A/N: I banged this out pretty quickly, but I had this idea and I just had to write it out.
Annie stood in her kitchen, cutting onions. The smell of the onions made her gag a little- almost everything made her gag these days: Elijah's cigars, fry grease, sometimes even the smell of the air outside.
At this point, she knew what was causing it. Her period was three weeks late. Her breasts felt heavier and sore, to the point where it hurt when he touched her there. She'd find herself crying over little things. She'd been suspecting it for a while, but now she knew. She was pregnant. And now she just had to tell her husband.
She was making gumbo tonight, his favorite. But he would always say he liked anything she fixed. As the onions and peppers cooked, she put on some water for rice and thought. Would she have a boy? A girl? Her grandmother had taught her that there were ways to tell, but it was much too early for any of that. She'd helped the woman deliver a few babies, once she was old enough, and she'd thought she knew everything there was to know. But now that she was the one expecting, she realized just how little she actually knew. She felt helpless, almost.
They'd been married for three years at this point, so it was bound to happen. And she'd always wanted to be a mother. But it still took her by surprise. And how would Elijah react?
She was almost done with dinner when he arrived. "It's smellin' real good. Can't wait to have some." He gave her a kiss on the cheek.
She didn't bother asking where he'd been- something told her she'd be better off not knowing. So instead, she said, "I missed you, Elijah."
At this, something in him seemed to soften. He grabbed her by the waist and held her to him. "I missed you, too."
She fixed him a plate, then one for herself. Elijah got to eating his food right away. "Mmm. Good as always."
Annie was feeling absolutely ravenous, but the feeling of her empty stomach was mixed with that ever-present nausea. She could already feel herself gagging as each bite went down.
"Baby?" He looked up, his face wrinkled in concern. "You not eatin' again. What's wrong?"
She shook her head. "I.... I just ain't feelin' well, is all."
"Yeah, but you ain't been feelin' well for a long time now, and nothin' you do seems to be helpin'." He cupped his chin in his hands. "I'm thinkin' we should see a doctor about it."
Before she could respond, she could feel her mouth filling with warm saliva, and she had to excuse herself.
She rejoined him at the table. Perhaps now would be the right time to tell him. "Elijah...." Her voice was almost a whisper. "I'm pregnant. I know the signs." She shook her head. "Been meanin' to tell you, but...."
His eyes went wide. "Annie..."
She could feel the tears starting to well up, for reasons she didn't quite understand. He pushed his chair closer to hers. "Hey. Baby. Why you cryin'? That's great news."
"I..." The tears were flowing in earnest now.
He pulled her into his arms. His embrace was strong and sure as always. He held her in a way that let her know that she was safe with him, and he wouldn't let her go. "You feelin' a lot right now, ain't you, baby?"
She nodded. "I- I'm happy, Elijah, but I'm also a li'l scared."
"Well, there ain't nothin' to be scared of. 'Cause I'm here. I'll be with you, every step of the way." He kissed the tears off her face, and she felt just a little better. He rubbed her back. "I love you so much."
"I love you, too."
That night, as they were in bed together, he placed his hand on her belly. She laughed. "You can't feel nothin' yet. It's too early."
"I know."
After a bit, he said, "You know... what if it's twins? Like me and Stack?"
Right now, she could hardly imagine giving birth to one baby, let alone two. She slowly turned her head towards him. "Don't even go there, Elijah."
"Just thinkin' out loud, is all." He kissed her forehead. "Whatever happens... I got you. Everything gon' be alright."
She fell asleep in his arms that night, feeling safe, loved. She was unsure of what the next nine months would bring, but she had a feeling that everything would be alright. She imagined herself sitting in a rocking chair, a sleeping baby in her arms. It felt so real she could almost see it.
One thing is for certain. When @/artbyainna (IG) comes to bat, she only hits home runs. I have run out of superlatives to describe how incredible her art is a long, long time ago... but she did it again! I simply love this!
Book: Crimes of Passion (Post Series)
Pairing: Trystan Thorne x F!MC (Carolina Rose)
Rating: Mature / 18+ / NSFW
Words: 1,500
Summary: After a rough day on the job, Carolina & Trystan return to her apartment, where Trystan wants nothing more than to take care of her. But in the end, they realize they do their best healing together.
A/N: @lexicook74-blog asked for a Trystan x Carolina hurt/comfort fic a long, long time ago. I can take a long time to get to them, but I'm determined to do all asks sent to me :) I hope you like it! Submitting to @choicesjunechallenge2024. It doesn't fit any of the prompts completely, but we can see indecision before he surrenders.
