I could tell, as soon as you saw him you got really cute. Girls are the cutest when they’re in love!”

I want to protest, but I can’t. I was fascinated by him as soon as I heard him. Admiration stumbled into adoration before I was even fully aware of it.

“Yes... you’re right,” I admit.

“Hehehe, couldn’t hide your true feelings from Mr. Impey!” Impey points at himself with a triumphant grin.

“But he knows that,” I continue. “I told him that, plainly. I said I love the Nemo that I met, and I love the Nemo that I’m discovering...”

“Bingo!” Barbicane points at me like his finger is a gun and ‘fires’. “You’ve gotten so wrapped up in ‘discovery’ that you’ve forgotten that this is one man, not two hiding in a blotchy pink coat! He probably got nervous that you’ll try to dissect him or something. You just need to focus your love power on Nemo-- the one and only weirdo scientist. He might look or sound different, or hide something that hurts or act crazy but... he’s all one person.”

“Is that it?” I lean forward. “That’s the solution?”

“Well, I mean...” Impey takes another bite out of a cookie. “There’s going to be more than one solution for more than one problem. I mean, when it comes to romantic partners, you chose one heck of a doozy. I really think you just need to sit down and talk with him. Or, you know.... do other things.”

He pauses to wink.

I narrow my eyes. “What other things, Impey Barbicane?! Have you forgotten that you’re addressing a lady?”

Barbicane slides back in his chair. “Sorry, sorry! Please don’t say my full name like that, it’s terrifying!”

I sigh and lean back in my chair, idly tracing my fingers over my neck.

“I would love nothing more than to sit and talk with him,” I say. “But when we last spoke, he...”

I close my eyes.

“He told me to go back to Paris. He told me that I would regret staying with him, that I would never be able to go home again because I would be branded a criminal.”

“He said something similar to me when I confronted him in the Harper,” says Barbicane.

I sit up straight and look at Barbicane. “It was strange. He said that he would ‘be mine’ until it was time for the submarine to depart, and that after that I could abandon him and go back to my family. Why would I... why would anyone do something like that? Why would he think that I would be capable of something like that?”

Barbicane sighs.

“Geez, he really is going too far with this... I don’t think I can help you with that one, Polly-chan. He might laugh a lot, but he’s the most bitter man I’ve ever met. I think the only way that he’ll begin to believe that you’ll stick around is for you to do just that, no matter how stubborn he gets! Stick to him! Fight the odds, tell him you love him no matter how many times he denies it! Chain yourself to the Harper--”

“I... I’m not going to chain myself to any submersible vessel,” I say.

“Right, well, you get the idea, right? If you love Nemo, you’re going to have to fight for him. Not just Victoria-chan or the Royal Society or anything, but Nemo himself.”

Barbicane stands up and puts a hand on his hip, thumping his chest with his other fist. “And I’ll be right there with you, Polly-chan! So, believe in me! Believe in you! And believe in Nemo!”

“Barbicane...” I stand up and offer him my hand. “Thank you. For everything.”

When he shakes it, I feel like my arm will be ripped from my socket. Damn these geniuses and their inability to give a normal handshake!

-----

The most likely place where I could find Nemo... Barbicane said that it was here.

But there are no lights on inside of the Harper, giving her the appearance of a mournful coffin. Is it in this darkness that Nemo has sunk into? Or will I merely be fumbling around an electric wonder with all the grace of a buffoon?

I shake my head and hoist my basket, containing the remaining shortbread that Barbicane had made, around my shoulder before climbing on top of the submarine.

At my prodding, the hatch opens with a hiss and I peer into the blackness. But that blackness is not a silent one: the echo of pipes filter into the sky.

Yes, a familiar melody from Johann Sebastian Bach reaches my ears, and I realize that I truly am about to invade Nemo’s personal sanctuary.

I just have to reassure myself that I’m entering as a friend and fellow scientist.

Right.

....

I take a deep breath before beginning to climb down the ladder.

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thejokersenigma · 6 years

Text

Christmas Fanfiction Advent Calendar 2017 - Day 4 - Strictly Business Part 6

Ok, so I know quite a few people have been asking for the next part of this series, so I decided to the next part of it for the advent calendar - its hardly ‘Chrtistmasy’ but, oh well! haha

Hope you Enjoy!

MASTERLIST

The cold air whipped past my window, I could hear it hollowing against the panes of glass, and I thought - though it was hard to tell through the murky glass and the dark streets - that a snow flurry had begun. I hugged myself tightly. It wasn’t cold in the room, but just the sound of the weather outside made me shiver.

I had been left in the room now for probably at least 6 hours – though I had no way to tell. My stomach was empty and pulling at me sharp and painfully, and I was bored out of my mind. I had explored my room a bit, but found very little of interest – the contents of the wardrobes and dressers only entertaining me for the short time it took to empty them.

I had managed to fall asleep for a few hours, but something unknown had awoken me, and now I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the grimy window, unable to sleep thanks to my protesting stomach.

I had even tried knocking at the door in the hope of getting an answer, but received nothing back. I don’t think the joker had even bothered to post guards on the other side of the door – there wasn’t like there was anyway I get out of this room.

It was definitely snowing, I thought to myself as I watched something white float past the window, then another, and another, the white smudges dancing and twirling around each other, catching the light just enough to let me see them before they dashed back into the darkness. First snow of the year. That was nice. And where was I? Trapped in a dressed-up warehouse cell, I thought bitterly to myself. The view would have been much nicer from the top floor of the office block, at my desk with a cup of coffee and a bagel or pastry.

The idea of food made my stomach pang again and I tried to block the idea from my mind. “So much for being a bloody guest,” I grumbled to myself, “doesn’t even bother to offer any food service.” Maybe I was going to go loopy in this room. Maybe that was his plan.

And so, I continued to watch the window, focusing on the gradual layer of white that built up on the ledge outside, wishing I could open the window somehow and touch it. I settled instead on placing my hand against the cold glass, imaging what it would feel like and leaning my forehead against the window pane as I tried to think about anything other than being stuck in this room, or how hungry I was.

I sighed loudly, my breath hitting the cold glass and spreading outwards, obscuring a large circle with fog. I moved my hand, now placing in directly in the centre of the fog, then removing it, smiling childishly at the hand print left behind.

I exhaled another large rush of air and began to doodle randomly. Some were just simple swirls or shapes, but soon joking with myself by writing help backwards even though I knew no one could see it. I felt like an idiot, taking such fun from such a trivial thing, but at least it was taking my mind off everything else.

I don’t know how long I had banged around in that room when I eventually heard someone. I practically jumped out of my skin when I finally heard the sound of footsteps - not having heard anything for over 8 hours. I had been lying on my bed, praying that I could take a nap to let the time pass quicker and must have dozed off because I now shot bolt upright, slightly disorientated and gripping the covers and sheets under me tightly. It flooded back quickly enough though, but my heart remained in my throat, pounding wildly as listened with strained ears to the footsteps in the corridor outside.

The sound was at my door now. Then the noise of metal on metal. The lock clicking. Then the door opened.

The man in the doorway was unknown to me, and he barely acknowledged my presence, simply stepping one foot into the room, saying, “This is yours.” And then throwing a small, but heavy satchel at me that thunked on the floor by my feet ominously.

Then, in the short time it took me to glance down at the bag and back up to the guy to ask him what it was and what he meant – having never seen the bag in my life – he was gone. The door snapping sharply shut behind him and there was the distinct sound of the door mechanism locking behind him once more.

Alone. Again. Great.

I peered into the bag only to find it full of wads of money, each held together tightly with an elastic band. I threw the bag to the foot of my bed in disgust. Fat lot that would do me, I thought bitterly. Not that I would keep it - I could guess where that money came from – the heist I had ‘helped with’ – but even if it wasn’t, this was the Joker we were talking about. All his money way stolen.

It didn’t matter anyway. I had no need for it whilst I was locked in here.

He could give me all the money in the world – right now all I wanted was something to eat.

Eventually food was delivered to me, though it wasn’t until after a long painful night of hunger. Now it was a regular thing. Though I remained locked in my room, I had access to water from my ensuite bathroom and food delivered morning, midday and evening by large burly men that unlocked the door, handed me and tray and disappear, the door being locked after them.

I never tried to sneak out or attempt to get pas them, there was no point – they alone could probably deal with me judging by the amount of muscle on them. I soon began instead to offer them the previous trays in return as otherwise they never bothered to collect them and I would have ended up with a large pile of crumbs slowly decaying away.

So, I was fine. I was surviving. And I wasn’t tortured. But I was trapped and felt like a prisoner, despite the luxurious accommodation. What I couldn’t comprehend was why the Joker hadn’t spoken to me in over a week now, and I was confused why he bothered to keep me alive at all, let alone keep me here like this.

After wondering this every day, I was then very surprised when the door sounded out of the usual hours of my meal deliveries. I had been lounging on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, entertaining myself with daydreams, when the knock sounded, and my gaze now immediately snapped to the door. I didn’t move, watching the door warily, but the knocking only became louder and more persistent.

Eventually I opened the door, revealing the Joker stood looking rather unimpressed at the delay, in the doorway. I raised an eyebrow, in question, equally unimpressed with his sudden appearance after all this time. “What?” I asked shortly. I was getting use to treating this room like my own, with no one else around, and took my recent apparent safety for granted.

“Is that a way to greet your host, doll?” Ask J in mock outrage, though I could hear the warning in his words. I rolled my eyes at him nonetheless.

“Do come in.” I said, overly politely, opening the door wider to him and flourishing my hand in a mocking gesture.

“As witty as ever, doll.” He observed dryly, striding past me into the room. For a brief moment I looked out the door and into the empty concrete hallway beyond. He hadn’t ensured the door was closed after him, and now I had a view of my freedom before me. But was I fast enough to outpace the Joker? And what were the chances of getting out of this warehouse, or managing to hide, before I was intercepted by one of the henchmen that I knew must patrol around.

“I wouldn’t, doll.” Came the Joker’s voice behind me, easily reading my thoughts. I knew he was right and I begrudgingly let the door fall shut, turning, instead, to face my captor instead.

“In that case, I’ll ask again. what do you want?” I demanded, annoyed that once again I was still stuck here against my will. Not that It was a bad room, no. Now I was being fed I was even slightly content, but I hated the idea I was stuck here – plus I was bored out of my mind.

“So hostile.” Tutted J, looking offended. “I’m just here to give you some entertainment.” He grinned with a knowing smile, holding out his hands to either side, palms towards me in a welcoming gesture.

I eyed him suspiciously. “No thanks.” I muttered.

“Aw, come on, doll.” J persisted. “You don’t even know what it is yet.”

“If it’s you, then no thank you.”

“Whilst that is tempting, kitten.” The Joker teased with a sinful grin and glint in his eye, “I’m afraid not.” Stuck in his hand into his smart jacket – the action making me flinch, immediately jumping to the idea of him drawing a gun and finishing me – grinned at my reaction, and instead pulled out a folded piece of paper. He seemed to consider the document for a moment, before passing it over to me.

I hesitated slightly before taking it from him. “What is this?” I asked without opening it, only looking at the blank folded side.

“A present.” J said simply.

“Why?”

“Because its Christmas, doll. That’s what people do.” He said slowly like he thought I was slow in the mind. I raised an eyebrow at him and he let out one of his haunting laughs. “Well, close enough!” He amended. “Come on, doll, just accept it and get on with it.” He told me impatiently, waving his hand at the paper in my grip. “A thank you wouldn’t go amiss either.”

I wasn’t about to go thanking him until I knew what I was holding, so I opened up the piece of paper to find several sheets, all full of details and plans for another heist. I frowned at the documents in confusion.

“I’m still waiting, kitten….” J whined.

“I don’t understand…” I said, confused.

“Has all this time away from the office numbed you’re mind?” He demanded, irritated by my slow uptake. “They’re the documents for the next heist” He explained, jabbing his hand at them “ – seeing as you seem to enjoy the last one so much.”

I continued to frown down at the documents, yes, I had enjoyed the planning of the last heist – problem solving all the little kinks and flaws - but I couldn’t do another one. I had aided in a robbery – and a pretty lucrative one at that judging by the amount of money that had been in that bag delivered to me!

That bag now sat at the bottom of my wardrobe. I had tried to return it, attempting numerous times to give it over to the men that brought me food, but they just completely ignored it. So, in the end, I had moved it out of sight to the wardrobe. I didn’t want anything to do with it and keeping it out of sight helped to keep it off my mind.

“I can’t.” I said finally, handing it back to him. But the Joker didn’t reach for it.

“Sorry, doll, no returns.” He sneered and made towards the door. “Keep it. Maybe you’ll change your mind whilst your stuck in here with nothing else to do.” He teased with an evil grin. I scowled at him.

He was halfway out the door now, “Oh, by the way doll, if you don’t help, you’ll probably just be contributing to a whole lot more death.” He pointed out with a manipulating smile, before slamming the door closed and I heard the lock go.

I let out a cry of frustration, throwing the paper, though it hardly got far before it fluttered limply to the floor.

I was trapped again.

And he was right. If I helped I was aiding a crime, but I would also be able to edit it enough to minimise the amount of damage was done – property and people wise.

I sighed heavily as I looked over at the papers now sprawled on the floor, tossing back and form on what to do till my mind ran itself round in circle and I threw myself face down on the bed, screaming my frustrations into the pillows.

I did.

I gave in.

I was felt quite ashamed by my choice, but in the end, I couldn’t help it. Or maybe I could. But either way, I didn’t. I had sat on my bed for ages, the boredom - and knowledge that I didn’t have to be bored - was like torture. The lure of the papers and my curiosity for the plans eventually overpowered me however, and soon my brain was listing excuses as to why it was ok to help.

And so I did it.

I sat at the armoire, rubbing out and pencilling in my edits as the snow flurried past my window. The plan this time was for the hijacking and stealing of a lorry of chemicals. I wondered what the Joker was up to, but soon decided that I’d rather not know – it made helping easier.

When I had done all I could do – and reread it at least 5 times – I knew I now needed to get the plans back to the Joker. So I waited, until my meal arrived that evening, and – as the large henchman handed over the food I in turn handed over the papers.

The man looked at it, but refused to take it, instead he gave a single nod and then closed the door in my face. I scowled in annoyance at the door. Why couldn’t he just take it from me?

I spent the rest of the evening alone until I thought about finally trying to get some sleep, when I heard a familiar loud and persistent knock at the door. This time I didn’t hesitate and opened the door to the Joker on the other side, the papers already in my hand. I handed it out to him, but he ignored it as well, pushing his way into the room.

“Evening, doll, I see you’ve been busy.” He grinned triumphantly as he turned back to face me, his eyes on the paper. I hadn’t even bothered to consider making a bid for freedom this time, automatically shutting the door behind him.

“Yes.” I answered. “Now just take it and leave me alone – or better yet – let me go.” I said, thrusting the paper at him. He didn’t grab, instead he grabbed me, his large pale hands easily wrapping all the way around my wrist and stopping me in my tracks.

“Why thank you, doll.” He said, plucking the paper from my fingers, but not releasing his grip on me. He tugged at my wrist and I was forced to step closer to him to keep my balance. “As for letting you go, doll, no can do – you’re quite a lucrative investment.”

I scowled darkly at him. “I am a person. Not a money-making scheme.” I snarled.

“Oh, I know, doll…” He sneered, “Which is why I have a little proposal for you…” I watched him suspiciously, I hadn’t been this close to him since the kiss and I could feel his breath on my face, the distinct smell of whisky and man. I could feel my body becoming aware of his and my temperature rose a few degrees.

“I am not sleeping with you.” I said firmly, though my voice didn’t sound as strong as I wanted it to.

The Joker grinned wickedly, “Ah, princess, that wasn’t what I had in mind, though I wouldn’t say it hadn’t crossed it…” He said, his eyes roaming my body sinfully. I should have felt disgusted, but I just felt every inch of her body burn under his gaze and I desperately tried to resist the urge to squirm under his scrutiny.

“What then?” I snarled.

He ‘Oooo’ed silently at me snapping at him before his face went neutral. “I want you to work for me, doll.” He stated simply.

I felt my eyes widen in shock. I hadn’t been expecting that. “I-I can’t.” I stuttered in surprise.

“And why not?” He enquired politely, his invisible eyebrows raised in question.

