Welcome

Letting out a deep sigh Anakin pushed himself upright before turning to stand in nearly the same position as Lyra. His muscled arms crossed over this board chest and his hip leaning on the railing. “How are you really though, Lyra.” Lyra found herself looking the boy’s features over while she tried to formulate an answer in her head. His hair had gotten longer, but his Padawan braid still hung over his shoulder, and his jawline had begun to sharpen more. His face now contained no traces of the baby fat it still had the first time Lyra had met him; he was much more mature now, a young man really.

“Honestly?” She ran a hand through her hair that she had left down earlier, her fingers tangling in the end of her Padawan braid as they went. She felt her cheeks puff up with air as she slowly let a breath escape.

“Honestly.” Anakin relaxed his stance significantly, his eyes soft as he searched Lyra’s face for any hint of how she was feeling. He wanted to reach out to her, feel how she was feeling, like they did when they were younger, but he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. The two rarely connected in that way anymore, it had been conditioned out of them throughout their Padawan training; although Obi-Wan tended to be more understanding of Anakin’s feelings than Mace Windu was with Lyra’s feelings.

Anakin’s eyes watched as her top teeth began to chew on her bottom lip, pulling at some of the loose pieces of skin until he saw her flinch once, retracting her teeth and puffing out a deep breath as she licked away the small amount of blood that collected where skin had just been ripped away. Neither of them were ever particularly good with their words. If the order had taught both of them one thing it was to suppress their emotions. “I’m still tired,” her shoulders slouched as she relied on the railing more for support, “and recovering, physically, mentally, kriff I’m even trying to rebuild my bond with the Force. It’s hard, Anakin. I was cut off from everything and everyone I’ve known since I was four, no warning, for two months.”

“I-” but Anakin didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry your Master cut you off from everyone you knew completely for six months and locked you in your room for nearly that entire period. I’m sorry he only let you have supervised conversations with other Padawans until you were fifteen. I’m sorry the moment he was able to, he sent you off planet for a solo mission that just distanced you from everyone even more. There weren’t the proper words for Anakin to express how he felt in the moment.

Anakin did, however, know what used to make both of them feel better after a particularly hard day. He reached into his robes and unclipped his lightsaber from his utility belt, igniting the blade immediately after. For nearly five years the only way Lyra and Anakin had been able to communicate were through their practice duels. After catching the pair leaving Lyra’s room together after The Gathering, Mace Windu immediately took Lyra on as his Padawan, and with that she was cut off from almost the entirety of the outside world. She spent the first six months of her Padawan training locked inside her living quarters, reading and meditating, deepening her connection with the force. Master Windu said she could have no distractions, even when Obi-Wan insisted it would be good for her development to interact with the other Padawans. She had no combat practice and took no classes with the other Padawans. After that six month period, she was only able to interact with other Padawans if one of their Masters were present, and thus continued until well into her fifteenth year, making it nearly impossible to truly form a friendship with anyone. It deterred her from truly being able to understand what attachment was.

Everyone knew that had been Master Windu’s intentions, cut Lyra off from everything she knew so she could truly dedicate her whole being to the Jedi way. It had been a grueling time in her life, and the intended purpose was exactly the outcome that had occurred. Lyra didn’t get close to any of the other Padawans until nearly her sixteenth birthday, and now she had just begun to build friendships.

“Want to finish what you couldn’t earlier?” A wide grin broke out on Lyra’s face as she rather skilfully tied her hair back into a messy bun in a matter of seconds. She unclipped her own lightsaber from her utility belt before igniting one of the blades.

“Both.” Anakin insisted, skilfully twisting his own lightsaber in his hand while he waited for Lyra to ignite the second blade on her’s. If Anakin was anything he was confident in his abilities, sometimes too confident Lyra had managed to discover. His signature little twist he loved to do really just embodied the word ‘cocky’, but it was rather attractive, Lyra had discovered over the years.

She hesitated, watching Anakin carefully, but he nodded in conformation. Lyra closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath while she ignited the second blade on her lightsaber. “You don’t need to fight clean, Anakin,” she took up a defensive stance. “I- I need this right now.” Of course, Anakin already knew that. She needed a distraction, she needed someone who could help remind her who she was, what she was capable of.

Anakin lunged first, his lightsaber making contact with Lyra’s and the all too familiar sound of the blades connecting spiked the adrenaline already coursing through both of their bodies. While Lyra was strong from her years of training, Anakin was six feet and two inches of pure brute strength. Unlike many of the other well built Padawans though, Anakin didn’t rely on his strength to help him win duels, he relied on his skill and ability to connect with the force; his physical strength only enhanced those natural abilities. He was truly a force to be reckoned with, and most other Jedi knew that, which is why his pool of dueling opponents had grown rather small as not many others could keep up with him. Lyra, however, had always been at the top of the list.

Lyra skilfully turned away from Anakin managing to face his back but she wasn’t able to complete her attack, the older boy quickly blocking her swing behind his back. They continued fighting for quite some time, the only sound filling the patio being their lightsabers connecting and their heavy, ragged breathing. They both moved gracefully, almost as if they were dancing, attacks and counterattacks flowing cleanly into one another, their lightsabers simply acting as extensions of their limbs. Each move was carefully calculated, appearing nearly choreographed, any onlooker would be entranced by their dance.