The two flights of stairs that led to Carolina’s apartment were something she and Trystan typically navigated with ease. If she took double steps, she'd be upstairs in a matter of seconds. Sometimes, Trystan would yell, “Race you!” when he already had a three-step lead, and they’d both end up panting before her door in an instant. But today wasn’t a typical day.
Trystan trudged along, inches behind his limping partner, who let out a soft whimper with every other step she took. Ensuring she got upstairs was his only concern, so he did his best to conceal his own pain. With just four steps to go, he thought he was in the clear when a muscle spasm seized his back and thwarted his plans.
“Ow! Ow, ow, ow... ouch!” He cried out in pain.
“Trystan,” Carolina exclaimed. “What’s wrong? I knew you were hurt, too!”
“It’s nothing,” he replied, trying to wave it off, but his clenched teeth said otherwise. “If the Drakovian press knew I was whining about something so superficial, the people would demand my passport be rescinded at once.”
Carolina shook her head and leaned against the door as she fished around the bottom of her purse to find her keys.
“Does everything have to tie back to some strange Drakovian lore?”
“Usually,” he smirked, placing a kiss on her cheek.
A feeling of tranquility washed over them as they stepped inside. Carolina’s apartment. It was small and far from fancy, but the warm, cozy space always gave them a sense of peace. At minimum, they were pretty sure the floor under their feet would support them. Something they hadn’t had the luxury of earlier today.
“Come,” he said, guiding her to the couch. “Let’s get you seated.”
“Me?” she protested. “But you’re hurt, too!”
“Your hip is badly bruised and you’ve been limping! I still say you should have seen a doctor! You’re hurt. I merely have a boo-boo.”
“A boo-boo?” Carolina chuckled as he sat beside her. “Can I kiss it and make it all better?”
The smirk on his lips and the fire coming alive in his eyes made his thoughts clear, but ensuring his girlfriend was all right was his priority this evening.
“If you’re a good girl and let me take care of you, maybe I’ll let you tend to my boo-boos later.”
He rose from the couch to get Carolina an ice pack, but she reached for his hand and stopped him in his tracks.
“No, stay with me.”
“Lina,” he sighed. “Let me take care of you! You fell through a floor in an abandoned building today!”
“Ehh,” she shrugged. “It’s all in a day’s work. I’ve been through much worse. Besides, you fell through that same floor!”
“I just pulled a muscle,” he said, arching his back. “It’s nothing.”
“Well, mine is really nothing, too. We were quite lucky.”
“Of course we were,” he grinned, placing a buss on her lips. “You’re my good luck charm, after all.”
“Please,” she laughed. “Your life has been filled with one nightmare after another since we met. I’m hardly your good luck charm.”
“Ah, but I survived every one of those challenges, some of them largely because of you, so I’m sorry, Detective Rose. You’re my good luck charm. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to make you chicken soup.”
“Chicken soup?” She queried. “That’s for colds and the flu, not two idiots falling through a ceiling.”
“Yes, but in times of trouble... we go with what we know. So, chicken soup it is.”
An hour later, they sat at the kitchen table, still sore, but full bellies delivered some relief.
“See, I told you,” Trystan mumbled as he bit into a crusty piece of bread. “Chicken soup heals all.”
“I guess,” Carolina smiled but quickly winced as her aches reminded her they were far from gone.
“Are you OK?”
“Just sore. I’m thinking of taking two Advil and then getting into a hot bath.”
“Don’t say another word!” He took their plates and began clearing the table. “I’ll go run the water for you.”
“Trystan, I can run my own bath!”
“Nope! This is not a battle you will win.”
“Fine,” she laughed. “I’ve learned to choose my battles with you. But make sure you add the new bubble bath we bought. This is a great time to start using it”
Moments later, Trystan helped Carolina to the bathroom; her face lit up when she saw what he had done. The scent of the lavender bubble bath wafted through the air, as dozens of little candles glistened around her old clawfoot tub, washing the room in a mystical glow.
“Trystan,” she smiled. “What did you do!”
“I can’t expect you to convalesce in an unsuitable environment.”
“You spoil me,” she sighed.
“And you better get used to it.”
Trystan helped her out of her clothes, becoming more transfixed with each new item that fell to the floor. Carolina was stunning, and he always found her irresistible; but the combination of candlelight and moonlight pouring in the window reflecting on her skin, their shadows accentuating every delicate curve on her body, it left him breathless.
But that’s not what tonight was about, and when he felt his body begin to stir, he deliberately turned away. Relieved when she slipped into the warm water. With her exquisite figure concealed under a plethora of bubbles, his primal urges began to dissipate.