“Well…” I sought for my reasoning, but found my brain wasn’t quite working, “Because you’re a criminal! And I’m – I’m not…” I finished lamely.

He laughed at my pathetic attempt of justification. “Doll, you don’t have to be a criminal to work for me – besides you’re practically doing good.” He said slyly – “think of all the people you’re saving by helping me – and you’re not even losing me any money, so I don’t care.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

I desperately searched my mind. I couldn’t have this job, I knew that, but he was speaking sense - I was kind of helping people by working for the criminal, in a mixed up twisted way. There had to be a comeback to that, but my mind was mush.

“I – I already have a job!” I pointed out.

“I’ll pay you more.” J said, simply.

I sighed, “It’s not for the money – that is my own company, it’s worth more than any amount of money.”

“Last time I checked, doll, it was your husband’s business – at least that’s what everyone been saying.” He said slyly, knowing that would make me react, but I’m not sure he realised how much of a stab in my chest that was. Something snapped in me at that and, taking J completely by surprise, I violently wrenched my hand free from his grip and stormed out of the room to the only other place I had access to - The bathroom.

I slammed the door behind me and sat with my back against the door – as it had no lock – and felt the boiling rage quickly subside into a hot flood of tears and I was soon sobbing into my hands.

It had been a fear of mine that when the merger between my company and Mathew’s had taken place I would lose my company to the man, but the contract had seemed so clear - that though the companies had merged, there was still two distinct sides – his and mine. The two companies still existed separately but we took the same losses and gains together – a close knit team like I thought our marriage was supposed to be. But I also thought our marriage would mean that much to Mathew, that he would value me more as a person than a business partner – and that he would notice – and care – about my feelings towards my company, the struggles to build it and make it thrive, and exactly the reason why I hadn’t wanted a complete merger of the two businesses.

Clearly not if he was now actively encouraging people to believe it was all his company. Especially people who still seemed to be believe that women were no more than pretty trinkets on a man’s sleeve.

Eventually the tears subsided, though I still felt raw and my temper didn’t feel far from the surface. I wasn’t just mad at Mathew now – though he was the person I was most fuming at – but I was mad at the whole of society for thinking they could do this to me and get away with it. They had known me before I was Mathews wife, they knew me to be the powerful business woman I had been before the rings and ‘I dos’, they knew, as well as Mathew did, what that company meant to me, yet they’d happily call it his the minute we were an item. Like I was suddenly inconsequential.

I clenched my hands into fists, gritting my teeth together. I wished they were in this room with me right now, I would like to punch their smug, painted faces. I growled at myself, trying to find another outlet for the rage.

I hadn’t heard J move on the other side of the door for a while and I wondered if he’d left - yet I wasn’t sure I had heard the bedroom door go either – but I might have drowned it out under all of my sobbing.

I got to my feet, catching a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror, grimacing in disgust and splashing water on my face in a poor attempt to make myself slightly more presentable before I went back out.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, I found J staring out my window at the snow that seemed to constantly fall at the moment.

“Not much of a view, is it doll?” He observed, his eyes not leaving the grimy glass. I didn’t say anything in return, stood awkwardly and still sniffling slightly, whilst J was on the other side of the large bed to me. We stood silently together for a moment, me watching him, whilst he kept his eyes on the window.

“I’ll pay you double.” J said eventually, repeating the offer from earlier.

“No.” I said, walking over to the wardrobe and pulling out the bag of money. I moved back to my original position and threw it on the bed between us. “You’ll that that back” I negotiated, “and I’ll take the money you’re making off those people from my ‘kidnapping’.”

His eyes snapped to money when it landed on the bed, but they moved to my face. His face was deadly serious and seemed to be surveying my face, running through my demands. He moved slowly and deliberately around the bed until he stood in front of me. “Deal.” He said with a wide grin, holding out a hand for me to shake.

I eyed his pale, muscular hand warily, my eyes lingering on the ink painting his skin. My eyes flicked up to his icy blue ones. “Strictly Business?” I asked firmly, think back to the kiss and his teasing, let alone the eyes that were now piercing mine.

“Strictly business.” Agreed the Joker with a sinister grin. But I trusted him. And I gripped his hand.

tags: @carouselcurls @aqswdefrgthzjukilop @toxic-ink @viraldragonrider @6fish6 @arkhamsurviour @theartistdetective @white-chocolate-mocha-fan @blondieinthecity

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richonnejustdesserts · 7 years

Text

Match

Title: Match

Written by: @birdnmouse

Prompt: From @fangirlbaker, see the prompt at the end!

Words: 5602

Rating: T

Summary: Rick and Michonne meet their match while out on a routine run.

“There’s nothing like being out in the woods first thing in the morning,” Rick said as he inhaled the fresh morning air through his nose while he looked up at the canopy of tree cover above them. “It’s nice and quiet, the air is cool, you can catch the sunrise peeking through up the trees, and you can even smell the dew on the leaves…”

Michonne cast a sidelong glance his way as she walked beside him, but it was lost on him since he was so enamored with his surroundings.

“OK, nature boy…” she muttered under her breath as she walked along, eyes peeled for walkers and one hand on the hilt of her katana.

“You can’t tell me I’m wrong,” he insisted, impervious to her sarcasm. “Morning is the best time of day.”

“Maybe when you live in the sticks,” she conceded. “Morning time meant traffic jams and stress in the city. I was always partial to nights.”

“Even now?” he asked, finally glancing down at her.

“It’s all the same anymore,” she shrugged.

“Then I’ll get someone who actually appreciates it to come with me next time…maybe Carl.”

“Are you kidding me?” she scoffed. “The last thing he’d want to do is wake up at the crack of dawn to go hang out with his old man…” She could hear Rick huff in protest beside her as she slowed to a stop and patted his arm. “Hey,” she whispered, pointing toward what appeared to be a camp site up ahead in the distance.

They walked just to the edge of the clearing before ducking behind a bush to take a closer look. There was a rusted pale yellow van, rendered almost grey by the thick coating of dust that covered it, making it look like it hadn’t moved from the spot for months, maybe even years. The side doors were wide open, making it easy to see that there was no one inside, so Rick looked at Michonne then nodded quietly giving the OK to take a closer look.

They edged out of the brush, careful not to make a sound as they descended upon the abandoned campsite. Michonne walked over to a small pile of bricks and grate just to the side of the van then squatted down and waved her hand over the makeshift grill which was cold as could be. She stood and gave Rick a thumb’s up then peeked inside the van, confirming it was clear before walking around to the front where Rick was standing with his hand on the hood of the van which was cold, too.

“No key in the ignition,” she whispered to which Rick frowned since they wouldn’t be scoring a new ride on this early on their run today.

“You take the inside, and I’ll check under the hood for parts,” he whispered.

She nodded and walked back around to the side then stepped up through the open doors. She lifted the dark blue tarp that covered the empty floor of the van and swept it to the side, sending a few shiny foil packets flying into the air then scattering across the rusted floor of the van. She knelt down and picked one up to inspect it.

“Hmm,” she sounded as she turned the packet between her fingers.

The packaging was still intact and the expiration date was at least a year or so off in her estimation, so she collected the rest and stuffed them into the pocket of her green leather jacket then rose to her feet again and moved on. She used the toe of her boot to poke at a dirty old brown jacket, a dented can of beans, and a few old football jerseys piled the corner with little interest then made her way over to the front seats.

Michonne.

She looked up at the sound of her name and stuck her head out of the driver’s side door.

“What?”

Rick lifted his head and looked around the popped up hood at her. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh,” she nodded and dropped back into the driver’s seat.

She picked up the empty bag of pretzels that sat on the console, then turned it over and letting the crumbs and coarse salt crystals fall onto the floor before letting the bag go with it while she slumped back in the seat and stared through the window out into the woods. This was a bust.

Rick.

She turned her head and sat up straight in the seat as Rick peeked around the hood again.

“Yeah?”

“That wasn’t me,” she said shaking her head as she climbed out of the van. “You think something happened back home and they came out looking for us?” she asked as he joined her at her side.

“Could be,” he supposed.

The both went quiet, staring out into the woods while they listened intently for another sound. Of course now that they were paying attention, there was nothing. That peaceful morning Rick was so fond of returned for a few moments before a faint humming sound began to rise above the silence, growing louder as it evolved into a plaintive moan, long and low at first, but quickly becoming shorter and higher pitched as a rhythmic guttural grunt entered the mix.

Michonne raised her eyebrows and looked up at Rick. “That is not coming from a walker.”

He shook his head, looking as agitated as he probably did back in his law enforcement days when he had to go break up the action between horny teenagers down on Lover’s Lane. They walked in the direction of the sounds, and easily found the source when they caught sight of a couple doing the deed up against a towering birch tree. The woman’s back was against the tree trunk, and her face was obscured by the back of the man’s head. All that could be seen were her slender arms, covered in white sleeves and wrapped around his denim clad shoulders, and her bare dark, shapely legs wrapped around his waist. His dark jeans sagged low on his hips, exposing the pert tops of his stark white ass that dimpled with each thrust.

“Jesus,” Rick whispered with disgust as he turned away and leaned his back against the tree they were hiding behind.

“At least somebody’s having a good morning…” Michonne said as she continued watch from behind the tree.

“Dumbasses,” he said shaking his head. “It’s hard to believe people like that made it this long.”

“People like that?” Michonne repeated incredulously as she looked up at him. “Everybody that’s left in this world has fucked out in the woods at least once by now. It’s like joining the mile high club these days.”

He made a sour face at her that cause her to bark out a quiet laugh upon realizing…

“You’ve never…” she nodded her head toward the couple with a sly grin in lieu of saying the words.

“I’m not answering that.”

“Jesus, Grimes, I know you can be a stiff, but I gave you more credit than that,” she said though a hushed laugh as she looked ahead again.

“You recognize them?” he asked as he stared off into the empty woods behind her.

“I can’t tell.”

“Really? ‘Cause you’ve been staring at them this whole time.”

She glanced up and shot him a dirty look before squinting her eyes, trying to place the man’s slim build and brown curls.

“They don’t look like anyone from Hilltop or the Kingdom. Not Oceanside either.”

“Saviors?”

“Doesn’t look like it,” she said shaking her head. “Oh shit, walkers,” she hissed.

He turned to see a group of at least a half a dozen walkers coming up over the crest of a small hill a few yards behind the tree, likely drawn by the sounds, movements, and smells of the amorous couple.

“Dumbasses,” he muttered once more before raising his hands to either side of his mouth. “Walkers!” he yelled out.

The couple startled, stopping mid-coitus as their heads turned in the direction of the voice then quickly turned again to locate the threat with the man seeing them behind her and nodding in that direction. She quickly slid off of the tree and him, dropping to the ground to fetch her grey pants while he buckled his, giving her cover while she shimmied into hers and slid on her black boots. He bent down and grabbed a sword, handing it to her as they exchanged a few hushed words before running off in separate directions as the walkers, which turned out to be more than just a handful, shuffled over the crest and into the clearing.

Realizing that they were now in the thick of it, as well, Michonne reached back for the handle of her sword before Rick stopped her.

“Probably not worth it,” he whispered hurriedly. “Let’s let ‘em pass on through. We’ll each take a side that way at least they’ll split if they hear us so there won’t be as many to take on.”

She nodded in agreement with his plan as he dashed across the path of the oncoming herd to get to the other side while she coolly sauntered back a few steps, adjusting her position as the dead chose their path.

The man with the brown curly hair sidestepped through the brush alongside the path the dead were taking, switching his gaze from the herd to the trail in front of him to keep from tripping. He had his Colt Python drawn and pointed off to the side just in case a few of them decided to step out of line. He tried to look across the way to spot his girlfriend, and caught just a glimpse of her dark locs through the passing herd, putting him at ease for just a moment until he turned to find a man with his back to him and a gun drawn backing towards him.

“Drop it and put your hands up,” he instructed in a low, firm whisper as he raised his Colt and aimed it at the man’s back.

“You drop it,” the man said, turning and aiming right back at him instead.

At first glance, there was nothing remarkable about him, no tell tale sign that gave away which community he belonged to. His straight, light brown hair swept across his furrowed brow and tucked behind his ears, and he had a short, scruffy beard as most men did these days. His jacket, though, brown suede with a well worn shearling collar that was closer to yellow than white did tell him something. This man had rummaged through his camp site.

“That’s my jacket, asshole,” he barked.

“What the hell are you talking about?” the man with the straight hair asked as he glanced down at his brown suede coat. “This is mine.”

“Who are you?” he growled as he clicked the safety and took a step forward, keeping the Colt aimed at his chest.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked right back, stepping closer to the gun aimed at him as he aimed right back.

“Answer the question,” the the curly haired man instructed, emphasizing each word as his patience thinned.

“Hey, I just saved you and your girlfriend’s dumb asses from becoming walker bait,” the man shot back.

“We’d have been just fine on our own,” he assured him through gritted teeth and a sneer. “And you best not talk about her like that, you hear me?” he added.

“Just tell me your name,” the man with the jacket said with exasperation, rolling his eyes as he lowered his gun.

The man had, indeed, done them a solid by alerting them to the walkers, and sure, he had a gun drawn on him, but he’d have done the same thing if her was in his shoes, so he lowered his Colt in turn.

“I’m Rick. What’s yours?”

“I’m Rick,” the man in the jacket answered, causing the other Rick to raise his gun again and aim it at his chest.

“Cut the bullshit. You know what I did to the last guy who did this to me?” he asked, the repeated, taunting choruses of the Saviors’ I Am Negan still echoing in his mind.

Rick with the straight hair rolled his eyes at the pretty boy who thought he had it all figured out. “I could just lie and make my life a hell of a lot easier,” he offered facetiously.

“Who are you with?” Rick asked.

“I have my own community,” he answered seemingly honestly, “and I’m not willing to share that with you for their sake.”

Rick nodded back, unable to argue with his reasoning as he’d have answered the same way. “Are you with Negan?” he had to ask.

“Hell no,” he answered with immediate and palpable contempt that seemed hard to fake. “Are you?”

“No, fuck that guy.”

They nodded at each other as each slowly dropped their weapons to their sides. Shared names and a shared enemy were enough to call a truce for the time being as they went silent and kept watch over the passing herd. Rick glanced over at him, feeling unnerved by the sense of familiarity he had with this stranger. Little things like the intensity of his stare and the way he thumbed at the safety on his gun as he kept watch, even the vaguely Southern accent that came through when he wasn’t growling out his words. The man glanced over at him, as if he could feel Rick’s stare and hear his thoughts, causing him to quickly return his attention to the mindless herd shuffling by. There was something he still didn’t like about this guy, but then that’s how it started with Jesus, and he turned out alright. And he was in no position to turn down allies these days…he ran his hand through his tousled curls and sighed as he gave in.

“How many walkers have you killed?”

“Are you for real?” the man asked incredulously. Rick simply nodded. “More than I can count. You?”

“Same. How many people have you killed?”

The straight-haired man huffed out a grim laugh and shook his head at the pretty boy. “You don’t want to know…you?” he asked with a smirk.

“Same,” Rick answered, causing the man’s eyes to widen with surprise. “Why’d you do it?”

“Let’s just say it wasn’t for fun,” Rick answered with resignation in his voice as he kept watch on the herd. “You?”

“Same,” Rick answered quietly, the man’s uneasy acceptance with that part of life feeling all too familiar, as well.

For most people, those answers would have been more than sufficient to earn his trust and earn this guy a spot in his community nevermind just an alliance, but there was still something holding him back. He bristled at the feel of the cool morning air cutting through the thin cotton of his denim shirt, pissed that there was a decent chance that his beloved brown jacket wouldn’t be waiting for him when he returned to the van thanks to this guy, so he was gonna get a fourth question.

“Is that really your jacket?”

Rick turned to stare at the pretty boy, long and hard, letting his eyes trail downward then back up to his face before snorting derisively.

“Your fly’s open,” he said with great pleasure before turning back to the herd and shaking his head. “…asshole.”

Rick looked down to see a strip of the light blue fabric of his boxers running between the faded black material of his unzipped jeans. He swallowed hard, trying to stifle his embarrassment and frustration, and rolled his eyes at himself and the man beside him, then anchored the bottom of his fly with his gun hand while he zipped himself up.

“Thank you,” he grumbled begrudgingly.