Eventually though, Anakin was able to gain the upper hand, Lyra was growing tired and sloppy and he took his opportunity to truly gain the upper hand when it presented itself to him. In less than a second Anakin saw Lyra’s grip loosen on her lightsaber, enough so that he was able to swipe at one of her blades with his own when her grip was nearly non-existent. The motion sent Lyra’s weapon clattering to the floor and the girl in question tumbled back to the ground bracing her fall with both of her hands. “I made up for earlier,” Anakin’s blade hovered at Lyra’s side, nearly grazing her robes, and she let out a defeated sigh, using her Force abilities to deliver her lightsaber back to her hand, both of the blades turning off as she did so.

“Yeah,” Lyra felt her breath stutter as Anakin turned off his lightsaber, still standing above her. His arms were now crossed over this broad chest and his feet were set shoulder width apart. He embodied what a Jedi was supposed to be, and the fact that Lyra could compete with him, could best him at times, it made her truly believe at times that she was not actually weak. “You made up for earlier,” Lyra pushed herself up onto her elbows and Anakin uncrossed his arms, offering Lyra a hand to help her up.

Lyra looked at the hand that was being offered to her and hesitated momentarily, she could just reach out and grasp Anakin’s hands, it was right in front of her. Human contact of any kind had been conditioned out of Lyra for the past six years, the only time she had any hands other than her own on her body had been to patch up any injuries she couldn’t take care of herself; which tended to be few and far between. “Oh come on,” Anakin extended his hand out even further and Lyra let out a small huff, finally reaching her own hand out.

Anakin’s hand was warm so incredibly warm, Lyra wanted to jerk her own hand away, not used to human contact feeling so intimate. The hands of the medical droids were usually cold and metal, not even truly human as they patched her injuries; other than the droids the last person she had skin to skin contact with was Master Windu. Lyra had managed to slice her leg open from the top of her ankle around to the back of her knee when trying to escape a rather hostile group of Spice traders while on, what was supposed to be, an intel gathering mission in the Underworld.

Her leg had gotten caught on a jagged piece of glass while trying to follow her Master out of a broken window to escape an onslaught of blaster fire. However, in the process she had snagged herself on a broken piece of glass still attached to the window and obtained a nasty cut. Master Windu had been able to quickly patch her leg up before the pair had to continue moving, to avoid being caught.

Mace Windu’s hands had moved quick and had a mission in mind, but Anakin’s hand? His hand was warm and his touch was familiar. Even after Lyra had been pulled to a standing position their hands remained clasped together. The last time Lyra had felt Anakin’s hands he had been twelve and she had been ten, now at eighteen and sixteen the pair found themselves barely a foot apart with their hands clasped together in the small amount of space separating them. Their force signatures reached out to each other, trying to find comfort in one another after years of forced separation. Their force signatures used to have no qualms about intertwining, wrapping around one another at any chance they were given. Now though, they hesitated to mingle, both Jedi unknowingly holding back from the other.

“Anakin!” Lyra dropped his hand quickly, as if he had burnt her with only his touch, at the sound of Obi-Wan’s voice. “Ahh Lyra too, perfect!” Obi-Wan didn’t even seem to consider questioning how close together the two padawans stood, he just continued to make his way toward them R2 trialing not far behind. “You’re needed in the council chambers immediately,” Obi-Wan turned to Lyra as he spoke, his words clearly intended for her. Lyra let out a small groan knowing that meant she’d likely be sent out on another mission. Obi-Wan didn’t seem frantic, meaning it wasn’t necessarily an emergency, but it was clear that her presence was needed in front of the council as soon as possible.

“I’ll head down momentarily,” Lyra tried to keep her composure as she untied her hair from the rather messy knot she had put it in, running her fingers through it to make it appear more presentable. “I’d assume that means I’m being sent to Kessel again already.” She’d barely had time to recover from her last trip, she wasn’t quite sure how she’d fair on another two month trip away from the Temple with no one going with her. Obi-Wan didn’t respond, only offering a half-hearted smile to Lyra who began straightening her robes out.

Obi-Wan cocked his head to the side slightly as he caught Anakin’s eyes rather focused on Lyra while she adjusted her utility belt. “Anakin you are also needed in the council’s Chambers. They requested both of you.” Lyra let out a quiet sigh while she pulled on her cloak, a dark blue material that she had gotten much pushback from Mace about the first time she had it. Her Master had complained it was too colorful, it would be seen as an act of defiance by the council to wear the material. Pretending she hasn’t heard her Master, Lyra simply walked out of her chambers with the cloak on and the dark blue had become a staple color in most of her outfits.

“Sending two Padawan’s on potentially deadly missions at the same time, incredibly intelligent,” Lyra huffed as she looked toward Anakin. “You coming, Skywalker?”

“Yeah,” Anakin shook his head and cleared his throat, “yeah I am.” Obi-Wan crossed his arms over his chest while he watched his Padawan and Lyra depart the outdoor training area. R2 beeped from next to Obi-Wan and he laughed lightly, placing a hand on the droid’s head.

“Yes R2, we’re heading that way as well. I’m just thinking for a moment.” The droid let out another series of beeps. “Yes, yes they are R2.” Obi-Wan let out a small sigh as he and R2 began to head to the Council chambers themselves.

*-*-*-*

“With all due respect Master,” Lyra turned to face Master Windu, “I don’t think it’s smart to send both of us on this mission together, and that’s absolutely not me discrediting Anakin’s skills or ability to succeed.” Lyra and Anakin stood in front of the High Council, the half-moon of the most powerful Jedi suddenly becoming somewhat intimidating as she tried to make her voice heard. She’d spent the past two sessions attending council meetings, getting to know them on a more personal level, but she just felt small standing directly in front of them.