“Ahhhh,” she breathed, as her tension drifted away. “This is just perfect.”
Trystan placed a small table with strawberry-infused water within her reach, then kneeled beside the tub, gently bopping her nose with a bubble-strewn finger.
“You’re perfect.”
But Carolina's mood visibly shifted when he stood up and asked if she needed anything before he left.
“Leaving? Why are you leaving?” She tapped the water gently with an open hand. “There is plenty of room in here; I was hoping you’d join me.”
“But I want you to relax; you took quite a fall today.”
“Trystan,” she said with an arched brow. “You took the same fall! Now, get in here with me. That’s an order.”
“Well, if it’s an order...” he smirked.
Quickly removing his clothes, he slid into the tub across from his love, letting out a deep sigh the moment his body was submerged. With his arms stretched over the tub's sides and his legs rubbing against Carolina’s silky skin he wondered why this hadn't been his plan all along.
“This is divine,” he swooned.
“I told you! No way was I going to let you miss out on this.”
“And for that, I thank you!”
They closed their eyes, reclining in the soothing waters for a long while; but when Trystan opened his eyes again, he found Carolina’s sultry brown eyes peering at him, a playful grin on her face.
“Yessss?” He droned.
“Do you have any idea how sexy you are in this lighting?”
“In this lighting?" He said, feigning insult. "I thought I looked sexy in all lighting!"
Carolina barked out a laugh. “That goes without saying, of course! But in this lighting... you’re especially desirable.”
Carolina was stunned; perhaps the candlelight was impeding her vision, but she swore she saw Trystan Thorne blush.
“You’re one to talk,” he whispered. “You’re simply ravishing.”
The lapping water made delicate sounds as Carolina pushed herself up and moved closer to Trystan. This allowed him a quick peek at her luscious curves before he felt them pressed firmly against his chest.
“Then, why aren’t you ravishing me," she purred in his ear.
Trystan thought he might melt into the water. “Lina,” he moaned. “What are you doing to me?”
Her pride morphed into a smile as she dragged her hand up his thigh, then slowly, excruciatingly slowly, skimmed her fingers along his hardened length.
“I haven’t done anything yet,” she teased. “But that’s about to change.”
He let out a muffled growl when her arms wrapped around him, stoking her desire even more.
“Lina, you’re hurt," he said, offering one last out.
“I’m fine!"
“I want you to feel better!”
She pushed back with seductive eyes, just begging to be taken.
“If you want me to feel better... I can offer some suggestions on how you can do that.”
His erection pulsated against her thigh, and she silently lauded herself for her restraint at that moment.
“Are you sure?” he whispered as her hands sunk under the water grasping him at his base, pleasuring him with slow, deliberate strokes until he quivered beneath her.
“100% sure,” she hissed, parting his lips with her tongue, entangling it with his for a long, sensual kiss.
The grin on his face couldn’t have been wider when they parted. “If you keep doing this, I'll see to it that we fall through ceilings together every day."
Carolina straddled him, placing him at her center before holding him tight. Unbridled shrieks of pleasure filled the air as she slowly sank down on him. He reached up and cupped her breasts just as he filled her completely. She closed her eyes, remaining still for just a moment to savor the feeling, and then, with a wicked grin she began to grind shamelessly against him.
If either had a worry about the water that splashed onto the floor, they certainly didn't show it as they brought each other to the precipice of pleasure again, and again until they unraveled in each other's arms.
“I don’t know what doctor recommended this treatment plan,” Trystan said trying to catch his breath. “But I really need to thank them.”
"What, this is how I fix boo-boos?" Carolina smiled.
"Then, I need to thank you."
Shortly after, the couple curled up in bed... completely in need of painkillers to soothe their aching muscles. But the blissful smiles on their faces as they drifted off to sleep made it very, very clear... sore muscles be damned, it had all been worth it.
Whatttttt!? Cross over?! Also that is not Ethan Ramsey why does he look so evil. Stop using AI and if you’re gonna use it atleast make sure it looks decent!!
