Warnings: captivity, restraints, gag, implied non con, creepy/intimate whumper
"Isn't this just lovely, sweets?" Whumper said as they gestured to the candles lit all around. "I wanted a romantic evening with you."
Whumpee growled around the gag in their mouth. Whumper had tied them to the head board hours ago and hadn't touched them since. They knew that was about to change.
"So fiery, I do love that about you, sweets. The fiery ones are always the best to break." Whumper slowly sauntered over to the bed. "I'm going to enjoy breaking you."
Whumpee tried to pull their wrists free as Whumper climbed up and began to caress them through their shirt. "Don't worry, sweets, we have all the time in the world. I want to enjoy this. I want to take my time. Why, we might not even been done before all these candles burn out. I do have a lot of stamina you know."
Whumpee growled again as they tried to jerk away. Whumper leaned over and nipped at the shell of Whumpee's ears. "Let's see if you are up to snuff, sweets. Let's see what you're made of," they whispered as their fingers caressed lower and lower.
Whumpee squeezed their eyes shut tight as Whumper's fingers moved. They didn't want to see the delight in Whumper's eyes. Whumper chuckled softly. "This is going to be fun, sweets."
Tyler and Carly interrogate Tara's informant, and Tyler takes desperate measures.
Part of [Way Over His Head / Tyler's story].
Also, this is for @amonthofwhump 12 Days of Whumpmas, Day 6 - "Stress Position" and "Too Late".
Content / warnings: BBU, Facility Whump, Whumper PoV, captivity, stress position, interrogation, drugging (in an interrogation), torture, light notes of medical whump, syringe, memory loss, protagonist making some drastic choices. Seriously. Tyler is not a hero.
The miracle box, Doctor Wood called the collection of vials and syringes in the case Carly had sent Tyler to pick up for the interrogation.
He knew some of the color coded ones, single purpose to induce pain, panic or pleasure.
"All our specialties", the Doc had said. "Don't mix and match though. However much Handler Thompson likes to play. Give it at least two hour before you change colours. Otherwise, the subject's mind gets temporarily..." She mimicked an explosion. "Fried."
Tyler had just nodded. He'd only ever used one of them - purple, the aphrodisiac - to prepare 238 for her owner in the final stages of her training. He lacked the fantasy of what they'd need that one for, when dealing with the pet lib activist and he refused to delve into it any further. Nor did he think about why he had volunteered for this. He could've just gone home. Slept through his hangover. Kept himself from making just another stupid decision in today's collection of stupid decisions. He could've erased that note he'd written the fridge. Went on with his life.
But no, here he was in WRU facility 002, openly carrying a box of drugs, suitable to erase a whole person.
Here he was, covertly carrying a recording phone, barely able to say what he was expecting to find, much less what he would do with it after.
Tyler felt sweat collect in his collar, single droplets running down his spine. Don't let her see, he told himself. Don't make yourself suspicious. Be your normal workplace self. Handler Parker. Doing his job.
He forced himself to unclench his jaw, relax his shoulders, and just walk behind Carly.
Facility 002's interrogation rooms were on the ground floor, just on the other side of the staff cafeteria. Tyler had never been to this wing of the building, he realized, as matching the pace of Carly's easy stroll. He'd expected storage rooms here, or garages, or something maintenance-related. He'd not expected barred cells that were even tinier than the rooms they kept the trainees in. He'd not expected rooms so obviously fitted with hooks and chains and torture implements.
It made sense, in a way.
What they did to the trainees in the main wings happened in clinically clean white rooms, with uniform layouts and precisely inventarised equipment. Well documented, perfectly designed. They had chaptered handbooks and detailed reports. Rules and regulations. It was horrifying, how easily he'd adapted to that framework.
And now, here, in the not-even-secret, not-even-in-the-basement, wing C, the sheer cover was stripped to expose what it really was WRU did. They were torturers. It was nothing but a business model.
They were torturers, and Handler Tyler Parker was one of them.
His knees threatened to give in, and he leaned to a wall, as casual as he could manage. Keys jingled, when Carly opened one of the doors. Keys, not the perfectly white key cards with the handlers' ID numbers on them. Of course. No paper trail. Not even in their systems.
"I'd love to tell you she's a piece of work," Carly said conversationally, while pushing the door open. "But she's not. She's a weak and whiny cry baby, broken as can be. No idea where she got the guts to stand up to us, but I guess it was a person, and I guess she'll give us some names soon, will you, kitten?"
All she got in return was a pained, high pitched whine.
The woman was strung up in the middle of the room, bent forward, with her arms fixated to a metal bar that pressed against her shoulders. A chain from the ceiling pulled the bar up, while another to the ground forced the woman to kneel.
It looked like something he'd be disciplined for, using on 238. Too dangerous, too much risk for lasting damage. But this one? She wasn't an investment. She wasn't here to be sold, she was here only to be broken.
A garbled scream escaped from her throat when Carly rested a gloved hand on the prisoner's strained shoulder. "Zsuzsanna. Susy, I recall, to your friends?"
"Please," she whimpered. "I know nothing! I never did anything. Please, let me go."
Without so much as a change of expression, Carly backhanded her, watching as she screamed and her body spasmed in pain. "Drop the drama, Suzy. We all know you'll cease to exist once this is done. Question is, how long will your pretty body make it. Do we go through the effort to find pet 002242, the one with your face on it, a nice loving home, or do we use her as a bait in Guard Dog training. Personally, I favour the latter. Poetic ending for a pet lib slut, being torn to pieces by the very pets you wanted to save." She chuckled to herself. "But. This is not about me. It's your call. Will you give us some names, some of those pet lib friends of yours, or will you seal 242's fate?"
"Please!" The woman looked up, dark eyes searching for Tyler, silently pleading. Her face was wet, covered in a thin film of tears and snot. She looked horrible. For a moment he wondered, if that was normal. If all involuntary acquisitions went through that. If their perfect, pretty 238 had been messily begging like that, too. He'd made the lying to himself so easy.
Tyler shook his head, folded his arms and straightened his back. His grey handler's uniform felt too tight around his neck. The weight of the phone in his pocket felt too heavy. The prisoner didn't notice, though. Tyler was tall and muscular, didn't need much effort to be intimidating.
"Too late," he said. He was talking to himself, more than her, and it felt horrible.
Her sob turned into a scream when Carly's baton cut through the air and landed on her ribs.
"Tyler, give me some of the yellow," she said smugly, before bringing down the baton again, calling forth another cry. "Let's spice this up. We don't have forever. I want to watch the game at four."
Tyler opened the kit with numb fingers, while Carly paused her beating long enough for letting the prisoner see the vials.
Natural team work. As if they did this every day. And, Tyler realized, he did. Him and Alan with 238. A demonstration of scary effic, their routines gripping into each other like matched dials.
"Yellow," Carly said, as she turned to watch Tyler draw up the syringe. "It's for pain, you know. After that, the tiniest brush of my fingers will hurt you, more than my baton could. I can caress you into agony." Her fingers lightly wandered over the woman's arm, and she whined under Carly's touch. "Please, I... I don't even know pet lib, I just... I just try and protect the kids in my shelter, please..."
"Already getting talkative, huh?" Carly's fingers ran over the woman's neck playfully, up, until she cupped her cheek. "How about we start with this journalist you've been talking to, then?"
The syringe almost snapped in Tyler's hand. No. No. Not Tara, not so soon.
"Journalist? I haven't... I don't know what you're talking about, I... She's..."
"Ty?" Carly prompted.
He stared into the kit. Colours mashed into a blur in front of his eyes. 'The journalist'. She couldn't. He... He couldn't.
"She's got... nothing to do with this, please, I... I don't..." He heard another whimper. Carly had wrapped her fingers around the prisoners neck, leaned in obscenely close, as she whispered something into her ear. None of them looked at him. None of them saw, how he snapped open another vial with shaking fingers.
Don't ever mix and match.
He hoped it'd be fast. He hoped it'd be okay.
"Come on." Carly grabbed the woman's hair and yanked her head to the side, other hand taking the syringe from Tyler and jabbing it into the woman's bared neck.
Gorou tested the shackles that bound his wrists behind his back. They were incredibly tight, and his squirming only seemed to tighten them. There was a tug on his neck as the rope wrapped around it reminded him of its presence. He went still again, afraid that the rope would tighten even further if he moved. His legs were aching, and his eyes were heavy. He hadn't slept since they had captured him, fear of choking himself in his sleep fresh in his mind. That had been three days ago. Gorou's legs trembled under him, and he struggled to remain upright. Through his haze, he heard fighting—the clashing of swords and loud jeering. He saw the door slam open as his kidnappers rushed in to ensure he would remain their prisoner. He heard Itto's boisterous voice before he saw him, and he sounded angry. He watched, vaguely aware of his surroundings, as the door flew open and a pissed-off Oni stalked in. The usual cheerful glow, replaced with something dangerous. Gorou hazily watched Itto fight when, all at once, his legs gave out, and he fell to the side. The rope yanked, and Gorou let out a strangled choking sound. Black spots danced at the corners of his vision. There was a whizzing sound and a thwip, and Gorou hit the ground. He gazed weakly at the opposite wall to see Itto's claymore embedded into it. The rest of the fight was far too hazy for Gorou to discern. When he became more aware, Itto was kneeling beside him, concern on his face.
"Gorou?" Itto asked as he pulled Gorou into his lap, "You with me?"
Gorou couldn't even respond as a wave of exhaustion washed over him. He sagged against Itto's chest as his vision went dark.
He awoke sometime later in a bed; he was too tired to care whose bed it was. He curled against the large warm mass beside him and fell asleep again.
Warnings: violence, assault, character vomiting (towards the end in a hospital), mentions of offscreen character death, language, vivid description of injuries. Whump, all the whump.
Notes: my first prompt for @amonthofwhump 12 Days of Whumpmas and a gift for @cooldadmondmiles for the Infamous ProtoCreed_Dogs 2021 Winter Gift Exchange!
Collection Summary: A collection of semi-related one shots for Whumpmas 2021 featuring one Delsin Rowe. Oh, the poor unfortunate soul. Lots of Delsin whump, but he will have plenty of comfort from the people that love him. Rowe bro feels and Delgenetch
Chapter Summary: Delsin, having taken a much needed trip back to Salmon Bay to visit his tribe and his brother for about a week, returns to Seattle back to his boyfriend and girlfriend.