“My pleasure,” Rick with the straight hair returned with a small satisfied smirk.

At the sound of rustling in the grass behind her, the woman spun on her heel while unsheathing her sword in one fluid motion.

Shiiiing.

She could feel the vibration from the hard, unexpected stop of her katana against another in her hands and the quickening of her pulse as she peered through the space just above where the sharp edges of their metal blades were crossed between them. It was like looking in a mirror; what she felt in the tension of her own face, she saw on the other woman’s. The same glowering stare, same full lips forming a straight line to conceal any hint of emotion, and same downward tilt of the chin.

More striking even were the uncanny superficial similarities; the same dark skin, the long locs she wore fashioned into two low ponytails that cascaded over her chest, the brown vest peeking out from under her jacket that reminded her of the one she had recently lost, and the choice of tight pants and boots, though she added the feminine touch of a short skirt layered over it.

“Shit,” she whispered to herself, too stunned by the vision before her to maintain her stoic facade.

“I’m not looking for trouble if you’re not,” the other woman said, breaking her silence, as well.

“I’m not,” she assured her. Taking each other’s word at face value, they eased the tension between their crossed blades and lowered them to their sides. “That was you that alerted us to the walkers?”

“It was the guy I’m with, but, yeah.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly and sincerely. “…and sorry about that…display,” she added, feeling her cheeks flush at the thought of it. “We didn’t realize there was anyone else around.”

“No worries,” the other woman assured her, her face softening as a cheeky grin formed on her lips. “You looked like you were having a good time, plus your boyfriend has a cute little ass.”

And now she was completely overcome with embarrassment, shielding her eyes with her hand while she looked down at the ground. She was never going to forgive him for seducing her into being at one with nature instead of staying in the privacy of their perfectly good van.

“Oh sorry,” the woman said, seeing she had made the other woman uncomfortable for some reason. “Your husband?” she tried to correct.

The woman just shook her hung head side to side.

“Boy toy?” she guessed, grinning and nodding with approval. “Get it, girl.”

“No,” the woman said with a sigh as she lifted her head to face her again. “We’re together, it’s just…I’m Michonne,” she blurted out, desperate to change the subject.

The other woman’s grinning lips parted in awe, as she went still for a moment, staring at the woman before her.

“I’ve never met another Michonne in my life…”

“You’re…?” she asked, unable to finish the sentence as she just stared at this mirror image who apparently shared more than just a passing resemblance.

The other Michonne simply nodded.

“Whoa,” Michonne breathed out, unable to form a coherent thought.

The pony-tailed Michonne took a moment to get a really good look at this woman. Her long, shapely legs were covered in tight grey cargo pants secured around her hips by a black studded belt similar to the one that she had on. She wore a tight, white henley with the top few buttons undone and revealing her enviable cleavage. Her look read strong, yet sexy which she appreciated since she believed the two sides could absolutely coexist without detracting from the other. Her locs were slightly shorter and lightened by the sun, and she kept them off her face with a dark blue patterned headband of which she had a drawer full of back home. They could definitely share a closet which made her curious as to what else they shared.

“Where’d you get your sword?” she asked as she nodded at the katana in her hand.

“Found it in a pawn shop after everything went down. You?”

“Picked it off of my neighbor. He didn’t need it anymore,” she explained, flippantly referring to his deceased state.

“Where are you from?” Michonne with the grey pants asked, finally able to find her words again.

“Then or now?”

“Then–wait,” she said holding up her gloved hand. “Answer on three,” she instructed to ensure the true answer. “One, two, three:”

“Atlanta,” they said in unison.

“Shit,” the pony-tailed Michonne marveled as she felt a chill run through her body.

“And now,” her counterpart instructed. “On three. One, two, three:”

“Alexandria,” they answered in unison.

“How is this possible?” Michonne with the grey pants whispered to herself.

She rolled up the sleeve of her henley and pinched her skin between her thumb and forefinger. She felt it, this was real. She held up the same hand and asked for permission to do the same to the other women with a questioning tilt of her head. The other Michonne agreed with a nod and pulled up the sleeve of her olive green coat to allow her access to the skin on her forearm. Michonne reached out and placed her fingers on her warm, smooth skin and pinched it. It defied all logic and possibility, but she was real. She shook her head breathlessly as the other Michonne pulled her sleeve back down and huffed out a laugh.

“Zombies took over the world and I ended up calling rural Virginia home of all places,” she said glibly. “Nothing really surprises me anymore…”

Michonne shrugged, conceding to her point, then turned out to look across the herd of walkers parading by. She caught a glimpse of her Rick standing beside another man with a similar build and height as him. They both had longish hair and scruffy beards, and the same humorless stare, but that’s where the similarities stopped.

“Rick?” she asked, nodding toward the man with the straight hair and the brown jacket.

“Yeah.”

“You together?”

“No,” Michonne answered emphatically. “We’re just friends.”

“Well, probably not for long…” Michonne goaded with a sly grin, assuming that it was only a matter of time given how similar their paths seemed.

“Not gonna happen. He shacked up with a blonde.”

“Let me guess…Jessie?” Michonne asked knowingly, having fun with her newfound ability to tell the future. “That one’s not gonna last.”

“No, a girl named Andrea.”

“Andrea?” Michonne repeated, the smile knocked off her face with the revelation. “Holy shit…”

“You know her?”

“I knew one, yeah…”

She stared ahead at her Rick, thinking of the twists and turns in their lives that would have happened for the two of them to have ended up together. Sure she would still have her best friend, but she would have missed out on what she had with him and that was unfathomable now that she had experienced his love. It was too heavy to think about, that she had to lose one to have the other, so she preferred to imagine a world where she could have both her best friend and her lover instead of nothing at all.

“So you two were best friends?” Michonne asked nodding at the denim-clad, curly haired Rick.

“He had definitely become mine,” Michonne answered honestly, thankful for the distraction from the rabbit hole of what-if’s she had started to go down.

“I can’t even imagine that…” Michonne said, chuckling dryly to herself as she looked at her Rick, trying and failing to imagine anything ever developing between them. “I’ve gotta ask…how did it happen?”

“Well,” Michonne started, unable to keep the girlish grin of her lips just thinking about that day, “he was going out for a run, and I asked him to find some toothpaste for me. He couldn’t do that…but he did come home with a roll of mints instead, and one thing led to another, then…” She shrugged, leaving the rest of it up to her imagination.

“You went all in over a roll of mints?” Michonne asked skeptically.

“No,” Michonne said with a laugh, realizing how silly it all sounded. “It wasn’t about the mints…it showed that he was thinking about me when I wasn’t around just like I had found myself thinking about him more and more. Everything just clicked in that moment,” she said simply, not knowing any other way to describe the act of falling in love with him.

Michonne nodded, finding that answer a bit more plausible, then looked across the way at her Rick again and started to vehemently shake her head and laugh. Just the thought of him making eyes at her or leaning in to kiss her or whisper sweet nothings in her ear made her want to simultaneously gag and crawl out of her skin with embarrassment. She wasn’t a shy woman, but she would never be sharing that side of herself with that guy, no matter what world they lived in.

“Nope, I’m sorry. There’s just no way,” she said, causing her to start laughing, as well. “That’s just so weird. I mean, it had to be weird, right?” she asked, trying to level.

“I mean, maybe for like a second, I had this feeling of Oh god, what is he about to do?” she admitted. “But it was only a second, because after that?” She just nodded with a satisfied grin that gave away every dirty detail without saying a word. She was obviously a woman who was well taken care of.

They both started to laugh again, and Michonne shook her head at her behavior, feeling as though she may have shared too much about her relationship with Rick. “I’m sorry, this really isn’t like me.”

“Me either,” Michonne admitted. “I’m not much for sharing, so I mostly keep to myself. Don’t really have a lot of girlfriends, or friends at all, for that matter…but I guess this just feels like talking to myself,” she said with a small smile.

“Yeah,” Michonne nodded, agreeing with that feeling of the instant, easy connection between them. “Out of curiousity…are you with anyone?” She couldn’t help but be fascinated with the details of what another life might look like.

“No,” Michonne answered solemnly. “I don’t exactly have the best track record with keeping boyfriends around, so I’m on my own for now, maybe even for good…”

Michonne frowned, realizing that she had unwittingly touched upon something that caused deep pain to this woman, and she instantly recognized her response to that pain because it was her own for so long. The problem with building walls around your heart, though, was that they didn’t just protect you from getting hurt, they also held in the pain that was already there.

“You know, I can only imagine that we’ve both had our share of tragedy, losses we never thought we could come back from, or should even be allowed to come back from…” She trailed off for a moment, seeing her pain reflecting off of Michonne’s face. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she thought of her son. “I had this friend, and she said something that stuck with me, that made me take a hard look at how I was living my life. She said, Dolor hic tibi proderit olim.”

“Someday this pain will be useful to you,” Michonne translated. “I took Latin in college,” she explained with a shrug.

“That’s it,” she nodded with a sad, yet hopeful smile, “For whatever reason, we’re here, and we owe it to the people we’ve lost, the people we still have, and ourselves to keep going, otherwise what are we doing?”

Michonne nodded, this sentiment not unfamiliar to her at all. It was something she told herself when she was lying awake in bed a night, something Rick had told her before, and now this woman. This other Michonne was the person she wished she could be if she could just allow herself to; still very much herself, tough, independent, and intelligent, but free from the guilt and pain that was holding her back from truly living. She cleared her throat, and looked back out into the forest.

“Looks like the herd is clearing.”

“Yeah,” Michonne agreed. She understood that these things didn’t happen overnight, but she hoped she had at least planted a seed like Deanna had done for her. “Let’s head on over toward the guys.”

They raised their katanas and cautiously walked out into the clearing, back to back, keeping an eye out for stragglers and each other. The coast was clear, however, and they lowered the swords as they met up with the men in the middle, sheathing their katanas as the men holstered their guns.

The men each immediately looked to their companions, wordlessly checking in on their safety with a look to which each woman nodded that all was fine. They then looked at the other’s companion and nodded a greeting. If they were rattled by each other’s appearance, they were downright unsettled by the striking resemblance between the two women.

“Well, we should keep moving,” the straight-haired Rick said his Michonne.

“Yeah, we’ve got to get on the road. Don’t want to waste daylight,” the curly-haired Rick said to his.

Both women looked at each other with reluctance before the one in the white henley stepped in close to appeal to her boyfriend.

“What are you doing?” she whispered into his ear. “We need allies.”

He gave her a look, and shook his head no. Apparently he had his reasons which he wasn’t comfortable sharing him now, so she backed off and looked to the other Michonne who tried a different approach.

“So how do we get a hold each other if we need to?”

Her Rick just shrugged. “I think if it’s meant to happen, it will. Best not to force these things.”

She rolled her eyes at his vague, zen-like response, then straightened the katana strapped to her back, preparing to hit the road and return to her path.

“Well, maybe I’ll run into you again,” Michonne said, feeling her Rick take hold of her hand, anxious to get her moving back in the direction of their van.

“Maybe,” Michonne said as she watched the couple begin to part. “Hey Michonne,” she called out causing her to turn back in her direction.

She reached into her jacket pocket and grasped the items she had lifted from their camp site, then held out her clenched fist. Michonne dropped Rick’s hand and walked back over as the two men watched their exchange, then held out her hand. Michonne transferred the objects into her open palm, and began to laugh quietly as when she saw the expression on Michonne’s face as she closed her hand around the little foil squares that were back in her possession.

“I think those belong to you,” Michonne said with a grin.

“Yeah,” Michonne grinned back as she slid them into her back pocket. “Thanks.”

They backed away from each other as the men looked on curiously, and just like that, went on their their separate ways, and back to their lives.

The straight-haired Rick waited until they had at least a hundred yards between themselves and the couple before he finally spoke.

“That guy was an asshole,” he whispered, still sounding irritated by their encounter.

“Really?” Michonne asked as she kept an eye on their surroundings as they walked along. “She was actually pretty cool.”

Her positvity stopped him in his tracks, causing him to look down at her with concern. “Did I get the wrong Michonne back?”

“No,” she scoffed. “I’m serious, if there were more people like her around, maybe I’d have more friends.”

“Well, I’m sure you can still catch up with them if you want. Wouldn’t be the first time you ditched me…”

She looked at him, shaking her head in disbelief. He really act be like a 10 year old boy sometimes, but she loved him anyway.

“Nah, I’ve already got a best friend,” she assured him as they started walking again. “And one is all I can handle…”

She looked up at him to catch him grinning at her response then elbowed him in the side for acting like a brat.

As soon as they arrived back in the van, Rick dropped Michonne’s hand and left her standing outside as he climbed through the open side doors and started rifling around through the few belongings they had in there. Son of a bitch. Upon hearing him curse, Michonne craned her neck to look in after him just as he hopped out with his brown suede jacket in hand.

“That was the craziest damn thing that’s ever happened to me and which is sayin’ a lot,” he mused as he walked back over to her. “You OK?” he asked with concern.

“Yeah,” she nodded, though something about the tone of her voice and distant look in her eyes wasn’t convincing.

“You sure?” he asked as he draped his coat over her shoulder, wondering if maybe she was just cold, then rubbed his hands up and down her arms to warm her up.

“I’m sure,” she nodded as she looked him in the eyes. “I’m just thankful that after everything that’s happened, I ended up here. With you…you know?”

His lips turned into a smile as he nodded in response. Yes, he did, in fact. Against all odds, he had found his best friend and the love of his life under the most dire of circumstances when he needed it most. He knew exactly what she meant.

A/N: Prompt: TV Richonne meets GN Richonne while out on a run.

I didn’t want to give away the twist upfront, so if it didn’t make any sense, maybe it will now. Thank you so much for this brilliant prompt, @fangirlbaker! I was so excited when I saw it. I took some liberties with it, but I hope you enjoyed it!

#richonne #richonne fanfiction #prompt fill #author: b and m #submission

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anavoliselenu · 4 years

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freedom chapter 9

JUSTIN POV

"You can't separate peace from freedom because no one can be at peace unless he has his freedom."- Malcolm X

I took one pill…then another… then another… then another.

I readjusted my glass on my nose and read the fucking label on the container. It would probably be best if I knew what the fuck I was ingesting. Valium. Well, praise Jesus for it. I don't know if I would even be able to make it another year without the stuff. Living my life was stressful only made more so by my headstrong, stubborn, uncontrollable, incredibly gorgeous wife.

My car was gone. Not just any car, but the car. The one I polished in my free time, if I ever had any. The one I hadn't even turned on since buying it for fear that the engine might get overheated. The one that I stared at every morning, wishing I could drive it to work, but knew I couldn't. My Bugatti only was it stolen from my garage, but it was done out of spite.

She wanted me to hear the engine roaring out of the driveway and she wanted me to get angry about it.

I began reading the pill bottle, "Side effects include:Drowsiness, muscle weakness, tiredness… New or worsening mental or mood changes, confusion, difficulty breathing, fainting, fever, chills, or persistent sore throat, hallucinations..."

The list went on forever. I would gladly accept it all, though, if I could just have five fucking minutes of peace.

Alec poked his head into my office. "You brought this on yourself."

"Get out." I rubbed my forehead.

"She took your damn car because you're treating her like an invalid." He disobeyed me and sauntered in, chomping on some chips. Crumbs were sprinkling everywhere, but our wonderful dog began lapping them up in his wake.

"Get out!" I roared and then quickly worked to calm myself down before continuing. "Please, just leave me alone."

"You can't expect to disable Selena's car and just sit back while she gets driven around everywhere. She's tougher than that."

"I thought you were going to the grocery store with her," I growled. "Why can't you just go by yourself? She's not your maid."

"Uh, as I recall, I was banned from shopping for food."

"You brought twenty frozen pizzas. Why in the hell would you buy twenty frozen pizzas?" I recalled the last grocery store debacle. "We didn't even have enough room for them all."

He shrugged, taking a seat. "I was hungry. When do you think she'll get back?"

"When she's done shopping." I slammed my fist down, "I'm getting a housekeeper. We should have someone who does all of this medial shit. Why is Selena going to the store this late? It's not rational."

"She likes being independent."

"I don't care. I refuse to let her…"

"Stop right there." Alec raised his hand. "If you use that type of language, she'll kill us both. Selena doesn't want a housekeeper. She likes to clean and cook all by herself. It makes her feel useful."

