#eymissingcherik

Didn’t understand why your wrists were tied to a chair. Didn’t understand why the room smelled like metal and something sharp and wrong. Didn’t understand why the men in front of you kept asking about Loki.

Your Loki. Your husband who kissed your forehead every morning, who brought you tea when your migraines got bad, who listened to you ramble about books like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

“C’mon,” one of them sneered, crouching in front of you. “You really expect us to believe you don’t know what he does?”

Your throat felt tight, frantically looking around the room. You had no idea where he had taken you. Or who this man was. Or what he was talking about. “He—he works in business.”

The room went quiet for a second.

Then laughter. Harsh. Mocking. “Business,” another echoed. “Yeah. That’s one way to put it.”

You shook your head, panic starting to claw its way up your chest. “I don’t understand what you want from me. I told you—I don’t know anything.”

The first man sighed like you were inconveniencing him. “Your husband runs half this city. Weapons, money, people. Nothing moves without his say-so. And you're telling us you have no idea how diabolical he is?”

Your heart stuttered. “No,” you whispered, because that didn’t make sense. It couldn’t. “No, you’re wrong. Loki wouldn’t—he’s—he’s—”

Kind. Gentle. Careful with you like you were something fragile.

The man grabbed your chin suddenly, forcing you to look at him. “He’s a liar. And you’re either stupid… or you’re lying for him.”

Tears blurred your vision. “I’m not lying…” Your voice cracked, small and helpless in the cold room. “I swear, I don’t know anything.”

There was a beat.

Then a sound echoing in the ditance. A thud. Another. Raised voices outside. Shouting. Something breaking.

The men froze. You felt it before you understood it—the shift in the air. Like a storm rolling in. Heavy. Inevitable.

One of them cursed under his breath. “Shit—”

The door burst open. And everything stopped. Because Loki stood there. Not your Loki. Not the man who brushed your hair out of your face while you read in bed. This Loki was dressed in black, coat immaculate, eyes cold and sharp like cut glass. There was blood on his knuckles—fresh blood—and men behind him who looked just as dangerous.

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Loki’s gaze found you. And everything—everything—in his expression shattered. “Darling.” His voice dropped, softer than you’d ever heard it, like the word itself might break you further.

Your breath hitched. “Loki…?”

He crossed the room in seconds. The men didn’t even try to stop him. Didn’t dare. He dropped to his knees in front of you, hands suddenly so careful as they hovered over your face, your shoulders, like he was afraid to touch you too roughly. “Are you hurt?” he murmured, frantic now. “Did they—did they touch you—?”

“I…” Your voice trembled. “They said—”

You looked at him—really looked. At the blood. At the men behind him. At the way everyone else in the room refused to meet his eyes. “…they said you’re… in the mafia.”

Silence. It stretched. Heavy.

Loki closed his eyes briefly, like he’d been dreading this exact moment for a very long time. When he opened them again, the softness was still there—but underneath it was something darker. Something powerful. Something real. “Yes,” he said quietly.

The word felt like it split the world in two.

You flinched. Not away from him—never that—but from the truth itself. “…you lied to me.” It wasn’t angry. That made it worse.

Loki’s face crumpled just slightly, guilt flickering through all that control. “I protected you.”

“By lying?”

“By keeping you safe,” he corrected, sharper now—but the edge vanished the second your eyes filled again. “By making sure you never had to see this part of me.”

Your lips trembled. “But it’s still you.”

That hit him. You could see it. He swallowed, something raw breaking through his composure. “Yes.”

Your gaze dropped to his hands—the same hands that held yours so gently—now stained with blood. “…did you hurt them?” you whispered.

Behind him, one of the men shifted nervously.

Loki didn’t look away from you. “Yes.”

The honesty was terrifying.

And yet still, he reached for you slowly, like approaching a frightened animal. “But never you. Never anything that belongs to you. Never anything that breathes near you.” His voice dropped, something dark curling through it now. “They took you.” The room seemed to shrink around those words. “And for that,” Loki continued softly, “they don’t get to keep breathing.”

Your heart pounded. You should’ve been scared. You were scared. But not of him. Never of him. Your voice came out small. “…you still love me?”

Something almost offended flashed across his face. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours despite the blood, despite everything. “You are the only thing in this wretched world I have ever loved,” he whispered.

Your breath caught.

“And I would burn every empire I’ve built to ash before I let harm come to you again.”

Your eyes closed, tears slipping free. “…okay.”

It was quiet. Fragile. But it was enough. Loki exhaled like he’d been holding his breath since the moment you were taken. Carefully, gently, he untied your wrists—his fingers trembling just slightly as he checked for marks. “I’m taking you home,” he murmured.

Home.

The word felt different now.

He stood, then hesitated… before shrugging off his coat and draping it around your shoulders, shielding you from the room, from the men, from himself. From what he was.

But as he helped you up, your hand clutched his sleeve.

He paused. “…you’re still my Loki,” you said softly.

This seemed to tick John off as the two of them started shouting back and forth, while Bob sat between the two of them awkwardly.

"Ok uhm...can we maybe...not fight?" He mutters under his breath but was completely ignored. Ava rolls her eyes at the childish scene before her and flickers her gaze down towards the nervous man. Silently telling him that it wasn't worth wasting his breath.

Surprisingly enough, he understood rather quickly and kept his mouth shut. Bucky groans in annoyance at the bickering in the backseats, and it didn't help either when a large man was snoring away next to him.

But swiftly brushes it off after pulling into a familiar driveway. He hadn't been back at this house for about a week now, so he was dreading what awaited him when he opened the doors. Especially since he has four other guests with him, who he quite recently found acquaintanceship with just a few days ago.

"Listen up, we're staying at this place for a while until things die down. So please, don't make this harder for me than it already is." Bucky states as the the group follows him down the pathway towards a red brick secluded house that was tucked in a small corner of New York City.

They all exchanged confused looks before reluctantly nodding at the grumpy man, with a few grunts and hushed responses. Honestly they were just really tired and their bodies were sore so there was no use in complaining.

"God - I hope she's in a good mood..." Bucky mumbles before reaching into his pocket to fish out his keys and was about to put it into the keyhole. Only to be interrupted midway as he hears the sound of another car pulling up behind him.

"Bucky honey? Is that you?!"

Everyone turned around at the sudden mention of 'Bucky' and 'honey' in the same sentence. All but Bucky himself as he walks back down the pathway towards you.

"Did I hear that right? There's no way Mr. Congressman would have a girlfriend." Ava whispers to the others as they all watched him walk past the minivan, disappearing from their sight.

There were mixed reactions as they all talked amongst themselves, trying to figure out who you might be.

You were pretty confused as well since there was a dirty minivan parked in your driveway. As soon as you step out of your car to examine the vehicle, you catch a glimpse of a figure in the corner of your eye.

Adrenaline kicked in almost immediately, thinking maybe this was going to be a robbery. I mean you do live in a pretty sketchy neighbourhood so it was possible. The sun was setting so it was pretty difficult to see who it could be, you had your fighting stance ready as the person steps out of the shadows.

"God Bucky! You could've said something instead of sneaking up on me like that!" You yelled and tried calming yourself since your heart was practically hammering against your chest.

"Yeah sorry 'bout that doll, didn't mean to scare you," Bucky drawls as he pulls you into his arm for a warm embrace. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you bury your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the strong scent of gasoline mixed with his cologne.

There was sand mixed with dirt on his tough leather jacket, but you didn't question it since he had finished a mission. Honestly speaking, you were just glad he was home again.

You then peer over Bucky's shoulder and finally noticed the rugged group of individuals standing in your porch.

They wanted to see what all the fuss was about so they snuck up on the couple and spied on them from behind the van. You were about to open your mouth to say something before spotting a familiar face amongst them.

She had short and slightly messy bob cut and an oddly cute frown on her face. Yelena steps forward hesitantly while examining your face at the same time, seemingly trying to figure out where she had seen you before.

Then it clicks, you were her older sisters best friend. She remembers how kind and comforting you acted towards her whenever she'd come to visit her sister.

You spread open your arms for her and without hesitation, Yelena falls into your embrace.

"Its good to see you 'lena," you murmured into her hair while she smiles at the mention of her nickname.

" 's good to see you too..."

Bucky joins the rest of the group, a small smile tugged at his lips as they all watched the heartwarming scene unfold before them.

He's not sure what waited them past this, but for now, he just wants this disfunctional group of anti-heroes to find some sort of peace while they stayed here.

"Sorry I brought them here on such short notice," Bucky mutters as he leans down to your height when you let the others into your house.

"Ahh it's no biggy. Besides, I'm happy to have more house guests." You quipped while closing the door after Bob awkwardly walks in as the last in line.

Everyone had already made their way down the hall towards the living room to look around. Yelena let's out a long whistle as she checks out the place, to be fair, your house was quite spacious since you got the best place in the neighbourhood thanks to Pepper.

Although she insisted on getting you a penthouse, you turned down the offer.

"What's this?" Alexei asks with curiosity after picking up a delicately crafted box. You ran over to where he was and effortlessly took it from his hands so that he doesn't break it.

"Oh well - it's a gift from a friend. She's gone now...so I like to keep it up on the mantle to remember her by." You say in a hushed tone while you look down at the detailed craftsmanship in your hands.

Alexei knew exactly how you felt, so he placed a large hand on your shoulder and gave you a light squeeze of acknowledgement. "I understand, Alexei has been through much loss just like you."

Thanks to Yelena, you had the privilege of meeting Alexei a few years back when Natasha was still alive. So you were happy to have both of them back in your life.

"Dad, you can stop bothering her now. You've said enough shit already." Yelena groans while dragging Alexei away from you since he was still rambling on about Natasha and how much you reminded him of her.

"Do we have enough space for them?" You felt Bucky's fingers brush against the back of your hand to get your attention since you were still deep in thought.

"Hey...you ok doll?" Bucky asks with a worried tone since you hadn't responded to his previous question. You snap out of your thoughts and look to your left to see Bucky by your side. His brows were furrowed as he brought up his other unoccupied hand to cup your cheek.

"Uh yeah..! I'm fine," you respond with a tight-lipped smile. Bucky had just come back from a mission, so you didn't want him to now worry about you too. He wanted to press on but then thought it would be better if he just let it slide this time.

"Are we sleeping down here?!" Yelena yells from another room down the hall. The rest of you make your way to where Yelena was, she had found one of the guest rooms and was already laying down on the neatly done sheets.

"You could've at least taken a shower before hopping onto the bed," Bucky sighed in disappointment. Yelena's clothes were pretty dirty since they had come back from the desert.

"Oh right! Sorry that was my bad," Yelena responds in a muffled voice as her face was now planted into the plush pillows.

"Its fine, there's extra duvet covers in the storage closet," you say while walking towards the walk-in closet in the room. "Don't worry guys! There's more rooms upstairs."