Or, he would have, if not for being assaulted on the way there. His not so distant past has caught up to him in the worst possible way. Reggie, multiple Akomish, and Eugene and Fetch are worried sick about him. They search well into the night...but what they find chills them to the bone
(AO3 Link) | (FF Link)
Prompt: 1) Partridge in a Pear Tree: Tied to a Tree | Given as a Gift | Putting up the Tree
Months after fighting Augustine, saving Seattle, and healing his tribe, Delsin still did not feel like the hero people made him out to be. He was just one guy in his twenties who barely had his life together. Even though he was there, smack in the middle during all of this, whenever he heard someone talk about it or heard about it on the news, it always felt…surreal. Like it wasn’t actually him mentioned. As if it was some other Delsin.
He tried to push those thoughts aside right now.
He was having a decent day. His depression was manageable today and he didn’t want to work himself into a downward spiral.
Stopping in his walk, he leaned against a tree and took a deep breath, placing a hand against his chest. Five seconds in, eight seconds out. ‘If you feel yourself getting overwhelmed,’ he could hear his therapist’s voice in his head, ‘stop everything you’re doing if possible and breathe. You’d be surprised how much that will help, even if just for a few minutes.’
He had been doing alright for most of today. He had gone back to Salmon Bay to visit his tribe, both wanting to make sure that everyone was okay and just to see some familiar faces and places. Living in his apartment in Seattle was great, but he had been with the Akomish his whole life—he had missed them. Betty had been a sight for sore eyes—her pies an even better sight for his sore (hungry) stomach, and hearing the kids running around all over the place calmed him. There had been a handful of kids that he had thought weren’t…weren’t going to make it when they were suffering from the concrete. One five-year-old, Stephanie, had an incredibly weak immune system while two ten-year-old twins, Jessie and Jennie, already had problems that affected their healing. He didn’t know the exact details as he wasn’t a doctor, but Delsin was aware that they had always been in and out of the hospital since they were very young.
Getting to spend some time with Reggie was better than expected. Refreshing, even. After his brother had been ki—had been thought to be dead, Delsin was not proud to say he had gone to a dark place after taking down Augustine. He still felt like he was in that place some days…But, joking around with Reggie, eating their favorite junk food, and binging bad TV had made him feel less anxious. Less jittery. Had brought back a sense of normalcy that put him at ease.
Now, he was walking away from the reservation through the woods that surrounded the area. As much as he liked going fast-paced, it was times like these that he liked to take the scenic route. Literally, in this case. He had spent much of his childhood running around between the trees around here, so he wasn’t worried about getting lost. I was born in this area thanks to my parents, and I was born again as an active Conduit here too.
The only good that had come out of meeting that asshole Hank, other than coming into his powers, were Fetch and Eugene. They had become fast friends during The Shit Show, then even more than that when things calmed down.
The ringtone for a video call coming from his phone broke him out of his thoughts. When he pulled out his phone, he was unsurprised to see it was from the group chat he was in with Fetch and Eugene. Speak of the devil. Well, more like devils.
“Hey, D!” Fetch’s voice chirped once he joined the call.
“Hey, Delsin,” Eugene’s greeting was less energetic, though happy to see him, nonetheless.
Delsin smiled. Hearing their voices always made him feel better. “Sup, guys? Missing me that much already? Didn’t think a week away would be so hard on you.”
Eugene snorted while Fetch rolled her eyes. The video shook a bit as the phone was taken and refocused on Eugene’s face. He looked good. Still styled to cover part of his forehead, his bangs didn’t hang so much in front of his glasses anymore. Must have gotten a trim. Delsin liked it as it shaped his face handsomely. “Please,” their angel fiddled with one of his hoodie strings with his free hand, “not uh, not that much. Not to say we didn’t! Um, we to-totally did, but you were busy, and and, you know—“
This time, Fetch took the phone before Eugene’s nervousness grew too much. Her pink hair had grown a bit after getting some actual nutrition and supplements after moving into Delsin’s apartment. It was to the length now that she had it up in an intricately braided bun. One that a single person wouldn’t be able to do. Did Eugene know how to braid? “Don’t get an inflated head, now. You wouldn’t be able to fit into your beanie if that happens.”
“Ha ha, very funny. Such a comedian.”
“I live t’ please, my good man.”
The feeling of autumn leaves trailed under his fingertips as he brushed his fingers against multiple bushes while walking. He loved this weather. “So now that I know you guys weren’t missing my pretty face, what’s up?”
This time Eugene pressed into Fetch’s space instead of taking back the phone. Not that she minded. “We knew you’re coming back to Seattle today. Just, you know, wanted to check on you.” Even dating them for a few months now, Eugene still had times of shyness he struggled with. “Not that you can’t take care of yourself! But…we know what the Akomish are to you.”
“Thanks, ‘Gene,” he smiled at him. He felt something in his chest soften at the concern and thought. They weren’t Akomish, but they were steadily climbing up to that same level of importance in his life. Very steadily.
“Plus, I need to know the latest gossip,” Fetch’s purple eyeshadow shimmered when her eyes crinkled with her grin.
He looked around for a second. About another ten minutes of walking and he would get to the bus stop that would take him to Seattle. Sure, he could use his powers to run or fly there, but that would take energy and just make him tired. And he could work on some sketches while riding on the bus, so that made it an easy decision. “There’s always gossip, so which do you want to hear first? Martha Zee and Jen’s relationship or the ongoing bake-off between Miss Meg and Miss Shiro?”
“The bake-off!” Eugene’s enthusiasm could be felt through the phone.
“We gotta know, did Miss Meg sabotage Miss Shiro’s oven again?” Fetch was hungry for an answer. He couldn’t blame her; the intense bake-off between the two older women had been going on for the past year. It had escalated from a simple disagreement over the best way to cook brownies to prank-level full-on sabotage between two women into their seventies.
He plucked a big yellow leaf from a low hanging branch. He would use it as a texture pressing later. He couldn’t help himself as he said, “Would you believe it was Miss Shiro this time that switched Miss Meg’s cocoa powder with brown pastel powder?”
“She what?!”
“You’re kidding!”
Delsin took great joy in giving them the juiciest new details in the ridiculous, but hilarious, old lady battle. Sometimes sabotaged foods were sullied beyond saving, but more often than not, the ‘not good enough, not simply good enough’ baked goods were just fine for hungry stomachs and sticky fingers around the place. Reg and himself took no shame in hunching under the windowsill and nabbing a mini pie or three.
Or five.
Same diff.
The sun was starting to get low, but not quite to the point of sunset. Four o’clock in the fall was not the same as four o’clock in the summer. Just as he was about to get into details of the loudest argument he had heard between the two women, he felt something slam hard into his side. He was sent flying several feet, coming to a stop when his back hit a tree.
He groaned. Or, he made the approximation of a groan since he was trying to get his lungs to work again. The leaves and dirt under his hands were cool as he pushed himself up. He did not know where the hell his phone went. A cough rattled out of his chest. “The fuck…?”
“Finally found you, you son of a bitch,” a hostile voice hissed from behind him.
Delsin was fast, but apparently this person was faster. Before he could even turn his body to see who in the hell had hit him, he felt a sharp, hard force strike his head. A cry fell out of his mouth. He collapsed back onto the ground. Ringing sounded in his ears and nausea began to make itself known. He blinked, but the spots in his vision did not disappear.
Somehow, he had managed to hear the person speak over the growing ringing in his ears. “Time to make you pay, ‘Hero of Seattle’.”
The smell of dampness and autumn decay hit him first.
Then a bitch of a headache walloped him like a sack of bricks being slammed against his skull. Specifically the back of his head. He groaned. He was about to move his arm to try and rub the ache away until his body jerked in place. He shot his eyes open, vision blurry for just a few seconds—he was restrained against a pole? No. A clearer look around, seeing the dirt, grass, leaves, and bushes, made him realize he was tied against a large tree.
Trying to maneuver himself gave him a worse enlightenment. His hands, which were tied behind him, were covered in a thick slab of something hard. He tried to manipulate the material, but no success. It was too solid to have been neon, video, or smoke, and if it had been concrete, he would have been able to manipulate it. It was too smooth. Metal?
What in the hell happened…?
The pain in his head was making it difficult for him to focus. He remembered walking back from visiting his tribe, taking the long route through the forested area around Salmon Bay. He had been talking to…someone? Had there been someone there with him? He racked his mind and then remembered, oh yes, he had been on a video call with his partners. And then…and then…
He swore. And then someone had attacked him and knocked him out. What the fuck?
“Nice to see you awake, hero,” the same voice from earlier said.
From a thick tree to his left and in front of him leaned the person who, assumedly, had been the one to attack him. She was about Fetch’s height, although leaning towards the much bulkier side. Her hobby must have been benchpressing or something, because the muscles in her arms seemed to strain her shirt as she crossed her arms. (He was only a tiny bit jealous.) Her pale skin contrasted against the deep blue of her hat and bubble vest. Her black pants and boots, however, were fairly nondescript and looked like she could have gotten them anywhere.
He would have said she could have looked like anyone he would come across in the street, but her peculiar stare and pinched frown did not speak to a person from the common masses.
Having no idea what she wanted or what she was going to do to him—well, he had an inkling if the attack and restraining him were to go by—so he thought it best to play it cool as possible. If he said the wrong thing, he didn’t want to know what she would do. “Ah, I hope you haven’t been speaking to the, er, ‘fanclub’ that likes to follow me around. I’m just a regular artist, you see. Like to visit people, tag different places, and eat good food. I would say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but,” he shimmied his shoulders to indicate his bound status, “not really that pleasurable to be like this. Think you can let me go?”
The woman snorted, then shook her head. “I don’t know what he sees that you are. You’re ridiculous.”
Wait a second.
That was not the voice he heard in the forest.
His surprise must have shown on his face because the woman gave a small smirk. “Oh yeah, I don’t want anything really to do with you. It was just my job to get you here.” She pointed to a large thicket of bushes adjacent to him, “He’s the one that you have to deal with.”
Delsin whipped his head to where she was pointing and saw a stupidly tall man. Like, Delsin wasn’t short by any means, but the angle he was at and the height of this man was ridiculous. Probably close to seven feet or something. He really must have been eating his Wheaties since he was born.
“I hate Wheaties,” the man said. Yep, that was the voice from earlier for sure.
Oh, did I say that out loud? Delsin adjusted his wrists to try and wring out the ache from his bound hands. Didn’t work that well. “That’s okay, because you and me both, pal. I swear, my brother used to swear by those things when he wanted to get ahead in his baseball team prac—”
A sharp pain across his mouth cut him off. He hissed at the pain, wondering what the hell happened until he saw a marble-sized metal ball rolling on the ground next to him, shiny with slick red. He licked his lips, and there was a metallic taste in his mouth. He shot his eyes up to meet a pair glaring straight at him, the owner’s hand raised in the air. With a flick of a finger, the man brought back the bloodied ball back to him, sneering at its dirtied surface.