Okay I’ll say it. This is cute. I am a sucker for just plain fluff. Also this could really up the stakes for book 3. Since now that they are engaged they really have to deal with how they’re gonna navigate being out with their relationship, the wedding, and mc’s dads death investigation
Also I’m not that surprised that Trystan decided to propose after they got back because of his past, I think that deep down he is so afraid of losing MC to the point where I think in his mind, he doesn’t want to lose this opportunity of having her in his life and I think that’s why he’s moving so fast because he did not get to spend as much time with Juliana as he wanted to and that, also could explain why he’s proposing this soon. That’s atleast what I think
I just couldn't let the first chapter stand. This story is not part of my headcanon. In my HC, Trystan is in tune enough with Carolina to know she'd consider an engagement premature at this stage. But, I can conceivably see Trystan wanting to propose for... reasons. So, I wanted to do a little fix it... and here it is in two parts. Oh, and since I can suck at getting subsequent parts up, part two will be posted later today. :)
Book: Crimes of Passion: The Proposal
Pairing: m!Trystan Thorne x Carolina Rose (F!MC)
Characters: Ruby Webster, Luke Watanabe, Mafalda Ginovesi
Words: 2,074
Rating: Teen
Summary: Carolina makes an unexpected discovery in Trystan's kitchen, then runs out to seek advice from her friends.
A/N: Participating in @choicesmaychallenge24 Hera: Marriage
Part Two
Crimes of Passion Masterlist
Complete Masterlist
There’s something special about early mornings in New York City - before the sun peeks through the clouds and the first bird has yet to sing its song. It’s the only time you’ll find the City that never sleeps at rest and it can be intoxicating. But the serenity on the streets of New York at this early hour was nothing compared to the tranquility inside Trystan Thorne’s apartment.
There, he slept peacefully with the love of his life nuzzled closely at his side. But while Trystan was adrift in dreamland, he awakened Carolina from hers, courtesy of somniloquy, or as the masses would call it... talking in his sleep.
“Yes, Your Majesty... Right away... I’ll find it...”
Carolina opened her eyes with a smile; she had seen this show before and found it quite entertaining. It rarely had a repeat, so she never knew what was in store.
“Unhand me, you beast! Otherwise, I can’t promise the search will be thorough!”
She cocked a brow at that one, gently rubbing Trystan's back. “What the hell are you dreaming about, my prince.”
With a quick jerk, he rolled over, desperately reaching out in his sleep. “Don’t go, Carolina! I love you!”
The level of desperation in his voice tugged at Carolina’s heart, and she quickly pulled him into a protective embrace.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered, kissing the top of his sleepy head. “You silly man. I love you, too.”
Still sleeping, Trystan's face visibly changed as he snuggled closer; peace and contentment were the rules for the day. Once she was certain he was sleeping soundly, Carolina decided returning to her slumber was the best thing to do, and she was just about to reach that goal when the ring of her phone jolted her awake. Not wanting to disturb Trystan, she lowered the volume and quickly tiptoed out of his room, grumbling the whole way. She saw Mafalda’s name on her screen and answered with an exaggerated yawn.
“Who’s dead?” she asked, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“Excuse me?”
“If you’re calling me this early in the morning, I’m assuming someone died, and you need me to find out who did it.”
Mafalda’s sarcastic grin was so powerful Carolina could hear in her voice. “It doesn’t always have to be that deep... or tragic... But I have a case I want you to start on immediately.”
She went on to explain that one of New York’s wealthiest and most influential socialites had her dog stolen while strolling in Central Park; time was of the essence, and the heiress was willing to pay handsomely to have her precious poodle back home.
“Really?” Carolina asked. “This sounds like an easy payday to me!”
“I admire your confidence; now, see it through. The client’s name is Nina Ricci, and her address is....”
“Hold on a second,” Carolina replied, fumbling through a kitchen drawer. “I need to find a pen.”
Still groggy, she was quickly awakened when her fingers brushed over a soft, velvet box. Her heart stopped when she looked down—after all, she had only seen that color blue in movies... and she knew what it meant. It wasn’t nosiness as much as her detective’s acumen that made her open the box at once, and she gasped loud enough for Mafalda to hear when she saw what was inside.
“Carolina... are you OK?”
It was a ring. Not any old ring, but an engagement ring fit for royalty glistening in her hands.
“No... this... this can’t be....” she muttered.
“Carolina, what can’t be?”
“Oh, uh... Mafalda... it’s uh... it’s nothing. Uhm... I’ll be at the office within the hour.”
She hung up without waiting for a reply, her heart racing as she stared at the glittering gem in her hand.
“This can’t be...” she repeated. “He’s not planning on proposing... is he?”
She brought the ring closer, the radiant light it emanated assaulting her startled eyes. She had never been one of those girls who dreamed about engagements from childhood, so she couldn’t even begin to guess how many carats this was, though she knew it eclipsed the two-carat boulder that graced Mafalda’s left hand.