"Do we have to share? I'm not sure how I'd feel if I have Santa Clause sharing a bed with me." John grunted while crossing his arms. You assumed he was referring to Alexei , which almost made you snort in response.

"I'm serious! Does he not look like the Russian Santa Claus to you?" John carries one while Yelena lets out a coarse laugh from the bed.

"Pfft - sorry John, there's only 3 guest rooms, so you have to pick your roommate wisely." Bob lifts his hand up shyly and clears his throat.

"I wouldn't mind sharing...if that's OK with you?" John thought about it for a moment before giving in. "You know what? Why not?"

"Great! That leaves one more vacant room -" You were cut off by another female voice.

"I'll take it," Ava replies rather quickly. John was about to protest and say that he changed his mind, but Ava gives him a sharp look which made him backdown. You were going to ask for her name, only to be cut off yet again.

"Oh right sorry, the name's Ava," she says plainly while giving you a small smile.

"Uhh OK cool, it's nice to meet you Ava. Let me guess, you also have an incredibly sad back story like the rest of us?"

"Oh God, don't even get me started..."

"Also...what's all this talk about 'thunderbolts'?" You prodded while giving Ava a confused look. Ava curses underneath her breath while the others shout in since that they're not called 'the thunderbolts.'

"Thunderbolts yes!! That's my lovely 'lena's football team name from when she was a child -"

"Dad please stop--!" Yelena groans while trying to get Alexei to stay quiet. It brought a smile to your face to see how liveley your house had become after being alone for a week.

"Alright, is there anyone here who needs medical care?" You asked while handing the new duvet sheets to Yelena.

"I think all of us do," Yelena sighed while clutching her side. She was so excited to finally sleep on a comfortable bed that the adrenaline rush took over, making her forget about the pain.

You nodded before turning back to the group. "Right, who wants to go first?"

Everyone had lined up in the washroom to get themselves checked since it would be easier for you to clean up afterwards.

You were currently bandaging Yelena's arm as she winces slightly. If anything, she had been through the worst due to the others being practically impenetrable.

"Just leave this on for a few weeks and take some painkillers. Trust me, the pain will be gone before you know it."

"Ok, thank you," Yelena exhaled while she got up to let the next person in. John walks into your view as you clean up the area for him to take his seat on the stool. The space was pretty cramped since you chose the guest washroom instead of the large one upstairs.

"Hey John, got any major inuries?" You asked while preparing a wetcloth and some bandages. John stops you midway and he shook his head.

"No not really, just have a few cuts on my face and the side of my head." True enough, he looked like he was perfectly fine except for some cuts and grazes that was scattered across his face.

You almost forgot that he took the super soldier serum back when he was Captain America. It was hard to forgot since you were with Sam and Bucky at the time. You nodded before putting away the bandages and took your seat infront of him. Now that you were face to face with him, you noticed how mature, yet different he looked from before.

"Must've been rough for you, running from the law." You start off by cleaning some of the smaller cuts with some wipes. "Trust me...I would know."

You were referring to the time you were on the run with Steve and the others for two years after freeing Bucky. That was how you two met and became close in Wakanda.

"You have no idea..." John responds with a slight waver in his voice. You choose not to press further and lightly dab the bigger cut on the side of his eyebrow.

Unbeknownst to you, John was silently admiring the way you were taking care of him. He doesn't mean this in a creepy way, rather he's surprised that anyone would show an ounce of care for him due to his character and lack of social awareness.

Bucky, on the other hand, misunderstood the scene completely. He had a glass of water in his hand when he went to check up on you. The water that was already in his mouth almost made him choke as he saw the way John made doe eyes at you.

As much as he wanted to strangle the man on the spot, he waited and observed at the doorframe. A smile threatened to tug at the corner of your lips as you felt the presence of the jealous man boring his eyes at the side of your head.

"Relax hon', John's just being John." Speaking of John, he blinked at you in confusion before looking up to see Bucky shooting bullets at him with his eyes.

"Don't worry, he's not going to do anything." You whispered before placing a clear bandaid on the scar. John didn't know if he felt reassured or threatened, so as soon as you finished, he scrambles to his feet.

Bucky steps aside to let John leave, but not before leaning towards him to say something. John flickers his gaze between you and Bucky before leaving with a terrified look on his face.

"Bucky dear, what did you say to him?" You sighed while placing the remainder of the medical equipment back in the medicine cabinet.

"Oh nothing really, just...gave him a peptalk." Bucky responds with a smug smirk as he walks into the washroom. You raise an eyebrow at him, which prompted Bucky to pull you in close by your waist with his arms.

"I didn't threaten him doll," Bucky drawls while bumping his forehead against yours, letting his hair frame his face. It was slightly damp with clumps of sand still stuck in some places. You'd have to remind him to take a shower later after dinner.

"Uh huh, that's why he left like a pale ghost? Because you gave him a 'peptalk'," you mused while playing with the lose strands of Bucky's hair that fell over his eyes. Bucky chuckles softly before responding.

"Right...just a peptalk." Your breath hitches when he bends down to your height while his hair tickled your nose from a loose strand.

"You know you're a really bad liar, right?" You huffed while the rough pad of Bucky's thumb ran gently across your cheek. Your skin felt soft and warm underneath his touch since the blood had rushed to the surface, painting a soft hue of red across your cheeks.

"So? Is that a bad thing?" Bucky's voice goes an octave lower while he inches closer towards your lips, his breath now heavy against yours. His scent flooded your senses, it was a mixture of his cologne and his natural musk from his skin. He hesitates before flickering his gaze up to you again. Silently begging for your permission.

You pondered for a moment while tapping a finger on your chin. "Hmm, do you really deserve a kiss?"

Bucky tilts his head to the side before giving you a deadpan look. But you knew that he was fighting back a smile, so you were the first to lean in. He did deserve a reward for being the amazing partner that he was. Except, he was too quick for you.

He dips his head low, and presses his slightly chapped lips against yours, practically melting into yours. The kiss was gentle yet full of desire. Head tilting the side, his hot breath mingling with yours as his tongue dragged gently across your bottom lip.

Coaxing you to open your mouth. Your tongue meets his as the hand slips down towards your waist. Pressing his fingers into your supple skin, which will definitely leave marks considering how tight his grip was. Not that he didn't mean to, of course.

"Love you s'much," your voice was barely a whisper as it was all becoming too much for you. Bucky let's out a small chuckle as you began to pepper his face with quick pecks before moving back to his lips.

He could picture his lips were probably now a sugary pink colour due to the lipbalm that you wore. The brand was probably called... Summer Fridays? Or something across that line.

"Love you too angel..." he mumbled against your plush lips.

The couple completely unaware that Yelena, Ava and Bob was spying on them from afar with popcorn in hand.

"Guys...I feel a sneeze coming," Bob whispers towards the two women sitting next to him.

"Cucumber! Cucumber! Cucumber!!" Both Ava and Yelena whisper shouted back and forth hurriedly. But it was no use, the sneeze along with their hushed shouting caught the attention of the couple in the washroom.

Needless to say, they learned their lesson from Bucky after an hour long lecture of why they shouldn't spy on people. That also included the punishment of getting limited screen time on the TV as well as playing video games.

p.s - I really love John's character and I believe he has some depth to him that could be explored more

The man’s eyes dart between you and Charles, and your own turn into slits the longer he keeps his tight grip on you. “Wanna let me go now?” You demand voice practically a growl. Your patience has never been wonderful, but he’s really working on your last nerve. 

He blinks, seemingly coming back to himself. With an almost regretful look, he lets you go. You sigh in irritation, straightening your shirt out and shoving past the corner he’s pushed you into. “Who the hell is this?” You snap, moving to stand behind Charles. 

He gives you an apologetic look, “I’m not sure. He hasn’t introduced himself yet.” He gives the man an expectant look. Instead of answering he glances around, and scoffs. 

“What is this, summer camp? You people don’t need to know me, I don’t need to know you. Just show me how to get the fuck out, alright?” Finding Charles’ school had been heaven on earth. He’d provided you with a home and a haven you never thought you would have the privilege of. You’d never shown anger in the face of his guidance or generosity. But many have. 

You can tell, as much as the man in front of you might believe otherwise, he’s going to be enjoying the comfort of Charles’ protection soon. You move to the side, leaving them to their conversation. Instead, you focus on keeping the kids away from the newest form of entertainment. You usher them towards their classes, despite their reluctance. 

The other members of the team soon join you all, introducing themselves. “Storm, Cyclops,” he scoffs a little at Scott’s name and you feel a reluctant smile tugging at your lips. He turns towards you, brows furrowed inquisitively, “Flux?”

“Matter manipulation,” you explain bluntly. He shrugs his shoulders giving you a blank look. Sighing you hold out your hand and gesture to Charles’ desk. With a flick of your wrist, it melts into an unnatural form of liquid wood. Logan’s eyes widen and you can’t help but finally let the full smile form on your lips. “Flux was just what fourteen-year-old me thought fit best.”

He nods, turning back towards Charles with a smarmy grin. “And what do they call you, wheels?” Your eyes widen with shock and an unbidden laugh surges forth. Charles sends you a playful glare and you have to turn around to keep from laughing more. 

You’d thought you wouldn’t like this one. It’s always bad when there’s a member on the team you don’t get along with. It’s not common, but it has happened. They simply keep you separated if they can. The school is wonderful, but it’s not perfect. Not everyone will like each other. You think you and Logan will get along just fine, though.

It started slow, barely noticeable at first. You didn’t know him well enough to understand that the way he treats you is completely different from how he treats everyone else. Where your greetings are brushed off with cold shoulders or the occasional glare, others at the very least get a brief mumble of hello. When you speak, you can practically feel the irritation wafting off of him in waves. You taste his hatred in every interaction. 

There’s no exact moment you can pinpoint where you went wrong. Sure, your introduction to one another was rocky at best. But he’d nearly thrown Jean across the room when they first met and they got along just fine. 

You’ve thought about it, for far too long, about what makes you different than the others. Is it your smile? The pitch of your voice? Of course, you understand that sometimes there are just people that you meet and something inside you hates them. There’s never a true explanation behind the feeling, just instinct. 

But you can’t place what about you would make someone so guarded, so mean. It feels like such a childish word, like too simple of a way to explain Logan. The very least you know about him is that he can never be summed up with the word simple. There are secrets buried deep within him, some he knows, others he doesn’t. You can’t just slap a label on him and walk away. 

More often than not, though, you feel like you’re talking to one of your childhood bullies and not a team member. Because, despite your own feelings towards him, at the end of the day you are team members. There’s no getting around it. From that connection comes, what should be, a base level of respect. 

You’re both in charge of protecting one another and looking out for each other on the field. That means when you put on the suit, you’re putting aside petty grievances. But he seems incapable of that as well. 