Shit, another Conduit.
And a pissed off one at that.
“Christ, you’re so fucking annoying. Never can keep your mouth shut, can you?” The man shook his head. “Never mind, I already know the answer. I’ve seen you all over the news and online, hero. A chatterbox to a fault. I don’t know how the people of Seattle look up to someone like you.”
Delsin spat out some of the blood that was dripping into his mouth and shot the guy a look. “Hey man, I don’t know what the hell you want with me, but I promise you’re not gonna get that much. I’m close to broke, so if you’re looking for money, you’re not getting any here.”
Metal Man looked like he wanted to set Delsin on fire, which, to be fair, was a look he was kind of used to getting from some people (mostly D.U.P.s). “I don’t want your damn money, you idiot. I want you to suffer!”
He blinked.
His mouth activated quicker than his brain did. “Wow, you sure do sound like a stereotypical movie villain. I don’t think—”
Another ball of metal struck him again, this time larger in size and more forceful in strength. The wind got knocked out of him when it connected with his stomach. Thanks ADHD…getting me into another hole… Breathless, he managed to croak out, “G-Great pitch, man. Must have, hnnn, been in little league as a kid. Though, gotta say, I’m insulted that you want me to suffer so bad. I’ve never even met you before.”
He felt the metal around his arms constrict to the point of feeling the joints of his elbows creak against the trunk of the tree. He couldn’t help the low fuck that escaped his lips, but that seemed to make Metal Man gleeful. Delsin only knew this guy for a few minutes and already decided that he was a bastard. “You may have never met me before directly,” Metal Man started, “but you’ve affected my life in ways that I will never be able to recover from.” It was at this point that Metal Man walked closer to Delsin, and it was something in his face and the way that he moved that set Delsin even more on edge than before.
The bound Conduit was silent when Metal Man squatted in front of him, still dwarfing him with his size. “And what pisses me off even more is that you have no idea what you even did, do you?”
The man was being vague on purpose, which did not help Delsin’s nerves in the slightest. “Like I said before,” he said carefully, “I don’t know you, so I don’t know what I could have done to you. I’m sorry, but I don’t.”
“Tch,” Metal Man rolled his eyes as if he expected the answer, “Of course you don’t.”
He punched Delsin right across the face.
Delsin’s head snapped violently to the side. Lights danced in front of his eyes and that ringing in his ears from earlier made its presence known once again. He groaned, trying to reorient himself. At this rate, his face was going to end up a looking like a messy, old watercolor paint palette.
“My name is Russel Simon, and you, Delsin Rowe, are the murderer of my sister.”
As soon as those words made it to his ears, Delsin could not believe what he was hearing. Him, a murderer? No, no, no that couldn’t be right at all. He’d never killed anyone in his life! Even getting into tussles with D.U.P.s and Akurans, he’d always left them alive. Hurt, but alive. And he made sure he told this guy just that. “You have the wrong person. I don’t know who your sister is, but I didn’t kill her. I’ve never killed anyone before.” Even saying this, his anxiety began to tick up slowly—this situation felt something out of a fever dream. A bad one at that.
The man, now known as Russel, shot out his hand to pull Delsin closer by the collar of his hoodie. The snarl that was present on his face reminded Delsin of some of the feral cats that used to hide away in the cannery. The ones ready to attack someone of they sneezed wrong. He didn’t dare move a muscle right now. “Bullshit! I know for a fact that it was you. My sister was D.U.P., and even though I didn’t always agree with what they did, my sister had a steady paying job that was good for her.” Russel shook Delsin, hand still clutching his hoodie, “So imagine how I felt when I get a call from her superior officer that Sharon wouldn’t be coming home because she was dead.”
Russel threw Delsin back in disgust and the bound Conduit watched him pace irradicably, clutching a hand to his chest. “One of the checkpoint stations got attacked, and oh no, not by some run of the mill thug or criminals looking to cause trouble. No, no…I find out that it was a Conduit who fucking blew up the damn station! And not just any Conduit.” With every word that Russel was saying, dread and fear welled up in Delsin’s chest. He didn’t want to hear anymore.
He didn’t have a choice.
“A smoke-wielding Conduit in a red beanie and hoodie.” He pinned him with a glare that should have vaporized him on the spot. “You, Rowe. You killed my sister that day. It was yourfault the whole scaffolding came down on everyone, and, and—fucking hell, a serrated piece of metal decapitated her! All because of you!”
No.
No, no, nonono, he…No, that couldn’t…Delsin wanted to vomit. His chest hurt, his head throbbed, and it was getting hard to breathe. All he could do was sit there, helpless, and stare at the man in front of him with disbelieving eyes.
But everything he said made sense.
Everything made sense in a sick sort of way.
He had been the only Conduit attacking checkpoint stations when he had first set loose on Seattle with Reggie. Oh God.
He didn’t know how much time had passed. Was he against the tree still? Had it been hours? Minutes? There was too much of everything because how could he have done that? He had done his damnest to make sure all his opponents came out alive, and now he was a murderer.
Her head had gotten decapitated. Because of him.
He was a murderer.
A tight grip on his face brought him back to the physical reality a bit, his wide eyes meeting those of Russel. The manic look from the man’s eyes had disappeared, but Delsin supposed the mania had transferred to him. His body started to shake, and it had nothing to do with the fall chill. “Ohhh, I am glad you finally realized what you’ve done,” Russel’s voice was a stark contrast from earlier: low, almost calm, though darker than before. Dangerous in a way that was making Delsin panic. “Because now…” he stood up straight, looking down at Delsin.
He smiled. “Now, I’m going to take my time with you.”
Fetch, Eugene, and Reggie were besides themselves with worry.
Delsin had been missing for hours now, and there was still no sign of him. None.
The two Conduits had immediately contacted Reggie when Delsin’s call had gotten cut off. They explained that they saw Delsin being tackled by someone and heard them saying something threatening to him before their call cut out. That had been around four o’clock. They had flown via Eugene’s video to the Salmon Bay area faster than ever before—they had set a new record.
Reggie set up a police search in the area as soon as possible. Technically there should have been a waiting period to file a missing person’s report, but Reggie was the Sherriff, and his officers knew Delsin. Everyone knew he wouldn’t have disappeared with no contact like that, especially after such a nice visit to the reservation. Word had spread quickly, despite Reggie’s efforts to not panic the tribe, and before he knew it, a third of the tribe was helping to search, another third was offering to keep a look out around the reservation, and the other third of those who were not able to help were beside themselves. Betty and the kids that looked up to Delsin in particular.
“He was just here. How could something have happened so quick?” Betty had rubbed a hand on her bad knee, as if trying to work out any worry that had manifested as pain. “I just spoke to him before he left.”
“Didn’t Del just leave? Let’s go!” the twins Jessie and Jennie had wanted to go out themselves, but 1) due to them being ten, and 2) getting over pneumonia, the answer had been a firm ‘no’.
Little Stephanie had been in tears thinking that something bad had happened to Delsin. Despite Reggie trying his best not to let the news get to the kids, she had, somehow, been one of the first to have found out. (Her getting worked up had always been detrimental to her health, so Reggie had worried she was going to make herself sick…again.)
It was after eight at night now and there was still no sign of Delsin.
Fetch felt the neon under her skin buzzing with her nerves, while next to her, edges of Eugene’s body kept flickering into pixels. They both had their hands alight with their respective elements for light. Hearing their boyfriend being attacked with no clue as to who did it or why, it was eating at them. They had passed the bus stop that was closest to the reservation. It was the one that went straight to Seattle, the one that Delsin had been planning on taking.
“If he didn’t make it on the bus, and had left the reservation just before disappearing, then he should be somewhere around here, right?” Eugene said.
Reggie hummed, but it wasn’t a good one. Hanging out with Delsin consequently made them spend some more time with the older brother as well; they recognized that hum. “You’re right, but that’s the problem. My officers have looked all over the place starting from the rez and even going past here, but they haven’t found anything yet. Even the tribe has looked all over and come up with squat.”
Fetch swore under her breath. She started to pick up the pace more into the forest, ignoring her name being called behind her. “Then we gotta get movin’! Look even more!” She wanted to burst into neon and just run all over the area to find Delsin, but Reggie would not have been able to keep up. Plus, moving at that speed had the potential to miss something. Searching for a person was an endeavor that required more precision.
And hell, that thought made her frustrated with herself. Neon was the most precise, something she prided herself about. Failing in being precise and not yet finding Delsin made her grit her teeth. She should have been better than this.
Another ten or so minutes later, and they were at the halfway point between the bus stop and the reservation. Reggie’s flashlight and Fetch and Eugene’s power lights met up with flashlight beams coming towards them. It was the other search group. When the met at the middle, the smaller group could see from the look on the larger group’s faces that they had not been successful.
“Yo, Reg,” a man that neither Fetch nor Eugene recognized in a red sweater called out. “We’ve been out here for hours, and I’m not getting a good feeling. You sure he didn’t make it back to Seattle?”
“No,” Fetch answered for him. “Eugene ‘n I were on a video call with him when he was attacked. He hadn’t made it to the bus stop yet.”
A woman who had on a headlamp, leaving her arms free to cross tightly over her chest, swore. Fetch didn’t know her name, but she recognized her from the several times her and Eugene had been over to the reservation. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, I hate this. What if some Bio—excuse me, Conduits came after him?” She directed her question at the present Conduits, “You guys are well known, especially being in the news so much. Do you think there are some Conduits that want to hurt him?”
Eugene shared a look with Fetch. He knew what she was thinking and he didn’t like it. “…P-Possibly. Ah, although most Conduits like us, there were a few that we’ve come across, that um, that r-resent us. Why? I dunno…” Curdun Cay had been hell for the years that Eugene had been there. Even though they were all there for the same reason, being Conduits, some turned on others for several reasons. Eugene shivered, remembering the ways he was used against other Conduits. Maybe he had an idea to Delsin’s kidnapping after all. “Uhh, actually, it could have been a Conduit from Curdun Cay that might have resented Delsin. For power, maybe? Or just for ‘siding’ with non-Conduits.”
“…That…actually make some sense,” Reggie frowned. “Helping Delsin against Augustine, we came across some Conduits that hated non-Conduits for not having powers and resented them for being able to go out in public without worrying about being detained like they did. Almost got an ear blown off by one. Don’t ask,” he said when he saw the man in the red sweater open his mouth.
“So we’re looking for a Conduit?”