“This had to cost him more than I’ve earned in my lifetime,” she muttered. “This is crazy! And he has it in the kitchen drawer... the kitchen drawer. The man has, like... five safes in this apartment! And he keeps this in the kitchen drawer?”
She let out a shaky breath as a million thoughts raced in her mind. She’d be lying if she said she never thought about the two of them getting married...someday... in the future. The distant future, but this... this was far too soon!
“Is he really ready for this? Am I?”
A vision of Trystan on one knee appeared before her. He cradled the precious gem in his hand, and that sweet, doe-eyed look she had become unable to deny was all over his face. She broke into a sweat. She considered Googling her symptoms. Dizziness, nausea, and a rapid heartbeat could indicate many things, but she felt guilty for hoping to find "discovering an engagement ring in your lover’s kitchen drawer" among the culprits.
The sound of footsteps plodding down the hall pulled her from her panicked state. She returned the ring to the exact spot where she found it and grabbed a container of orange juice from the fridge. Jumping into a chair at the kitchen counter, she scrolled through her phone, attempting to look nonchalant.
That's where a groggy Trystan found her. "Look at you!" He mumbled as his arms encircled her. “It should be against the law to look that good so early in the morning.”
“Really?” She grinned. “You look pretty good in the mornings, too, sir. If they make it illegal, I would have to arrest you.”
“Kinky,” he growled. “As long as we’re in the same cell, I wouldn’t mind one bit.”
He shuffled to the counter to make a pot of coffee. “What are you doing up so early?”
“Mafalda called. She has a case for me. I’ll be heading into the office momentarily.”
Trystan’s face fell. “Today! But we just got back from Drakovia! Surely, Mafalda can spare you for a day!”
“You have a lot to learn about Mafalda... and what it’s like to be a working person,” Carolina grinned.
“Then it's time I learn. I’ll get dressed and go with you.”
“NO!” Carolina yelled, halting him in his path.
“Why? We are partners, aren’t we?”
“Uh, yeah. But Mafalda only requested me, and, uh, hon... life’s been a whirlwind lately. I think I need a few hours to focus on myself and my work... is that OK?”
“Of course it is. Maybe we could meet up later, at...”
“Oh, look at the time!” Carolina interrupted, planting a quick kiss on Trystan’s cheek before bolting toward the door. “I have to go! Talk to you later!”
“Carolina, wait...” he hollered after her, but it was pointless. She was already gone, and Trystan’s dazed look turned into one of pure amusement.
“I always knew it would be interesting to date an American,” he grinned, raising his coffee cup to his lips. “I just had no idea how interesting.”
~~~~~
A short time after, Carolina burst into the agency, startling Ruby and Luke, who were already there.
“Ruby!” a red-faced Carolina panted. “I need your help! I need your help right now! It’s an...emergency!”
“If it’s about finding the poodle, I’m not your woman. I don’t know much about dogs.”
“It’s not about the dog! It’s about the ring!”
Ruby scrunched her nose. “Did someone lose a ring?”
“No! No, it’s not about a lost ring; it’s about a FOUND ring! An engagement ring! In Trystan’s drawer!”
The room fell silent as the couple’s eyes grew wide. They exchanged a shocked look before Luke turned to his friend with alarm.
“You’re right. This is an emergency!”
“I know!” Carolina screeched, crumbling into a nearby chair. “This has never happened to me! What am I supposed to do with this?”
Ruby sat at her friend’s side, resting a comforting hand atop her knee.
“ Carolina, I realize this is... soon... and it's a bit of a shock, but the man you adore is planning on proposing. You may not be ready, but this isn’t exactly a tragedy.”
“Well, that depends on how you define tragedy,” Luke injected.
“Honestly, it’s not even all that surprising,” Ruby stated, glowering in Luke’s direction.
“It’s not?” Carolina questioned. “We’ve been together three months, Ruby!”
“Sure. But if you kept up with the latest royal gossip like I do, you’d know that royals operate a much different playing field than us mere mortals. Engagements tend to happen pretty quickly in their world. Granted, most of them are arranged, but still.”
“Well, I’m not a royal!” Carolina huffed. “And I haven’t talked to my Uncle Tommy today, but I’m comfortable saying that he hasn’t been having late-night conversations with Viktoria and Maksim to discuss my dowry!”
Anxiety overwhelming her, she jumped to her feet, pacing the floor furiously before her friends.
“Who does this! Who goes and buys a ring... a very expensive ring, from TIFFANY’S, I might add...”
“Oh! It’s from Tiffany’s!” Ruby cooed.
“.... without even talking about it first! In the year of our lord 2024!” She motioned for Luke to get out of his seat. “I need to sit... I’m hyperventilating!”