"She'll have to deal." I picked up another bottle of pills and took two, not bothering to read the labels on this one. I just knew it made me feel better.

"Well, you have to admit, the Bugatti is one hell of a car. And you don't drive it, so why can't she?"

"Because it's a racing car. She doesn't need to be in anything that fast in her condition."

"She's not a doll, you know."

"Everyone keeps saying that," I replied, sighing through my nose. "I just want her to be safe, and it seems like everything I try to do is just making her madder."

"Because you don't talk to her. You just assume Selena will go along with everything. Wrong! She's a grown woman, in case you didn't know. Try explaining it to her. I guarantee you it will work better for your health."

"Shut up and get out of my office." I took my glasses off, flinging them on the table in front of me.

"Alright, alright…" He stood, taking his fucking chips with him, and exited.

Francis stayed behind and hoped up on the chair opposite me. Normally, I would scold him for being on the furniture. I couldn't bring myself to care right now. Maybe these mood stabilizers actually did work.

"Don't look at me like that." I scrubbed my face with my palms. "She's going to give me gray hairs. I know it's just a car, but it's more than that. She fights me on everything when I'm just trying to protect her."

Francis tilted his head, his tiny ears perking up.

"This is all your fault," I told him. "You should have told me she was leaving without Alec. I wouldn't have allowed…" I stopped myself before I started sounding like the father of a sixteen year old girl.

I let myself relax and sunk into my plush office chair. My body felt incredibly heavy.

Of course, I had to have something to interrupt me.

The phone on my desk jolted me awake. I groaned and picked up.

"What?" I didn't bother with pleasantries. If it was Esme on the other end, I was fucked.

"Uh, Boss. This is Danny."

"Who?"

"Danny. Mrs. Bieber's bodyguard."

"Oh, what are you doing calling me?" I sat up straighter.

"We have a situation."

"A situation?"

"Yes, sir."

There was silence for a couple of seconds. "Are you stupid? Talk!" I commanded.

"Oh, right, sir. Um, Mrs. Bieber was caught in a rather…sticky predicament."

"You're speaking in riddles and my patience is dangerously low. Is she hurt? Did she crash the car? Did she have a fucking heart attack?"

"No, sir. We're here at the market down the street and there's been what seems like a robbery. There are men inside with guns. They are holding the people hostage."

I stood up so fast, my chair toppled over. "Tell me she's not in there."

"Uh, yes, sir, she is."

"Fucking…" I ran a hand through my hair and pulled. "Why weren't you in there with her?"

"You told us to keep a distance…"

"No, I told you to protect her," I seethed. "That's what's wrong with you people. Paid-for-hire is never the way to go when dealing with security. Take you team and go home; you're all fired."

"But, sir-"

"You're lucky I'm not going to kill you. But if she has one hair on her head harmed, you better run for your motherfucking life." I slammed the phone down, startling Francis.

I turned and punched the first thing in reach, which happened to be a window. It didn't break, but a crack ran up the pane, splintering off in different directions. I had too much medication in me to feel my hand, but heard the pop of my knuckles upon contact.

That can't be good…

I didn't have time to dwell on my anger and rushed into the bedroom. I pulled on anything I could find, not caring if it stunk or if it was dirty. I was moving too quickly to let my OCD take over.

Suddenly, all thoughts of my sports car were lost. Fuck the Buggatti. Was Selena alright? Had they hurt her? Was this some random robbery? Was she keeping her head down and eyes open? Was she using the skills I had taught her to stay alive? Was the baby okay?

I jumped the stairs three at a time and slid on the hardwood floor in the hallway, trying to grab my keys from the table.

"Uh, Justin…" Alec called. "You might want to get in here and see this."

I went into the family room where he had the TV on.

The scene made me even more anxious. Police cars were everywhere, people were being pushed behind offensive 'Caution' tape, and a slew of cops were positioned in front of the grocery store. The woman who was reporting might as well have been just standing there, because I couldn't hear. Her words meant nothing to me.

"I think Selena might be in trouble." Alec's mouth hung open as he watched.

I pulled out my phone and called her number. Three times I called, and she didn't pick up—just like she hadn't been doing all night. At first, I thought it was because she was ignoring me. Now I feared it was something more.

I snapped back to reality and dashed for the door. My younger brother was there to block my path.

"Get out of my way." I was so angry that my hands were shaking.

"I can't let you go down there, Justin. This is a job for the police."

"Move your ass," I snarled. "Now!"

"You could get someone hurt. I know you're just going to barge in and take control. You can't do that. You need to stay here and let the cops handle this."

I moved close to him. "If you don't get out of my way, I'll kill you."

"I'm trying to save you…" His eyes held a little bit of fear from my threat, but not much.

I lifted my knee up and struck him right between the legs. He let out a yelp of pain and a groan of uneasiness. He fell into me while I cradled him down to the ground.

"I know that was a bitch move, but I warned you," I said in his ear. "I don't care who you are, come between me and my wife again, and I'll make good on that promise to kill you."

I left him on the floor, whimpering, while I ran to the garage. I chose the thing closest to the front, which happened to be a white Mercedes. I didn't remember buying it, but got in anyway. I sped out of the driveway and down the street, hitting two of my neighbor's mailboxes on the way.

My hands were glued to the steering while and my knuckles started turning white. My teeth were pulling at my bottom lip—a habit I had picked up from Selena.

"Why didn't you just stay home tonight?"

A thousand scenarios were going through my head, but I tried not to let them get the better of me. I needed to know what the hell was going on, and I wouldn't get that information by blowing up at the cops. One thing was for certain, though;: I was pissed beyond belief. Not at Selena, but whoever the hell it was who had her in danger.

By the time I screeched to a halt in front of the store, I felt like I had been driving for hours. The adrenaline rushing through my veins was enough to keep me awake for days.

The scene was just as it was on TV, but so much more alarming. Red and blue lights flashed everywhere. Police cars and ambulances were placed, not only in the parking lot, but up and down the streets as well. People were crowded around, talking, whispering.

The yellow tape that blocked everything off was a complete nuisance to me, but easy to rip out of the way.

"Sir, you need to get back." A young deputy ran in front of me, his hands raised.

"If you value your life, you'll step away from me," I said lowly. My voice was raspy with authority, laced with a hint of deadly rage.

"All civilians must be behind the barricades, sir." He pushed my chest.

I took his wrist and flipped it behind me, pulling it halfway up his back. I saw a lot of commotion out of the corner of my eye. Police officers being being shouted at me.

I pulled on his wrist more, making him squirm under my grasp. "I need to get to my wife. Who's in charge here?" I asked him.

"Behind the yellow tape, sir,"he ground out through his clenched teeth.

"Justin, let him go." I heard a familiar voice. "I'll have you arrested right here if I have to."

I pushed the deputy on the ground and raised my head, only slightly surprised by the man in my eye line.

"Embry Call. What the hell are you doing here?" I stepped over the pathetic excuse for a cop, who I had just disarmed.

"I work Hostage now," he said, almost proudly.

This was the man who was working under Jacob Black during my entire investigation. He had visited Selena in jail to inform her of my death. I knew this because she told me how much she hated him. He held her while she cried.

I should say something like 'thank you' right now, but I didn't have time to bring up the past.

"You were demoted?" I raised an eyebrow.

"If you must know, yes. That fucking stunt you pulled four years ago didn't go well for some of us." He snapped his mouth shut.

The officers had lowered their weapons, but were still standing there like they didn't have anything better to do.

Embry looked the same. Still .Your run-of-the mill officer with too much time on his hands and not enough important cases to actually make a difference in the world. Probably what Selena's father looked like thirty years ago.

"It seemed to do great things for your boss, Mr. Black. He's working for the Pentagon now." I shrugged. "I thought you were in on the plan to take an innocent woman to jail and try to force things out of her."

"I was never working with Jacob and you know it." He stood up to me. "He was a dirty cop. I always liked Selena. She had to be strong to put up with your ass for so long."

"You don't have the right to speak her name." I got closer to him, our noses almost touching. He was just about as tall as me. I never noticed that before.

"You think you have everyone fooled, don't you? Coming back here like some God and making a big splash," Embry scoffed. "You're still the same murderer you were when I was tracking you."

"So why don't you arrest me?" I goaded him. He didn't answer me. "Exactly."

"How did you get back here anyway? Are you on parole or something? Were all your charges dropped?"

"That's information known only between me and a highly official district attorney. I'm not sure they share that kind of stuff with…hostage negotiators." I looked Embry up and down, a clear indication of my disgust of him.

"I almost had you." He shook his head. "But you…slipped away. You always do."

"You didn't catch me because you're weak. I made it easy for you and Black."

"Then why did you run away?"

Get Selena. Forget this fucker!

"That's a different story for a different day. For when I actually have time for you and your dirty cop rule book."

"I play by the rules."

"What do they say about a situation like this?" I looked around the parking lot, filling with more people and more cars.

"They say…we wait." His eyes didn't falter or shift. He was serious.

I pushed him out of my way, walking closer to the police car line up that was placed about two hundred feet from the entrance of the store. The officers followed, yelling orders.

"Justin Bieber, you have no jurisdiction here. You're not even a cop." He spun me around. I calmed my anger from his touch. It wouldn't be advantageous for me to get arrested right now.

"My wife is in there." I pointed behind me. "I demand to know what you're going to do about it."

For the first time, I saw him show his emotions. His eyes widened and he stumbled. "Selena's in there?"

"Yes, and she's being held hostage. I know nothing and need answers."

"You need to go home, Justin. I can't help her if you're here."

"Bullshit. My child is in danger."

"You have a child?" he almost shouted. "What the hell?"

"Well…no. Not yet," I stuttered. "She's pregnant."

"Oh, well, congratulations." Embry nodded.

"Thanks." I stuffed my hands in my pockets.

We stood around like awkward, ex-best friends, meeting each other for the first time since graduation. It was stifling, and a horribly forced tolerance swirled around us. He didn't like me; I didn't like him. We both knew that.

"Are you going to get her or should I?" I tapped my shoe impatiently.

"Boss, do you want us to escort him away?" Another deputy came up behind me. I almost wrung his neck for being so close.

Embry looked at me with squinted eyes, sizing me up. "Can you keep your cool and let me do my job?"

"I'll give you one fucking hour." I held a finger up. "Then I'm handling it."

"He can stay," Embry told his men.

I stuck close to him since he seemed to know what he was doing. Embry was very confident and clear with his demands. He told everyone what needed to happen and when. I was begrudgingly impressed.

Selena was in there. I saw my Buggatti on the far side of the parking lot. I didn't give a fuck about it anymore. I was tempted to burn the thing just to see if God would accept my sacrifice and send Selena out to me.

I paced behind Embry as he and the other officers went over floor plans of the grocery store.

"There are only two ways in," someone said, hunched over the police car hood where the papers were scattered. "The loading dock in the back and the front entrance."

"There are snipers on the roof and the two buildings across the street as well," someone else muttered. "We've got the place covered, so no one's getting out."

Embry exhaled, "I don't like these odds."

That made me stop. Everyone took notice and ceased their talking, so I began pacing again.

"I need video surveillance from inside. Where is my video feed?" Embry shouted.

"It's coming!" a tech guy said. "Give us five minutes."

"How many people are inside?" I asked no one in particular.

"We're not sure."

"How many robbers are there?"

"We're not sure."

"How long have they been in there?"

"An hour, maybe more. We're not sure."

"What do you know?" I crashed my fist down on the car. I was rewarded with a low throb, pulsing throughout my hand. A couple cops jumped and had hands on their guns, but easedback.

"Justin, stop it." Embry pulled me away from the group. "You're not helping anyone."

"I need her back now. I'm starting to go crazy." I rubbed my palms on my pants. They had been sweating for too long.

"I'm doing the best I can and I promise to get her out first," he whispered. "Just give me time. All hostage takers want to be heard. Once they call, I'll know what they need specifically."

I felt like I was going to throw up as the minutes passed.

Emmett and Jasper arrived half an hour later. They paced along with me, but tried to say everything was going to be all right. I was tired of hearing that. My brothers were far more rational than I was. They kept telling me to trust the police.

What the fuck?

Since when do we trust police? Let alone, the one who used to visit my wife in jail when she was locked up. I don't think so. But I didn't do anything. I cooled my nerves because I was in the perfect place for information. Embry talked to me every couple of minutes and gave me updates.

"We have a video feed." One of the tech officers brought over a crude-looking laptop, which played a black and white scene. He set it on the hood of the cop car. I pushed my way into the circle.

"Where's Selena?" I asked.

Emrby rolled his eyes. "There are other people we need to be worried about as well."

"I don't fucking care," I said harshly. "Can you see her?"

"Justin, please just shut up!"

"Don't you ever talk to me that way!"

I felt a hand on my shoulder, reminding me to be tranquil. Emmett had suddenly become the voice of reason. I grumbled, but didn't say anything more.

The picture changed every couple of seconds. The feed was from several different cameras around the store, placed at a variety of locations. Each time, my heart sped up, seeking her out.

"There." Embry pointed to the corner of the laptop. I saw Selena's dark hair first and her small face appeared next. She looked so fragile, curled into a corner, by herself. Then the picture changed.

"No!" I shouted. "Bring it back."

"I can't do that." The tech guy shrugged. "It's rotating on its own."

I grabbed him by the collar and raised my throbbing fist. Embry pulled me off of him before I could strike. "At least we know she's safe and no one's hurt."

He dragged me to the side. "I have to go find her."

"No, stay here and let me do my job," he said with finality.

I waited.

Fifteen minutes later, the commissioner showed up with the fire department and more cops. Sixteen minutes later, more television stations set up shop around the store. They all chattered about the robbery and wanted to assure the public that everything was being taken care of.

Like hell it was…

Eighteen minutes later, the bomb squad showed up. That's when I almost lost it. You only called them if you suspected an explosive. I did throw up after that. I stay hunched over a bush and expelled the contents of my stomach until I couldn't breathe. My nerves were just too much.

"We're going to get her," Embry guaranteed me.

"I hope for your sake, you're right. If not, I'll just kill everyone here," I said nonchalantly. He knew I meant it.

"How does Selena get involved in all these things?" He chuckled, a light-hearted attempt to lift the mood.

I didn't answer him and walked away.

I went unnoticed by the cops who were shuffling around, trying to look like they were doing something. I stayed out of there way for the most part.

From the video feed, more answers came. There were four robbers. They wore masks at first, but pulled them off as the time passed. Embry informed me that this was indeed a random hostage situation. The group was a bunch of rowdy guys who had held up large stores like this all over the state. They hadn't been caught yet. What made me more anxious was the fact that two of them were ex-military. They had names and faces, but I didn't care. All their blood would be the same once I was through with them.

Twenty minutes later, finally, something happened.

"Boss, we have a phone call!" someone from a truck shouted.

There was a lot of movement and people started to pull on headsets. I ran over to Embry, almost knocking him down.

He held a phone in his hand and put it against his ear. I leaned in so I could hear.

"This is Embry Call. I'm in charge of this situation."

I rolled my eyes at his fake masculine authority.

"I need to speak with the commissioner." The voice was cold.

Everyone was listening. The commissioner shook his head.

"He's not here," Embry replied. "It's just me and my team."

"Alright, then. I have some demands."

"Name them."

"Five million dollars in cash and a plane at the airport, ready for us in an hour."

"I can't do that. Who am I talking to?" Embry asked.

"That's none of your concern. Give me what I want or someone will die every ten minutes. You have until midnight."

"We can't give you any of that. We don't have the resources."

"You have until midnight." The voice repeated.

Tired of the game, I snatched the phone from Embry. "Listen to me, you little shit. I don't care who you are…"

I didn't get to finish my sentence.

"We'll call you back in five." Embry ended the call. "What the hell was that?"

"I had my own demands," I grunted.

"You could have endangered them in there." He was livid and his face was turning an odd shade of purple. "This is my job. We do as I say."

"If you would do your job, then I would have my wife with me."

"Maybe you should keep a tighter hold on her then…" he snapped.

I let my fist fly and punched him in the mouth. I was so angry, I almost didn't feel it. Almost. He had sharp teeth that dug into my skin, so it hurt like hell, but was worth it.