“Possibly, but that just makes this even harder now,” Reggie replied. He turned towards Fetch and Eugene, “Do you think this Conduit would have been able to take him out of the immediate area? Should I get in contact with the Seattle precincts?”
It wasn’t improbable that could happen. Fetch could travel via burning neon light in the blink of an eye and Eugene could travel from one point of the city to another as fast as it took to send a text or email through his video. Hell, if they really thought about it, flying up and out of the area could be as easy as—
Fetch blinked.
Eugene froze.
The others saw their expressions and grew concerned. Before anyone could ask, Fetch exclaimed, “Flying up! Up!” She grabbed Reggie’s arm that was holding his flashlight and pointed it into the trees, this time much higher than they had been searching before. “You said that your officers were looking all around and found nothing, right? If we’re looking for a Conduit, we also have to look up high!”
The group looked at her like she graced electricity to mankind. One guy in the back of the group slapped his forehead hard.
Reggie, well-versed in doing so as the Sheriff, took charge in the blink of an eye. “Anyone who can’t zip up the trees, go get some ladders from the sheds and the cannery! Grab some more lanterns and keep an eye out. We don’t know if the Conduit is still here!”
Fetch took it upon herself to put herself into use by starting to manifest neon rings around tree branches and trunks here and there to start lighting up the area. Eugene had already lifted himself into the air, producing floating balls of fizzy, glowing pixels where her neon started to wane. The forested area wasn’t a vast maze, but it was dense enough that it was going to take some time.
“Thanks, you two.”
“No need,” Eugene said from above. In a rare tone of confidence, he declared, “We are going to find him if it takes all night. We have to.”
They had to.
Everyone looked high and low for Delsin, growing more and more stressed as time went on without any sign of him. It was close to eleven at night. Even with the aid of his brother’s partners lighting up the area and searching heights that the non-Conduits couldn’t, there was a fear in the back of Reggie’s mind that Delsin could be…
No, don’t think like that, Reggie! He’s strong and can handle himself in bad situations. He’s alive, he sighed. He has to be. Their family was small, and they had already lost their parents. If he lost Delsin too…He wasn’t sure he would make it. Not without his brother in his life. Exhaustion weighed down his body, and it was during times that he worked this late that he was aware he was getting older. He took a moment to lean against a tree, rubbing his forehead with his free hand. Sleep called him, but it would have to wait.
He felt something wet drop on his head, prompting him to rub it away in irritation. It hadn’t rained today, but the night often brought with it dew that clung to the trees that stuck around through the early morning. The temperature had already dropped when the sun went down, but he knew from checking his weather app earlier that it was going to sink to the mid-thirties tonight. Delsin hadn’t been wearing his thicker hoodie when he had left. If he was out here when it got that cold…Reggie didn’t want to think about it. Conduits run warm…right?
Two drops in quick succession fell onto his head and slid down his hairline to his forehead. “Why didn’t I grab a hat or something?” he said as he wiped the water away. “I’m not Delsin, but cold water…on my…head…”
He trailed off, staring at his hand illuminated by his flashlight.
There was liquid on his hand.
It wasn’t water.
There was red smeared on his skin.
“Oh my god.” His heart leapt into his throat. He wrenched himself out of his leaned position against the tree and snapped his head up. His flashlight beam wildly searched for the source, finding it in three seconds. There, at the very top of the tree at least two stories up, was his brother wrapped in a heavy chain against the trunk. From what Reggie could see from his position at the base of the tree, Delsin was unconscious and dangling from the chain like dead weight—please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead. Although he could not make out specific details, he could see injuries all over his face and neck. His vest was gone and his white hoodie…there wasn’t much white left to it.
A dark trail that began from him ran down the tree, just about stopping where Reggie had been standing. Nausea made his stomach churn—that was too much blood. For how long he had been missing, that was more than too much blood. “O-Oh my god, Delsin!”
He called out to the rest of the group, “Guys! Hey, I found Delsin and we need to get him down right now!” Fuck, what he wouldn’t give to be able to fly or some shit right now like Delsin or Eugene or Fetch could.
They must have tuned into the panic in his voice because soon a bright burst of pink and orange manifested into Fetch at his side while Eugene coalesced into his physical body, trailing bright blue pixels. Soon after came the rest of the group running to his position. Before any of them could ask where Delsin was, Reggie’s flashlight directed them to him.
“Oh, no,” Eugene breathed, eyes wide behind his glasses.
“D!” Fetch covered her gasp behind her hand.
One of his officers, Markus, swore something that would make a sailor blush and Reggie felt like doing the exact same. “Christ, what did they do to him? How are we going to get him down?” ‘Safely’ was left unsaid yet known to all of them.
“I don’t think our ladders will be able to reach him.”
“Oh my god, how could someone do this to him?”
Marissa turned to Reggie, but he had to squint in order to see her face clearly through the brightness of her headlamp. “If we jostle him too much, we could make any injuries that he has worse. I’ve been studying as a nurse, so I might be able to get him semi-stable enough until we get an ambulance here. And speaking of—”
“On the phone with them now!” one of the other group members said.
Reggie bit his lip. Marissa had a point, but if they didn’t get him down ASAP, then—he didn’t want to think what would happen. “Can either of you two get him down without shaking him up?” he asked Fetch and Eugene.
While being prone to anxiety, Eugene’s nerves were making his it spike hard. His leg was shaking like it was trying to fly off his body. Both Fetch and he could go vertical whenever they wanted; however, the problem was that they weren’t going to be going up a reinforced wall or the side of a building. Trees were flexible if enough force was put upon them and wouldn’t stay still like a concrete wall would. From what he could see, whoever did this to Delsin—Eugene had to swallow a thick anger that was starting to sour his mouth—precariously balanced him in the bend of one of the thicker branches. But, it was high up and an old tree. One wrong move could cause even more damage.
“I, ah,” Eugene started, “I can hover close to him, but my powers aren’t precise like Fetch’s. I’d be able to get up there, but if I tried to break the chain holding him, I…I might end up hurting him.”
Fetch took his hand. Her gaze bore into him with an intensity that he gave back, despite his anxiety. He knew how she was feeling right now: angry, scared, frustrated, worried. “Then fly me up. I’m pretty sure I can balance myself on that branch that’s under him, and you’d just have to be ready to scoop him up.”
He nodded. Determination steadied his limbs enough to kick himself into gear. He manifested his wings behind him, the sharp blue and white washing the surrounding area as thick as the paint Delsin used at home. He pulled on her hand to draw her close. She slung her arm around his shoulder while he secured her using an arm on her waist. They both kept one of their hands free just in case.
Before they took off, Reggie said, “I’m going to go towards the road to direct the EMTs here. The ambulance won’t be able to drive here, so they’re going to have to get here on foot.” And then, tone heavy, “Be careful, please.”
For Delsin, was left unsaid.
“Got it,” Fetch assured him, and with that Eugene glided upwards towards their boyfriend.
It only took a few seconds and then they were right in front of Delsin. Both of them gasped at the state of him, shocked at his appearance—seeing it up close only made him worse. He had the beginnings of deep bruises on his skin, the usual healthy brown tone of it having turned pale. Deep cuts marred his face and his neck, and the ones that weren’t sluggishly leaking were filthy with dried blood and dirt. His beanie was barely clinging on to his head, and underneath, his dark hair was an absolute mess. The brightness of Eugene’s pixels only further illuminated his injuries. There was a large split above his eyebrow, the eye below it swollen like he had taken several punches to that part of his face. His lips were near colorless. There was a thick split at the corner of his mouth. She could see one of his canines. Oh hell. Being this close, she could hear the weak rattling in his chest and see large, shiny dark stains coming from his left side and right shoulder. The stains were the same color as the trail leaking from him down the tree. Blood. So much blood. Too much blood. He looked sick and on death’s door, and it made it hard for Fetch to breathe. She had to bite her lip and forcibly inhale and exhale on counted measures to fend off an anxiety attack that was creeping up on her.
Even fighting against Augustine and D.U.P.s, he’d never looked this bad. This wrong.
“Is..Is he..?”
She reached out a shaky hand to him, and held in a cry at how cold he was. Then, she wanted to let out a sob of relief when she felt a pulse at his neck under her fingers. It was faint and irregular, but a pulse was a pulse and that was what she was going to focus on.
“F-Fetch, Fetch.”
“I know, ‘Gene. God, I-I know. C’mon, we need to help him.”
She felt Eugene nod against her head, using her hair to hide his face for a moment to collect himself. “Right. Right.” Carefully, he deposited her to the thicker branch under the one that was barely holding up Delsin, then positioned himself next to and just under the other man. If Delsin slumped either way, Eugene would be ready with open arms. Under examination, she could see the chain holding him up was looped around him about three times, but not tied or locked in any way. The metal fused together at opposite ends far too clean and seamless to have been dpme with any welding tool.
A metal Conduit’s work, then.
She would be furious later when Delsin was safe and awake.
She would have to focus her powers to a pinpoint release. If she went too fast, the chains would snap instantly, sending Delsin tumbling rough and possibly killing him at the jarring motion. Or worse, she might set the tree and their boyfriend alight if she pushed too much power. The neon Prime took another steadying breath, put her index and middle fingers together, and focused her energy at the tips of her fingers. The air hummed around her as she put all her focus at keeping the beam small, steady, and power levelled. The metal of the chain began to melt and cut under her power slowly. When the thick link was cut about a quarter way through, the chain began to slack. She reached up and held onto Delsin leg to keep him steady while Eugene placed his hands on his shoulders when he started to lean due to the slack.
A few more minutes and she was halfway though.
Smoke began to curl behind the link she was working on, making her swear and tick back her output a bit. But then, it wasn’t enough to cut keep cutting the chain. She felt a bead of sweat trickle down her neck.
Jaw clenched, she had to tick up her output once again. The smoke and smell of hot wood met her nose. Shit. It would just take another minute!
But within that minute, the bark lit up.
“Fuck! Eugene!”
“I got him!”
She slashed her fingers to slice the rest of the chain and used the thickness of her jacket sleeve to slap at the flame. The chain clinked and clanked as it unwound like a snake. They heard it crash down on the ground, but that was the least of their worries. Eugene was quicker than a falling chain, and although he bopped in the air with the sudden added weight, it was thanks to his powers that he was able to stay aloft holding Delsin’s larger body. Slowly, carefully, he began to float back to the ground.
Fetch jumped off the branch, phasing into neon as she ran against the bark of an opposite tree. On the ground, she sat on her knees and extended her arms to her boyfriends who were just out of her reach. She steadied Delsin’s legs first, then she and Eugene maneuvered him so that they were both holding and cradling him in their arms.