“And why would that be?” Master Kit Fisto’s voice reached Lyra’s ears and she turned to face him. “I feel that Skywalker and yourself are more than qualified to take on this mission.”

Lyra took a moment to center herself as she did not want to lash out at any of the council members, knowing it would not been seen as an appropriate use of her emotions. “Master Fisto, again with all due respect I nearly died twice while I was on Kessel last time I was there, and that was over the course of two months while my identity was incredibly well concealed. What happens this time?”

Nearly died. Anakin hadn’t been privy to the knowledge that Lyra had nearly been killed twice while she was on Kessel, “and the second time was by Jedi Knights that you yourselves sent to trey and break up the Spice ring,” Anakin tuned back into the conversation and Lyra’s voice again filled his ears. He saw that Obi-Wan was watching him carefully, giving his Padawan a small nod when they made eye contact.

“We told you that your safety could not be guaranteed on the previous mission my Padawan.” Mace Windu now spoke; Anakin felt as Lyra metaphorically dug her heels in, her force signature instantly becoming more centered and more grounded. It was a tactic that Obi-Wan had taught him to help become more centered before a fight, meaning that Lyra clearly saw this conversation as more of a fight than a conversation.

“And why wouldn’t any of you suggest informing the Jedi that you had sent to infiltrate a Spice ring that you had one of your own undercover inside!” Her voice raised significantly just within that single sentence. “If you told them who was undercover I very easily could have avoided being nearly sliced in half by a lightsaber!”

“Wise of you to control your emotions would it be. Yes?” Master Yoda now spoke up. “In the fight did we expect you not,” Yoda let out a short hum as he nodded.

Lyra looked to Obi-Wan, her eyes almost pleading for support. However, this was a decision he had been outvoted and outranked on. He had been a strong opponent of sending Lyra and Anakin, the two most powerful Padawans the temple had, on this mission together, but no matter how hard he argued to keep the two away from Kessel, other members of the council just pushed back harder. “Yourself and my Padawan leave in two days time.” It was the only response Obi-Wan was able to offer in the moment, but Lyra felt the wave of comforting energy that Obi-Wan sent her way.

“It isn’t safe! What’s Anakin’s cover going to be? Oh this is my brother, my made up diplomat father won’t realize either of us are gone don’t worry. It’s not going to work.” Anakin had never expected that Lyra of all people would speak up against the council in that manner, being so openly defiant was frowned upon and seen as disrespectful. Anakin stood in shock next to his fellow Padawan, he was unsure what he should say or if he should say anything at all.

“Anakin will pose as your lover,” Ki-Adi-Mundi spoke up, “it’s the most realistic role we could approach the situation with.” Master Ki-Adi-Munda didn’t see phased in the least by Lyra’s reaction. “You escaped the Jedi Assault to Tatooine, there you met Anakin who was working as a moisture farmer and you fell in love. He wished to return to Kessel with you to join the Spice ring to try and make a more prosperous life.”

“I’d assume your previous injury is healed?” Master Windu squinted at Lyra who had her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She felt the anger inside of her beginning to bubble over and likely knew she would be scolded by her master later, but she was in too deep with this argument to back out now.

She took in a deep breath and glanced around the half circle before speaking. “My previous injury healed as best it could given the level of medical attention I received and the speed at which it was delivered.”

“We would like to see what remains to ensure that your story and what the other Spice traders saw would properly fit what remains.” It was Obi-Wan who spoke this time. The council knew that their request to see her scars would likely be met with pushback, and having the council member she trusted the most make that request would lessen just how much push back they received. It was disgusting really.

Anakin began to feel Lyra’s force signature fill with discomfort and pure sadness, he wanted to reach out with his own and comfort her, but he knew that the council would feel it as well. Instead he opted instead to take a step closer to her and he saw her cheeks fill with air as she began to undo her utility belt. She let it clatter loudly to the floor as she shrugged off her cloak as well, the blue fabric crumbling into a ball on top of her belt.

Anakin watched as her hands shook, moving to the bottom of her tunic and the top of her pants waistband. She hadn’t fought the council on this matter, only accepted they would need to see her previous injury before making any further determinations. Standing next to Lyra, Anakin was unable to get a clear view of what remained as she separated the fabric and put a thin band of skin on display. He didn’t need to see the remains of her injury to know how gruesome it must have been. Obi-Wan’s eyes widened as she saw the exposed flesh and Anakin would have sworn he saw tears gathering in his Master’s eyes. Lyra slowly turned so that the remainder of the High Council could see her scar and Anakin found himself unable to look away from the exposed strip of skin. A dark pink and angry scar stretched from hip bone to hip bone and looked as if it never properly healed, the skin still looked sensitive and raw, like a wrong movement would tear it open again. “I hope my injuries meet your expectations,” Lyra pulled her waistband back up and tugged her tunic down, shrugging her cloak on and picking up her utility belt and slinging it over her shoulder haphazardly. “I’ll be on the launch deck in two days time.” Lyra didn’t wait to be dismissed before she turned and walked out of the High Council’s chambers with a slight twitch in her hand the door opened and closed behind her.