I was pulled away and smashed against the police car. "You're under arrest for assaulting a police officer…"

"No!" Embry shouted. "Let him go."

The pressure on my arms was let up. I shook them off.

"Bieber, that was your last chance. Let me handle this." He pointed at me, wiping the blood from his lip. He didn't seem fazed at all. My knuckles had gashes on them, but I didn't want to wrap them up.

So I was standing outside of a grocery store that was being held up by gunmen with my wife inside. Both hands had some form of injury to them and my stomach was in knots. Tonight was not a good night.

I checked my watch as the minutes slid by. The commissioner was not happy and started yelling at everyone to move fast or "be diligent about the citizens' lives". I didn't see his attitude getting much done. Embry was more docile in his approach, but nothing was working.

Just as the robbers promised, ten minutes later, there was a single gunshot. It echoed through the parking lot like a canon and made everyone duck for cover. We crouched behind cars and ran behind trees. When it was safe, everyone started to reemerge.

"What was that?" I asked Embry, already knowing the answer.

"I don't think they're playing around." His voice was shaky.

The video hadn't shown who was shot or if anyone was injured, so I didn't know if Selena was all right.

The phone rang again. People started to hastily move so they could hear it from their headsets and speakerphones.

Embry picked up. I didn't bother moving away from him.

He didn't speak, just listened and nodded his head before hanging up a couple of seconds later.

"They want ten million now," he told me.

"Then pay them and get them the fucking plane," I said angrily.

"We don't have those resources. We have to negotiate with them."

"I'll give to them. I don't care!"

"No. We can't give in to their demands. Then they win."

"Or someone dies?"

He didn't answer me.

I spun around on my heel and took off towards the oppositeend of the parking lot. Emmett and Jasper were leaning against the big Hummer that they brought.

"Move," I commanded. "I'm doing this myself."

I opened the trunk and lifted the carpet. Underneath was a storage compartment that always stayed concealed. Inside was the stash of weaponry.

I pulled out a bulletproof Kevlar vest and strapped it to my chest.

"You can't do this, Justin," Emmett protested.

"Don't tell me what I can't do." I harshly started to test the chambers of guns, peeking inside to see if they were all loaded. "If this was Rosalie, you would have already been inside."

"There are people in there that might get hurt. You have to wait," Jasper said.

"Selena's in there. Are you just going to let her sit? That's your sorella. Family first, brother. You're either with me or not. I don't need you two."

They didn't think about it for a second before strapping on vests of their own.

"I just want to go on record as stating that this is going to get us all killed." Emmett shook his head.

"Your comment has been added to the 'I don't give a fuck' pile," I muttered. "Give me five minutes to get Selena out then you guys can come in and do the rest."

"Shoot low," Jasper whispered. "We can't afford to hit anyone and we don't want to kill these robbers."

"I want to kill them," I argued.

"No, Justin. Just focus on getting Selena to safety." Emmett clapped my shoulder. "You've got five minutes before we head in, guns a-blazin'."

"Gotcha."

The gun in my hand was a M16A2 Rifle. It was sturdy and menacing. The accuracy was almost perfect, and it was easy to carry. The strap sat across my chest and the cartridge was full. I was ready to do some damage.

I walked calmly up towards the grocery store. I seemed to go unnoticed until I hit the police blockade. Then there was movement.

"Drop your weapon!"

"Put the gun on the ground, hands behind your head!"

"You have five seconds to give it up!"

I just stood there, my patience running thinner.

"Justin, what the fuck do you think you're doing?" Embry stalked up to me with anger in his face.

"Going to get my wife."

His mouth opened and closed a couple of times as he took in my appearance. "Where did you get a gun like that?"

"I'm not dignifying that with a response. I know you read the paper. I'm about to take over the largest weapons manufacturing plant in the world. If I want guns, I get guns. No, this doesn't have a permit. You can lock me up when I'm finished."

I moved passed him, getting closer to the entrance. He followed. "Justin, I can't let you do this. You're a civilian."

"I don't care. I have more experience than half your squad. You're all worthless. I'm going to stop paying my taxes because it's obviously not doing any good in training you fools."

"Since when do you pay taxes?"

"Hypothetically."

The grocery store was very close. I was almost there.

"Stop him!" I heard the commissioner yell.

The snipers on the roof pointed their guns at my body; I just kept walking.

"Stop him!"

"If you're going to shoot me, do it now." I stopped, waiting.

Embry didn't make the call, so I kept going.

"Justin, no."

"Get out of my way, Embry. I don't have time for this."

Fifty feet…

"Think about Selena. She might get hurt."

"She'll definitely get hurt if I leave it to you idiots."

Thirty feet…

"I'm going to have you arrested," he sputtered.

"Do it now or shut up."

Twenty feet…

"I'll have my men take you down."

"Yeah, right," I scoffed. "You don't have the balls. Oh, and if you hear gunshots, don't be alarmed. They're probably from me."

Ten feet…

I gave him one last chance to do something, but I knew he wouldn't. Like Embry said, he plays by the rules. I had shaken him up too much. He didn't know how to handle this situation. He would probably end up getting demoted, yet again, because of me. He would be lucky to be a desk clerk after this.

"Pussy!" I shouted on my way into the store. The sliding glass doors took their sweet time opening up.

It was eerily quiet. The soft, tingling music playing above created an atmosphere that didn't seem real. I felt like I had stepped into a grocery store from The Stepford Wives. Everything appeared perfect up front, but I knew dangers lurked in the back.

The good thing about stores like this was that they had mirrors in almost every crook of the store to prevent theft. There were big circular ones in the corners, small rectangular ones on the ceilings, long thin ones on the walls. They were everywhere. I could see everything.

I pinpointed my targets in the mirrors and made sure that they were far away from the last place I had seen Selena on the monitors outside. They were perusing the aisles with their guns drawn, scaring the hell out of anyone they walked passed. It looked like the hostages were being huddled into groups around the store. Made way to keep track of everyone.

I just stood there for a couple of seconds, surveying the area. Then I realized that I didn't have time for all this shit. I had to get in and get out. It would take far longer for me to seek them out. Why not bring my targets to me?

I went to the first cash register I saw and flipped the switch under the counter for the microphone.

I cleared my throat. "This is Justin Bieber. I'm not from any police department and I don't care to arrest anyone. I just need my wife."

I started to hear commotion.

"If you shoot me, I'll shoot back and be damned sure, I won't miss unless I want to," I warned. "Is there an Selena Bieber here?"

There wasn't a reply.

"Selena, I know you're somewhere. Please don't make me hunt you down. I'm in no mood for this tonight."

"I'm here, Justin!" she yelled, somewhere in the fruit section.

"Ah, well, I shall be over in a second," I said.

She was smart. By announcing herself, she just became valuable. Obviously, I was someone with the macabre attitude to put myself in danger for her. To them, she must be something special now.

"Hey, stop where you are!" a gunman shouted at me from the left. "Who are you?"

"Didn't you hear? I'm Justin Bieber and I'm here to get my wife."

We were standing in the front of the store, just staring each other down. My gun wasn't even raised. His face wasn't covered, and I could see that he wasn't much younger than me, but looked like a kid with his disheveled sandy hair and wide eyes.

"You're not supposed to be here," he said. "Take another step and I'll shoot."

"From your posture, I can tell that that you're a novice gun handler." I spoke coolly. "Have you ever shot a gun before, boy?"

He took his eyes off of me for one second and that's all I needed. Instead of wasting bullets, I decided to be more practical.

There was a nice display of vodka next to me with the bottles stacked up into a pyramid shape. I felt for whoever put it together. I started to pull the glass bottles down and just threw them in his direction.

He got hit a couple of times in the head and by the fifth bottle, the smell of alcohol was in my nose. His hold on the gun wasn't firm and his trigger finger slipped. Bullets started flying into the ceiling. I ducked and began crawling on the floor towards him. He wasn't even paying attention.

I tackled him to the ground and grabbed him by the neck. His clothes were soaked in spilled vodka. I slammed his head to the floor, placing my knee on his neck. "You made a big mistake."

He couldn't respond and started to choke something out.

You don't have time for this…

I took one last glass bottle and bashed it over his head. He limped to the side and blood started to pour from under his hair. I didn't think he was dead, but if he was, so be it.

I got off of the ground, gun in hand. I was now even more furious.

The store was bigger than I remember, and I had to slink behind corners and aisles to check if anyone was coming. I didn't hear or see anything, but that just made me more suspicious. Where had they gone?

The first group of people I came across was a mixture of about ten. They were all different ages and races, but looked scared out of their minds. They took in my gun and some started to cry.

"No, I'm not bad," I shushed them. "I'm here to get my wife. Where is the fruit area?"

None of them answered.

"Fruit, like oranges, pears, lemons and all that shit," I clarified.

Nothing.

"Is it to the right?" I asked a worker with an apron. He looked sick.

He didn't say anything.

"Selena always says that I don't always get to the healthy food because I stop at the snack aisle." I chuckled at the memory."So to the right or left?"

He pointed to the left with a shaky finger.

I nodded my thanks and began walking, crouched low to the ground. By the time I reached the frozen foods, I was over it all. I just wanted Selena home with me. I almost couldn't remember earlier in the night when we were just lying in bed. It seemed so long ago.

In the mirror in the corner, I could see another gunman. He was at the end of the aisle and had yet to notice me. His stance was firm. I guessed one of the experience ones.

I could just shoot him in the back and be done with it, but where was the honor in that?

I made sure to make a little noise as I stood up to bring attention to myself. He spun around, gun raised, and didn't bother talking. He just started shooting.

I took three in the chest, and they knocked the wind out of me. I stumbled backwards, shocked and stunned. Even though I was guarded by a vest, bullets still hurt like hell. They would leave bruises. Once I regained myself, I opened up the door to the frozen pizzas. The bullets collided with the glass, but didn't penetrate. Who would have thought that the glass doors protecting frozen pizzas would be bulletproof? I would have to tell Alec.

Once he had a millisecond to readjust, I took my chance. With one hand on my gun, I lifted it and precisely shot a bullet through his right eye. It flew out of the back of his skull and blood splattered the pristine white floor as he fell.

Simple kill.

I didn't have time to reveal in my glory. I was running out of time.

The grocery store was a foreign place for me. The only time I came in here was occasionally when Selena forced me and it wasn't like I was paying attention to where everything was. Now I wish I had.

The fruit section was tucked away behind a couple other aisles. I had a tough time finding it. There was, once again, another group of people huddled together.

"I'm looking for Selena Bieber," I whispered. "She's short, brown hair, brown eyes…"

"The hot pregnant chick?"a college looking guy asked.

My hand clutched around my gun.

You can't kill this boy…

"Yes," I ground out, "the hot pregnant chick."

"By the apples." He pointed.

I slid across the floor to stay out of sight of the gunman fifty feet away. He was checking the front, and left his valuable prize unguarded.

My knees began to hurt as I crawled.

Why were there so many fucking varieties of apples? I looked behind all the bins. I learned so much. Granny Smith were the green ones. Then they had yellow ones, which I had never seen before. And the red. So much red. Burgundy. Crimson. Cardinal. Rose. It was everywhere. Some with stems, some without. Some were from Washington or California or Texas or Pennsylvania. It was maddening.

Finally, I found her, behind the Red Delicious.

Selena was seated on the tilled floor, with her legs crossed, picking over an apple. I watched her for a second. She didn't look stressed or scared at all. She inspected the fruit in her hand and then sniffed it, taking a small bite. Some juice fell onto her shirt, and she scowled, throwing the apple aside.

Another group of fruit caught her eye. She reached and picked a green one, but from the bottom. The whole bushel tumbled silently. Selena covered herself as they fell over and pelted her. They rolled across the floor in all directions. It was honestly the cutest thing I had ever seen.

"I don't even like apples." She bit her lip and crossed her arms.

She looked okay. No noticeable bruises or scratches and thankfully, no bullet wounds. I almost didn't want to disturb her.

"If I save you, do you promise to make me hundreds of apple pies in the future?" I chuckled.

Selena whipped her head around and her eyes grew. She threw herself at me, her arms wrapping around my neck. "You're here. Finally!"

I held her close, sticking my nose into her neck to smell her scent. It was familiar and calming.

"What the hell have you gotten yourself into this time?" I asked.

"I swear; I'm a danger magnet." Selena shook her head. "I hate it."

I pulled back and cradled her face in my hand, bracing her to me as I kissed her lips. She tasted like…apples. I loved it. Her thanks for my rescue were poured into her movements as her tongue glided into my mouth. It felt like heaven. Selena's legs spread over my lap and my hand splayed on her lower back, thrusting her body closer.

Soon, I felt wetness on my face.

"Selena, are you okay? Are you hurt?" I asked worriedly.

"No." She sniffled and cried, "I'm fine."

"What is it?"

"I didn't think you would come to get me."

"Why would you think that?"

"I don't know. I thought you were mad at me. I'm sorry I took your car." Her voice was thick with tears.

"Please stop being so silly, Selena. I don't give a fuck about the car. I just had to get you out."

"You're not mad?"

"Hell yes, I'm mad. You didn't pick up your phone, you've gotten yourself into a hostage situation, and you didn't take anyone with you." I seethed. "This is why you have bodyguards, who've been fired, by the way."

"I know. I'm so stupid." She held her head in her hands. "I thought I'd be okay."

"This is what happens when we get too complacent. We make mistakes." I hugged her. "But I came to get you."

She didn't stop crying.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" I wiped the tears from her cheeks with my thumbs.

"I've been sitting here on the floor for over an hour, waiting for the police to show up. I'm hungry; I want a pizza or cheeseburger. I have to pee and I think I've cried myself into exhaustion."

I chuckled, "Let me just get you out of here, okay?"

She nodded, sadly smiling. "I love you, Justin. Thank you for coming to get me."

"Of course." I kissed her again. "Is the baby all right?" I placed my hand on her small, rounded stomach.

"Yeah. We're both good."

We stopped breathing when we heard a bushel of apples roll towards us. I looked up and saw the gunman behind a small farm cart with large wheels. It was another display type thing. He didn't see us yet. I pushed Selena under it, and then put my back against the far side of the cart.

I put my finger over my lips to tell Selena to be quiet. She looked so scared, but I knew it wasn't for her. It was for me.

I waited, barely breathing.

The gunman rounded the cart and pointed his gun at me. "There you are."

"You caught me." I didn't bother fighting. I didn't want bullets flying with Selena so close.

"You were stupid, coming in here."

"You were stupid holding up a grocery store. Do you think you'll get out of here alive? Police are everywhere."

"I don't care." He took off his ski mask to reveal his face. He wasn't anything special, and I was sure his name was 'Mike' or 'Norman'. Something unimpressive like blue eyes held a certain sense of crazy to them that didn't make me feel comfortable. This man wasn't stable.

"I just came to get my wife. I can get you whatever you want if you just let her go," I negotiated.

"She's the brunette who was over here?" He looked around.

I nodded.

"Where did she go?"

"I don't know. I came to find her."

"I know who you are." He raised his gun onto his shoulder. "You're that Bieber guy. The mob guy."

"Yeah, that's me."

"You don't look so scary." He darkly laughed. "I've read the reports on you. You're supposed to be some heartless, insane killer."

"I've had my moments."

"Do you want to kill me now?"

"Very much so, but I won't. I'll let the police handle you. I just want my wife safe."

"Wife? Why would someone ever marry you?"

"Because she loves me," I told him. "And I love her."

"Really? You can love?"

"Only her."

"I'm sure your mother would be disappointed to hear that." He pointed the barrel of his gun towards my face. "You don't love your mother?"

"Of course I do. It's just a different kind. Do you love your mother?"

"No," he snapped and scowled.

"Just let my wife go."

"I can't do that."

"How about an exchange? I'll stay here and you let her walk free. I'm worth a hell of a lot more." I enticed his greedy nature.

He thought it over for a couple of seconds. His eyebrows raised. "That you are. The famous Justin Bieber under my thumb."

It all happened so quickly, I almost didn't even see it.

A small hand darted out from under the cart, fingers wrapped around a shiny switchblade. It slashed across the gunman's Achilles tendon and sliced through easily. Like butter. I saw blood and heard his screams as he fell to the floor, on his knees.

"Bowing in front of me as it should be." I shot him in the groin and he flew backwards, into another display of apples with yelps of pain.