Eugene’s hands were stained heavily while Fetch’s manicured ones only began to be painted with Delsin’s blood.
The other two people that had stayed to help—the others had followed Reggie towards the ambulance—were forgotten now that Delsin was in their arms. They could have been ghosts for all Fetch and Eugene cared. For the two, it was just the autumn trees around them, reaching for the skies, and the colorful leaves underneath them, cushioning their knees. One of Eugene’s hands clutched the bottom of Fetch’s jacket while Fetch had one of hers fisted around Delsin’s soiled beanie. They both held Delsin close, too afraid that if they loosened their arms, he would fade away.
Eugene could hear the two other people shout to the returning group that they had finally gotten Delsin out of the tree. In the slight distance, the heavy sounds of EMT’s carrying equipment were drawing closer. Between one breath and the next, he could feel shaking. Was Delsin shaking? Had he been doing that before? He looked at his hand that was cradling the back of Delsin’s neck.
Oh.
Oh, that was him who was shaking.
God. A keening noise escaped him. Suddenly, all the energy he had left him, making him hunch over their boyfriend and one of Fetch’s knees, his face pressed against one of the few clean spots on Delsin’s hoodie covering his abdomen. A strong, yet slender hand rubbed his back. He felt the warmth of Fetch’s body press closer—as if that was even possible—to him as she drew him close. Her warmth was such a stark contrast to Delsin’s coldness that it made it him want to start crying. He hated crying.
“Don’t worry, Delsin,” Fetch whispered as she moved her hand to cup Delsin’s injured, pale cheek. “Help is coming, We have you.”
“We have you,” Eugene echoed.
They would make sure he made it, even if it killed them.
Delsin came back to the world, only to be met with stiffness, confusion, and pain. Everything in his body ached and it felt like it was made of limp spaghetti. His lungs hurt with every inhale—nearly worse with every exhale—and when his mouth opened to let out a groan, a sharp pulling at his lip made him groan louder.
Where was he? Why…
“Delsin!” two familiar voices exclaimed.
With herculean effort, he opened his eyes, only to screw them back shut when bright light assaulted them. Oh my god, why is the sun inside? He managed to open them a sliver a minute later, thankfully without the stinging. So, he decided, it was safe to open them further. As he did so, he turned his head in the direction he heard the voices exclaim. He was met with the sight of his partners by his bedside.
Bedside? This wasn’t his home. A white band around his wrist, however, told him everything. The hospital, aw fuck.
“Delsin,” his name was repeated, though this time softer, quieter. Fetch was sitting on the edge of the bed near his knees while Eugene was leaning over the rail, close to his abdomen. What made him frown was the expressions on their faces. Fetch’s updo was frayed and falling out, probably due to her messing with it due to stress; it was one of her anxious tics. She looked like she had been crying, eyes red and itch-swollen. Eugene’s glasses were slightly askew like he had been constantly adjusting him, and a quick glance at one of his hands on the rail revealed chewed cuticles. Nerves, then.
He was confused why they looked like that and why he was in so much pain. He slumped down a little and closed his eyes. Racking his brain, he tried to go over everything that had happened to him that he could remember. He had went to Salmon Bay to visit the tribe and spend a week there with Betty and Reggie, he…he had been walking towards the bus stop that would take him back to Seattle…What else? What else…? Ah, he had been having a video call with his partners until…until…
He let out a low, “Shit.”
Right, he had gotten jumped by some crazy metal Conduit.
A metal Conduit whose sister…Delsin had…killed…
His stomach gave a sudden lurch, and he was barely able to make out a, “’M gonna be sick,” before twisting painfully to the side. Thankfully, a lined trashcan had been already next to his bed because he vomited right into it. Each heave made him want to cry because the pain that burst from his side with each one was going to kill him.
Hands rubbed his back, then gently eased him back against the pillows when he was done. After catching his breath, he accepted the cup of ice chips that was given to him with gratitude. It wasn’t water, but sucking on them would get the acrid taste out of his mouth, just slower. “N-Not a good look for me, huh?”
“Oh, Delsin,” Eugene reached out to take the hand not holding the paper cup, tone a mixture of fondness and something else that made Delsin want to hold him. Or be held. Same thing. “Idiot. You’d look great wearing a garbage bag.”
Quiet, Fetch tacked on, “Or, um, without the garbage bag. I’d take that, too.” He would have blushed if not for sensing her discomfort. He wasn’t used to hearing her so shaky and low. He didn’t like it. In fact, he hated it because he knew he was the cause of it.
“I’m sorry,” he said around a piece of ice.
“The only reason I’m not smacking you on the head is because you’re injured, and I don’t want to risk you losing any more braincells,” she frowned at him. “Shut up, it’s not your fault that you got attacked.”
But it is, though. It’s literally all my fault and more. How would they feel knowing he was a murderer?
“Fetch is right,” Eugene said.
“As always.”
“As always,” the angel continued. “You—you can’t think this is your fault, can you? Del, Del, we saw you get tackled. They wanted to hurt you and they did!” His voice cracked at the end.
Delsin looked away.
He didn’t say anything.
His chest throbbed.
The beeping of the heart monitor slowly picked up the pace.
“D,” Fetch intoned seriously. “Delsin, you know this isn’t your fault, yeah?”
Eugene hooked a finger around Delsin’s pinky, “Delsin?”
They couldn’t know. They-they couldn’t. They would be disgusted and horrified with him, leave him alone, and never want anything to do with him ever again. He wouldn’t blame them—no one would want to be near a murderer. He could neither hold in the tears that welled in his eyes nor the hitch in his chest. They had to know. They wouldn’t stop asking him.
“H-Hey, what’s wrong?”
He didn’t have a choice, and he hated drawing things out like the plague.
Do it like a bandaid. Rip it off and get it over with. “It’s my fault.” And when he saw them open their mouths to interrupt, “No, no, it is. I-I-I, his sister,” he croaked. “His sister is dead. I k-killed her.”
They blinked at him. He ducked his head because he didn’t want to see the rest of their reactions. The room was quiet all but his shaky breaths and the beeping of his heart monitor. A few more moments passed, and it was at this point where he began to cry outright—he just wanted them to hurry up and leave and stop drawing out this silent torture. Please.
He felt a touch on his chin that raised his head. His wet eyes met theirs, Fetch having moved right next to Eugene. “Delsin Rowe, we know you and we know that’s not exactly what happened.”
It was then that he hunched over himself, covering his eyes with his hand and told them what happened. His side protested with every shuddering breath and gasp, and his tears and crying only made his head hurt worse.
His face was brought to rest in Fetch’s neck as she carded her fingers through his messy hair. Eugene wrapped his arms around both Delsin and Fetch, and Delsin felt him press his hand on his non-injured side. Hair tickled against his ear, Eugene’s face pressed on his shoulder. “That’s not your fault,” Eugene said. The conviction in his voice wasn’t something that was heard often. The injured man latched onto it like a lifeline. “That was an accident, Delsin. We know you’re not a killer—you don’t do that, no.”
“You kept me from killing people, D,” Fetch’s voice was like a warm balm, soothing to the cold fear in his chest. “I coulda kept sniping drug dealers like I used to, but you helped me. We’ve seen you fight—you go out of your way to not kill the stupid D.U.P.s, as much as they probably deserve it. That, what happened to that woman, that wasn’t your fault.”
“It was an accident,” Eugene comforted him.
Delsin swallowed something thick in his throat. Everything hurt and he wanted to just not exist like this just for a few minutes.
“Let it out, D.”
“We have you.”
He felt like he was falling apart at the seams. Another wave of sobbing broke through the dam of his lips. It was going to take a long time to believe what they were telling him, but he didn’t want to think about that right now. He just wanted to sink further into their embraces and forget for a while. Forget for a long while. He was a big ball of hurt, but he knew that as long as they had him, he would be okay.
A/N: Good Karma Delsin does his best to do the right thing. He helps people, he disarms assailants, his avoids killing. (I know that if you straight up kill people, you lose karma points.) He is a person who cares, and does so deeply, so something like finding out that he inadvertently killed someone? Oh, that’s gonna fuck with his whole sense of self. He didn’t even kill Augustine even though he really wanted to, but here comes this random Conduit saying he was the cause of his sister’s death? This is something Delsin is going to carry with him for a looong time, poor guy.
This is unfinished! I will update it as I keep writing, though!
@amonthofwhump @whump-bean @sapphirechao
Isaac, Henry, Kathy, Donovan, Stella, and Thane belong to Sapph.
Allistair, Fiona, Viranthellion, Archie, and Mylaela belong to Kalli.
word count: 7051
This was… different.
Janet woke slowly, consciousness creeping back to her bit by bit. Stretching, she rolled over onto her side, hugging the pillow and smushing her face against it. She could feel that it was cold outside, from how close her bed was to the window she may or may not have left open overnight. The bright morning light shone in, the movement of the curtains making the shadows dance as though they lived. Snuggling further under her covers, Janet tried to block out the cold all around her. With how many blankets there were, this was quite an easy task, and Janet found herself slipping into unconsciousness again.
A knock on her door chased away the sweet grasp of sleep, and Janet moaned into her pillow, squeezing her eyes shut tight. A twinge of annoyance shot through her at being forced into fully waking up this soon. Her bare right foot brushed against her left leg, and the shock from her surprisingly cold foot against her warm leg was yet another thing that helped to jerk her away from unconsciousness. Janet groaned again, blinking her eyes open. She didn’t have the energy to ask who was there, and already her sleep-addled brain was forgetting that there was ever a knock in the first place- it must’ve been her imagination.
“Jenny?” a voice called out. At first, Janet thought that she had imagined that as well, before the voice piped up again. “Jenny, are you awake?” Finally, she recognized the voice to be Henry’s, her adopted brother. What he was doing, waking her up like this, she had no clue, but any traces of annoyance disappeared. She simply loved Henry too much to be annoyed with him, and as she became more and more awake and aware, her rationale was much clearer, as were her emotions.
After swallowing slightly, Janet softly cleared her throat, trying to sound like she hadn’t just woken up. “‘m awake…” She failed that, but wasn’t too bothered. Henry wouldn’t judge her, he knew how much her insomnia had been affecting her the past few days and knew that she was going to be more tired than she usually was. Which, if Janet was being perfectly honest, she was usually unable to get out of bed over half the time from exhaustion and pain. Her worst days were often spent laying in bed, unable to sleep as pain wracked her entire body, old wounds becoming aggravated. Thankfully this wasn’t one of those days, but she was still exhausted. Henry would know this, which is why it confused her so much that he was knocking on her door.