You’ve spent mornings practicing your greetings, trying to tone down your cheeriness or inflect your voice with a more welcoming timbre. You’ve changed how you dress, how you do your hair, even your makeup. And at the end of it all, you still got the same miserable look and distinct feeling of worthlessness. All of the change has been temporary, you are a creature of habit. Inevitably, you slide back into the same habits and styles that make you, you. 

You feel stupid, trying to change yourself to better fit someone else's tastes. Especially when it’s someone who so clearly despises you. It’s not how you carry yourself, how you look, it’s the mere fact you exist that bothers him. At least, that’s the conclusion you’ve come to in all your months of experimenting. 

It truly shouldn’t bother you so much. There’s always going to be people who don’t like you. There’s nothing you can do about it. And you’ve never had that desire to change other's opinions on you. But something about Logan has dug its claws under your skin and has refused to let go. You can’t get him out of your head, even when you feel like you hate him, he’s all you think about. You’ve considered asking Jean to use her abilities to somehow dig him out of your brain and keep him out. But you don’t think that would work either. 

You step into the kitchen and nearly freeze in the doorway. Logan sits at the island, back to you as he reads the newspaper. You find yourself lightening your steps, quieting your breath. You make yourself as inconspicuous and convenient as possible. Every time you catch yourself doing something like this, you hate yourself just a little bit more. 

You shouldn’t have to alter parts of yourself to better fit someone else’s needs. You slip along the tiles, your socked feet slamming into the corner of the counter as you pass it. “Shit!” You shout, doubling over as you clutch your throbbing toes. 

So much for being inconspicuous. 

Logan’s head shoots up in shock as he glares over his paper at you. You let out a strained whimper, reluctantly releasing your foot and hobbling towards the coffee pot. You’ve taken more bullets than you count, and somehow that still hurt worse. 

You can’t just ignore him, you feel his stare burning into your back, and it feels too dickish-too much like him, to not say anything. “Morning,” you mutter over your shoulder, barely looking at him. You pour your coffee, trying to ignore how daunting the silence seems. You might as well be alone in the room for all the attention he’ll grant you. 

You feel like a beggar, on hands and knees just for a simple hello. Ever since his first night here, he’s been so aloof with you. It’s only devolved since then. You sigh, slamming the mug onto the counter. Something in you has snapped this morning and it’s not just the bones in your foot. You’re sick of this. 

You shouldn’t have to walk on eggshells around him. He’s not a toddler, he doesn’t deserve to be coddled and catered to. He’s a grown man, an X-Men for fuck’s sake. What he needs, is to learn a little emotional regulation. 

You turn, mouth open and sucking in a deep breath as you prepare your speech. The island is empty as you face it, his stool in the same place it had been while he was on it. The paper lies abandoned, even his nearly full mug is still on the granite. 

You scoff, snapping your jaw shut and rolling your eyes. “Jesus,” you mutter to yourself. Wonderful, even the same room is too much for him now. Something bitter has been forming in your mind. A rage building from weeks of unprompted cruel behavior. 

Yet, somehow, the thing that pushes you over the edge from interest to resentment is the fact that he didn’t say good morning back. 

You teach history at the school, but the majority of your role at the mansion is to train children with powers similar to yours. You’ve never met a mutant who had such a broad scope with their abilities as you do. Some can turn water to ice, control the blood running through someone’s veins, or make the air around them a solid block. But you’ve yet to meet one who manipulates anything with matter the way you do. 

Still, for training, you deal with the unreliable, untameable, and generally more dangerous abilities. And sometimes for training, you work with other teachers and let your kids practice on each other. It’s a rotating schedule, and unfortunately, the week you’ve decided you hate him, you’re partnered with Logan for training. 

You’ve got the entirety of Charles’ backyard, which is essentially the size of a football field. It’s a lot of room for accidents and accidental misfires. You stand in front of the pond, admittedly a risky choice with these kids, and direct them all to their partners. 

“Remember, the goal of this isn’t to maim each other,” you give a particularly pointed glare towards Billy. He’s caused a lot of problems lately with his fires. “It’s just to learn how to wield your abilities to your advantage, to protect yourself and your team.”

You look to Logan, seeing if he wants to add anything or contribute to the class in some way. He just keeps his arms crossed, glowering at all the children like he’s imagining skewering them on his claws. Rolling your eyes, you turn back to the kids. “Let's start with the hand-to-hand maneuvers we went over yesterday before we practice with our abilities.”

“Why don’t you show us?” Your head whips towards Billy and you can’t help the sneer on your lips. He’s sat on the ground, legs crossed leisurely over each other. He doesn’t have a care in the world as he taunts you. 

“What?” You grit out, glaring at him.

“Show us what a balanced fight should look like between mutants. You and Logan,” he nods to the aforementioned man. Logan just quirks a brow, glancing at you before turning back to Billy. 

“I don’t think-”

“Fine.” You gape at Logan as he tugs his jacket off. He shrugs as he looks at you, moving towards the middle of the field. Of course, he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to try and pummel you. You’re sure that he’s just been waiting for an excuse to fight you. 

“If that’s what you want,” you mutter bitterly. You pull off your sweatshirt and start walking towards him. 

“Your cuffs,” Billy calls out from behind you. The other students all watch the interaction with rapt attention. They’re practically salivating at the chance to see you two fight each other. Meanwhile, Billy just seems like he wants to see someone bleed. 

The metal cuffs around your wrists are the only thing that stops you from leveling the entire school. Your abilities are so tightly entwined with your emotions that one unlucky bout of anger can lead you to vaporizing everyone around you. They dull your abilities just enough to still be useful but not deadly. You haven’t taken them off in years. And perhaps it’s wrong to lean so heavily on them for protection, but you have. That’s your cross to bear. You don’t even want to picture what will happen if you open that dam. 

“What?” Billy shrugs, sending you a sharp smirk. “How are we supposed to trust you, if you can’t even use your own damn abilities?” He snorts and narrows his eyes at you, “How the hell did you even become an X-Men, Flux?” His name rolls off your tongue with a sharpened venom. 

He oozes hatred and a burning resentment that catches you off guard. It’s too much to process the insults he’s hurling at you and the sudden one-eighty in his personality. You don’t even hear Logan coming until his fist is wrapped in Billy’s collar and he’s yanking him off his feet. 

He dangles him, just a couple of inches, off the ground, teeth practically bared at the kid. “Wanna keep talking, mouth?” 

“Log-” You’re cut off as a fireball shoots out of Billy’s palm and explodes against Logan’s gut. You gasp, throwing up a wall in front of the other kids so it can’t hurt them. “All right,” you call out sternly. “Everyone inside,” you demand, pointing the other kids back towards the manor. 

You linger with Logan, who still has Billy dangling from his fist, only he looks even more pissed off now. Anyone else, and they’d be dust at Billy’s feet. But Logan isn’t anyone else and the only collateral seems to be his shirt. 

Not that you mind the view. 

Billy hasn’t been here long enough to know what Logan’s abilities are, though. You don’t think he actually knew he could heal. The thought alone is worrying enough that you don’t force Logan to let him go. “We need to get him to Charles,” when Logan doesn’t move you put more force behind your voice, “now.”

Logan lets out a low huff before placing Billy back on his own two feet. He doesn’t let him go far, though, keeping his hand around the back of his neck and dragging him forward. You follow behind them, making sure he doesn’t rip him to pieces before Charles can speak with him. 

You sit outside Charles’ office, fingers tapping restlessly against your thigh as you stare at the mahogany walls in front of you. The red velvet of the seat is too soft and you find yourself slipping to the edge every few seconds. It’s too soft, too luxurious, your back aches the longer you wait. 

Charles had instructed both you and Logan to wait for him to finish up with Billy. It’s been nearly an hour, though, and you’re growing restless. You can tell Logan feels the same way. He’s pacing the hall like a caged lion about to rip the arm off its keeper. 

“How are you?” You blurt out, desperate for something to fill the silence. He stops abruptly, whipping around to face you. You flinch back slightly at the intense glare he’s sporting. “Your stomach, I mean,” you gesture towards the scorch marks on his shirt, the soot on his abs. 

It’s been a practice in self-control to not just be staring at his wonderfully sculpted muscles flexing this whole time. You’re pleasantly surprised with how well you’ve been doing so far. Though, now with him facing you, you’re finding it incredibly hard to meet his eye. He’s such an imposing figure, especially when he’s standing over you like this. 

“Fine,” he barks out, turning back around and effectively ending the conversation. Your eyes narrow and you scoff, god, why do you try?

The door swings open and you expect Billy to come running out crying with his tail tucked between his legs. Instead, you hear the familiar whirl of Charles wheels as he rolls into the hall. He faces you and Logan, a strained smile on his face. 

“Where’s Billy?” You slowly get to your feet, peering into his office. Your confusion only grows when you find it empty. 

“He’s away from the other children for now. He’ll need private lessons before we allow him near them again. And if that doesn’t work, we have no choice but to expel him.” You can tell it hurts Charles to say that. 

He does genuinely want the best for these kids. He wants mutants to have a home, a place where they can be themselves without fear of retaliation. Sometimes, though, it doesn’t work out. There’s nothing wrong with that, you all try your best to help the kids. But some of them have been so twisted by the world around them that there’s no undoing the damage. When they pose a risk the way Billy does, the other kids come first. 

Logan scoffs with distaste, stalking closer to Charles. “He tried to kill me, fucking tried to get Flux to take her cuffs off.” He gestures towards you, for once, though, you don’t feel like you’re being attacked. Even he can understand the dangers of that demand is idiotic. It’s clear Billy only wanted to watch everyone around him get hurt, he didn’t care about the consequences. 

Charles holds up a pacifying hand, nodding his head and dismissing Logan’s concerns. “I’m quite aware of what happened, Logan. But Billy is my responsibility and he’s not the reason I needed to talk to you both.”

He rolls back into his office, expecting you both to follow him. You fall in line behind him, taking a seat at his desk. Logan takes another minute to join you both, a reluctant scowl on his face as he sits beside you. Charles waves his hand, the door closing and providing you all with a little bit more privacy. 

He reaches into a drawer on his desk, pulling out a thin manilla folder. He pushes it towards both you and Logan. You share a confused look with Logan before flipping the file open. There are a few pictures of a stereotypical suburban neighborhood. Bright green laws, uniform driveways, each house looks the same as the last. 

There are a few more pictures, all of them taken from an awkward distance that makes it hard to determine what you’re looking at. You pass the pictures to Logan and shake your head at Charles. “I don’t understand, what is all this?”

“Your next mission,” he informs you both with a strained smile. 

Logan’s head shoots up, eyes narrowing in on Charles. “Excuse me?” He demands, his voice a growl more than anything. 

“There have been some disturbing rumors about this neighborhood. Mentions of a possible mutant trafficking ring being conducted behind closed doors. Normally, I would dismiss such claims. Oftentimes these are just ways to bait and snatch mutants. However, my own attempts at telepathic investigation have been thwarted. Even with Cerebro, I can’t seem to breach the neighborhood.”