I took Selena's hand and dragged her out from under the cart. She slid easily across the tiles and started to run.

"Don't stop," I told her. "Get outside until you see the police."

"What about you?"

"Just go, Selena." I pushed her forward. She was almost to the entrance.

I saw the last gunman, gun ready, from the other side of the store.

I took position to shoot, but didn't need to. The doors of the store opened and Emmett and Jasper came barreling in followed by a throng of police who fanned out like the cavalry. They were shouting and giving orders.

I went outside and finally felt like I could breathe. Selena was free. I could care less about what was going on inside or who was getting arrested.

I started looking through the crowds to see if I could find her. Her eyes locked with mine and were pleading as she was being pulled by a medic towards an ambulance.

I ran towards them. "Let her go!" I said.

"She needs to be checked over. She could be hurt," he informed me.

"I have my own doctors for that." I wrapped an arm around her and he loosened his grasp.

"It's protocol. I have to check all the hostages. They can't leave until I give the order."

"Fuck you and your orders."

"Justin, stop." Embry was there to push me back. "He's just doing his job. Everything's fine."

"I'm taking her home."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Selena scowled at him.

"It's nice to see you too," he replied hurriedly. "You two can't leave. I need statements."

"Call me in the morning to set up a meeting. I need to get her home." I started to make my way towards the cars. "I've already broken enough rules tonight. Add another one."

"Oh my God, Justin!" Selena squeaked. "You're shot."

"What?"

"You've been shot." She pointed to my left shoulder. My shirt was ripped open and a chunk of skin was missing. It looked through-and-through.

"Seems that way." I hadn't even felt it.

Selena's fingers began taking apart my vest and she pulled it from my body. "You could have been killed." She was not happy.

"Can I just get you home before we start this?"

"No, we're doing this right now." She stomped over the medic's truck, and he shouted at her the entire time she was digging through his supplies. She came back with a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

"First of all, why didn't you take Alec with you?" I asked her harshly.

"Because I didn't want to. I already have bodyguards. I don't need a babysitter."

"Obviously you do. You can't even go grocery shopping without getting in trouble."

She pulled off my shirt over my head. I felt the twinge of pain as I lifted my arms. "I went because we needed food and I even told you so it's not like I snuck out."

"I don't care. You can't just leave your phone in the car and expect me to swoop in every time to save you."

"They took our phones anyway!" She squirted some of the alcohol on my shoulder haphazardly.

It stung like fire. "Jesus Christ, Selena."

"That's what you get." She did it again. It stung worse.

"You can't be mad at me for helping you."

"I'm not. I'm grateful, but you got mad at me first."

"You're damned right. I'm furious. You put yourself in danger."

"It's wasn't like I planned it." She squirted me.

"Okay, stop it." I grabbed the bottle from her, throwing it on the ground. "I was fucking worried about you. I have the right to be mad."

She sighed, "I know and I'm sorry, but you're stressing me out. I can't even go to the grocery store anymore without being followed."

"You can't keep doing stupid things like this. Next time, we won't be so lucky." I pulled her close to me. "This is your life now. I warned you."

She nodded into my chest.

"Mr. Bieber, are you and the Mrs. fighting?" A reported pointed a camera in my face.

"No interviews," I said sternly and shoved him away. I took Selena's hand and pulled her towards Emmett's Hummer.

"What was it like in there, Mrs. Bieber? How many were lost?" someone else asked.

"No interviews." Alec was suddenly at my side, helping us guide our way through the attacking cameras.

"Take Selena home," I told him.

He nodded. "I already called the doctor. He's waiting for us."

"Good. And make sure he checks everything. If she's hurt I want to know."

He led her the rest of the way.

I turned around the face the reporters. "Call my secretary tomorrow. I'll set up a press conference in the morning. You can all ask questions then."

"How is the Mrs.? Is she allright?"

"I said tomorrow. And she's fine." I walked towards the white Mercedes I drove here.

"What about the rumors that Mrs. Bieber is pregnant? There have been pictures of you two leaving the doctor's office and she's starting to show. What do you have to say?"

We hadn't told anyone formally, but I knew we would have to make an announcement at some point. The press was hungry for it.

"No comment. No interviews." I got into the car. Their lights were still flashing. This was going to make national news probably.

I drove off and didn't even bother slowing down because of all the police as I headed in the direction of home, thankful that my wife was safe.

SELENA POV

"Run without a destination, and you'll finally see, what freedom can be. "-Anonymous

All things Twilight related belong to Stephanie Meyer.

I sat next to Justin as we rode towards O'Hare airport in the back of the silver Aston Martin. William was driving and kept his eyes up front. I was more than ready for a couple weeks away. Especially after the grocery store debacle.

I was still a little shaken, but thankfully okay. Justin was going crazy, making sure that I was thoroughly checked by a private doctor when we got home, who assured me that I was physically fine. I wasn't even worried about myself at this point. I just wanted to make sure the baby wasn't harmed. He said that all was well. I had an ultrasound and for the first time, got to see what was growing inside of me.

It wasn't as life-changing as I thought it would be. I couldn't even detect the small bean-like figure on the screen. Justin said he could. I squinted my hardest, but still didn't see. I cried a little, though. Everything was fine.

When the doctor suggested that I might have psychological trauma from the hostage ordeal and needed to see a therapist, I had to stop myself from laughing in his face. I had seen Justin do far worse with a gun in his hand than what I had just been through. A little grocery store holdup was nothing in comparison. Justin wanted to cancel the trip because he was overly worried. I begged him not to. I really did want to go on some sort of honeymoon and now seemed as good a time as any to leave, although we did wait a couple more days.

Justin held a press conference to answer questions that reporters had on his involvement in the robbery. Of course, we had to talk to the police first and gave his statements. He didn't lie about anything. Justin stated exactly what he had done and why. Only one of the gunmen had been killed from his hand, but he claimed self defense and the videos showed that. He would probably have to testify at their trials later.

He made national news for his heroic efforts. I thought there would be more of a backlash for him walking into a grocery store with a semiautomatic weapon, but Justin was praised instead of criticized. He did receive a fine, though, for having a gun without a permit. He hated the attention. I don't even think we were supposed to leave the country right now, but that didn't stop him.

I looked over to my husband, who was reading this morning's paper. He had on his glasses and looked fairly calm. Over the weekend, the doctor had nursed his bullet wound, and Justin promised me that it was just was so strong, but his overconfidence in dangerous situations made me agonize at an unhealthy level. He wouldn't even let me look at the hole in his bicep, saying that I shouldn't worry over it.

We needed this vacation before real life overwhelmed us.

Everyone was coming, but Justin guaranteed me that we would have our alone time for a couple of days. One week in Spain turned into two, just because Justin said so. I wasn't complaining. I didn't know what he said to my boss, but he let me go.

"Sei eccitato per la vacanza?" I asked him if he was excited for our vacation.

"Certo. Ho bisogno di uno," he replied, telling me that he certainly needed one. "We will have fun. I promise."

"Should you be exerting yourself after your…injury?" I pointed to his shoulder, which was still wrapped in gauze, under his shirt.

He ground his teeth together, folding the paper. "I'm not dead, Selena."

"But you could be."

"So could you. It's just a minor scratch."

"You were shot," I reminded him.

"I'm fine. I don't know how many times I have to say that." He leaned across the seat, bringing his face close to my ear. "You shouldn't worry about me so much."

"I can't help it. It's my job."

"You'll give yourself an ulcer, not to mention added stress for the baby."

"I know."

"I got shot. I lived. We move on, okay?"

I nodded.

"Lo non vado da nessuna parte, ilmioamore,"he said, low and raspy.

His words made me blush.

"Just don't die on me."

"I promise. Are you alright?"

I nodded.

"Good." He kissed my temple before sitting back up again. "William, how much longer until we reach the airport?"

"A good fifteen minutes, sir. The traffic is atrocious."

"I hate this," he whispered harshly.

One of the conditions that Justin had to abide by when we came back to the States was that he couldn't fly private internationally. It irked him to no end.

"This is just their stupid way of keeping track of me. I don't like it, and I won't stand for it," he mumbled.

"It's not that bad, Justin. It's not like we're getting stuffed into the bottom of the plane with the dogs."

"I haven't flown on a public plane in…ever. This is ridiculous and highly embarrassing."

I rolled my eyes. "It's a small price to pay so that we could come home."

"I suppose." He looked out of the window at the slow moving traffic.

"It's the destination, not the journey," I said. "My grandmother always told me that."

"Nicola told me the opposite. It's always the journey; the destination doesn't matter. You learn more from the voyage."

"That's wrong," I replied matter-of-factually.

"Oh, really?" He chuckled. "Do you have evidence to the contrary?"

"My Grandma Swan was always right. She lived to be one-hundred and three, you know. She had wisdom."

"And Nicola didn't?"

"He had a different kind."

"You're argument isn't very sound, Selena."

"It doesn't have to be." I shrugged. "I'm your wife. You have to agree with me."

William snickered up front. Justin glared at him.

"I'm not used to losing arguments," he said. "You know that better than anyone."

"I'm just kidding." I shoved him. "Gosh, you're so uptight all the time."

"I have to be nowadays. My wife seems to think it's appropriate to go places without her cellphone, which makes it impossible for her to call me if she's say…in a hostage situation."

The mood turned somber fairly quickly. He was still pissed. On some level, I realized that I was the one who put him in harm. I should have just shot him myself. If I wouldn't have gone grocery shopping, none of this would have happened.

"Are we going to be brining this up for the rest of our lives?" I asked.

"Until I feel like you've learned your lesson, yes." He looked out of the window again.

"I'm not your daughter. You don't have to talk to me like that."

"Well then don't do things that warrant punishment."

The drive was silent after that.

We pulled up the unloading station in front of the airport sometime later. I thought I went to sleep, so I couldn't be sure how much time had passed. William turned off the engine, and Justin exited before he could even come to the door.

My door was ripped open and I was pulled out of the car rather roughly. "I have Mrs. Bieber. Make sure we have a clear path," the burly man said into his phone while holding onto me tightly.

I sighed in frustration.

The old bodyguards who I had become so accustomed to were replaced by large sentinels that were instructed to never leave my side. All forms of secrecy were thrown out of the window. People surely knew I was someone important now because of my entourage.

My personal guard was named Amun. He was an ex Israeli Mossad agent who had to be discharged after a stray bullet caused him some knee problems a couple of years ago. He was perfectly intimidating and scary, but just not fit enough to stay in the army. He could do his job, though.

He was massive, bigger than Emmett, with darkly tanned skin and short black hair. I had met him yesterday when Justin forced him upon me and basically said that he was my new best friend. Along with four other men with similar backgrounds and looks, our security detail was tight. No one was ever going to harm me again.

I glared at Justin.

"You brought this on yourself," he said to me, carrying the one small bag he was bringing as his carry-on.

"Why doesn't Rose have to have one? Or Alice?" I pointed behind us as they got out of their own cars.

"Because we're not stupid, Selena," Alice replied, and put on her gigantic sunglasses. "You could have been killed."

"I forgot my cellphone…once!" I wiggled free from Amun's grasp, but he didn't step back.

"I won't have you getting hurt again." Justin took over, guiding me forward with his hand.

We didn't have any luggage as we walked through the airport. Justin didn't trust public transportation with his "valuables", so our things were all shipped yesterday. They should be in Spain when we arrived.

People pointed and stared as the eight of us traveled in our caravan, along with the giant bodyguards that we'd brought. Emmett made me feel a little better when he said that they just weren't for me. Justin was beefing up security in every aspect of his life. We all looked like bums, though. There was no way in hell I was making a ten hour flight in a dress. I think everyone else thought the same way. Justin was actually wearing jeans. I almost never saw that.

We didn't have to wait in line for security, and I was tempted to ask why not, but felt it best to just stay quiet. In no time at all, we were through our gate and seated in our seats on the plane. It all happened very quickly and without any barriers.

The whole business-class cabin was ours. We had enough people for it. We were in neat rows and had several TVs around along with those inserted into our seats. I could see the cockpit up front. It was a very comfortable and spacious area.

Amun kept an eye on me from the corner while Justin sat to my left in his pod-looking, sleeper thing. I had never flown like this before. I found it strange. We even had a different entrance from everyone else. I chalked this up to Justin's inability to actually socialize. He would never make a long trip seated next to someone he didn't know.

Alice was to my right, chatting on about rare Spanish art…I think. I wasn't paying attention. I was trying to get relaxed.

"Is there anything you need?" A stewardess was at my side in an instant with a bright smile and shiny blonde hair, cut in a bob.

"Yes, I was wondering how people got comfortable in these things." I shuffled my body around in the pod. I must have looked like a fool.

"You have it in the sleeping setting, Mrs. Bieber." She pushed a button, and I started to lift into a seating position.

"Oh," I sighed in amazement, feeling the plush leather under my fingers, "This is much better."

"Anything else?"

"No, not right now. Thank you, though."

"Okay, well my name is Jill and I'll be here if you need anything. Just ask."

"She said she didn't need your assistance. Move along." Amun was there to protect, shooing Jill in the opposite direction. "Actually I need to speak with the air marshal. Where is he?"

"I can't reveal that information." Jill clasped her hands in front of her. "Please take you seat."

"I'll find him myself." Amun walked through the aisle towards a different part of the cabin.

"Sir…" She chased after him.

"That man is crazy." I said to Justin. "Why him?"

"He's not afraid to kill people."

I sat back in my seat without another word.

"That was embarrassing for you." Emmett popped his head from around the seat behind me and got incredibly close to my face. "You could have just asked me how to work the chair."

"You could have offered your help."

"But it was so much more fun to watch you struggle." He laughed.

"That's not funny." I crossed my arms.

"Awww. Don't get mad. The baby's going to be born with frown lines." He stared at my stomach. "Does it feel weird?"

"Not right now," I said.

"Did you throw up?"

"I did when I woke up."

"Can you feel it?"

"No, not yet."

"It's so strange to see you with a bump. You're going to be so fat." He snickered.

There was a gasp from behind me. "Emmett Lorenzo Bieber! You can't say that," Rose barked. "Stop bothering her."

"I was just wondering what I was in for…"

"It's like you have no home training. You're embarrassing us."

"I am not." He sat back and began arguing. I tuned them out.

I looked to Justin who was breathing deeply through his nose. In. Out. In. Out.

"Are you okay?" I asked him.

"Have I ever told you that I hate flying?" he replied. I detected a slight quiver in his voice.

"You fly all over the world," I scoffed.

"Yeah, in my plane with my pilots. I don't know those men in the cockpit."

"Or women!" Alice corrected.

"Yes, thank you, Alice," Justin said. "I don't know who's flying this thing or what kind of certifications they have."

Emmett popped his head in again. "One time, when we were in high school, we flew on a class trip to New York. Justin passed out before we even took off. They had to call Carlisle to come and get him. He couldn't go with us."

"You never told me that," I commented.

"Because I don't want my shortcomings known to my wife," Justin growled. "And for your information, Emmett, I had a bad feeling about that whole trip, which turned out to be right."

"The same plane we used crashed a couple weeks later. We weren't on it, but it was still kind of scary." Emmett sucked on his teeth as if he were bored. "I guess Eddie is right sometimes."

"Idioto." Justin mumbled under his breath. "I still don't like flying."

"I'm sure everything will be fine." I reached across the aisle and took his hand.

"Maybe you just need to get comfortable." Alec took of his shoes and put his sock-clad feet on Justin's armrest.

Justin pushed them away. "I'm fine, thank you. Once we're in the air, I'll just sleep."

"Do you remember that time we flew into a storm going to Vancouver?" Jasper said to Emmett. "Justin almost shit in his pants."

"Oh, yeah." Emmett laughed. "That was funny."

"Leave him alone." Alice sat up in her seat. "I'm scared too, Justin."

"I'm not scared! I just don't like it. Airplanes are just gross. Not only are there strange people, who might have some kind of infection, but there are airborne parasites. You don't know what kind of hands areused to cook the food or how often they change the air filters. It's disgusting."

That shut everyone up. He was right.

"What is taking so long?" Justin craned his neck into the aisle.

"They're probably still boarding."

"We were supposed to leave fifteen minutes ago. Something must be wrong." He checked his watch.

"I'm sure it's fine."