“Can I come in?” His voice was practically bubbling over with excitement, and Janet could picture him, out in the hall, bouncing on his toes as he waited for her response, eyes shining with joy. And how could she say no to that image? “I brought you hot cocoa! And uncle Alli is coming today, with Fiona and Archie!” He was so excited about the news that laughter came from him while he told his sister.
Janet took a moment to process that, before alarm shot through her, the same kind you feel when you look over at the alarm clock and realize that you have only a few minutes before the bus to school arrives. She quickly sat up in bed, getting tangled up in the covers as she tried to get out of bed. “They’re coming? Today? Why?” There was a slight panic in her voice as she walked across her room and opened the door. “Is something wrong? Did something happen?”
Henry’s worried face peered at her, and after a moment, he broke out smiling again. “No, no!” he chirped, walking into Janet’s room holding a tray with two mugs on it. He set the tray down on the small coffee table and sat on one of the plush seats, taking his own mug of hot chocolate. “It’s Christmas, Jenny. Don’t you remember?” He took a sip of his hot chocolate, getting whipped cream on his nose, which he wiped off and ate.
Relief and embarrassment shot through Janet at the same time as she sat down across from Henry, taking the other mug from the tray. She took a sip of the cocoa, and immediately felt warmer on the inside and outside. It was good hot cocoa, of course, Henry probably spent some time making it himself. “Right… I can’t believe I forgot.” Janet laughed softly, trying to shake off her embarrassment. “Sorry, I must… really be tired, or something.” She took another sip of her hot chocolate.
Henry, seemingly unbothered, shrugged. “It’s okay. I forget about things when I’ve just woken up too. It’s like your brain is loading information really slowly. It’s kinda funny, but pretty embarrassing.” He set his mug down and stretched, yawning widely. “Father’s already zooming around the house trying to make sure it’s perfect for uncle Allistair. You know how he is.” A slight smile graced Henry’s lips. “It’s nice, seeing him so excited for something.”
“You sound so old,” Janet retorted, “I almost feel young again.” Of course, this was a lie. Being over four hundred years old, relatively young for her kind, made her feel ancient compared to her much more mortal adoptive family. “Keep talking like that and who knows, maybe you’ll end up like me.” She sipped her drink. “This is good,” she commented, smiling as a blush spread across Henry’s face as he looked away. “I mean it. You did a really good job with this.” Another sip. “Thank you for waking me up. I would’ve been sad if I had missed them. I’ve already done that enough.”
Henry looked back up at Janet, his green eyes meeting her blue ones. “We all understood when you missed them those other times, you weren’t really in control of that, y’know.” He frowned slightly, thinking back to one of those times when Janet had been running a high fever and was in too much pain to even say anything to even Fiona, something that was always concerning. Janet always got better, of course, but that didn’t make those times any less anxiety inducing. Isaac had been doing research into this to help her, but hadn’t gotten very far yet. Everyone was hopeful that they would find something that worked soon, especially Henry. He hated to see his sister suffer like that, helpless to do anything. “I bet they’ll be really glad to see you. You look like you’re feeling better.”
Janet nodded. “I do feel a lot better.” And she did. As the last tendrils of sleep fell away, Janet felt very little pain from her body. She didn’t feel like she was going to faint, or throw up, or like her very blood was made of liquid fire, which was certainly a plus. She actually felt somewhat normal today, now that she was moving about and talking. Of course, the hot cocoa helped as well. “Maybe this means you should make me hot chocolate every single morning,” Janet teased.
“I could!” Henry brightened up, much to Janet’s amusement. “I could make a bunch of hot cocoa in one batch, and then have enough to last for a long time, and it won’t go bad because I have a spell that can combat that!” He picked up his mug again and took a long sip. “I wonder if that would work or not. I hope so.”
They finished their cocoa slowly, chattering all the while about random things. Janet closed the open window and brought over blankets that she and Henry wrapped themselves in. After a while, there was another knock on Janet’s door. She looked up, and, not bothering to walk, teleported over to the door and opened it. There stood Isaac, his hair all mussed up from cleaning the castle frantically one last time before Allistair and his family would arrive.
Janet laughed softly. “Papa, have you even cleaned yourself yet?” She reached out and gently fixed his ruffled blond hair. “There we go. Perfect.” She took a step back, watching Isaac with quite a bit of amusement as the saint huffed and rolled his eyes.
“Yes, yes, good morning to you too.” He pulled Janet in close, hugging her gently. “I’m glad to see you’re awake already. Did you sleep well?” He pulled away and looked her over, seemingly searching for any signs that she might be in pain, or something like that. “Did Henry wake you too early?”
Janet shook her head. “I slept… alright. I feel good today, though.” She laughed. “Yes, Henry woke me up so early, I think that I’m going to perish. I can almost feel the fires of hell pulling me down.”
Isaac sighed. “Well, just… be careful, alright?” He let go of her, smoothing out his clothes. “Allistair said he should be coming around in about an hour, so I think I have time to go clean the castle once more before-”
“Papa,” Janet interrupted, taking his hands in her own, “I think you should go take a shower and clean yourself up, and get some breakfast. Allistair lives on a ship most of the time, I don’t think he cares about how clean the castle is.”
Isaac groaned. “You’re right, Jenny… alright, but if I have time left after that I’ll try cleaning just a bit more-”
“Yes, yes, now get going. I love you, papa!” Janet gently shooed him out of the room, before turning back to Henry. “I suppose we should get ready as well.”
“We?” Henry inquired, tilting his head. “I’m all ready.” He smirked. “I think it’s just you who needs to get ready.”
Janet rolled her eyes. “Alright, alright. Get out of my room, then. Maybe go bake some cookies or something while you wait.”
Henry laughed as he left the room, taking the tray and the empty mugs with him.
---
Janet stepped out of the shower, a soft towel wrapped around her. She walked into her bedroom, shivering slightly at the colder temperature compared to the steamy bathroom. She could use magic to start a fire in the fireplace, but she didn’t want to risk exhausting herself before the big event tonight. Walking over to her closet, she opened the doors, smiling slightly at the wide variety of clothing hanging in there. Before she met Isaac and especially before she met Fiona, her wardrobe had often remained dull and basic. But now, with her newfound family more than willing to buy and make clothing for her, Janet found herself with plenty of options.
And she knew the perfect dress for today. It had been made for her by Fiona, with a little help from Archie and Mylaela for a more magic touch, that would apparently help with the random bouts of pain that Janet often suffered through. She pulled it out of the closet carefully, looking it over. It was a deep blue that matched her eyes, though faint dark greens and purples decorated the skirt as well. The straps went around her shoulders instead of over them, looking like a ball gown more than anything. The sleeves were long, starting at where the shoulder straps went around her arm and going to her wrists, which Janet appreciated. The sleeves had a little butterfly wing look, so she could lift up her arms and the fabric would hang down, making her arms look like butterfly wings.
Taking off her towel in favor of quickly drying her hair slightly, Janet got dressed slowly, carefully, so as to not set off any unnecessary pain. Finally, once she was dressed, it was time to do her hair- one of her least favourite things. She took a brush and began to carefully run it through her hair, using her telekinesis to get the ends so she wouldn’t have to strain herself to get down that far. It was quite a handy skill, but didn’t feel too pleasant. Once her tangles were thoroughly worked out, she massaged in a leave-in conditioner. It felt nice to be clean, often she couldn’t shower well, or even at all because of the pain. Janet wondered if she should put her hair up, before shrugging slightly. They wouldn’t judge her if she didn’t have any fancy styles, it was a miracle she was even up anyways. Right?
A sudden anxiety twisted in her chest, and Janet frowned. She itched at her neck, something she tended to do when anxious, looking around her room. There was a sudden pressure on her to do her hair, to do something, to at least look like she tried to look presentable. Tears welled up in her eyes, very much unwanted but just as unstoppable. She sniffled, pressing the back of her hand against her forehead. You take so much from them, and don’t even care about your appearance? Shame rushed through her as she attempted to combat that ugly voice. “I- I care,” she mumbled aloud, her voice thick with emotion, “I do, I do care…” she trailed off, squeezing her eyes shut. “Please… I…” I don’t want to be a burden. Words left unsaid but stung all the same as Janet began to sob.
A knock on her door startled Janet out of her misery, her tears stopping abruptly as she looked up at the door. Oh god, she hadn’t meant to be heard by anyone else, she didn’t want to inconvenience the others. She was already bad enough, laboring them with the pains of taking care of her, she had absolutely no right to bother them with her self doubt and guilt. Janet squeezed her eyes shut tightly and shook her head. No. You can’t be thinking like that, she chided herself, You’re better than this. You know they love you, no matter what. After another moment taken to dry her tears completely, Janet answered the door to a concerned looking Henry.
“Jenny?” His forehead creased as he frowned, looking her up and down. “Are you okay? I thought I heard you crying, and I wanted to check on you.” He reached out and took one of Janet’s hands in his own, squeezing it gently. “I love you, you know,” he murmured gently, looking into her eyes. “You’re my only sister. I care about you a lot. You can always tell me, or father, or even Thane if something- or someone- is bothering you.” He chuckled softly, shaking his head slightly. “Although uncle Alli or Thane would probably be better suited to deal with someone bothering you, I can’t really fight.”
Janet laughed softly with him, squeezing his hand back. “No, Henry, I’m alright. Just… got a little sad for a moment.” She hugged him gently. “I know you love me, silly. I love you too. You and papa and even your strange little cat that you found on the side of the road that one time we went out. You’re the best family I could ever ask for.” She pulled away. “Thank you, though. That means a lot to me. I mean it.”
Henry’s eyes shone. “Alright, then. I really like your dress!” he chirped, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Is that the one that Fiona sent you? It looks really good on you, not that you’d look bad in anything.”
Janet pinched his cheek lightly. “Flattery will get you nowhere, young man,” she cooed light heartedly, laughing alongside Henry, letting go as he pulled away. “Now let me finish getting ready, will you? I’m sure the Sullivans will be here any moment, and you need to go find papa to make sure he’s not busy cleaning some remote corner of this castle when they arrive.”
“You joke, but-” Henry started, before running off laughing. “I think I saw him in the library last!” he called back, before disappearing around the corner.
Janet closed the door, walking back over to her closet. She picked out a pair of boots that went along well with the dress (well, at least, she hoped. She’d never been one to have an eye for fashion, but she was sure it would be fine). Finally, she stepped back and looked at herself in the mirror, smiling slightly. She liked how she looked, for once. She ran a brush through her hair one more time before she was fully satisfied. She stepped out of her room and descended the grand staircase into the main hall, looking around at all the decorations Isaac, Henry, and the others had so carefully set up. It truly was beautiful, and she took a moment to admire them before peeking into the kitchen.