“Something’s blocking you?” You ask, snatching the pictures back from Logan to get a better look. He tosses the folder back on the desk, muttering something you can’t hear. 

“Or someone. I’m worried there might be some truth to these rumors. And since I can’t find a safe way in, I need your help. You only need to do some reconnaissance. The only problem is how gated the community is. They’re not going to let anyone in unless they live there.”

Charles gives you both a cheekily expectant look. The truth is so hard to swallow that you almost can’t process it. “No,” you mutter, shaking your head and smiling, waiting for the punchline. When one doesn’t come you get up from your seat and give him a disbelieving look. “You want us undercover?”

Charles pulls out a key and smiles widely, “Congratulations on your new home, newlyweds.”

Logan shoots up from his seat, it wobbles precariously, nearly toppling to the ground.  “You want me to move into a house with her?” He spits out the sentence like it pains him to even have it in his mouth. A disbelieving smile spread across your cheeks, sardonic laughter slipping through parted lips. “Why can’t I do it with Jean? Or better yet you just get some other asshole to play her husband?”

Your heart stutters to a stop and you quickly rip your eyes off the pair. The stung worse than you think it should. Your heart aches, each beat painful. You feel like someone’s punched through your chest and ripped at all the tender bits. 

“I have chosen you,” Charles loses all humor from his voice. He is stern, like a father scolding his child, as he speaks to Logan. “And that’s the end of it. Besides, I don’t suppose that Jean’s fiance would appreciate her playing house with another man.” He places heavy emphasis on fiance, enough to get Logan to purse his lips and look away from him.

You speak up, your voice a surprise to them both. You claw through the lump in your throat, ignoring the hot burn behind your eyes. “I’m not doing this. Especially not with him,” you force the words out, wiping roughly at your cheeks. “Shit,” you hiss, looking down and trying to hide the tears that have slowly trickled down. 

You don’t allow either of them to argue, running out of the door and ignoring the calls of your name behind you. You can’t do this. Can’t pretend to be in love with Logan, not when he hates you. Not when it’s so close to the truth. 

Evidently, Charles didn't feel like giving either of you a choice.

You drum your fingers along the door handle. The cab of the truck rattles as the trailer drags along behind you. The trees have begun to thin out on the road, and more shopping centers pop up than you’ve seen this whole trip. It’s the how you know you’re getting closer, that and the map on Logan’s thigh. You steal glances at it because he refused to let you help him navigate. 

Besides the occasional ask for a bathroom break and refuted offer of switching drivers, the four-hour road trip has been quiet. You tried to turn the radio on earlier but he’d shut it off nearly immediately. He claimed that the pop shit they play makes his ears ring. 

You were almost tempted to turn it up to full volume if only to torture him a little bit. 

Logan’s rough voice jars you out of your head, “I’m going to need to know your real name.”

You frown, brows furrowed in confusion. Had you still not given him your actual name? He’s always referred to you as Flux, but you just assumed that’s because he didn’t want you to be an actual person in his eyes. It’s easier to hate someone if you can distance yourself from the idea of them having actual feelings. Still, you can’t believe he never asked someone for it. 

It just shows you how little he cares for you. Reluctantly, you give it to him. He hums, something pensive pinching at his face. “What?” You snap, waiting for him to insult you. 

He just shrugs, “It’s pretty,” he mutters, so quiet you almost don’t hear him. You don’t even know how to respond to that, so caught off guard by a genuine compliment that you just choose to ignore it. You doubt he meant it, anyway. He might think the name is pretty, but he doesn’t hold the same opinion of the person connected to it. 

You sink back into the silence, finding it more comforting than jarring now. You’d prefer the familiar feeling of him ignoring you than the abrupt turn in character. He glances over at you, something like regret on his face as he sighs. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t say anything else. Instead, in what feels like an extension of an olive branch, he turns the radio back on. He keeps the volume low, so it doesn’t bother him so much. But at least there’s something to listen to besides your breathing. 

You turn back towards the window, a white sign surrounded by daises coming up as Logan slows the truck down. He flicks on his turn signal, pulling up to Storybrook Walk. He stops in front of a large wrought iron gate and jumps out of the truck. He runs up to a black metal box, flipping the lid open and typing in the code Charles gave you both. As he gets back in the truck, the gate swings open widely. 

You pull your rings out of your pocket and slip yours on. “Here,” you urge, holding Logan’s ring out to him. He huffs, glaring down at it before snatching it out of your hand. He balances his hands atop the wheel, slipping the ring on his left hand. 

The neighborhood is picture-perfect suburbia. The lawns are bright green and manicured to perfection. You can hear children laughing as they play in their backyards and draw out a hopscotch grid on the sidewalk. Women and men who look like they’re straight from the fifties stop on the sidewalk and wave as you drive through the gated community. 

You mouth the numbers on the mailboxes to yourself, sitting up straighter when you’re one house away from your new home for the next few weeks. “Hey,” you frown, noticing a large congregation of people in the driveway of 1220. “This is our house isn’t it?”

Logan frowns, stopping the truck just before pulling in so he doesn’t hit anyway. “Supposed to be.” He glares at the people suspiciously, “Stay here, alright?”

You nod, watching him as he jumps out and rounds the front of the truck. You roll your window down, fingers dancing along the metal of your cuffs. There’s no way you’ve been found out before you’ve even gotten a chance to investigate. 

“Hey!” Logan’s voice is scary on a good day, but when he feels threatened, it’s enough to frighten a grown man. You can see the people flinch slightly away from him. That’s when you spot the wrapped cookies in a blonde woman’s hand and see children hiding with balloons on the porch. 

“Oh, fuck,” you mutter. You throw the door open, racing after Logan before he does something stupid. “Howdy neighbors!” You shout, speaking over him before he gets a chance to say anything else. You rush up to Logan’s side, nearly out of breath in your haste to get to him. “Is this our welcoming committee?”

You glare up at him and his eyes narrow as he sees the same thing you did. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath. 

“Smile and wave,” you whisper through gritted teeth. His lips peel up into something terrifying and it takes everything in you not to flinch back. “What the fuck is that?” You mutter.

“A smile,” he hisses, glaring down at you in irritation. 

A blonde woman steps forward before you can continue your hushed argument. “Welcome!” She calls out in a heavy southern accent, throwing her arms open with a bright smile. She walks as fast as she can in her tight skirt and kitten heels, coming over to embrace you, the casserole in her hand balancing precariously behind you. 

She tugs Logan down into a hug, pressing a kiss to his cheek and staining the skin red. “Surprise!” The kids on the porch jump out with balloons and flowers and she winces. 

“A bit late on the delivery,” she waves it off with a faux chuckle. “But we don’t mind ‘cause they’re so darn cute.” She is very… loud. There’s something about her that is meant to be charming but puts you on edge. She’s got all the familiar characteristics of a woman you’d love to be around, but she’s executing it like someone playing a character. “Shiela,” she holds out her hand, perfectly manicured nails shining bright red. 

You take her hand introducing yourself, “And this is my husband, Logan. Forgive him for his tone, we had an accident on the highway earlier. We’re still a little on edge.”

“Oh no,” she gasps, pressing her nails to her chest and even that seems plastic. “What happened?”

Years of bullshitting your way through school presentations are finally coming in handy.  You think quickly on your feet, something these people would despise. You need something that endears you to them, “Tire blew out and someone tried to raid the trailer while we were fixing it.”

She lets out a disapproving hum and the throng of people behind her echoes it with disturbing harmony.  You find yourself leaning closer towards Logan, feeling like you need to defend yourself against them. You know they’re only an overzealous HOA committee, but there is something uncanny about them. 

Sensing your discomfort, Logan wraps his arm around your shoulder, tugging you into his side. You have to school your features into one of neutrality. You’re supposed to be newlyweds, this is normal behavior for you. His touch feels like ice water being tossed over you, though. His willing embrace makes your head swim with distaste and skepticism. 

“Well,” a man steps forward. He’s conventionally handsome, with brown hair cropped short, slight stubble on his cheeks, slacks, and a button-up that he fills out nicely. His smile, however, stretches too wide and shows too many teeth. A shiver crawls up your spine as he places his hand on Shiela’s shoulder. “You won’t have to worry about people like that here, that’s for sure. John,” he offers his hand to Logan, bypassing you completely. “Head of the HOA here at Storybrook.”

“Nice to meet you, John” Logan falls just short of sincere. He towers slightly over John and you can see that he’s squeezing his hand just a bit too tight by the wince of Jouhn’s face. You dig your elbow into his side and he drops his hand immediately. 

Your gaze drifts over their shoulders and your stomach drops. The people behind them all hold dishes full of food and gift baskets. Their smiles are pinned to their faces, never once flinching out of place. There’s no joy in their eyes, though. They’re glazed over like they’re a million miles away. You would think they were mannequins before you even considered them human. 

“Long drive?” Shiela asks, your eyes dart back to hers only to find her intense stare already wholly focused on you. 

“Yeah,” you answer, clearing your throat of the panic rising in it. “We’re gonna have a fun time unloading this,” you laugh humorlessly, motioning towards the trailer.

She waves her hands in dismissal. “Don’t you worry about that, hun. That’s what neighbors are for after all.” She looks behind her, snapping her fingers a few times. The other’s start going towards the trailer and you feel Logan tense under your touch. 

A kid reaches it first, they manage to unlock it before you shout, “No!” It’s too loud, echoing through the street and making you clench your eyes shut in embarrassment. You turn back towards Shiela and John, both of them wearing shocked expressions. You chuckle awkwardly, “There’s just a lot of family heirlooms. I don’t want to risk them being damaged.” There are no heirlooms, just empty boxes and surveillance equipment that you'll have no chance of explaining away.

Shiela purses her lips into a tight smile, eyes turned to slits as she nods. “Of course,” you know she doesn’t believe you for a second. “Well then, we’ll just take all this inside.” She snaps and the others take their casseroles and gifts and begin flooding towards your front door. Shiela and John walk behind them, herding them all into a straight line. 

You let go of Logan immediately, glaring at the door of your home. Shiela holds a key in her hand, unlocking it and letting everyone inside. You scoff and shake your head in disbelief. “What the actual fuck?” You hiss. 

Logan just shakes his head. “Fucking bizarre, what the hell is wrong with these people?” He starts back towards the truck and you follow him. “I almost prefer the welcoming committee at the manor.”

You roll your eyes, “I was your welcoming committee,” you grouse. 

He shrugs, “I know.” You swat lightly at his shoulder and relatch the trailer’s lock. You linger by the mailbox as Logan pulls the truck into the driveway. He’s getting out just as the others finally leave your house. 

Shiela walks back towards you and you gesture towards the keyring in her hand. “Got a key to my house?” You play it off as a joke but it’s incredibly disturbing to know she could walk in at any minute. 