Knowing better than to fight her, Luke acquiesced. “Carolina, you could always just tell him you found the ring and, you know, talk about it like grown-ups?”
The three friends turned toward the sound of an exasperated sigh and found Mafalda leaning against the frame of her office door. She crossed the room and placed a steaming cup of coffee before her beleaguered employee. “You need to calm down.”
“How much did you hear?” Caronlina asked wearily.
“All of it.”
“You heard all of it, and you’re telling me to calm down!”
“Yes. Get yourself together! You’ve faced down mobsters, cult killers, and murderous evil brothers; for fucks sake, you can handle coming face to face with a ring in Trystan's apartment!"
“She has a point,” Luke agreed.
“Mafalda, you’re the only expert on marriage present,” Ruby interjected. “What advice do you have?”
“Please,” Mafalda scoffed. “The only marriage I’m an expert on is my own.” She turned to Carolina, arms crossed and a look that was both comforting and commanding on her face. “I know you love Trystan, but have you given any thought to marrying him?”
“I mean... maybe a couple times... in passing. But I imagined it the future... the distant future... Even if marriage was important to me, in the three months I’ve known him, we’ve been busy chasing down those killers and murders you mentioned... never mind clearing Trystan's name and keeping him out of a Drakovian prison! When would I have had time to be thinking about... marriage?”
Mafalda screwed her eyes shut as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. “You need to talk to him. He needs to hear these things from you, not us. Look, some people have whirlwind courtships, get married, and go on to have a beautiful life together, but Carolina, a marriage takes two people, and if you’re not ready for it yet... that’s fine. But tell him that.”
“Yeah, it’s not like he’s going to up and leave you if you say you’re not ready,” Luke added.
Carolina turned to him, and for the first time today the anxious look in her eyes was replaced with one of fear. “How... how do you know that?”
“Because I have eyes,” he half-smiled. “He’s crazy about you, and you’re crazy about him. Just... go get your timelines straight.”
“He’s right,” Mafalda agreed. I always say that if people in a relationship are honest and love each other, they’ll get through anything.”
Carolina gulped down the rest of her coffee, appearing more at ease than she had since this morning’s discovery. “You’re right. Now, do I tell him I found the ring and have this conversation with him now? Or wait until he proposes and say...no.”
“Offh! That’s a tough one,” Ruby jumped in. “You know Trystan... he’s go big or go home. If he’s proposing, I’m sure he has a flash mob planned.”
Carolina ran a hand down her face. "Thanks for that, Ruby," she groaned.
“You’ll have to make that call,” Maflada smiled, tossing a file Carolina’s way. “But you have some time to mull it over because, right now, you have a poodle to find.”
So back in b1 when she cuddled them both to stay warm,,,,, they really were just awake the whole time?? Just laying close to each other in pure silence? Just 🧍🏻♂️🧍🏽♀️🧍🏽♂️ with Gabe and Cas like 👁️👄👁️ the whole eightish hours?
Summary: The beginning stages of Detective Rose and Dr. Webster's friendship.
A/N: Day eleven of my 30 days of drabbles. This is another one I want to expand on when the month is over. Prompt: friends from @choicesaprilchallenge24.
One
Emma looks at the body before turning to the medical examiner. "Dr. Webster, what was the cause of death? Your preliminary report said gunshot, but you registered some doubts at the time."
"As it turns out," Dr. Ruby Webster begins, "that was the cause of death, but Mr. Brown would have died regardless. He took a lethal dose of fentanyl some time prior."
"Any way to track down where it comes from?"
"I'm afraid that's your area, Detective..."
"Rose." Emma pushes her hair back and sighs. "Well, it was worth a shot. Thanks, Doctor."
"Any time. I must admit, I'm glad you noticed those doubts in the first place. Officers Holbeck and Morris seemed... less than inclined to do so."
She resists, barely, the urge to roll her eyes. "That's not a surprise. Please let me know if you find something else."
"Will do. I hope you find whoever did this to him."
Emma's eyes harden. "Oh, I will."
Two
"Medical malpractice case," Mafalda announces. "The client wants to prove that her mother's death was a direct result of Dr. Allen's negligence after surgery."
"That might be hard to prove."
"We'll need to consult with a medical examiner. The issue is that my usual guy just retired."
Emma cocks her head. "Actually... I might know someone. Ruby Webster. She works at Astoria Mortuary, I dealt with her a few times when I still worked at the precinct."
"What's she like?"
"Brilliant, perceptive, open-minded. And she seems to really care about justice for a change."