Anakin was left standing somewhat dumbfounded in the center of the center of High Council chambers. “Trust you we do, Young Skywalker.” Master Yoda gave Anakin a small nod. “Successful you will be.” Anakin swallowed and nodded once.

“Thank you, Master Yoda.” He wanted to speak up and say something on Lyra’s behalf but he wasn’t quite sure what to say. He knew that he and Lyra were expected to begin completing the trials soon, but the pushback Lyra was giving them likely meant that the council may reevaluate her ability to complete the trials and her ability to control her emotions.

“You are dismissed, Skywalker,” Master Windu let out a deep sigh as he let Anakin know he was free to go. “May the force be with you.”

“May the force be with you as well Masters.” As soon as Anakin exited the High Council’s chambers he reached out to try and find Lyra’s force signature. However, she was blocking him out and she was doing a damn good job at it. Anakin found his feet leading him back to where he and Lyra had dueled before Obi-Wan had found them and told the pair that they were needed in the counsel chambers. No one often left the temple at night, most Jedi took the evenings to meditate and unwind and very few used the evenings for anything except that.

“Ani, I really don’t want to talk about it.” Lyra spoke into the chilly night air once she felt Anakin reach the space. She leaned over the railing again, both her arms hanging freely and her head rested on the cool metal. Anakin could tell she was distressed, embarrassed, angry, she rather thoroughly felt nearly every emotion that could be considered negative. Her robes had been straightened out and her utility belt sat clipped around her waist, it seemed like she never even had shown the council what remained of her old injury.

Anakin, as he had earlier that evening, approached the railing to the balcony and rested his forearms on the metal, hanging his head between his shoulders while he let the silence linger between them. “I don’t need you to talk about it, but it would be nice to know what I’m getting myself into.” He heard Lyra release a deep sigh as she let her head rest on the railing for a few more moments before standing up straighter.

“If I’m talking about this we’re going to the Cantina,” Lyra pushed away from the railing and began to walk towards the entrance back into the Temple, “you coming or what, Skywalker?”

“But we, I can’t-” Anakin stumbled over his words.

Lyra laughed lightly before looking over her shoulder at Anakin. “I’m emotionally unstable and they’re practically sending us on a suicide mission in two days,” Lyra cocked her head slightly to the side, “I promise no one is going to stop us form leaving the Temple tonight. If it would make you feel better I can ask Obi-Wan if he’d like to accompany us.”

“You can- Obi-Wan?” Anakin thought about his Master accompanying both of them on an unapproved trip to the cantina most likely in the underworld, and it didn’t sound all that logical.

“Yeah,” Lyra let a small smile stretch across his lips, “Obi-Wan and I sneak out to the cantina fairly often.” She saw Anakin’s face fall as he realized his own Master had never asked him to accompany them to the cantina. “It’s never something that you’d want to go with us for, emotions we shouldn’t be experiencing that we try to drink away, and all that,” she dismissively waved her hand and grabbed her comlink out of the pocket of her robes.

Obi-Wan’s hologram appears a second later, clearly inside his chambers, likely trying to decompress after the rather stressful counsel meeting. “Ahh Master Kenobi!” Lyra spoke as she walked to Anakin’s side. “I was just about to fill Anakin in on my last mission to Kessel at Moshi if you’d like to meet us there.” Anakin watched as Obi-Wan lifted his head from where he had been taking off his boots.

“I can meet the two of you there in about,” he paused for a moment, clearly thinking, “thirty. I’d rather not leave the temple as a group. That would likely draw too much attention.”

“You’ve got it, Master!” Lyra’s smile grew into more of a smirk as the comlink call ended, “you ready for this one Skywalker? Because I’m not sure if you are.”

*-*-*-*

Walking into Moshi Lyra pulled her hood down and Anakin followed not far behind, the bar seemed somewhat crowded and most of the tables were taken. Lyra nodded towards an empty booth and Anakin took that as his sign to claim the table as Lyra approached the bar. “My favorite Jedi!” Tiggs Leo greeted Lyra at the bar, still mixing drinks as he spoke to her, “no tab for you tonight!” He slid three drinks down the bar to waiting patrons. “You came with a new Jedi, is Obi-Wan not joining you?”

Lyra found her eyes skimming over the bottles of alcohol behind Tiggs as he spoke. “That’s Anakin, Obi-Wan’s Padawan,” she elaborated, “Obi-Wan will be joining us shortly.”

“Ahh! Excellent! What can I get started for you then?” Tiggs put down the bottles he had been holding previously and directed his attention towards Lyra. She glanced over her shoulder to see Anakin looking around the space rather uncomfortably.

Tapping her finger on the bar counter Lyra thought about what Anakin may like; she was unsure if he’d ever been to a catania before. He looked rather surprised when she had mentioned it earlier, but he was older than her and Obi-Wan, of all people, was his Master for Kriff’s sake. “A blumfruit cooler, cassandran brandy and a courkrus lomin.” Tiggs was making the drinks before Lyra even had the chance to finish ordering.

“I hope whatever you ordered me isn’t a surprise.” Obi-Wan must have arrived while she had been ordering drinks. He had changed into more casual robes than he had been in at the council meeting and his cloak had been shrugged off and crumpled next to him in the booth. Following suit, Lyra shrugged off her own cloak and slid into the booth next to Anakin.

“A cassandran brandy for the Jedi Master,” Tiggs approached the booth and slid Obi-Wan his drink. He gratefully accepted the glass and took a small sip as soon as he received it. “A blumfruit cooler for my favorte Jedi customer, and I would assume the courkrus lomin is for the newcomer,” Tiggs set the final glass in front of Anakin. “As soon as you’re ready for another round just let me know the order!”