Justin stood up and un-tucked his white button-down shirt. He pulled out a gun from behind his back and opened the overhead compartment. He placed it in his bag.

"You can't have that on a plane, Justin!" I whispered. "Are you crazy?"

"How else am I supposed to protect myself?" he said innocently.

"That's why we have bodyguards."

"Yeah, right," he sneered.

"I can't believe you brought a gun on board." I sunk into my seat, embarrassed and ashamed.

"It's not like I'm going to use it." Justin sat back down.

"You could get arrested."

"It's okay, Selena. Carlisle owns part of this airline. We pay to have certain privileges," Jasper said from in front of me.

"The FFA might have something to say about it."

"They can suck my dick," Justin replied, taking out his medicine. He had four different bottles of pills, from which he gathered several in his palm. He swallowed them easily and then shivered as they went down.

"This is going to be some trip." I shook my head.

Jill began to walk up the aisle quickly in preparation for takeoff. Justin stopped her.

"Two things. One, I'm expecting a call in a couple hours."

"Yes, sir. We can receive it from the ground and I'll put you through when necessary."

"Thank you. Two, once we're in the air, I need a basil martini," he said.

"A…basil martini, sir?" she responded, clearly confused.

Justin was already looking frustrated and snapped his mouth shut. He was about to rant.

I interrupted by tapping her on the arm, "Vodka, Vermouth, a dash of balsamic vinegar, and four crushed basil leaves. No ice. Absolutely no ice. He hates ice," I stressed.

She looked at me and nodded. "Shall I place it in the cooler?"

"Yes, and make sure the basil is crushed, not chopped. Just small flakes."

"Would everyone like one?" Jill asked us.

"No, that sounds gross." Jasper trembled in disgust.

"The basil calms his nerves," I said to her. "The balsamic vinegar puts him to sleep. It's strange, but it works."

"Oh, that makes sense." She smiled. "Thanks for the tip." She scurried off.

"I miss being a bartender. You have to tell people…calmly what you want." I bit my lip, waiting for his response.

"Well, thank you for that." He sighed. "I was about to have her fired."

"Not everyone knows what a basil martini is. And you shouldn't even be drinking with your medication."

"Sometimes, little things like that escape me," he admitted.

"That's why you have me. I'm truly your better half."

Justin looked at me as realization spread across his face. "I never thought of it like that. Interesting."

"That's what a marriage is for." I leaned back in my seat.

Takeoff was a couple of minutes later. Justin had a hard time with that, but tried not to show it. He was brought his drink and started to doze off soon after. An hour later, the sun was going down and everyone had sunk into the pods to sleep.

Unfortunately, I didn't have that pleasure. I had to get up for the bathroom too frequently. It was torture. I was warned that pregnancy might make you pee more, but I always thought that was in a couple of months when I was bigger. Rose told me that the prenatal vitamins also add to the added urination.

Every time I got up to go, Amun was there to baby me along.

"Don't you ever sleep?" I asked him on my most recent trip to the fairly large bathroom up front.

"No, ma'am. Never," he answered. I think he was joking. He almost pushed me back into my seat. "Make sure to buckle up."

"Last time I checked, I left my father back in Forks," I snapped unintentionally.

He grunted in reply before going back to his seat.

This was my fault, but it was going to get old pretty quickly. I didn't think Justin would ever let me out of the house alone again.

Finally, I was able to sleep and what a good sleep it was. I don't think I even came up for air and I wasn't quite sure how long I stayed in slumber, but it must have been a good couple of hours. I was putting this pod thing on my wish list for Christmas. It was magical.

I woke up with a full bladder, but well rested. The cabin was dark as I rushed to the bathroom. When I came back out, Amun was there.

"Should I invite you into the room when I give birth?" I commented.

"I'm not sure Mr. Bieber would allow that, but I will be right outside. Screams don't scare me." He smirked.

I plopped back down in my seat.

Everyone else was still sleeping and looked rather peaceful. I was far too excited to rest again. I was going to Spain! I had never really been anywhere before besides my recent, short trip to Italy and of course Brazil. Justin said that Spain was his favorite European country so I was excited to see what it had to offer. Plus, it was my mock-honeymoon. That brought about a whole new wave of exhilaration.

I stole one of Alice's gossip magazines and busied myself with its contents for awhile. I then switched to playing one of Jasper's Sudoku puzzles. He was a math genius and could complete even the hardest of problems in minutes. I—could not.

Jill rushed over to me. "Mrs. Bieber, can I get you anything? You slept through dinner."

"I am actually hungry." The thought of food made my stomach suddenly rumble. "I'll just have whatever you served."

"You'll be having braised chicken, a large salad, along with some roasted vegetables. Mr. Bieber specified that you were to have the healthy meal."

"Of course he did," I exhaled. "That's fine."

"Okay. Do you think Mr. Bieber would be hungry?"

"Not right now."

"Also, his call came in about an hour ago. We got disconnected, but they're about to call again. Shall I wake him up?"

"No, I'll do it."

"It's not problem, Mrs. Bieber." She reached her hand out towards Justin.

"No!" I said, but she didn't pull back and it was too late.

Big mistake.

Even in his slumber, he was a lethal man. Jill made contact with his shoulder and Justin sprung into action. His hand snapped up and grasped her around the neck. He pulled her down so that her face was on his lap and his fingers dug into her flesh.

"Justin, no!" I jumped out of my seat and ran across the aisle.

Jill whimpered in pain as he grabbed harder. He was muttering something I couldn't hear and looked possessed. Her arm was twisted in an awkward way that was clearly causing massive amounts of pain. It would only be a matter of seconds until I heard the pop of her shoulder.

"Please, don't do this…"

I started to pull on his arm, and with my touch, he easily relinquished his hold. Justin took a breath like he had been submerged under water for hours. Jill was on the floor, a heaping mess of sobs and gasps.

"Justin, it's okay. It was just the stewardess." I cupped his face in my hands, feeling a day's worth of stubble under my palms.

"What the fuck…" He swiveled his head around in confusion.

"She wasn't trying to hurt you, I swear."

He calmed down almost instantly. He blinked a couple of times and that was it. "I don't like being touched, let alone when I'm sleeping."

"I know, I know. I tried to stop her."

"I didn't mean to hurt her." Justin actually looked somewhat remorseful.

"It's okay." I hugged him close to me, and he hugged me back. It was a very intimate moment amongst the chaos that had just erupted in our cabin.

Jasper and Emmett had woken up from the noise. They were trying to compose Jill. Amun, who had some sort of medical training, was checking her over. She just wept into Jasper's shirt and wouldn't let go. He ended up carrying her down the aisle to her station.

"That was badass." Emmett huffed, taking his seat again. "I thought I was dreaming."

"I didn't mean to hurt her," Justin said again.

"I know. She'll be fine," I assured him. "Do you want me to sit with you?"

He leaned back in the seat, angry and aggravated. "I need another martini."

Since Jill was the only stewardess in our cabin and was currently indisposed of, I took it upon myself to get the drink. She had made a lot of it and just kept the shaker in the small cooler up front. I found a glass and poured him a liberal amount.

"Hey, Selena, when you have a chance, can you get me another pillow?" Jasper re-took his seat.

"She's not your fucking maid," Justin snarled. "Get it yourself."

"Alright, alright." Jasper held his hands up in surrender.

I brought Justin his drink.

"Thank you," he said, taking it from me. He gulped it down. "Where is she? Is she alright? What's her name?"

"Jill." I answered. "I think she's okay."

"Why did she have to do that?"

"She was trying to tell you that your phone call came in."

"What?" His head whipped around. "And she didn't wake me?"

"Justin, she tried." I rolled my eyes. "You almost killed her, or did you forget that?"

"Oh, yeah." His brow furrowed. "I'll just write her a check or something."

"And apologize," I scolded.

Justin whined, "Selena, it was her fault. And I believe I did hear you warn her not to."

"That still doesn't make up for the fact that you strangled our poor stewardess. She could be traumatized."

Jill reappeared with a tear stained face and shaking limbs. Her hair was an absolute mess. "I'm…I'm sorry…I didn't mean…."

Justin just looked at her, his eyes a mixture of pity and annoyance. "That's quite alright."

"They're sending someone else up so that I can take a little break." She smiled sadly, clutching her throat. Deep bruise marks were already starting to appear.

I nudged him. Justin seemed to get the message. "Oh, um…well, thank you for helping us. It was rude of you to wake me up, but I didn't mean to act so irrationally."

"That's okay. It's no big deal." She shook her head. "I'm going to rest now. If you need anything, they'll have another stewardess up in a second."

"Thanks, Jill." Alice patted her on the back.

"You're a trooper." Emmett slow clapped as she made her exit.

I glared at Justin who was looking pleased with his "apology".

"You didn't say you were sorry."

"I did," Justin argued, "and I am."

That was that.

The rest of the trip ride actually seemed more relaxed. I never saw Jill again. I didn't think I would. I think our tranquility had something to do with the fact that we were nearing our destination, and Justin had a few glasses of alcohol in him, which always loosened his tenseness. None of us really went back to sleep.

Alice and I watched a couple of movies. Justin disappeared for about an hour to tend to his mystery call. He came back with a smile, but wouldn't tell me why. Emmett, Jasper, and Alec played several rowdy rounds of poker, which ended in heated debate. Jane and Rose kept to themselves most of the way there.

"Ladies and gentleman, if you could take your seats, we are making our descent into Barcelona," the captain said over the speaker. "The current temperature is a cool seventy. We will be landing shortly."

I was getting really excited. I leaned over Justin to look out of the window, thinking I might be able to see something, but we were still in the clouds.

"Selena, you have to put your seatbelt on," Justin told me worriedly. "Sixty percent of airplane crashes occur during takeoff or landing." He actually picked me up and fastened the belt across my stomach.

"I could've done that."

"And argued with me the whole time. It was just easier to do it myself." He smirked, but I wasn't swayed. I was still kind of mad at him for almost killing Jill. He acted like it didn't happen.

Half an hour later, the plane had landed and we were free to leave our seats. We got through customs, getting our passports checked and all the regulatory papers signed.

The May air was perfect; not too hot, but certainly not cold. The sky felt cleaner, the sun shone brighter, and my eyes were opened to a whole new world. We were just in the airport!

"What do we do first?" I asked as Justin held my hand. We were walking briskly, and I could feel Amun nearly on my ass.

"First, you need rest."

"I've had rest. I want to go do something."

"Once we get to the villa, you're taking a long nap. You need to take it easy, especially after this weekend. You're still not recuperated."

"The doctor said I was fine."

"I know what's best. Just trust me."

"Then can we go out later?"

"Yes, Selena," he chuckled, "I promise."

We all continued to walk and I caught snippets of everyone's conversations. They seemed to be just as excited as I was. This was our first family vacation since…Well, in a long time.

"Those are our cars." Justin pointed across the street where five impressive-looking, black vehicles waited. Drivers were there to hold our doors.

"They look nice," I said. I had never really been into cars that much.

Alice rushed past us towards. "Oh, Justin got us Maybachs!"

"What's a Maybach?" I asked, looking up him.

He shook his head, ashamed in me. "Selena, your husband imports international cars and you don't know what a Maybach is?"

"Sorry, no," I said, even though I wasn't.

"It's a beautifully sculpted piece of machinery." We reached the car, and he ran his hands over the smooth, black metal."The only good thing to come out of Germany since the printing press."

"Okay…" I shrugged to myself.

Amun came running up from behind us, hauling the medium sized dog-carrier. Francis growled from inside, clearly not liking the jerking movements.

"I still don't see why we had to bring him." Justin rolled his eyes.

"Alec begged me," I said, reaching out to unlock the crate when Amun put the carrier down. Francis wobbled out, almost as if he was drunk, and his fat legs crossed in front of each other as he tried to walk.

Francis was an obedient dog, and a little afraid of Justin, I think. So he would never run away from us and rarely used a leash. He went pee in a small patch of grass near us and looked very proud of himself while doing so. He must have recognized the change of location because he started to explore when he was done.

Justin ran over and lifted him up. "It's time to go, dog."

I scooted into the backseat and was surprised at how spacious it was. It certainly didn't look this big from the outside. It was roomy and the seats leaned at an angle that made me want to fall asleep again, but I couldn't. I had to stay awake and see the landscape that was passing by as we drove. Francis sat inbetween us, whipping his head back and forth, enjoying the ride.

"I can take you to all these places." Justin pointed out the window to the city. "I spent a year here, studying."

"Did you even go to school in the States? It seems like you were always out of the country for something or other when you were young."

"I didn't like grade schools in Chicago and detested Dartmouth with a passion."

"No one understood you?" I guessed.

"Precisely." He humorlessly laughed, probably making a joke in his head about something I wouldn't understand.

I looked back out of the window. I was overwhelmed. Barcelona seemed like a lively city, but the best part about it was the ocean. It was so close and so blue, but not the kind I was used to seeing in Forks or even Brazil. This blue looked to be glowing in the sun.

Francis climbed onto Justin so that he could see better out of the larger-than-normal windows that the Maybach provided. Those two were quite the pair. Justin would treat Francis like dirt most of the time, but the dog didn't mind. He loved Justin unconditionally. I think the same could be said the other way around.

The driver weaved through the city. Amun, up front, kept telling him to slow down in Spanish, but I didn't mind the speed as we climbed the hills of Barcelona. I couldn't see much on the trip to our house, though I was already enthralled by the city. It was breathtaking and had a different vibe to it from any other place I had visited. It was bohemian and chic, with a hint of new world neurosis that we were all used to. But the history was everywhere; the streets, churches, buildings, fountains. It was all so old, but I was looking at it through new eyes.

Justin chuckled and I looked at him. "What?"

"Nothing." He shook his head, petting Francis behind the ears.

"No, tell me."

"You just look…so happy." His finger traced over the curve of my lips, memorizing my smile.

"I am happy."

He leaned in close. "I like to see you happy and I hope you have a wonderful time."

"Thank you for bringing me." I could feel my cheeks spread wider.

"Seeing you joyful, makes me feel good." He kissed the corner of my mouth, whispering, "Questo è quelloche vivo per, Selena."

This is what I live for.

The villa was…just massive. Too big for the eight of us, but I guessed we now had to accommodate not only an army of bodyguards, but wait staff as well.

"They're necessary, Selena," Justin told me. "You're not to lift a finger. Is that understood?"

I just nodded.

There were cooks, and cleaners, and even a dog groomer. They all had smiles and looked very pleased to be with us. I'm sure they were saying nasty things in their heads, though. Mr. Bieber, as he liked to be called by the staff, was already being sullen and snapped at a girl who spilled his water when bringing it to him. I would have to be extra nice to make up for his nastiness.

The house's floor plan was open so that all the rooms on the lower level basically stayed connected. High ceilings and grand staircases intimidated me as I looked up. All the floors were covered in expensive rugs or rustic Spanish tiles. There was a courtyard that was teeming with vegetation that I had never seen before. A soft fountain sprayed water, and the breeze flowed through easily so that it wasn't so hot.

The rooms were big and the beds, bigger. Justin had to lift me onto ours when I wanted to test it out. Francis couldn't even jump up. Balconies overlooked the city, and since we were on a large hill, it was easy to see Barcelona in its entirety below us. My nap was forgone because I was too damn excited.

"This is amazing." I sat down at the long table in the courtyard next to Rose. Small trays of tapas were laid out for our arrival along with tall pitchers of lemonade and sangria.

Alice was flipping through travel guides. Jane was giggling shamelessly at Alec and Francis, who were running around in the grass.

"Two weeks in the Spanish sun. I'm super excited and quite impressed with Justin at the moment," she agreed with me. "Your husband did well. He's thorough about your happiness, if nothing else."

"He does too much for me." I hung my head.

"What you can't give him in material things you can give him in sex." Alice leaned back in her chair, taking in the rays.

"That makes her sound like a whore," Jane piped in.

"She's having his baby. That's gift enough." Alec sat and took a sip of red liquid from Jane's glass. It clearly wasn't lemonade.

"He acts like I'm not." I put my hand over my stomach, which was growing every day. I had already changed out of my travel clothes and was in a light blue sundress. You couldn't see my belly since it was flowing around me.

Rose shook her head in disgust. "I just don't get that kid. He's happy for you one second and then he's complaining the next."

"Well, we're all happy," Jane assured me.