“Of course,” she smiles and shrugs it off like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “For the safety of everyone here.” Her smile drops and she takes an imposing step towards you, “Inspections are every Wednesday at noon.” Your jaw drops in astonishment and you choke on your words. She cackles loudly, face breaking out into a smile once more. “I’m just kidding, honey! God, your face, you’re too gullible, sweetheart.”

You force out a chuckle, smiling as much as you can force. “Of course, silly me,” you barely make it sound believable. This is going to be much harder than you thought. 

“Well,” John comes up behind her, guiding her away from you. “We’ll get out of your hair now. Welcome, neighbors!” The others around them all call out a Welcome as they drift across your lawn and head back to their own homes. 

Logan walks up to your side, the both of you keeping stilted smiles on your faces, waiting for them to just go away. But they pause at their doors, in almost perfect synchronization they turn and wave at you both. You back further into Logan’s chest and his grip on you tightens. 

“What. The. Fuck.” They step through their homes at the same moment and you feel sick to your stomach. There is something seriously wrong here, you’re not sure you want to find out the truth of it. 

You leave Logan to unload the trailer while you unpack the boxes. You’re forced to do it all by hand while the front door is open. You can’t risk someone stopping by for a visit and seeing you float the couch through the middle of the living room. You’re stumped on how to set up the surveillance equipment. Shiela doesn’t seem like the type to understand boundaries when it comes to popping by for a visit. 

You’re just going to have to keep most of it upstairs and set up some cameras on the porch. You don’t doubt that she’ll abuse that key of hers as she sees fit. You can’t imagine how anyone could stand living in this neighborhood. Having no privacy seems like a nightmare. Especially when the commander of the HOA is John and Shiela. They seem like the type to fine you over a rosebush. 

Logan grunts, dragging in the couch. He pushes it through the doorway and kicks the door closed behind him. The second it’s closed he drops the act and picks the couch up with one hand. “Where do you want it?” 

You point towards the back wall of the living room and he drops it with a small groan. “We’re going to need to put cameras out on the porch,” you inform him, still digging through the box. He walks behind you, heading for the fridge and digging around in it. 

“Fuck,” he mutters. You look up, watching as he tosses aside casserole after casserole. “They didn’t bring any beer?”

You laugh a little and get up, heading towards the cooler you’d packed. “They don’t seem the type.” You lean over, digging around through the melted ice until your fingers brush against cool glass. You straighten up, sending him a coquettish smile. “Want a beer after all that hard work, darling?” You taunt, playing the perfect housewife. 

He scoffs and holds his hand out, snatching it from the air as you toss it at him. He pulls the cap off with his teeth, spitting it out into the sink. “And a sandwich while you’re at it,” he demands roughly. 

If you weren’t a connoisseur of dry humor, you wouldn’t have recognized the joke for what it was. Still, you’re almost too shocked he even bothered to play along with you to laugh. Almost, you can’t help the slight chuckle that slips out.  

He throws himself on the couch, taking a deep swig from the bottle, and the moment feels remarkably domestic. You suppose that it should. That is the whole reason you’re here after all. But you hadn’t expected even a singular pleasant moment with Logan. 

This, playful banter and a shared joke, that’s all you could ever want from him. You would settle for this if it was all he was willing to give you. But he can’t even grant you that. This is one outlier in a long list of rude remarks and dismissive behavior. You can’t let yourself be so easily swayed. 

“I might try and get some cameras on the other houses,” Logan remarks from the couch. He kicks his feet on the coffee table and you click your tongue at him, motioning towards his shoes. With an aggrieved sigh, he undoes the laces of his boots and kicks them off. You glare at the dirt that flings across the carpet but a quick wave of your hand makes it disappear. 

“Don’t bother with the cameras. They’ve all got security.” You turn away from the box you’re unpacking with a pensive frown. “They’re all covered by the same company, too. All of them. Isn’t that weird?”

He scoffs and shrugs. “Anywhere else, yeah. But I’m pretty sure they piss at the same time here.” Your nose wrinkles at his crude words and you roll your eyes. 

“Take this seriously.”

He huffs out a laugh, “I am. Didn’t you see them earlier? They only breathe because Shiela lets them.” You take a seat at the kitchen table, uncomfortable attempting to take a spot on the couch. He sighs when he sees the expression on your face, finally dropping the dismissive attitude. “I’ll just be smart about how I set up our cameras, alright?”

You just nod, reaching for the box of your essentials on the table. It’s strange to be sitting beside him, talking to him. You’ve never gotten more than two words out of him. This is so far out of your normal comfort zone that you feel like you’re crawling out of your skin trying to escape. 

“I’m going to go to bed,” you announce awkwardly, shooting up from your seat at the table. 

The beer pauses halfway to his lips and he gives you an odd look. “Okay?” He responds slowly, not sure why you’re telling him this. You open your mouth, and almost tell him to have a good night, but change your mind at the last second. 

You move towards the bedroom near the front door, “Flux,” you turn slightly and he shakes his head. “Take the one upstairs.”

Your brows furrow, “Why?” You demand, an attitude edging its way into your voice. 

“So if Shiela busts down our door I can protect us,” you know he’s teasing, but the sentiment is nice. “And so I don’t have to set up the surveillance shit upstairs,” your face drops and you roll your eyes. There it is. 

“Dick,” you mutter, storming towards the stairs, your boxes hovering along behind you. His laughter follows you up the stairs, even when you slam the door shut. Although, when you take in the room, you can’t find it in yourself to complain for a second about it. 

While Logan is screwed with the teeny guest room downstairs, you get the largest bedroom you’ve ever been in all to yourself. The closet could practically be another bedroom. The bath is more like a jacuzzi than it is a tub.

A four-poster bed sits against the wall, the fluffiest comforter ever becoming you forth like a siren. There’s even a table in the middle of the room, with a chair, perfect for setting up as your desk. 

You scoff in astonishment, “Oh, I could get used to this.” You place your boxes on the table and start pulling out your clothes. You toss yourself on the bed, bouncing against the sheets, and throw pillows go flying everywhere. You flick your wrist, all your essentials flying out of the boxes and sorting themselves out. 

After a luxurious soak in the tub, you’re spread out along the bed, the limited information from Charles's file spread out before you. There are only a few blurry pictures of the neighborhood and a typed-up page of everything he’s heard about Sotrybrook. There’s nothing even remotely useful here. 

You sigh, tossing the file to the floor and looking out the large window of your room. You’ve got a camera placed on the sill, programmed to take a picture anytime there’s movement. You doubt you’re going to get much from that. The secrets of this place seem to be buried deep. You’re gonna have to get real friendly with your neighbors if you want to get out of here fast. 

Logan is on the computer, trying to sync all of the cameras up. You clean up the dishes from breakfast and tidy up the kitchen. You’re trying to decide how you should start investigating when there’s a dainty knock on the door. 

Your brows furrow and you peer around the cupboards to look at the door. Logan’s head lifts and he shares an odd look with you. He gets up from the couch and glances through the peephole. 

You drop the towel on the counter and frown as his shoulders slump forward. Something pinched appears on his face and he sighs. “What?” You hiss at him.

He turns and glares at you, “You’ll see.” You shake your head in confusion as he throws the door open. 

His attitude makes a lot more sense when you hear a very happy, “Howdy!” Shiela stands in your doorframe, three women hovering behind her. At least they look awake, unlike the people from last night. A redhead with the most gorgeous waves you’ve ever seen holds beach towels in her arms. A brunette with flawless brown skin carries a jug of lemonade. And a woman with black hair and a perfect figure is carrying a plate of cookies. 

All of these women are wearing bathing suits that look like they’ve been snatched out of a fashion magazine from the sixties. Each of them is gorgeous, alarmingly so. They’re beautiful to the point of being flawless. As you walk out of the kitchen and take a step closer, Shiela welcomes herself into your home. 

You don’t even think you see pores on their faces. Each of them offers you the same practiced smile that you force yourself to return. “How are you settling in?” Shiela demands, not asks. 

“Um,” you look to Logan for help but he’s just as perplexed as you are. “Just fine, Shiela, thanks. What are you all doing?”

The redhead rolls her eyes playfully, “Tanning, sweetheart.” She glances at Logan expectantly and he grabs his duffel from by the couch. 

“I think that’s my cue,” he falls easily into the role of a playful husband. But you don’t need him to play along right now. You need him to stay where the fuck he is so you’re not alone with the barbies. 

“Ha ha, don’t go,” you whisper, trying to grab at his sleeve. “Logan,” you hiss, making sure the others can’t hear you as they look around your home. “Don’t do this.”

He dips his head down, and for one stupid moment, you think he might kiss you. “Good luck,” he whispers in your ear, backing off with a smug smirk and letting himself out of the house. 

Oh, you’re going to fucking kill him. 

“Finally,” the brunette breathes out a relieved breath, “I thought he’d never leave.”

Shiela chuckles, “You’re lucky honey. It took us a long while to have ours so well trained.” She motions to the other girls, “This is Madge,” the redhead smiles and gives a cute wave. She introduces the rest quickly and you file the information away for later when you’re writing your report. 

Madge- husband is the vendor consultant for the HOA. 

Sierra - brunette - husband is secretary of the HOA. 

Kimiko - black hair - no husband. 

Your brows furrow in confusion as Kimiko nods in greeting. You return it, suspicions running thick in your blood. It’s odd, that their husbands are in charge of the HOA, you figured they would be. Beyond that, the emphasis they put on it is astonishing. You really didn’t think the HOA was so important but it’s practically the government here. And the women only seem to hold importance if their husbands do. Shiela is essentially their leader, she’s the one you need to impress.

This whole thing seems incredibly backward and like a blast from the past. The way they style their hair, do their makeup, dress- it's all fashioned after the fifties and sixties. You feel incredibly out of place in your worn-down pajamas and frizzy braids. 

“We’re not really tanning,” Madge tells you. “This is just a way for us ladies to get to know the new kid in the neighborhood and tell you everything you need to know,” she leans in, smiling like she’s sharing a conspiratorial secret with you. 

“Don’t let Madge scare you,” Sierra shoots her a glare. “It’s not that big of a deal, it’s just a way for us to escape our husbands for an hour.”

“Well,” you chuckle awkwardly, crossing your arms over your chest as you grow uncomfortable under their tense stares. It feels like their eyes are peeling back your skin, exposing everything underneath as they judge every nook and cranny of your soul. “I haven’t reached that stage yet.”

Shiela’s smile loses some of its humor and she scoffs. “You will,” she assures you, acrid bitterness coating her words. “Give it a few years,” she gives you a bitchy and all-knowing smirk. Your hackles raise, the urge to defend your sham of a marriage rising quickly in you. You bite your tongue, swallowing down your smart retort before you say something you regret. 

You’re not even married to Logan, but you don’t like her butting her nose so far into your business. “Sadly, I don’t have a bathing suit.”

