After the Quiet Rapture, three factions were left behind. The Children of Eden; a nationalistic Martian death cult. The Consolidation of Iron (C.O.I.); a conglomerate of four (now three) space stations and two spacecraft focused on the survival of the human race at all costs. And the Eridian Deep-Space Exploratory Colony (Erid); a self-sufficient deep space exploratory craft that's new purpose is to learn what happened and thinks Eden and the C.O.I. need to chill the fuck out. Dr. Ryland Grace is a Eridian scientist sent to AT-5 for a status update on the research being done there. On his first night there, he makes contact with the SM-13 and meets Simon who proposes a new theory of what happened. What if it was just a few stations that went missing and not the whole universe?
Stratt has finally made an appearance and Chapter 4 is up and running! Let me know what ya’ll think and as always I love to see your thoughts on the fic so far!
A couple of weeks ago I read a bit of fanfiction called The Cyborg Arm Job by CopperBadge. It’s a Leverage/Captain America cross-over fic that was really good. So good in fact that it spurred my brain to demand that I write my own Leverage/Captain America cross-over fic despite the fact that it’s been about a decade since I last wrote fanfiction. I only intended it to be a quick little story…
This drabble is in response to the requests I received to add on to my Mary/Hook ficlet. First of all, if you haven't been keeping up with broadwaybaggins's fabulous cross-over fic "The Lady and The Captain", it is simply a must read for any DA/OuaT fans: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10484756/1/The-Lady-and-the-Captain
This is a follow-up to "Worlds Away" which I posted last month: http://lala-kate.tumblr.com/post/88275500296/please-more-mary-hook-i-thought-perfectly-splendid-was
I hope you enjoy it!
Through the Looking Glass
Her first sight of Mary nearly knocked the wind from her lungs, and Sybil leaned out of the automobile window, unwilling to tear her eyes from the sister that for weeks she had believed to be dead.
But there she stood in front of Downton, posture erect as ever, hands folded with elegance in front of her abdomen, now a makeshift cradle for a child no longer growing in secret. She had experienced only a fraction of what Mary must be enduring when she had arrived at the station. God, the whispers, the glances tossed her way, the overheard comments of Crawley, eldest daughter, abducted, and with child weaving ribbon-like through Sybil’s consciousness as she had hurried from the train towards the awaiting car, making her frantic to reach her home and family and more determined than ever to stand by Mary’s side.
She could not begin to imagine the hell through which Mary must have trudged. And then to step from such an ordeal into a seat of judgment and scrutiny, to become the subject of pointed fingers and raised brows, to be looked upon as tainted through no fault of her own.
God--the very thoughts of such an existence made Sybil’s stomach clench uncomfortably.
But Mary was her sister, Mary’s child her niece or nephew, no matter the circumstances under which he or she had been conceived.
No matter the identity of the baby’s father. How she longed to speak with Mary in private.
Her sister’s face was impassive as Sybil stepped from the car on to Downton’s familiar turf, but her embrace was not, and she felt Mary’s desperation in the trembling ferocity of her grip.
“Oh, Mary,” she breathed through tears that would not be held back. “God, you’re well. You’re alive.”
A sheen of color crossed ivory cheeks as pale lips curved upward.
“Yes,” Mary nodded, taking Sybil’s within her own. “And so happy to see you.”
There was much still left unsaid.
They walked into Downton arm in arm in the manner of children, the cool air of the great house making Sybil shiver unexpectedly. She noted Matthew’s frequent glances, her mother’s overly-anxious stare, her father’s hovering presence as if Mary might shatter into pieces in front of them or simply vanish into thin air.
Of course, she had done the latter and terrified them all. She hugged her sister’s arm just a bit tighter.
“I won’t fly away,” Mary whispered, attempting a smile at her sister.
She laughed half-heartedly in return, holding her even closer.
“I know,” Sybil returned as they made their way up the stairs as if by some unspoken agreement. “It’s just…God, I thought you were dead, Mary.”
Mary’s eyes fluttered shut at her words, and she shook her head soundly.
“I’m sorry, darling,” Mary returned, her voice more like an echo than a source. “I hate that you were so frightened.”
They stalled at the top of the stairs, and Sybil grasped Mary’s arms, turning her sister to face her directly.
“Don’t ever do that again,” she instructed, unable to stop the trembling overtaking her limbs. “Promise me, Mary.”
“I wish I could,” Mary returned, her expression one of agony as her palm cupped her rounded middle. “But I never meant to disappear in the first place, Sybil. It was entirely out of my control.”