As Tiggs slinked back behind the bar Lyra switched her glass and Anakin’s. “You’ll like it,” she offered him the glass, picking up her own and drinking nearly half of it on the first sip. “Tiggs is adding our tab to the senate’s again,” Lyra smirked at Obi-Wan over the rim of her glass.

Obi-Wan tilted her glass towards Lyra and Anakin, “I’ll drink to that.” He lifted his own class and took a slow sip. “And I’ll drink to that kriffing Council meeting being over.” Obi-Wan quickly knocked back the remainder of his first drink and Tiggs almost immediately brought over another one. “For the record, sending both of you, either of you, to Kessel was not my idea. I was just outvoted on the issue.”

“I guessed,” Lyra finished her own first drink and pushed it towards the end of the table, indicating that she too was ready for a second. “I’m here to fill Ani in though on my last mission to Kessel, figured it might be umm, helpful insight.” Lyra and Obi-Wan hadn’t included Anakin in on the conversation yet and he was beginning to feel rather left out.

Mallory sighed and picked up the blue straw that had been stuck in the glass, taking a sip of the drink, hardly tasting the whipped cream vodka that had been used in it when she swallowed. “I won’t badmouth him or anything, I can’t,” Mallory shook her head, “he doesn’t deserve to be bad mouthed at all, but I still just think it’s a little bit unfair how he ended it.”

“If you weren’t so, interested, for a lack of better words, in him still; then I’d be the one doing the badmouthing,” Kira laughed from across the couch. The three girls had wound up at UC Berkley after high school, and once their first year had ended, the trio had opted to rent a three-bedroom off campus apartment together for the remainder of their time at the school.

Mallory pinched the bridge of her nose after setting her glass down next to her on the floor, curling her legs up underneath herself and turning back to her paper. “Thank god my parents moved I could not go back to Beacon Hills on break and see him while I pretend like nothing happened after this shit show.”

Mallory turned to face her friends, “I think I’m just still too interested to actually deal with my problems, he just kinda dropped it on me after I put so much work into trying to like learn how to actually be a good partner, I can’t just forget that!” The case names on Mallory’s page had started to blend together twenty minutes back, and she wasn’t quite sure if she was writing a paper for her Constitutional Law or Civil Liberties class anymore, but it was work to distract her from Stiles.

Stiles, Mallory scoffed to herself and shook her head. Stiles had been Malloy’s best friend throughout the majority of high school, the two sticking together through the thick and the thin. However, one stupid decision had added such an awkwardness to the air around their once so easygoing and comfortable friendship that she could hardly bring herself to respond to the boy when he texted her anymore. Maybe she was the only one feeling that way, but she refused to ask Stiles about that, hoping to at least make him feel like she could keep a halfway normal conversation like they used to. She couldn’t let him know that he had hurt her, she didn’t want him having that on his shoulders.

‘Remember that case you were talking about last week? The one with the chicken farmer or whatever. It came up in my commerce class here!’ Mallory had read that message, one that was usually so easy to respond to, over and over again, for nearly ten minutes before responding with a simple, ‘yeah I’m writing my summer mid-term paper on it.’ In the past? Mallory would be able to talk for hours about something like that with him. Now? Now just seeing his name pop up on her phone made her slightly nauseous, but then again maybe that was the meals she was skipping or the drinks she had the night before.

Their conversations seemed to start ending in a cycle of the words ‘cool’ or ‘gotcha’, so many things going unsaid between the pair while the short, chipped responses also seemed to carry their own weight.

A month before, anything ‘awkward’ happening between the two would have seemed impossible, but now it had seemed to become the norm. It felt like the norm now for Mallory at least. Their senior year Mallory swore to herself, along with Kira and Allison, that she would never let her feelings for Stiles get in the way of their friendship, a friendship she didn’t want to ruin. At the end of her second year of college, however, she had proved herself wrong.

It felt easy to fall into a relationship (situation-ship?) with Stiles, far too easy when it had first happened. It really all felt surreal when Mallory looked back on it. Stiles was still in Quantico for the year when the conversation had come up, and Mallory was in the process of extending her lease into the summer so she could stay close to Berkeley for the internship she had been offered.

‘I thought you were kidding when you asked me out the other night.’

‘I don’t want to be the Lydia rebound.’

‘I value having you in my life and I don’t want to lose that.’

‘We can’t just say ‘oh fuck’ a few months down the line and go back to normal.’

‘I don’t want anything to be awkward between us if it goes wrong.’

Stiles told her if they started talking that wouldn’t happen; that he too valued their friendship and would never want it to sour.

That they could work out.

That long distance wasn’t his first choice, but they could make it work.

They could meet halfway.

That he liked her.

That he wanted to try.

Sadly, it had all gone wrong somewhere, and Mallory knew deep down it had been her fault. Now the boy that she once felt comfortable spilling her deepest darkest secrets, fears and desires too felt somewhat like a stranger. Their friendship felt like a skeleton of what it once was, and Malloy hated that.

Malloy hated that she was the one to ruin their friendship.

That she was the one who could not seem to let go of what could have been.

That something which took years to build, could be torn down in a night.