“Oh,” Kimiko gives you a blank smile, “We brought you one.” Madge moves the towels aside to reveal a two-piece that matches their own. In your size. 

Your cheeks ache with a forced smile as you take the bathing suit from them. “We’ll just set up out back,” Shiela lets you know. She turns to the others with a beaming smile, “Come on ladies.” They follow after her like ducklings, and when you look down you see each of their steps are in sync. 

You wait until the back door closes to rush to the front. You throw the door open and Logan jumps from where he’s drilling the camera into the side of the house. “I’m gonna fucking kill you,” you warn.

He chuckles and smirks, “Don’t keep ‘em waiting too long, sweetheart,” he mocks and you slam the door closed with a loud scoff. He was enjoying your suffering far too much, but you shouldn’t be surprised. You’re sure he’s just been waiting for a moment like this. 

You change into the bathing suit and take a deep calming breath. You can do this. You can play pretend for a few hours. 

You wished you’d known being an actor was a part of the job description before you joined the X-Men.

You lay on your stomach along the soft beach towel that Madge brought. The sun isn’t too hot on you, but you also bent the tree behind you to provide a bit more shade when the others weren’t looking. So far, you’ve collected nothing but mindless gossip. 

Sam never takes in his trash cans on time. Alicia has been getting a little too cozy with the gardener. Some couple you didn’t pay attention to is expecting a kid. You’re struggling to pay attention to all the mindless drivel. 

Usually, you wouldn’t mind a little gossip, but none of this feels real. Their words are hollow, smiles empty. Everything they say sounds like they’re reading it from a script. The only person you actually believe cares about any of this bullshit is Shiela. The rest of them seem to just play along, not meaning a word they say. 

You’re gaining nothing useful from this. There’s no information you’ve gotten during this conversation that could remotely help you. All you want to do is go out front and strangle Logan for abandoning you. 

The only good thing about all this is the lemonade and cookies. Which, you admit, you may have indulged yourself a little too much. But at this point, you’re just eating to stay awake. You reach for another cookie and Shiela lets out a dainty huff. 

“I wish I could eat like you,” she laughs and you prepare yourself for the most backhanded insult you’ve ever heard. “But I have to be so careful about watching my figure. Wouldn’t want to lose my waist,” she titters and the other women giggle. 

You toss the cookie back on the plate, rolling your eyes. It feels like you’re right back in high school. You love this, this is great. At this point, you’re just trying to stop yourself from tossing them all out. 

The backdoor slides open and Logan peeks his head out. The women wave and Shiela calls out a sultry, “Hey, Lo.”

Your jaw drops and you can’t help but scoff as you tilt your head to give her an astonished stare. This woman has absolutely zero shame. She’s not even hiding the way she’s ogling him. She’s literally biting her lip. 

You clench your eyes shut, taking a deep breath. There it is, the end of your rope. “Sweetheart, you gonna be done soon?” Logan calls out and you can’t help but smile at the immense satisfaction you feel when Shiela’s face falls. You shouldn’t take so much joy in Logan ignoring her, you know that’s just how he is. But she doesn’t. 

“I think so, hon.” You sit up on your knees, clapping your hands and pretending to be upset. “Sorry, girls, I think I’m needed back in the house.” You get to your feet and pick your towel up. As you do, you flick your fingers, and the lemonade tumbles over, spilling all over Shiela’s pristine white bathing suit. 

She jumps up with a shrill scream, shaking her arms off at the ice-cold liquid and desperately trying to wipe off her bathing suit. Madge and Sierra flock to her and you roll your eyes at how dramatic she’s being. 

Out of the side of your eye, you see someone watching you. You turn slightly, startling when you see the intense glare Kimiko’s sporting. It’s the first genuine emotion you’ve seen from her, but even this seems cold. Her dark eyes are bottomless pits of frigid rage. You find that you can’t look away from her, swaying slightly as her eyes beckon you forward. 

You need to go to her, speak with her, be with her. You need-

Your mind falls short of what you need. But you know Kimko will give it to you. Sierra and Madge both straighten up, both blank-faced as you take a step forward. 

Logan hollers your name again and you jump, shaking your head and breaking whatever trance you’d fallen in. When you look back, all three of them are still fussing over Shiela. You glance to Logan, to see if he saw what had happened. 

His brows are furrowed, face pinched in concern as he looks at you. You think you might have just found Charles’ interference. 

“I think we should look into Kimiko,” you scroll through the list of residents you’d managed to hack into. You’ve been on the computer for hours, trying to find any information bout her at all. Even when you ran a background check, nothing came up. If that doesn’t scream mutant, you don’t know what does. 

Logan walks over to the table with a steaming pan in his hand. You tug your computer glasses off and slide the laptop to the side. He pours some pasta onto your plate and hands you a glass of water. “Thank you,” he gives you a tense almost-smile and nods. 

“Figure out where she lives?” He asks, bringing his own plate to the table. You shake your head and rub your temples, trying to fend off the headache you can already feel forming. You should have taken a break from the research. You can’t stand staring at screens for as long as you did. 

“She’s not even a registered resident.”

“Well,” he sighs and shrugs, “at least we know this wasn’t a waste of time.” You nod in acquiesce and take a bite of your food. Your eyes widen in shock and he laughs at the look on your face. “Didn’t think I could cook?”

You shake your head and smile. “I took you as the type to pour beer in your cereal. But this is,” you stumble over your word. You’re afraid of being too nice to him. You’ve reached a sort of impasse, where you’re not openly hostile, but you’re not exactly friendly. You feel like if you do too much, too fast, he’s gonna be closed off again. “It’s really good.”

He purses his lips and nods, dragging his fork along the porcelain plate. The noise grates on you and only further aggravates the growing headache but you don’t snap at him. You swallow down the frustration and just shovel more pasta into your mouth. 

“This, uh,” Logan takes in a deep breath and lets all out in one gravely exhale. You give him an expectant look and he shrugs. “It hasn’t been as bad as I thought.” He tells you flippantly. 

You narrow your eyes at him, “Is that supposed to be a compliment?” You demand with a firm tone, placing your fork down and leaning back in your chair. 

He lets out an annoyed sigh, “It was just an observation.”

You scoff and roll your eyes. He’s fucking ridiculous. “You know, maybe if you ever tried to get to know me, you wouldn’t have had such a horrible opinion about me.” You try and eat more but the food just tastes like ash in your mouth. You grow antsy, not wanting to sit near him anymore. 

You’re surprised that he’s the one who fucked up the peace. You really thought it would be you. But something about what he said is rubbing you the wrong way. Of course, it hasn’t been bad, you’re not a bad person. He just decided he hated you one day and he’s so goddamned stubborn he never considered anything else being the truth. 

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he defends, watching with a confused expression as you get up and drop your plate loudly in the sink. 

“You know,” you ignore his weak defense, leaning on the sink. You grip the rim of it tightly, sucking in a deep breath to try and keep yourself calm. “You didn’t even know my fucking name,” you mutter under your breath, shaking your head to yourself. Why are you even bothering with him? You’ll never win and you don’t even know if you want him to change his opinion about you. 

He’s been a dick for so long that you’re not sure you’re even interested in being friends, let alone anything beyond that. 

“Well,” he takes an angered tone as you continue to deflect his attempts at restoring the peace. “It’s not like you told me. You just go by your X-Men name, how was I supposed to know better?”

“By fucking asking!” You shout, whirling around on him, nearly ramming into his chest. You hadn’t realized how close he’d gotten while you’d had your back to him. “If you had, ever, at any fucking point tried to get to know me, you wouldn’t be so surprised that I’m nice. I’m a nice person to be around, Logan. And for some reason I tried to change myself, to make you happy. And it never even worked!” You scoff, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in your throat that you quickly swallow down. You shove past him, escaping the corner he’s backed you into. “Your head is so far up your ass that you didn’t even try to know me before you decided you hated me.”

“What?” He scoffs and glares at you. “I don’t fucking hate you. When have I ever said that? And I never wanted you to change.” He keeps focusing on the wrong things. How he feels about you doesn’t matter, it’s how he treated you. 

“Never, you’ve never said that because you’ve never said more than two words to me. This,” you motion between the two of you, “is the longest conversation we’ve ever had.” A sudden exhaustion settles over you, it weighs heavy on your bones and drapes across you like a blanket. 

You don’t have the energy for this. For him. You don’t want to keep defending yourself to someone who couldn’t care less. There’s no winning with him. He will never listen to you, he’ll just offer half-assed excuses that he thinks absolve him of how horribly he’s treated you. 

He calls your name as you slump into the dining room chair. Your real name, not your X-Men name. “I never hated you,” he tells you, voice soft, but the conviction is strong. 

You stand up, unable to make eye contact with him. “Goodnight, Logan.” You walk up the stairs quietly, never once looking at him. You can’t stand to face him. As much as you’ve tried to bury how you feel about him, it’s still there. 

Being with him like this, having his ring on your finger, it’s a stab in the gut over and over and over. Someone’s taken your most ridiculous and romantic fantasies and turned them into a waking nightmare. You wake up to him every day, eat at the same table, share the same house, and you two couldn’t be further apart. 

You have to keep up appearances, Logan is sure that’s the only reason you’ve joined him this morning. He’s working on the truck while you kneel on a foam pad, planting a rose bush by the mailbox. But the way you’re stabbing the shovel into the ground it looks more like murder than it does gardening. You slam the little trowel into the dirt, lips pulled back like a wild animal as dirt flies up around your hair. 

Logan turns back to the truck, letting out a low whistle under his breath. Besides the insane display of shrubbery abuse, you blend into the neighborhood better than he ever could. You fit that perfect suburban aesthetic, sun hat, cat-eye sunglasses, and a pretty dress. 

You’re good at blending in, better than he ever was. He’s heard you joking about it before. Telling Jean your hidden mutant ability is learning to be a chameleon, fitting yourself wherever you are. He thinks it’s a cute idea, and not too far from the truth. 

He only wishes he were a little more like that. He sticks out like a sore thumb with his wifebeater, fraying jeans, and general countenance of misery. He can’t force a smile when John walks by with a shitty joke. He’s not like you. You stomach all of the women’s vapid nonsense with a smile and manage to seem so unaffected by it all. 

The only time he’s seen you break was last night. And that, of course, had been his fault. He wishes he was better with his words. He’s always been an action man, but clearly, he’s fucked that up with you too. He really did mean it as a compliment. 

He’s just incapable of talking without his foot in his mouth when it comes to you. It’s why he tends to just avoid you and stay quiet. He knows he’ll mess up with you eventually. In the rare chance you ever actually give him a second look, he’d be a shitty boyfriend. And even if you were just friends, he’d still fuck up somehow. He always does. 

He’s learned it’s better to just keep a distance between himself and others. Especially you. He’s always just wanted to keep you away from his bullshit. The haunted past he still knows so little about, all the mental baggage he carries, he never wanted to burden you with it. Even though it seems like he still managed to screw up somehow. 