"He is so happy," Alec argued for his brother. "Justin's just confused. He's never been through this before."

"And Selena has?" Rose snapped.

Alec and I looked at each other, a silent conversation about Elizabeth playing between us. They all knew about what I went through, but sometimes could be insensitive about the subject. I think they forgot. I would never forget.

Before I could say anything, Justin strode into the courtyard.

"My ears were burning. Who's talking about me?" he joked.

There was a chorus of fake responses. He just raised his eyebrows and sat next to me. "We leave in the morning."

"And where are we going?" I asked.

"To be alone." He grinned.

"But we just got here," Alice pouted. "We're all supposed to be together. This is a family vacation."

"First and foremost, this is a honeymoon," Justin corrected. "We'll be back, though. I just want to spend a couple of days away with my beautiful, blushing bride."

"Awwwww," Alec cooed.

"Shut up," I mumbled and placed my lips on Justin's.

It was late afternoon when we arrived, and as the sun started to go down, I wondered when I was supposed to sleep. I figured I needed rest at some point, but I wasn't really tired. Justin said that 'jet lag' was just a figment of our imagination, and we shouldn't buy into it. He told me to just sleep as I normally would.

That night, we had a traditional Spanish barbeque. A cook brought out a whole pig and roasted it over an open fire for a couple of hours. It was amazing. I didn't really know what all the dishes were, but I trusted Justin to steer me away from anything I shouldn't be eating.

"So, what is the real reason we're here?" Rose asked as we sat around the table outside, gorging ourselves on delicious cuisine.

"Fun," Justin replied, it sounding more like a question.

"It's never fun with you Justin." Jane giggled, only slightly tipsy from the red wine.

"I can have fun," he argued. "Tell 'em, Selena."

"He can have fun," I said dryly. Everyone started to laugh.

"We have business. That's all you need to know." Emmett kissed Rose gently. "Don't worry your pretty little head."

"Worrying is a part of the job description." Alice poked him with her fork. "We have to worry or we'll go crazy because we aren't worrying. We live a very stressful life being the wives of you three."

I nodded. I knew that better than anyone else.

"I just don't think you should." Jasper shrugged. "We know how to take care of ourselves and it's not like we always do dangerous things."

"Every time one of you go out for 'business' and the phone rings, I debate on whether I should get it or not. It could be the police or…the hospital." Rose looked genuinely conflicted. She loved Emmett, but didn't love what he did. I was similar.

"And I've seen enough cop shows to know what happens to men like you." Alice nodded. "It's scary."

"Hell, my father is a cop." Of course, everyone knew that already.

"You live completely unrealistic lives. How can you go into a grocery store and shoot the place, but walk away without consequences." Alice continued.

"I do have consequences to deal with. I just suffer in silence and take it like a man." Justin challenged.

"Still, it's scary. One day, you're luck is going to run out."

"And it's worse when you don't tell us anything." Rose took a sip of her wine.

I nodded vigorously. "That's physically painful."

I didn't think we had ever had this talk altogether before. They knew we didn't like it when they went off, but Jasper, Emmett, Justin, and Alec seemed to be taking our words to heart. They were listening to our lecture with interested ears and not scoffing like I thought they would.

"But it's the worst with Selena." Jane pointed to me. "I know it must be."

"Why?" Justin asked, concerned.

"Because you're such a fucking hothead," Rose scolded. "I can basically predict what Emmett's going to do and say when conflict arises in a sticky situation. He'll be safe. You, who knows? You could get into a fight with someone over a parking ticket and end up pulling out your gun. It scares her."

"And she broke down crying last week when you went off to talk to Magicavallo. She was terrified. I had to make her tea and we stayed up half the night." Alice's face fell in sympathy.

I hadn't told him that and could feel his eyes on me, wondering if it was true.

There was silence around the table for awhile. I felt Francis butting his head up against my leg, so I picked him up and held him close to me. I couldn't look at Justin.

Jasper cleared his throat. "Okay, enough with the heavy stuff. This is vacation. Let's play a game."

"Oh, a game," Alice cheered. "A sex game."

We all groaned. Alice was infamous for her sex games. She was nosy and wanted to know about everything we did under the sheets. Her "games" usually involved some form of embarrassing questioning, and everyone tried to outdo one another. Surprisingly, we were always very open about this kind of thing. No one was embarrassed.

Justin put his arm over the back of my chair, but didn't say anything about the conversation we just had. We wouldn't talk about it later, either. We would never talk about it. The subject of me worrying over him was a forbidden topic in our house.

"Okay, I'll start." Rose turned to us. "When was the first time each of you had sex? And no one can get mad about the answers. I was thirteen."

"Jesus," I breathed out, mostly to myself.

"Did you even enjoy it?" Alice's mouth dropped open in shock.

"I was a very sexual girl. I developed early." Rose had never made excuses for her sexual prowess and wasn't ashamed of it in the slightest. "He was my French teacher and I was a young freshman, finding my way. It was glorious."

"Slut," Justin said, not so quietly.

"My turn." Jasper sat up. "I was fifteen. We had a project to do for anatomy class." He waggled his eyebrows.

Jane spoke next, "I was fifteen, too. My brother's best friend."

"We all know shorty over here hasn't done anything." Emmett ruffled Alec's hair. "His dick is going to dry up and shrivel off."

"I'm waiting." Alec punched him, doing little damage.

Jane blushed; I could see it, even though it was dark outside and the table was only lit in small candles.

"I'll get there when I'm good and ready." Alec nodded with finality.

"Cute," Justin said under his breath with a hint of sarcasm.

"I was fourteen," Emmett said. "I don't even remember her name." He tapped his chin.

"That's sad." Alice pursed her lips. "I was sixteen and had a horrible experience. I didn't know what to do with…it. I just let him stick it wherever and I didn't even feel anything."

We all laughed. Francis looked around like we were all crazy.

"I was seventeen and it was at prom." I bit my lip. "Pretty normal stuff."

Justin was the last to go. Everyone was looking at him.

"What counts as sex?" he asked, trying to beat around the bush. "Because technically…"

"When you stick your penis in a vagina," Rose said slowly. "Intercourse. Penetration. When you buried your cock into her wet…"

"Alright, alright," I shouted. "We get it."

She shrugged.

Justin exhaled and ran a hand over his hair. I didn't think he was going to answer.

"He was twelve." Emmett did for him. "Nicola took him to a strip club and paid for pussy, but I'm sure Justin could get it anyway. The girls loved him."

Justin never liked talking about this. He blamed many of his problems now on his early sexual experiences. I think it traumatized him a little.

I took his hand under the table. He nodded in conformation.

"I think her name was Stacy or something." He took a pull from his wine, finishing that conversation.

"What a stripper name." Alice rolled her eyes. "Okay, new question."

"What is one thing your partner won't let you do in the bedroom?" Jasper quirked an eyebrow. "Alice won't let me tie her up."

"I can't do it." She shook her head adamantly. "I don't like being confined. No, it's out of the question."

"Rose won't do anal." Emmett sipped his beer.

"What?" Jane asked in surprise. "You must not be doing it right."

We all looked at her.

"It can be fun if you do it right." She put her hands up to demonstrate. "First, you just have to stretch because…"

"Stop!" Jasper clapped a hand over her mouth. "None of that talk around the table."

"Ask Alice." Jane tilted her head. "She does it."

"I do not!" Alice squeaked, "Once. Okay, maybe twice."

Jasper held up ten fingers proudly. "At least that many."

She giggled, "He's lying."

Justin and I had never…done that. I hadn't done enough research on that to consider it a possibility. He never asked or pushed and I just didn't find it necessary. Obviously, Jane had experience.

"All I'm saying is that you have to prepare. You can't just stick it up there and expect everything to feel good," Jane told Rosalie. "Be adventurous."

"Congratulations." Emmett nodded to Alec. I didn't think he understood.

"Justin won't let me give him a blowjob, I said innocently.

There were various forms of protest from around the table—men and women alike. Justin choked on his wine and looked at me with wide eyes. He wasn't mad, though. Just shocked.

"I don't believe that," Jasper mocked. "You're lying."

"No, it's true," I affirmed. "I've never been able to give him one. He always stops me."

To be honest, I actually liked giving them,I think. I was told I was good at them in high school from the two guys I had relationships with. Then there was Mike, but he was up for anything. I could have stuck his penis in a light socket and his eyes would have been as good as rolled back.

"Look, "Justin held his hands up, "it's not like I don't enjoy getting them, but why should we do that kind of stuff? It's degrading for her."

"No, it's not," Emmett jeered.

"Quite the opposite." Alice's brow crinkled. "It gives us power in the bedroom. It's fun for us. Well, of course, there are some girls who don't like to do it, but that's their choice. Selena doesn't seem to mind."

I shook my head. "I would do it if he let me."

"This is just sad." Jasper tsked. "And here I thought you two were wild sex fiends."

"Do you go down on her?" Alec asked him.

Justin nodded, a smirk on his lips. I hit his shoulder.

Cocky bastard.

"So then what's the problem? It's reciprocation."

"I just don't like seeing her down there," Justin said. "It might feel good, sure, but I don't like thinking about it."

"I feel something more." Alice eyed him with suspicion.

He sighed. "I had sex the first time at twelve, but my first sexual experience was at eleven; another stripper. She gave me a blowjob and said that she hated doing it because she was powerless on her knees. I don't ever want Selena powerless."

Justin's words were profound and incredibly sweet, even though the context was slightly inappropriate.

"You'll never be powerless." He kissed the side of my face. "Besides, blowjobs are juvenile."

"That's true," Rose agreed. "Every middle schooler these days knows how to bob their heads up and down, but it's fun."

"Like anal sex can be fun," Jane shot at her.

"That is not what I had in mind! It could hurt."

"That's why you stretch!"

My little blowjob problem was forgotten after that. Justin laughed at the jokes everyone made and how incredibly crazy we were being in our discussion on sex.

All too soon, we were all starting to get sleepy or maybe just drunk. Well, not me, but I could have lied down for a bit.

Justin carried me up the stairs and into our giant bedroom. All our clothes had been unpacked and put away nicely by the staff,who I never saw unless we asked for something.

He gently laid me on the bed and I sunk into the sheets. "I'm going to go take a shower and then come back to show you just how fun sex can be without silly blowjobs."

"Can't I take a shower with you?" I asked, panting since his hands were already creeping up my thighs, making them burn in anticipation.

"No, I need to ravish you in a bed where we have room to…spread out."

"Oh, my," I gasped as his lips descended on my exposed collarbone.

"Would you like to shower first?" he asked, nipping behind my ear, talking slowly and deeply.

"Uh…no. I'll go after you." I threaded my fingers into his hair.

"All that talk about sex downstairs got me very hot." His lips trailed down my cheek until they reached my neck again. "God, your skin is so soft."

"Fuck…" I lifted my hips up for pressure against him.

"Say it again," he mumbled, his face now in between my breasts. He had pulled down my sundress, and I was bare on top.

"Fuck," I screamed when his teeth raked across my nipple.

"I love it when you curse. It's so sexy." He kissed lower, taking my dress down with him. "You're so innocent, but when I get you in my bed, you turn into this…I don't even know. Say more bad stuff."

I giggled as his lips opened, and he breathed hot breath over my upper thighs. My dress was gone completely. I shuddered as the air hit my skin, now wet by his kisses.

"I don't know what to say." I could feel myself blush. I had never been one for dirty talk.

"Say, 'pussy'," he commanded.

"Pussy," I whispered.

"Louder."

"Pussy!"

"Forget the shower." Justin ripped off his shirt, buttons popping over me. I felt his skin against mine when he lied back on top of me. "Will this hurt the baby?"

"No," I gasped again when his hand pressed between my legs, feeling my folds and taking his sweet time pushing a finger into me. I pulled at his hair, an encouragement to go further.

"Get up," he instructed, removing his hand.

"What?" I pouted.

Justin gently picked me up and turned me around. "On all fours, Selena."

"Oh." I exhaled through my mouth, taken by surprise by his tone. I liked it.

When I didn't move quicklyenough for him, he lifted me until I was on my knees. Justin roughly took my hands and placed them on the headboard in front of us, shoulder-width apart.

"Tenerli lì,"he said.

Keep them there.

I nodded.

His voice and his accent and his tone and his commands…I was so hot, I thought the smoke detectors might go off.

"I don't want you to stay quiet tonight," Justin told me, breaking our usual rule. Alec would always complain if we were too loud. "I want you to scream until your lungs burn. Let them know how good I can make you feel. Make everyone know."

"I can do that," I panted.

His hand trailed down my back, pushing me down so that I arched a little. He slinked his long fingers over my skin, creating lanes of pure fire in their wake.

"So soft…" I heard him whisper. His hands were now trailing over my butt and went between my crack. I shuddered. Lower, he went until he was again between my legs. He spread them wide. I clutched the headboard so hard, my nails screamed out in pain.

Justin's tongue was wet and hot all at the same time as he licked me slowly. I was already drenched with my arousal, but he created more of a flood. I couldn't take it. I tried to back up so that his tongue would be inside me, but he kept using the pad, creating slow torturous movements.

"You're always ready for me." His speech was mumbled, but I heard.

"It's a blessing and a curse." I whimpered when he curled his tongue upwards and grazed my clit with the tip. He didn't add fingers, and I was afraid to ask him to. Another clit brushing and I was done.

I shook from pleasure. My whole body was exhausted, and I wanted to collapse, but his hands were suddenly on mine, grasping the headboard. I didn't have any time to recover before he was fully inside of me. He was solid. Pure rock, filling me to capacity, and I screamed out just how good it felt.

"Louder, Selena," he said in a dominating tone.

I wasn't ashamed or embarrassed to shout. His hands pushed onto mine with each thrust of his hips. He filled me again and again and again…taking me from behind. Justin was deep inside,and each time he entered, I would cry out in ecstasy.

The headboard hit the wall and started to creak. I think he wanted to break it. I wouldn't mind if he did.

Justin spread my legs even wider as we both neared our finish. He knew my body so well that we didn't even have to talk about out impending orgasms. We were always in sync. It took three more thrusts before I was done. I couldn't hold on any longer and quivered my release.

I couldn't scream anymore, so my voice sounded kind of like a bird being strangled as I told him just how much I loved him. He came shortly after, pushing into me one last time. I could feel wetness…everywhere. And I liked it. I wanted more. I craved it.

His hard chest hit my back and he pulled my hair to one side, placing kisses on my neck. "Did I hurt you?"

I shook my head. "Was I loud enough?"

He chuckled darkly. "Yes. I think they now know just how much hard I can fuck you."

"Is that all this was, just to prove your sexual authority to your brothers?"

"Among other things, yes," he replied candidly.

"I don't mind that at all." I knew I should, but I didn't.

Our hands were still on the headboard, because I didn't think I could physically lift them away. We were forever cemented to that spot.

"I want to pull out of you, but…I can't. I refuse to." He pushed his hips deeper. I could feel him reaching as far as he could and it was gloriously painful.

"I think we woke everyone up."

"I hope so, Selena. Those lungs of yours could probably wake the dead. I liked hearing that," he said with urgency. "We should rest. We have a long day tomorrow."

With what sounded like pain, he slid out of me. I still couldn't move.

Justin was off of the bed, but came back a couple of seconds later. "I've got you, Selena." He pried off each of my fingers from the wood, but they still felt stiff.

He cradled me in his arms and turned me over to lie on my back.

"I didn't mean to be so rough." He sounded remorseful.

"Yes you did." I laughed softly. "That's okay, though."

I saw him take a wet washcloth and wipe down my thighs, which were still shakingHe then took the material and placed it between my legs, letting the warmness heat me up. It felt incredibly good. He ran it up and down my slit, not sexually, but caringly.

"I should have constrained myself." Justin continued to rub me clean. His fingers were so light on my sensitive areas, nothing like his touch a couple minutes ago. The heat was incredibly soothing. "You'll be sore in the morning."

"Stop it." I lifted myself up with as much force as I had left. His hand didn't move from between my legs. "I wanted more."

He grinned in the darkness. "Then you shall have it, but not tonight. Right now, we sleep."

Justin kissed my forehead and laid me onto the sheets. I felt him climb in next to me, his chest, once again, hitting my back. His arm draped over me protectively.

"Goodnight, Selena." His lips touched my head one last time.

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