Mallory hated herself for letting her feelings get the best of her, for finally letting Stiles in all the way thinking that he was the one person who couldn’t hurt her. She felt stupid for thinking that Stiles was the only person in the world who could never hurt her. He managed to prove her wrong though, and she felt like she had finally slipped off the edge of the cliff, holding on to the edge now for dear life. However, there was no one above her anymore to take her hand and pull her back up.

When the last guy Mallory had been talking to no longer seemed interested, she had a couple drinks, hung out with Kira and Allison, and sang awful karaoke to One Direction and old Disney movies. When Stiles had cut it off between the two of them? Mallory felt utterly defeated. The one person she thought she finally had a chance with, the one person she had tried to push her feelings down for years for and had finally- finally let her feelings spill over for- had taken whatever hope she had left to have a happy relationship before she finished college (or law school for that matter), and stomped on it.

Mallory had been sitting at the table in her apartment, case studies haphazardly stacked up next to her and her first summer paper open on her laptop. Her hair had been tied up on top of her head, her curtain bangs falling into her face and a highlighter clasped between her teeth. She had been trying to fight off her cramps and the migraine she felt coming on from her monthly visitor so she could finish the work she needed to when a text from Stiles popped up on her phone.

‘Could we talk about our relationship?’ Mallory read the words out of the corner of her eye and capped her highlighter before sitting down on one of the four chairs around the dining room table. She paused the argument that had been playing through her laptop speakers and minimized her paper before pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose and taking her phone between her hands.

‘Yeah?’ She wasn’t completely sure what Stiles could want to talk about. After a few weeks of the pair actually ‘talking’, Mallory had just truly started to feel comfortable with their new relationship and she planned on embracing it with open arms. Although she knew there could be some bumps, especially with the distance, she had told herself that she could make it work. Stiles was supposed to be back in Beacon Hills the following week while he was on leave from classes and training, and she had requested days off from her summer internship to make the drive back and see him. She wanted to put the effort in, wanted to make it work.

Between her thoughts running wild, and her incessant lip chewing, Mallory hadn’t even seen the new message from Stiles pop up in their text chain. ‘I honestly just don’t think I can do this.’ He can’t do what? Them? Mallory felt a lump start to form in her throat and she blinked away any tears she felt welling up in her eyes. She would not cry over a boy; she would not let Stiles – Stiles of all people - be the one to hurt her.

Deep down though, Mallory knew it was inevitable, as much as she hated to admit it. She gave people what they needed for a few weeks, someone to talk to – someone to fill a hole – then they moved on; she should have expected it but she refused to believe that Stiles would do that to her.

‘I get it, that’s fine.’ Mallory typed out the simple response and hit send before opening her paper again, before pressing play on the arguments she had been listening to, before taking a sip of her too hot tea; before falling back into her old routine.

They sent a few more messages back and forth; Stiles apologizing and Mallory assuring him that it was fine, that she got it- she left out that she was used to it – but Stiles somehow still worked up the balls to hit her with three little words. ‘Are you okay?’

Is she okay? Malloy laughed wetly and shook her head to herself before responding. ‘Yep.’ She let her fingers drag across the keyboard while she responded, hovering over the send button for a few seconds before she sent her response back to the boy. She didn’t owe him her feelings, not anymore.

‘I feel like it was a bad time and you’re not okay and I’m sorry.’ I feel like it was a bad time. What did Stiles want her to say? ‘Oh yeah no I’m perfectly fine, I finally- FINALLY let myself open up to a guy I had been secretly into for two years now and he turns around a couple weeks later and says he can’t do it because of the distance?’ If that’s what he wanted she’d give it to him and more, but she knew it wasn’t worth it. She knew that it wasn’t worth her time to even bother trying to explain her feelings, but she’s sure in a couple of days she would anyways. She had three select people she actually shared her feelings with, and Stiles just so happened to be one of them.

That first night after Stiles had ended things between them, Mallory had too much work to finish to even be able to process what had happened fully and completely. She had let herself tear up once before shoving her headphones in and diving right back into her research, nearly pulling an all-nighter to get everything she needed to do that weekend done. In hindsight, she should have left some for the next day to distract herself, but she hadn’t thought that far into advance.

The next day, however, was a Sunday, and Mallory had no work left to do, none of her internship’s offices were open and none of her friends had stayed in the area for the summer. It meant that she was alone all day with her thoughts, something that hadn’t happened in quite a while. Mallory just went through the motions of the day, she made coffee, went to the food store, she skipped breakfast, went on a run and she skipped lunch. She wasn’t hungry anyways; she was tired, it was fine to skip breakfast and lunch for a day when she felt so drained.

Mallory kept telling herself that it was fine to skip breakfast and lunch for one day, that she would get back into her routine - but when dinner rolled around and the only thing in her fridge and freezer that looked appealing was watermelon she sighed and pulled out the container. ‘You need to have a protein shake if you don’t eat a meal,’ Mallory heard her doctor’s words echoing in her head.

She filled up her cheeks with air before letting it drain out slowly, she didn’t even think she had protein shakes anymore, she threw them all out once she could eat enough food again. It had been over a year and a half since she had passed out at practice that one day, it had been nearly a year since her doctors had felt that she made enough progress to be let off on her own again. She would be fine without a protein shake; she could skip breakfast and lunch and get by with a light dinner just this once.