Even when he’s trying to be good he’s still the bad guy. 

You let out a heavy sigh and his gaze drifts back towards you. The way it always seems to do. You’re his sun, bright, beaming, a golden beacon of hope. But he’s always just too far, eclipsing the light you might bring him with his own stupidity. 

You toss the trowel to the ground and stand up. You frown, brushing off all the dirt you’re absolutely caked in. When he peers around you and glances at the spot where the rose bush is supposed to be all he sees is a crater of earth and ripped up grass. He figures it's better not to mention it. 

You walk over to him, the same scowl you’ve had for the past few days ever-present on your face. “I’m going to take a shower,” you look at him expectantly and he shrugs. You let out a loud sigh and he can’t possibly imagine how he’s messed up now. “You need one too, the barbecues in an hour.”

He’d forgotten about the fucking barbecue. Some annual thing Shiela and John threw that the whole neighborhood went to. “It doesn’t take me an hour to get ready,” he tells you, intending a little bit of playfulness. 

Instead, you just let out an exasperated breath and storm back into the house. How did he keep fucking up with you so badly?

He’s gotten a taste of your personality, your company. He’s tried for so long to avoid getting to know you. He knows that if he truly did, he’d never get over you. He was right. Just one taste of you and he wants more, he wants to consume everything about you that he can. He’s screwed up in so many ways but he can’t just go back to normal after this and act like strangers. 

You smooth the wrinkles out of your cotton dress and let out a low breath. “You need another minute?” Logan grumps from beside you, his stare boring into the door. He didn’t want to come to this. Frankly, neither did you, but he needs to suck it up and be a big boy. You two are here for a purpose greater than yourselves. 

Maybe if you repeat that enough times you’ll start to believe it. 

Kimiko was everywhere that Shiela was. She was her shadow, her loyalist servant. And the only person in this neighborhood who’s shown a sliver of consciousness. You don’t know where she lives, or if she even owns a house here. But you do know she’ll be at this barbecue tonight. 

The only reason you’re bothering to bring Logan along is because you need him to distract Shiela. She drools every time she sees him, practically licking her maw at the sight of him in a tight t-shirt. You can’t really blame her, but she’s a married woman and he’s technically a married man. The lack of shame and compassion is genuinely astonishing to you. 

“No. Let’s just get this over with.” He needs no further prompting as he knocks heavily on the door. Each pound of his fist sounds like a bell tolling your doom. The intense feeling of nausea and eyes on the back of your head has developed and grown increasingly worse the longer you’re here. 

You feel like someone’s pressing against your mind, wiggling their fingers in and squeezing until mush slips through their knuckles. You keep a tight grip on Logan so you don’t tip over. Playing it off as the love-sick newlyweds you’re meant to be. 

Even though the feeling of his skin against yours makes you angrier than you can even begin to fathom. You’ve held onto built-up resentment and anger ever since your little tiff. You’ve heard that tumultuous times are common in the beginnings of marriages. Luckily, you’re getting a divorce the second this fucking mission is over. 

You resent Charles for ever sending you here. Any minuscule hopes you’ve had of finally building a relationship with Logan have been dashed across your front yard. There’s no hope for him. He’ll never change, and how he treats you will never change. 

The door swings open and the music from the backyard drifts through to the front. Shiela smiles widely, greeting you both with a drawn-out Hi! She reaches forward and grabs Logan, tugging him away from you and dragging him into a hug. 

You stumble forward as your support is ripped out from under you. She briefly glances over his shoulder at you and you offer her a sardonic smile. Every bit of you wants to dig your nails into her and rip until chunks of her start flying off. The post beside you warps slightly, bending like it’s melting. 

You dig your nails into your palm, swallowing down your anger, and force the post upright once more. Logan grabs Shiela by the waist, practically yanking her off of him. He steps back towards you, wrapping his arm around your waist. 

You can’t help the smug smile that lifts your lips as you face her. You almost want to rub her face in it. He chose you and he can’t stand you, that says a lot about how he feels about her. You stop yourself, though, it’d be beyond idiotic to let that be the reason your cover is blown. 

“Thanks for inviting us,” you tell Shiela, playing oblivious instead of walking into her trap. You pass her the casserole you half-assed and baked in her dish. “We’re so excited to finally have a home to call our own, and with such wonderful neighbors,” you gasp dreamily. “Oh, it’s just a dream come true.”

Shiela runs a manicured nail along the side of her lip, looking wholly unimpressed. “Mhm,” she hums, “I’m sure.” You share a look with Logan, both of you caught off guard by her sudden dip in personality. Her face is blank, devoid of the usual overwrought happiness and charm. It’s like something’s taken control and drained the life from her. 

Either Kimiko’s here and you’re right about her, or, Shiela is just a depressed housewife who can’t always control when she smiles. You’re hoping it’s Kimiko and you can just end this once and for all. 

“Alright,” she’s back in a second like nothing ever happened. The boom of her voice echoing through the foyer makes you jump. “Let’s get you two outside. And thank you so much for this,” she gestures to the casserole. “You’re just such a sweet little thing aren’t you?”

Everything she says to you feels just a tad patronizing. She’s incapable of complimenting you without minimizing you in some way. You dismiss it, shaking off the funk she always seems to put you in. 

Shiela leads you to the backdoor of her porch where the rest of the neighborhood is. She certainly got the best square footage, that’s for sure. She doesn’t just have the biggest house, she’s also got the biggest yard you’ve ever stepped foot on. 

People are milling about, John’s flipping hamburgers on the grill, and children are playing happily with one another. It feels like an advert for the Fourth of July.

You scan the yard for the only person you’re looking for. You spot her, pushed back towards the shadow of Shiela’s oak tree. Shiela follows your gaze with a frown and scoffs. “I know, hideous isn’t it?”

You jump, startled out of your stupor. “Sorry?”

She points towards the tree. “I wanted to get rid of it, but apparently it’s historic,” she throws up air quotes, inflecting her voice lazily, “or something stupid.”

“Oh, right,” you nod dismissively and she shrugs, hands slapping against her thighs as she nods to her yard. 

“Well, go on, socialize, make yourself at home y’all.” She walks back into the house and you glance back at the yard. 

“Shit,” you hiss, “Kimiko’s gone.” You move away from Logan and take a step down the stairs, he begins to follow you but you stop him with a firm hand to his chest. He frowns down at you and you nod towards Shiela. “I need you playing interception. Those two are attached at the hip. The only thing that’s going to distract her is the hunk of meat she’s been drooling over.” 

Logan frowns and takes a step back. He sets his face and crosses his arms and you sigh, knowing exactly what he’s about to say. “No.” He tells you firmly, not even bothering to hear you out. 

“Well,” you shrug. “Too bad, I need you to do this or we’re never getting out of here.”

He mocks your shrug and nods, “Alright. Fine.” He leans into your space and you feel like you’re being scolded, “I’m not leaving you on your own, okay? And I’m not letting you go after Kimiko alone.”

“I’m not going after her,” you glance around, making sure no one is listening to you talk about their neighbor like she’s on a hit list. “I just need one interrupted conversation with her. Just one,” you’re practically pleading with him at this point. 

You feel pathetic. You’re a grown woman and an X-Men. You shouldn’t have to be bartering with Logan. He should just have some faith in your abilities to not only protect yourself but conduct yourself appropriately on a mission. 

His face screws up in irritation and you know he’s about to really cause a scene. He’ll start arguing with you, and blow your spot up just to get you out of here. You give him a placating smile, a real one because he’s somehow learned to tell the difference. “Logan, it’s only for an hour. I’m sure you can fend Shiela off,” you joke to try and lighten the mood.

He sucks in a deep breath and you know you’ve got him when his shoulders sink in defeat. “Fine. I’m only agreeing to this because you’re practically a chameleon with this shit,” he gestures vaguely to the barbecue and your face pinches with confusion. 

“What?” 

“I heard you talking about it with Jean one day. How you’re a chameleon when it comes to blending in with people.”

“Well, that wasn’t exactly a brag. It’s a method of survival, a way to make people like me. It gives me a fighting chance when they find out I’m a mutant.” God, why are you even talking about this? Why had he even been listening to your conversation with Jean?

He opens his mouth like he wants to say something but you don’t have time for that. “Look, Logan, just go find Shiela.” You walk away from him before he can drudge up more uncomfortable memories of high school. 

You manage to slip through the party relatively unnoticed. You didn’t see where Kimiko had disappeared to. You’re hoping there might be some sort of hint left where she had been. You rush towards the oak tree, using it as a way to scan the party for her again. From here you can’t see anything except the kitchen.  

You’ve got a perfect view of Logan trudging towards Shiela. You can’t help but laugh when she wraps her hand around his bicep, eagerly telling him something. You smile and shake your head, the audacity of this woman is amazing. 

Something catches your eye, right by your foot. Glancing down you see something silver glinting through the grass. Frowning, you kneel and scoop it up. It’s an oblong device, small, and fits in the palm of your hand. It’s curved oddly, and the lights on it start flashing bright red as you hold it.

“What the hell?” You flip it over, a warped mirrored reflection on the back of it. You just barely spot Kimiko’s twisted face in the reflection before the world goes black. 

You groan, slowly blinking the fog of a forced sleep out of your eyes. You reach to swipe at your face, but something is holding your wrists down. You jerk your arms a few times, struggling against whatever restraints are wrapped around you. When nothing happens, you instead focus on the feeling of it against your wrist, trying to get it to dissolve. 

“Don’t bother,” a cool voice calls out from the shadows. There’s one bright light shining down on you, like the type you might see above an operating table. The entire room feels sterile. And it’s cold, you can barely feel the tips of your toes or fingers. 

“What’d you do?” You demand, trying to sound intimidating but your words come out as a slur. The back of your head radiates pain and it takes everything in you just to keep your eyes open. 

“I developed a gas,” the voice circles the room, echoing across the curved walls. You hear footsteps but you can’t tell where they’re coming from. “It halts the neurons in a mutant’s brain that fire when they use their abilities. Temporary, but quite handy when I’m dealing with a mentalist like you.”

Kimiko steps out of the shadows like a bad comic book villain. Her face is blank, no expression on it, somehow, it’s the realest she’s ever looked before. Here, you can see her humanity. Pores across her nose, frizz and oil along her hair, her nose just a little bit crooked. Whatever she’d been doing to herself has been wiped away. And the human woman lurking beneath is finally revealed. 

“There you are,” you mutter, your speech slowly coming back to you. “I knew that plastic face wasn’t real.”

“Everything was going just fine until you and Wolverine got here,” she gives you a sharp look, “Flux.”

You sarcastically gasp, “Wow, you know my X-Men name. It’s not like I haven’t been interviewed before. What’s the plan here, Kimiko? Where are the others?”

Her brows pinch, “Others?”

“The mutants you’re trafficking.”