Sybil sighed, looking at the evidence of new life within her sister’s body.
“I think that’s what frightens me the most, Mary,” she confessed, fighting the shaking sensation crawling up her legs.
“It’s what frightens everyone,” Mary returned with an expression Sybil couldn’t read.
She had heard stories from her mother, had listened to confidences shared by her grandmother and Edith, yet the woman standing before her now appeared more sane than the rest of her family.
“What happened to you, Mary?” she dared, seeing conflict play out across her sister’s face. “Really, I mean?”
Brown eyes stared back at her intently, the swell of a child just between them, and Mary took her hand yet again, pulling her down the hallway, shutting the door to her bedroom once they were safely inside.
“I know you’ve heard the story,” Mary began, sitting on the corner of her bed. “Don’t try to pretend that you haven’t.”
Sybil moved to the vanity bench.
“Of course I have,” she returned. “But Mama and Granny have their own take on things. I want to hear it all from you.”
“You won’t believe me,” Mary insisted, rubbing her stomach once again. “No one does.”
“Don’t be so judgmental,” Sybil tossed back. “You have no idea what I may already be thinking.”
Her sister’s brow arched decidedly.
“Touché,” Mary grinned, and for the first time since she had arrived, Sybil felt as though the sister she knew had emerged from hiding. Her brow then creased as her tone lowered. “I wasn’t abducted, Sybil. And I wasn’t raped, either.”
Sybil felt her throat constrict at her sister’s frankness.
“Then tell me, Mary,” she pleaded, moving to sit beside her sister on the bed. “Please. I’m listening.”
Mary nodded and dropped her eyes, taking a steadying breath as Sybil clasped her hands.
“I hardly know where to start anymore,” Mary breathed, clearly nervous over her sister’s reaction, tightening Sybil’s heart painfully.
“Start wherever you’d like,” Sybil returned, giving Mary’s hand a reassuring squeeze.
The details were then covered in hushed tones and frequent glances, Mary’s tale told as a narrative with the structure of a story that had been recounted more than once. But Sybil saw the quivering of Mary’s fingers whenever she spoke of the man Killian, heard the unevenness of her breathing when she recounted the Dark One, saw tears form in her eyes when she remembered her abrupt return to Downton.
“Some nights I lie awake and cry at the injustice of it all,” Mary concluded, taxed by reliving her past. “Killian will never know his child, and my baby will never know his father.” She paused, exhaling audibly, dropping her shoulders. “And what can I tell him or her? If I tell my child the truth, people will think him as mad as they believe me to be. But I don’t want to lie about Killian to his own child. His son or daughter deserves to know of his heroism, of his gentleness, of how he took care of me, of how he saved my life.”
Silence filled the space between them.
“You love him,” Sybil stated, staring into eyes that had dropped their guard. “You love this Killian Jones.”
She felt the measured rise and fall of her sister’s chest.
“Yes,” Mary admitted as a tear trailed down her cheek. “And I’ll never see him again.”
“You don’t know that,” Sybil fought back. “After all, you went through that portal once. How do you know he won’t come through it to find you?”
Mary laughed roughly.
“What?” Sybil asked, drawing back. “What did I say?”
“You actually sound as if you believe me,” Mary replied, shaking her head in disbelief.
“That’s because I do.”
Her sister stared back at her hard.
“Don’t play with me, Sybil,” she warned, leaning back. “If you think I’m crazy like everyone else, please do me the honor of telling me so directly.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Sybil shot back. “And I don’t think you’ve concocted this story as a means of dealing with trauma. You seem as reasonable as you ever were, and I cannot imagine you would subject yourself to ridicule if every word you’ve just recounted to me isn’t true.”
She watched weeks of tension drain from her sister’s body at once.
“Thank you. God, thank you.”
The words were no more than a rough whisper, but Sybil felt them all over, and she embraced Mary, holding her to chest as the other woman began to sob.
“We’ll figure something out, Mary,” Sybil assured her, rubbing her back. “I promise. There has to be a way to work this out for you and your baby.”
“I’m glad you’re optimistic,” Mary returned, wiping her cheeks. “But I can’t see any happy resolution for any of us. Not anymore.”
Her mind was spinning, her thoughts a jumbled mess, but a new determination fired within her gut to see her oldest sister as happy as she deserved to be.
“Don’t give up,” Sybil instructed with a smile. “After all, Mary, there’s always hope.”