“I can’t just tell him he made me feel used, Ally,” Mallory stabbed another piece of watermelon with her fork before lifting it to her mouth and biting half the piece off; it was good, she just didn’t think she could stomach much more. “Like that’ll make me look like the asshole, and I don’t think he’s an asshole, his feelings are just as valid as mine I just-” Mallory trailed off. “I’m not sure if I can trust him the same way I used to.” Mallory felt some of the weight she had been carrying for the last day come off her shoulders with those words.

She heard Allison sigh on the other end of the phone and took the other half of her piece of watermelon off her fork while she waited and chewed slowly. “I’m not the happiest with him at the moment, but Kira and I have a few things left at the apartment we need for summer anyway so we’ll come up Tuesday or Wednesday for a girls night and to talk it through in person.”

“You guys don’t need to-”

“For now,” Allison cut her off, “I don’t think it would hurt to tell him how you feel about the whole situation. You say his feeling are valid, but yours are just as valid. The whole thing just doesn’t really add up for me though, how he did such a one-eighty so quickly.” Mallory nodded along while Allison spoke, starting to feel queasy after a few pieces of the watermelon that sat in front of her. “Text me if you need anything, okay?”

Mallory snapped the cap back on her watermelon container before responding, “sounds good, thanks Ally.”

“Anything for you,” she heard Allison laugh lightly at the other end of the phone before the line went dead, again leaving Mallory alone, with her thoughts. She minimized the word document she had been proofreading her case summaries on and opened up a clean document, the small black line at the top of the page blinking rhythmically, inviting her to spill her thoughts on to the page.

She felt her throat start to get tight when she realized what she was about to do, she felt her eyes well up with tears and she felt her heart practically beating out of her chest. She felt the panic crawling up her throat and let out a shaky breath, opening her messages and clicking on the only person she could think to go to in the moment. After her eyes caught the words, ‘I really am sorry’ on her screen she felt the dam break, she felt the tears start to roll down her cheeks for the first time and she felt the relief of finally letting herself feel start to flood her body.

She couldn’t just go to Stiles anymore; she didn’t feel comfortable going to her best friend when she felt like she needed him the most, because he was half the reason her panic had finally boiled over. What kind of person was she to have let this happen? She should have just ignored her feelings; she shouldn’t have ever acknowledged it when he told her he was seriously interested. She should have told him no, she should have said her feelings had passed, that she still wasn’t over the other guy she had been talking to previously.

She should have.

She should have.

She should have.

But, she couldn’t go back in time and just fix everything that she had broken; she had to deal with the consequences. And the consequences could turn ugly rather quickly, it had taken her less than a day to lose her appetite again. How long would it take for her hair to start falling out again? For the insomnia to kick in? How long would it take for the guilt to actually eat her alive this time? She had ruined one of the best friendship’s life had ever given her, and now she had to deal with the consequences.

So, if she drowned herself in bottle after bottle of mixed drinks on a Monday night who would even care? If she joked about being hungover the next morning before her ten-a.m. meeting when he texted her, who would even care? Mallory let herself slowly slip back into a routine she had long forgotten, but she couldn’t hurt Stiles. She couldn’t let the boy know how much losing him was truly going to break her. He deserved better. He could do better.

Mallory? She had long ago accepted that she had a fixer mentality, and she had also accepted that others recognized that. She was sent into others’ lives to help them pick up a couple of pieces they needed her to and then she’d move along; on to the next person who needed her. She thought that maybe, just this once, she could help fix someone while also getting some broken pieces of her own picked up along the way. However, Mallory realized that it wasn’t Stiles who had been the naïve one, it was her, and she’d accept that eventually. For now, though, she’d speak the words she’d never be able to tell him into her bottle.

PART 0.1 TEASER

Derek left out an unhappy huff and Mallory knew that he hadn’t taken the bait. “Is this about Stiles?”

You now sat on the desk in the Bridgerton study, Colin pacing around the room in front of you, his boots rhythmically hitting the floor with every step he took. “What if he kills Simon?”

“Colin-”

“What if Simon kills him?”

“Colin I don’t think that-”

“Benedict surely doesn’t want to be bothered with the social scene, does that mean the responsibility to escort all of my sisters through their season falls on me?” The boy in front of you stopped pacing and pulled on the roots of his hair, letting out a long, frustrated sigh. “I’m supposed to be traveling soon! Anthony is supposed to be the mature one, he’s supposed to know how to run the family! Not me!”

“COLIN! STOP!” You finally cut the boy off, standing up and placing both of your hands firmly on his shoulders. “Nothing is going to happen to Simon or Anthony, no one saw Simon and Daphne in that garden other than your brother so there’s nothing to hide!” You dropped your hands from Colin’s shoulder. 

“But-” both you and Colin turned to face the door of the study, Daphne standing in the doorway, her tone sombre and her head bowed towards the ground. “What if someone did see?”

You stepped away from Colin to face the eldest Bridgerton daughter, your tone changing to one of concern. “What do you mean what if someone saw,” you felt panic starting to bubble up in your chest. “Did someone see you and Simon in the garden last night?” You thought Anthony had been overreacting when he pulled yourself and Colin into the study the night before after you had helped escort Lady Bridgerton home. But if Daphne was concerned someone saw her and Simon kiss, maybe he wasn’t overreacting.

Daphne opened her mouth, as if she wanted TJ speak, before closing it again. Silence fell across the three of you before you heard Daphne gasp. “Cressida Cowper,” Daphne blurted out. “When Anthony brought me inside she stopped me and and asked if I caught a chill in the garden.” You watched Daphne’s expression change to one of concern.