Mafalda nods. "Okay. Reach out to her. If she works out, we might have found our new consultant."
Three
"Dr. Webster!"
She turns to face her. "Detective! It's been a while."
"Yeah, I've..." Emma forces a smile as she holds out her card. "Taken a career detour. I'm with the Ginovesi Detective Agency now."
"That's a surprise. But considering you were waiting for me outside the mortuary, I assume you must have a professional reason to be here?"
"You assume correctly. A 57-year-old woman, perfectly healthy. Died three days after an appendectomy. Her daughter thinks it was malpractice."
"I'm guessing you have more details."
"I do. Any chance you'd be willing to help me out? Ms. Ginovesi would reimburse you for your time, of course."
Webster looks at her watch and nods. "I want to help, but do you mind if we do it over coffee? I've been up for 18 hours."
"Sure. I owe you.”
Four
"Interesting place."
"Don't let the appearance fool you," Webster says with a laugh. "Best coffee in the city."
"Oh? I might owe you on more than one front in that case."
"You're a coffee person, too?"
"What other motivation is there to get up in the morning?"
"Exactly! I knew I liked you, Detective."
"Emma."
"Emma, then.” She smiles. “And please, call me Ruby.”
As the first Wednesday without Cursed Heart (sob) and also because it's Wednesday, I wanted to share what I've been working on: a rewrite/expansion of the end of TCH2.
This is definitely still a work in progress and some aspects may change! But for the moment, this story will: lengthen the period of time Ella remains cursed and make it more difficult for Kieran to cure her, change what happens with the Sources and the courts, and continue Ella and Kieran's story with a more satisfactory ending (I hope!!)
Also it's from Kieran's POV because I need more angst lol.
Read more below, and I super appreciate feedback if you have any!
~~~~
Jack grits his teeth. Even bound with golden ropes of magic and pinned against the wall, his father’s body lying cold mere feet away, Jack’s bravery doesn’t waver as he levels a glare at Ella. Somehow despite everything, Kieran finds an ember of respect – respect? - flicker to life within him at this.
He has my mother’s bravery.
“Do it,” their enemy spits, still so full of hatred, even now in the room where his father breathed his last breath. “Get it over with. I have nothing left to fight for.”
Ella - his gentle, loving, merciful Ella no longer - raises her hands. At her fingertips, magic crackled with furious energy, unnatural power flowing through her mortal body, her eyes glowing white-hot and inhuman. Her face is blank of emotion, save for determination. A lust for violence which is so antithesis to her as to be grotesque. The cold rage of her aberrant magic fills the room like the suffocating pressure of a storm bearing down on them, promising wrath and violence.
This should feel victorious. A wrong, righted. Blood repaid for blood. Fae do not shy away from bloodshed, and they do not forgive debts. This is justice.
And yet everything inside Kieran screams that he cannot allow this to happen.
His Ella is no killer. His Ella taught him mercy and forgiveness. She found the truth of him buried deep beneath cold cruelty and a broken, cursed heart and steadfastly refused to leave him there despite all he had done to her.
He sees it all suddenly as if from a vision. A year ago, he was the heartless monster intent on death, and she was the helpless one. She saved him. Stopped him. Even at the risk of her own death.
And it broke his curse.
Now, I have lost everything.
His home, his crown, his magic.
Ella is lost.
The words pounded through his head with every furious thud of his racing heart. Ella sacrificed her heart – for him. Because he was not strong enough to defend his home, his people, or his crown. Ella knew the immortality curse was their last and only hope.
And in that last, horrible moment, he could not argue.
I promise you will not have to take care of me like this again.
His words rang in his ears and made him ashamed. He was so foolish. She was always taking care of him, even now. What use was he?
Some Prince of Fae.
Never before had Kieran felt a powerlessness this profound. Never before had he despaired as desperately as he did now.
She had done this for him. Let go of all that made her special, sacrificing all the love within her, all possibility of happiness and warmth. Turned herself into a shell capable only of violence and hate. Just like he had been when she’d first met him. She hadn’t abandoned him, even powerless and frightened as she was. His pride would never let him abandon her now.
Jack be damned. His rightful vengeance be damned. He had to let it go.
Sir Monty, please forgive me.
He would not lose Ella too.
Kieran took her wrist. Felt the magic inside her, wildly uncontrolled, unfocused. She was too new to it. She could kill him with one wrong move, one careless thought.
Her empty, glowing eyes sharpen on him. “What are you doing?”
He held her wrist tighter as his heart sinks with agony. He can scarcely draw a full breath around the heaviness of his grief. “Saving you from yourself.”