There she saw Kathy and Donovan washing some dishes, and Thane lurking in a corner eating a cookie. When she stepped into the room, all three looked over at her, as if expecting to see someone else- likely Isaac or Henry. Kathy’s eyes lit up when she saw it was Janet, and the woman rushed over to give the other a hug.
“Janet!” she squealed, “you’re awake!” She pulled back, holding Janet by her shoulders, looking her over. “Are you feeling alright? You aren’t sick? Oh, this is wonderful!”
Janet couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, but she brushed the feeling away, smiling at Kathy. “Yeah, I’m doing alright.” She looked over at Thane. “Are you supposed to be eating that yet or…?”
Kathy turned to see the spectre eating the cookies. “Thane! I told you to leave those!” She went to take it from Thane, but he simply disappeared into the shadows and appeared in a different part of the room. “No fair!” Kathy exclaimed, although it was light hearted. “Fine, you can have that one. But no more, or I’ll put a spell tag on you just to slap you.”
Thane chuckled. “You’d have to catch me first, and you have a hard time doing that even when I’m not expecting it. Good luck.”
Donovan sighed. “It’s nice to see you around, Janet. Kathy, can you help please?”
“Oh! Oh, yes, sorry!” Kathy went back to the sink to continue helping her fiance wash the dishes. She looked at Janet once more. “We’ll join you after we’re finished, I may have made too many cookies and used a couple more pans than I meant to…”
“A couple isn’t what I would use to describe how many you used,” Donovan grumbled, but he was smiling. He kissed Kathy lightly on the cheek.
Janet walked out of the kitchen, going to sit down on one of the couches in the main hall. She let out a sigh of exhaustion as she sat. Even walking that little had been enough to tire her out. She leaned back against the couch, closing her eyes. She felt so tired now, surely a little rest wouldn’t hurt…
Her sensitive ears picked it up before anyone else did. Footsteps, heavy footsteps, in the snow. Voices that could only belong to a few people, people who everyone there held dear to their hearts. Janet jumped up from the couch, briefly regretting it when a sharp spike of pain shot up her right leg, but she ignored it in favor of rushing to the door. She peeked out the window and saw three figures walking through the snow, all bundled up, and opened the door for them when they got close. “Fiona! Allistair! Archie!” A smile lit up her face. “It’s so nice to see you all!”
“Jenny!” Fiona rushed into the castle and threw her arms around Janet. “You’re here!” Once again, there was surprise in her voice, but Janet was too excited to feel guilty this time. She hugged Fiona back, before pulling away and looking up at the other two.
“God, Allistair, you’re taller than I remembered,” Janet commented, letting out a soft huff. “I’m going to get dizzy looking up at you.”
“Not my fault you’re short,” Allistair shot back, before laughing. “It’s good to see you again, Janet. Where’s Isaac?”
Janet sighed, stepping out of the way to let the three further into the house. “Henry’s looking for him. He should be here any moment now, he was busy cleaning the house. Again.”
Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Isaac appeared in front of the group, looking somewhat disheveled, but better than he had been earlier. “Allistair! Fiona, Archie, welcome! I’m-”
Allistair scooped his Saint up into a hug. “If you say that you’re sorry for the mess, I think I might smack you,” he joked, before setting a now flustered Isaac down. “You look like you’ve been working hard, Saint.”
Isaac wrang his hands together, looking away. “Y-yes, I have. But it was nothing, really. I just wanted to make you all feel welcome.”
“Auntie Jenny!” Archie chirped, excited to see her again as well it seemed, “May I hug you please?”
Fiona gently whacked her son over the head. “Take off your jackets first, honey. You don't want Jenny to freeze to death.”
Archie playfully whined, beginning to take his many layers off. “It’s really cold out, but there were so many birds! Grandda says that birds tell stories when they sing, you just need to listen!” he prattled on, eyes shining.
“I think he says that about everything,” Allistair quipped, “Listen to the grass too, maybe it’ll tell you a story.”
Fiona smacked her husband’s shoulder- she was far too small to reach his head, and she had to reach to even smack his shoulder. “Be nice, Allistair!” she chided lightly, which earned a chuckle from the sailor.
Archie finally got out of his last coat and threw his arms around Janet, who squeaked in surprise from the sudden hug. She tensed up for a moment, before huffing softly and hugging him back. “Give me some warning before you do that, will you?” she laughed, “You could’ve knocked me over.”
Fiona and Allistair began to slowly take off all their layers, Isaac ready to help the moment either of them asked. Janet stepped away, feeling the chill begin to creep into her bones. She silently cursed her broken body as she limped over to the fire, letting herself warm up. She sat down, sighing softly. Even that slight exposure to the cold had been enough to chill her, and she was already tired from all the moving around. Walking was so much energy, she really didn’t have it in her. And she knew, she knew she was lucky to even be able to walk, to be up and moving and talking and awake. But she couldn’t help but wish for more. She wanted to be able to run around, jump about, and not have to immediately sit down after walking five feet or standing for five minutes.
Someone sat down beside her, and Janet nearly jumped out of her skin. She had been so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she hadn’t even picked up that someone else was there, approaching her, even with her sensitive hearing. She looked over and saw that it was Fiona, cheeks still bright red from the cold journey she had taken, eyes shining with life, hair slightly mussed up from her hat. “Fiona…?” Janet trailed off, not really knowing where she was going to go with that sentence. “Is something wrong?” she asked, not sure what to say.
Fiona laughed softly, shaking her head. “It’s so cold out, it’s nice to warm up for a bit by the fire.” She turned her gaze back to the crackling flames, casting a dim glow overshadowed by the sunlight streaming in through the windows. “You also looked like you needed somebody to talk to.”
Janet sighed. “Am I really that much of an open book?” She didn’t need an answer, she already knew what it would be anyways. “Thank you, Fiona, but-”
“Ah-ah, none of that. Jenny, babe, what’s bothering you?” Kind, concerned, beautiful green eyes looked up at her, and Janet crumbled under their gaze.
“I just… I feel so cruel,” Janet started, “I’m taunting you all. I’m up now, but I’m not… normal. I can’t be like you all. And who knows how long it’ll be before I’m back in bed, unable to get out? I sometimes feel like if I didn’t have these moments, you wouldn’t… wouldn’t wait for me, you know? Everyone’s so excited to see me around, and I’m happy to see them too, but I just feel so guilty. Everyone expects me to never be around. I feel like a burden.”
Fiona sighed softly, closing her eyes briefly. “Jenny… none of us expect or want you to be ‘normal’. You aren’t even abnormal. You’re just a little different from the rest of us, but we’re all different from each other. This is just the way you’re different. And you can’t control that just as much as we can control our freckles, our noses, our eyes… you’re not a burden just because you need extra help either. You’re our friend, we care about you and love you so much. We aren’t going to stop caring about you because you’re bedridden, or you’re sick, or whatever it is that’s happening. Because we love you, not your body or what you can do. We love who you are, we love your spirit. No matter what happens to the vessel, the spirit never changes. You will always be a kind, caring, loveable girl who I care deeply for.”
Janet sat in silence for a moment, watching the fire crackle and pop. She fought back tears, drawing her knees up to her chest. “...thank you, Fiona. I needed that.” She looked over at the other woman. “I’d kiss you, but your husband is watching and I don't think he’d like that.”
“Oh, to hell with that.” Fiona pulled Janet in close and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. “There you go.” She smiled. “I should go start getting ready. I’ll see you soon, Jenny, alright?” She stood up and walked over to Allistair, who was waiting for her. Archie had already run upstairs to get ready and find Captain Albert, the squid plushie that had been given as a gift to his father a while ago.
Janet remained by the fire, the warmth seeping into her bones. Tiredness washed over her, a powerful wave that quickly pulled her under. She drifted into the sweet grasp of sleep, warmed by both the fire and Fiona’s kind words.
--
“Jenny, dear?”
“I think she fell asleep again, poor thing.”
“Can we move her to a couch? I can’t imagine she’s very comfortable on the floor…”
“I don’t want to wake her up, though.”
Janet woke to the sound of concerned voices and a slight headache. She slowly opened her eyes, gazing up at Stella and Mylaela. She blinked, confirming what she was seeing. “...Myla? Stella?” She slowly sat up, groaning softly at the pain in her back. She took another moment to regain her senses before speaking again. “I… fell asleep on the floor again.” It wasn’t a question. Shame flooded through her as the two other women nodded. “...I’m sorry.”
“Oh, no worries dear. We were just worried, is all,” Stella tried to reassure Janet. “My boy Isaac told me it’s something you might do, I was just worried seeing it happen.”
Another pang of guilt shot through Janet, who looked away. She looked back over at Stella and Mylaela after a moment, trying to change the subject. “I thought you’d arrive with your son, Myla. Did something hold you up?”
Mylaela nodded. “Yes, I had to get something. I met with Stella on the way here, and we arrived a few minutes ago.”
Janet hummed softly to herself. “It’s nice to see you two again. I missed you.”
Stella pulled Janet close into a tight hug. “Oh, we missed you as well, Jenny! It’s been so long since I last saw you up and about.” She pulled away. “Have you been eating enough? You look so thin, of course not-”
“Give her some space,” Mylaela interjected, and Stella laughed slightly before stepping away. “How are you feeling?”
Janet closed her eyes for a moment. “I… better than usual. A little worse than earlier, I have a headache,” she admitted. “I probably need to drink something.”
“I can get you something,” Stella offered, “Would you like tea? Water?”
“Water is fine,” Janet murmured, pressing the back of her hand to her head. “I can get it myself-”
“No, no, really. It’s no trouble at all,” Stella said cheerfully, before walking away to go get Janet some water.
Janet watched her go before looking up at Mylaela. “May you help me stand up please?”
“Of course, dear.” Mylaela gently helped Janet stand, steadying her when she stumbled. “Careful, now.”
Janet leaned against Myla for a moment before she was steady enough to stand on her own. “Thank you very much,” she murmured, to which Myla nodded slightly. Janet’s eyes darted up as Stella came back holding a full water bottle. Janet was relieved at seeing that- she didn’t really trust herself to not accidentally drop a glass, or at least spill it. Stella must’ve remembered her preference for water bottles.
“Here you go, Jenny dear.” Stella handed her the water bottle, smiling when Janet took it. “You look beautiful, by the way. That dress looks just stunning on you.”
Janet flushed, looking away shyly. “Thank you. You look really pretty too,” she murmured, looking at Stella’s silver dress. “I like that colour on you.” She took a sip of her water, feeling parched.