“Cressida Cowper,” Colin started running a frustrated hand over his face again, “saw you and Hastings in the garden last night and Anthony, nor Hastings, know?” He took in a long breath before leering the air out through his nose.

Daphne quickly shook her head. “Colin you need to tell me where they went,” Daphne demanded. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, not finding it proper to interrupt the conversation between the siblings.

“Daphne, Hasting has, he’s done you one of the greatest dishonors,” Colin quickly shook his head, giving his sister a clearly confused look. “I’m sure you want him to pay.”

“I don’t want him to pay with his life!” Daphne’s voice grew louder and you stepped towards the sibilants again, hoping you wouldn’t have to be the one to calm their tempers so no one else in the estate would be woken.

“Well, I’m sure both Anthony and the Duke will do as gentlemen should and shoot wide,” Colin supplemented with a shrug.

You stepped between the two siblings, “besides,” you supplemented, “everyone might just think that Cressida has a grudge against you. You did take the Prince’s attention off of her, even if you don’t want to admit it.” 

Daphne, however, seemed to refuse to take no for an answer. “Colin you need to tell me where they went.” She turned to her brother again, a desperate look on her face now, “you know Anthony’s pride won’t let him shoot wide.”

Colin puffed air into his cheek, letting it out slowly before speaking. “Fine, but we’re coming with you.” 

You had been lucky enough to be able to bring your own horse with you to London, and now, racing towards the site of the duel, you were glad you had. The Bridgerton’s horses clearly had not gotten used to speeding across the hills, as they lagged slightly behind you. Years of living out in the middle of the country had given you, and your horses, the ability to adapt to all different types of terrain. Be it flooded field, rolling hills or even shoulder high grasses, your horses were able to tackle it all.

You were glad your hair, still expertly tied up from the night before, had yet to be taken out as it kept the strands from flying into your face, distracting you from the task at hand. Still slightly ahead of both Colin and Daphne you were able to make out five figures standing in a plot of open land between two beautiful trees. Anthony and Simon were back to back in the clearing, both men clutching a handgun between their hands.

“You can go faster,” you urged your horse while he pushed himself to fly faster through the tall grass field, his breath coming out in heavy puffs. Anthony and Simon began to take slow, steady steps away from each other and you held your breath, knowing you were unable to push your horse to go any faster without him hurting himself. 

Both men paused briefly before turning to face each other. Anthony pointed his gun towards Simon, while the Duke aimed towards the sky. Now, within proper distance of the ongoing duel you started to slow your horse. “Anthony!” You swung both of your legs to one side of your horse, trying to keep your balance while you did so. “Anthony stop!” Your horse slowed to nearly a stop and you let yourself slide off your horse’s back, your feet not even hitting the ground before you were running towards the two men.

“What are you doing?” Benedict practically yelled while you ran in between Anthony and the Duke. “Anthony! Anthony stop!” Benedict called when he realized you had already made up your mind. However, his call for the eldest Bridgerton to hold his fire.

Before you knew what had hit you, in both a literal and figurative sense, you felt a searing pain cut across your cheek. The bang of the gun firing didn’t reach your ears until after you had hit the ground, your left hand clutched tightly over your right cheek. Anthony and Benedict calling your name didn’t register either, especially when you pulled your hand away from your cheek and noticed it had been covered in blood.

“(Y/N),” a warm, heavy hand was placed on your shoulder and another pulled your hand away from your cheek. “The doctor needs to make you’re you’re fine, (Y/N),” Anthony’s panicked eyes met your own. However, you couldn’t focus on them with the pain in your cheek and the blood still covering your hand.

An older man crouched down next to you, pulling a medical bag up next to him and opening it before he began expecting the wound on your cheek. “The bullet just grazed her,” the doctor spoke while he began cleaning the wound, “she’s lucky.”

“Thank the heavens,” Anthony breathed out while he pressed his forehead to your temple on your unharmed side, his warm breath fanning across your cheek. “I’m so sorry,” you could hear his voice break towards the end.

“She’s perfectly fine my lord, keep the wound clean and covered and it’ll heal in absolutely no time.” You winced when you felt the doctor wipe something across your cheek, the pain flaring up momentarily before subsiding again. “I’m sure you could tell Lady Bridgerton it was a riding accident and everything would be believed. “If that’s all, and you gentlemen don’t intend on trying the duel again,” the doctor looked between Anthony and the Duke, “I’ll be going.”

Hasting and Anthony both thanked the doctor before he departed, Daphne and Simon engaged in a seemingly heated conversation along with Colin and Benedict. “(Y/N).” Anthony started, both of your hands held in one of his large ones. “I don’t-”

“I can’t right now, Anthony,” you placed a hand across your covered cheek. “I just,” you let out a frustrated sigh, “I’m questioning if your mind and your heart and in two different places at the moment.” You felt tears begin to gather in the corners of your eyes.

“(Y/N), please,” Anthony seemed to be nearly begging, tears gathered in his own eyes while you stood up. Your hands felt from his grip and you cupped his cheek with one, running your thumb along his cheek bone.

You offered the man in front of you a sad smile before you removed your hand. “I’m going to ask one of your brothers to escort me home while you and the others decide the next steps between Daph and the Duke.” He opened his mouth to speak, but you didn’t allow him to. “Once you reconsider priorities we can revisit our arrangement, but I will not be second to any other reckless endeavors you wish to engage in if we do get married.”