That billowing rage washes over him now as Ella focuses it all onto him, and Kieran feels the strangest sense of calm. Their situations had reversed. He was mortal, and she was not. If she chose to kill him, he would have no recourse. None at all. He would die willingly by her hand, if he must.
But he would go to death with an unburdened conscience and a pure heart, full of love.
Ella’s voice holds an animal rage Kieran has never once beheld. “Jack killed Monty! He deserves to die!”
“Maybe he does,” Kieran acknowledges in a quiet voice, feeling his half-brother’s sharp gaze flit warily to him. “But you cannot kill him without destroying yourself. The Ella I fell in love with is no killer.”
There is a steadiness inside him now, along with the grief and the dull horror of all that has transpired. His enemy still bleeds from wounds Kieran inflicted upon him. Kieran bleeds as well.
“Then you kill him,” Ella snarls. “Take the vengeance you say you want!”
Kieran’s heart wavers, temptation rising. He glances at Jack. There is an undeniable resemblance between them. A defiant spark he well recognizes. A bravery that runs in his own blood. For a moment, he sees himself draw that iron sword across Jack's throat, watching the last of his blood stain the old floorboards of this mortal tavern, steps away from his father's body.
Perhaps, at one time in his long life, he may have done just that.
But now he turns back to his furious, beautiful, terrifying Ella, his words heavy and thick in his throat. “We have lost enough, don’t you think? You and I?”
His words seem to have no effect on her. He did not expect them to. He had hoped, but...perhaps he hoped for too much.
He remembers too well how it felt to live heartless. How his only companions had been pain and anger. Emotional pleas would not touch her. But he could still appeal to her logic. She seemed to remember she was supposed to love him; she had not yet pushed him away. Perhaps there was still a chance.
He cradled her face in his palm. How someone could feel exactly the same and yet be an entirely different person – it tore at him inside in ways he would not allow to show on his face.
“You were the only one who could have stayed my hand against our enemies,” Kieran whispered. “And now, I will stay yours.”
“Let me go!” Ella made a fist within the shackle of Kieran’s grip, her outburst like cold water to the face. Yet she did not leave.
She could have broken every bone in his arm with ease, and yet she did not break from his hold.
“Ella…” He whispers her name, hoping, waiting, wishing. But there is no change in her face. “I promised you I would break your curse. Free you from this prison, just as you freed me. I know your heart is not lost to me. It is your precious heart that I cannot stand to carry the guilt of this violence. We have a chance now to change things. Look at me. I once shared your fate. I know what it is to live without a heart. You once told me that I have rage, pain, and violence within me, but it doesn’t rule me. It does not rule you either, my Ella.
Ella makes a token gesture to break from him, but it’s almost as though she has forgotten she is all-powerful, and her resistance is that of a human, not an immortal.
“You do not have to do this,” Kieran pronounces fiercely. “I am still your prince. And As Prince of the Moon Court, I command you leave Jack’s fate in my hands.”
It is this proclamation that finally makes the angry magic in the room die to nothing. Ella is staring at Kieran with wide eyes, until slowly, the overflowing magic in her body recedes enough to show her human again.
“As my prince commands,” Ella says quietly, but not without an undercurrent of bitten-off rebuttal.
The golden ropes pinning Jack to the tavern wall disappear, and he falls limply to his knees and does not attempt to rise or flee. Instead he hangs his head, raven hair falling in his eyes, revealing the ever-so-delicately pointed tips of his ears.
Only moments later does Kieran realize Jack’s shoulders are heaving with silent sobs, so overcome is he with his own aching grief that Ella remains heartless and cursed beside him. He does not let go of her wrist, and she makes no move to break away.
Perhaps there is still hope.
“Kill me,” Jack whispers. He is utterly defeated now, spirit broken. “Send me to my father's side. It's the only place I've ever belonged. All that I've worked for is lost; there’s no place for me in this world. I’ve broken it worse than it was when I set out on this quest for justice. I must pay for all the hurt I’ve caused.”
“No, Jack,” Kieran states with the authority of a crown prince. The surety in his voice makes Jack look up at him, questioningly. There are unshed tears in his eyes. “You don’t get to take the easy way out and leave us all to clean up your mess. Your punishment shall be helping us restore what has been broken.”
Stars above, the look in Jack’s eyes reminds Kieran so achingly of their mother. How had he never seen it before now?
You did not want to see it.
Kieran sighs. He squeezes Ella’s wrist gently, briefly, before letting go. Then he steps away from her, crossing the room, to offer a hand to his brother.