“Aw, you’re too sweet,” Stella cooed, “I really like this dress too.” She looked over to Mylaela. “I suppose you aren’t one for dresses?”
Mylaela shook her head. “I just never liked how they looked on me. Besides, if something happened, I can move more freely without one. I much prefer skirts, you’re very free in them.” She ran her hands over the fabric of her skirt, smiling.
Janet laughed softly. “Well, I see where Allistair gets his tendency to overthink things.”
“It’s called being prepared, lass,” Allistair called out, startling the three women. The redhead captain had approached them with all the stealth of a rogue, Isaac following close behind.
“Our Lady, Allistair!” Stella exclaimed, “Don’t sneak up on us like that!” She clutched at her chest dramatically. “You’ll give this old woman a heart attack!”
“Mother, don’t joke about that,” Isaac pleaded, to which Stella laughed.
“It’s alright, Isaac. I’m not actually going to die of fright.” Stella quickly pulled her boy into a hug, causing him to squeak. “I’d have died a long time ago if it was going to happen.”
“Mother-” Isaac started, but she cut him off.
“Now, where’s that nice suit I gave you? You should go put that on. Unless…” Stella faked a hurt expression. “...you don’t like it?”
Isaac’s eyes widened as he paled. “No! No, I love it! I’ll- I’ll go do that right now!” He disappeared, much to Janet and Mylaela’s amusement.
“Children are so fun to tease,” Janet giggled, thinking back fondly of the times she would tease her children when they had grown up.
“Indeed they are.” Mylaela looked at Allistair, who flinched back.
“Ma, really, do you have to-” Allistair started.
“I brought baby pictures.” Mylaela pulled a book out of thin air. “Alli was such a little bean when he was younger.”
“Ma!” Allistair protested, to no avail. Mylaela had already opened the book and was showing Janet and Stella all of the adorable pictures of the younger Allistair.
“Are you sure that’s him? He’s so tiny~” Janet cooed, smirking when Allistair’s face flushed. “Such a big man now, aren’t you?”
“Janet! Lass, please,” Allistair begged, although the sparkle in his eye indicated his light heartedness. “Ma, you’re embarrassing me.”
“Well, then why don’t you come over and look at the pictures too? That way you can see there’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Mylaela invited, sighing overdramatically when Allistair shook his head. “Well, then I’ll just have to keep showing your adorable little face~”
“Ooh, are we looking at Allistair’s baby pictures?” Fiona appeared at the top of the stairs, descending quickly. She had changed out of her warm clothes and into a lovely dress. She walked over to Allistair and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek, before practically skipping over to the gathered women. “Awww, Alli! Don’t tell me this is you!” she cooed.
Allistair groaned in embarrassment, covering his face. “Hen, please! Not you too!”
“Oh yes, me too!” Fiona exclaimed, giggling. “Aww, you look like Archie did when he was little! Such a shame I didn’t bring pictures of him…”
“I think he’s the only one who’d be upset you didn’t bring his baby pictures,” Allistair grumbled, rubbing his face. “You could’ve brought his instead of mine, ma.”
“Oh, but I did!” Mylaela flipped through a few pages of the book, before humming triumphantly. “Here we are! The Archie section~”
An excited squeal came from the top of the staircase. Archie practically jumped down the stairs. “Gramma!” He threw himself at Mylaela, who staggered back from the force of the boy’s hug. “Gramma, you’re here!”
“Archie!” Fiona scolded, “be careful!”
Archie pulled back with a whine. “Sorry gramma!”
Mylaela laughed, ruffling his hair. “It’s alright, young one. Your enthusiasm is not unlike anything I’ve seen before.” She cast a glance at Allistair, who shrugged innocently. “Oh, don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about young man,” she quipped, earning a chuckle from her son.
Archie was dressed in a pretty floral dress, his bangs pinned back with a flower pin. Janet winced a little at all the flowers, but she kept herself under control. You shouldn’t ruin another thing for them, she internally chided herself, you’ve already done enough damage here. A small voice in the back of her mind, the part she always tried to suppress, piped up. Just a stupid pet. That’s all you’ll ever be.
“Jenny?”
Janet blinked, snapping out of her thoughts. “Huh? Is something wrong?” she asked, still sounding distant.
“Are you alright, lass?” Allistair’s gruff voice was concerned, soft. “You spaced out for a moment there.”
Janet forced a smile. “Yes, sorry. I’m alright. I just got thinking about something. It’s nothing, though.”
Allistair clearly wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t press further. Thank god for that. Janet looked up as Henry and Isaac appeared, both dressed up like everyone else. Isaac was wearing the suit Stella had mentioned earlier, and was fidgeting nervously, a soft blush on his face.
Stella cooed. “Oh, my little star child! You look absolutely adorable!”
Isaac covered his face, turning red. “Mother-!”
“Ah-ah, I won’t hear any complaints or protests. Come, come! We must open presents now!” Stella took Isaac by the hands and led her son over to the enormous pine tree, which had been decorated with great care by Isaac, Henry, Kathy, Donovan, Bradley, and the others. Janet had had to sit out of the decorating for the most part, but she had at least been able to use her telekinesis to lift Henry up so he could put the star on top of the tree.
Piled beneath the tree were heaps of presents of all shapes in sizes, wrapped in colourful paper. The presents had slowly been amassing under the tree over the past week or so, everyone putting in their presents when they could. Janet’s eyes drifted to where she had put her gifts, all decorated in blue wrapping paper with a silver ribbon tied carefully around each one. She hoped her gifts were good, she hadn’t gone Christmas shopping in… some odd two hundred or so years. Half of her life. She had spent over half her life in captivity.
And suddenly, she wasn’t in the grand hall anymore, surrounded by those who loved her, by lights that shone bright. She was back in that house, cowering in the basement, clothes and skin torn open by the cruel whip that her master held. Chains wrapping around her arms, legs, forcing her to remain in place as the demon raised the whip again. She was ripped back into reality as her bare feet touched the snow, and she realized she had teleported. A shriek ripped it’s way from her lips, mostly from the shock. Sinking up to her knees into the snow, Janet burst into tears, the sudden cold spreading through her body, numbing her, stiffening her bones. She knew it, she knew that she was going to do something stupid and ruin everything. She never should’ve woken up at all, should’ve stayed in bed. This is why you can’t have nice things.
Janet was shaking violently now. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t get herself to teleport. She knew they were panicking, looking for her, but she couldn’t move. She was ruining what was supposed to be a happy moment. Again.
She was lifted out of the snow by gentle hands, and a familiar voice hummed softly along with the melody of the breeze, sending a calming magic through Janet’s body. She clung to the man who had rescued her, weeping silently. She kept gasping out apologies in between sobs.
Viranthellion held the sobbing girl close, humming a soothing melody. Magic surrounded them, protecting them from the cold that had ravaged Janet’s frail body in such a short time. He let Janet pull away when she needed, smiling kindly at the teary eyed girl. “Hello, Janet,” he greeted softly.
Janet opened her mouth as though she was about the speak, but decided against it with a small shake of her head. She wiped her eyes, sniffling quietly, trembling still from the cold and shock of the whole experience. Her face was red, either from the cold or shame, possibly both. Once again, she looked up at Viranthellion, speaking this time. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, “I messed up. I made you come here-”
Viranthellion shook his head. “I felt your distress. I chose to come to you. I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t want to.” That was a little bit of a lie, but sometimes lies were necessary in life. Of course, if his madam Dai Rhen heard him say that… His hand instinctively went up to his head and rubbed at an imaginary sore spot.
Janet looked away, her expression full of shame. “I need to go back, but…” She trailed off, not wanting to finish her sentence.
“You don’t want to,” Viranthellion finished, smiling slightly when she nodded. “You’re worried they’ll hate you, hm?”
“They should,” Janet murmured, “I’d feel less guilty if they hated me than if they kept loving me like they do. It’s… it’s not fair.” Frustration grew in her voice. “I don’t deserve this, but they keep insisting I do. I don’t know what to do with all their kindness and love. What if I keep slipping up, and they start to resent me? I… I don’t think I could handle it if they started hating me.”
Viranthellion sighed softly, humming thoughtfully. “Janet, I’ve lived for almost a millennium. I’ve travelled to every corner of this earth, heard the stories of a billion men. I’ve seen people be born, watched them grow, and then finally become old and weary. I’ve watched the caskets of those whose mothers and fathers I knew be buried under the earth. I’ve seen so many things, so many different types of people. I’ve become quite skilled with reading people. And never, not in another thousand years, not for as long as they grace the earth, will any one of the people who care about you start to resent you for your trauma. They will not turn away because you believe you do not deserve their affections. They will love you, for all your flaws, because they can see the beauty in you. And that beauty is what draws them to you, what makes you the wonderful woman you are.”
Tears had begun to streak down Janet’s face as Viron spoke. His words touched her, moved something deep inside. It seemed like these were the words she hadn’t known she had needed to hear. “Viranthellion…” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but it trembled with so much emotion.
The elf smiled, holding his hand out to her. “Let’s go join our family, shall we?” he offered, his eyes shining kindly.
Janet wiped her eyes one more time before taking his hand. “Thank you.”
—
After the initial worrying and fussing over Janet had calmed down, the family gathered around the Christmas tree once more, now with Fiona’s father joining them. Chatter and laughter grew as everyone opened their presents. Janet opened one that was very clearly from Archie, smiling as she pulled out a pair of warm, fuzzy socks.
“Thank you, Archie.” She stood up and walked over to the boy, hugging him. “I’ll make sure to wear these often.”
Archie giggled, his eyes shining. “I’m glad you like them, Auntie Jenny!” he squealed. “I really like the book you gave me, it looks really good.” He smiled broadly. “Was this yours when you were a kid?”
Janet nodded. “A Little Pretty Pocket Book was what I read before bed every night. It was fascinating to me… I’m surprised it survived this long, but magic is a wonder.”
“It really is,” Viranthellion chuckled. He peered at the old book in Archie’s hand curiously. “The magic around that book feels strange, though.”
Janet shrugged. “Maybe my magic was different back then.”
“Maybe,” Viron agreed, although he cast another worried look towards the book Archie was now excitedly flipping through.
Isaac held up a soft gray sweater that matched the colour of his eyes. “Mother!” he exclaimed, “this is lovely!”
Stella smiled, kissing her son on the head. “I know it is. I made it myself. With magic, of course,” she smirked.
Isaac leaned against his mother. He was clearly overjoyed that she was here. After all, they hadn’t been able to see each other for quite some time. Janet could see the tears in his eyes- tears he couldn’t help but let fall as he hugged his mother.