“Oh,” she laughs and it’s so jarring you nearly jump. “Is that what people think?” Hesitantly, you nod, but you’re beginning to feel like you might have gotten something very wrong. “No, that’s not what we’re doing here.”

“We?”

“Shiela and I. We have much simpler plans, much more peaceful. You see, Shiela’s the only person to ever stand beside me after she found out I was a mutant. She gave me a home, a friend, and a sense of belonging.” There’s something devout in her words, like a humble follower kneeling at the feet of their god. “Everything I have, everything I am, I owe to her.”

You’ve seen Shiela’s manipulation firsthand. You have no doubt that she’s never actually done anything for Kimiko. She’s just made her think she had and instilled in her this sense of owing her something. 

Then again, Kimiko’s getting this look on her face. She’s like a rabid dog staring down the barrel of their owner’s shotgun. Perhaps she hadn’t needed much prompting to develop such an unhealthy attachment. “Shiela’s parents never loved her the way they should have. They never gave her the perfect life she deserved. So I created one for her.”

She rolls a tray of surgical tools over and a sense of panic finally starts to rouse within you. Yet, for the first time in years, your powers aren’t here to help you. You have nothing to rely on but yourself. But you’ve been trained so intensively in using your abilities as a protector rather than an inhibitor that you’re practically useless without them. 

“All these people,” you rush the words out as she picks up a syringe. You don’t know what the yellow liquid inside is, but from the look on her face, you don’t want to. “You’re controlling them?”

Kimiko nods and you’d be staggering if you weren’t strapped down. Not even Charles could control this many people at once. Not without Cerebro. “Kimiko, that’s,” you gasp, flinching away as she brings the needle towards your arms. “It’s incredible!” Your quick rise in volume makes her jolt and the syringe tumbles out of her hands. 

She grumbles to herself, leaning over to pick it up. “Does Shiela know?” She pauses at the mention of Shiela’s name, brushing her hair over her shoulder and glaring at you. 

“Yes. Of course she does, this is my greatest gift to her.”

“Really?” Your voice drips with contrived empathy. “Then I’m sure she’s done something incredible for you back.” You were hoping a simple manipulation tactic might work, that you could turn Kimiko against an ungrateful Shiela. But this type of obsession isn’t one that can’t be destabilized with a few jumbled words. 

No, you only make her angrier. “Back? Back?” she practically screams, her voice raw and feral as she leaps into your face. You flinch as far back as you can as her face hovers over yours, screaming right at you. “I owe her everything! I should thank her for letting me breathe the same air as hers!”

Your jaw drops, a silent scream tripping out of your mouth as you gasp for air. Something squeezes against your brain, the pulsing from before returns with a vengeance. You can feel your mind pulsing and swelling, pushing against your skull. 

“Don’t fucking say her name again,” Kimiko glares down at you, her eyes devoid of any remorse or compassion as she makes your brain swell until blood leaks down your ears. Whatever plan she had before has been abandoned, she’s going to just kill you now. 

You’re going to die in her basement, no one will ever see you again. Your eyes throb and you feel your brain push to its fullest limits. The pressure builds, builds, and builds until it explodes. 

“Then you just pour a little sugar in.” Logan watches as Shiela tips nearly an entire bag of cane sugar into her jug of sweet tea. His stomach shrivels at the sight and he fights down bile. A little bit of sugar drops over the edge. She catches it on her finger and looks over her shoulder, licking the sugar off and practically deepthroating her own finger. All while maintaining a disturbing amount of eye contact with Logan. 

“Well,” he knows that he promised you a while with Kimiko, but he can’t handle much more of this. “Thank you so much for this,” he struggles with the word, landing weakly on, “lesson.” He’s not even sure what the point of watching her prepare all this food was. 

He’s pretty sure she just wanted him to see her leave a rim of red lipstick at the bottom of her finger as many times as possible. The entire time he’s just wanted to go back to you. There’s a nasty feeling gnawing at him and he knows he needs to get back to you soon. 

“Oh,” she seems genuinely disappointed and Logan sighs awkwardly. “Leaving already, huh?”

He points to his ring pointedly reminding her of the reality of their situation. “Gotta get back to the wife.”

She doesn’t even try to hide her sneer as he mentions you. “Of course, just the perfect husband aren’t you?”

Logan doesn’t dignify that with a response, too distracted by what’s happening outside the window. People have begun to wander around aimlessly, some of them stumbling into the fencing. They just keep walking forward, knocking into the wood repeatedly, not once stopping. John’s got a stuck smile on his face as he leans against the grill, Logan can see smoke rising from where the flesh of his palm is melting onto the metal. A few people all run into each other, collapsing on the ground and just lying there. 

They’re like robots, suddenly without command and unsure what to do. They’re following their programming without anyone putting a stop to it. Shiela follows his gaze and gasps. “Excuse me,” she mutters, practically running out of the room. 

Logan tries to find you amongst all the mess but you’re nowhere to be seen. “Fuck,” he growls out, looking back to where Shiela had run. He should have fucking known not to leave you on your own. 

He stalks after Shiela, listening to her racing heart and the slam of a downstairs door. He follows her down the steps leading to her basement. It looks the same as every other one he’s ever been in. Except, for the metal door hidden behind a few shelving units. The only reason he spots it is because Shiela knocked over a can of paint in her rush toward it. 

Anger brews hot and putrid in his gut. The claws come out unbidden, and the thought of you being locked away in that room pushes him forward. If you’re not in there, he’ll get an answer from Shiela one way or another. But he’s not going to let you get hurt because he didn’t have your back. 

“What the hell are you doing?” A shrill voice interrupts. Your head sinks back against the cool material of the table, brain surging back into place. Your teeth ache, white-hot pain rushing through your bones as Kimiko finally releases her grasp on you. 

Kimiko gives Shiela the look of a dog who just got in trouble. “She found my amplifying device. I have to get rid of her.” She holds the device you found earlier out to Shiela. 

So, she wasn’t as powerful as she pretended. She did need help. It explains why the entire neighborhood is always in the same area, she needs them close to keep control. “Whatever you’re doing is making my toys malfunction.”

Shiela hisses at Kimiko, she darts forward and slaps her hard across the back of the head. If you weren’t in excruciating and paralyzing pain, you’d flinch at the sound. Being as if your brain was just about to explode, though, you could give less of a shit if she beats her rabid dog up. 

These two crazy bitches deserve each other. You just want a Tylenol and a nap at this point. “Well, aren’t you two twisted sisters?” Logan slips through the door, his claws glinting under the light of the room. “Toys?” He demands, eyes roaming the room desperately. 

The second he sees you, strapped down and with blood pouring from your orifices, something slips over his face. It’s like a mask being ripped off. The man he pretends to be is ripped apart by the animal truly lurking within him. Neither women have time to even defend themselves. He goes for Kimiko first and all you see his claws plunging down before arterial blood sprays across your face. 

You groan, tilting your chin the other way and spitting the metallic liquid out of your mouth. There are a long few minutes of screaming, clothes shredding, and blood splashing against every surface of the room. By the time he’s completely calmed down, you’re drenched in it. 

You suck on your teeth, rolling your head limply and finally getting a good look at him. He’s panting, standing over their mutilated corpses with blood dripping down his claws. There’s a wrath on his face you’re happy to have never been on the other end of. But the second he looks at you, you see nothing but stark relief. 

He breathes out your name, your real one, and surges towards you. “Claws!” You shout, hurting your head again. But he was a second away from accidentally skewering you. They’re put away in an instant as he undoes the straps holding you down. 

You groan in relief as the pressure around your head and limbs is released. He perches himself on the edge of the table and scoops you into his chest.

You’re still loopy from Kimiko messing around in the grooves of your brain. The best you can manage is weakly draping your arms along his sides. He pulls you back and brushes the hair out of your face, laughing a little at the blood covering you. “They do anything to you?”

You shrug, “Besides turn my brain into a pressure cooker? No.”

The smile drops from his face and he glares down at the remains of the women. If you weren’t so tired, you’d think he wants to kill them again. “I should have been here.”

“Logan-” You want to tell him not to be ridiculous. You had insisted you could take care of yourself. Told him it would only be a conversation when you knew that was never going to be true. You’d gotten yourself into this, you were lucky he was there to get you out. But you don’t say anything because he interrupts you as he so often does. 

“I can’t keep acting like this is all okay. Like I’m happy with how we treat each other. I thought I was going to lose you, I’m not going to keep pretending I don’t care about you.”

Your face screws up in confusion and you’re not sure you want to hear where he’s going with this. You’ve been used to this dynamic between the two of you for so long. You’re used to him treating you like he can't stand to breathe the same air as you. If this is going where you think it is, you’re not sure you can handle it. 

“Logan,” you’re regaining some feeling in your limbs now. You use the returning strength to push away from him, shaking your head in disbelief. “No, you can’t do this. You can’t just change your-”

He’s incapable of letting you finish a single sentence. His hands wrap around your cheeks tugging you forward until your lips are brushing together. It’s enough of a shock to get you to stop talking. You don’t reciprocate, too stunned to even think about moving. 

He brushes his lips against yours again, firmer this time. Under the layers of blood coating you both, you’re wholly enveloped by him. His scent, his arms, everything about him drapes over you like a warm blanket. Against your better judgment, you find yourself returning the kiss. 

You move further into his lap, one hand holding his face and the other clutching at his hair, needing something to hold to keep you steady in this moment. Logan smiles against your lips, deepening the kiss without wasting another beat. His tongue moves gently across yours at first. A curious caress to see how well you two fit together. He groans when he gets a taste of you, pushing further in and kissing you like he wants to devour you.  

There’s warmth blooming in your stomach and spreading all along your body. You’re buzzing with adrenaline and pain and this unidentifiable feeling that Logan is evoking from you. It’s not the sweet mushy, romantic kiss you always imagined with him. 

This is desperate. Like a dying man’s last attempt at redemption. He’s tasting you like you’re rare, something to be savored. You feel like you’re the only thing left in existence. The only person left for him to admire. You forget the gore behind you, the tumultuous experiences you’ve had with him. 

You let yourself fall into the moment, a blind leap of faith into a pool of all your hopes and desires. He’s better than you ever could have imagined. More desperate than your wildest fantasies. He makes no move to stop, even as the air becomes scarce and you both have to part longer. He just grips you tighter, hands wrapped around you like he’s worried if he lets go he’ll lose you. 

He could, he could lose you. This kiss of his is putting you into a trance, distracting you from all he’s trying to make up for. Perhaps if he stops kissing you, you’ll remember it all and want nothing to do with him. But you don’t see that happening, you just see yourself craving more and more for him., You feel the addiction forming already. A deep-seated need in your bones is finally being sated, it will always need more from him. 

When you can no longer survive on the shared oxygen between you both, you’re forced to part. Your cheeks tingle from the stubble of his beard and you know your lips are pink and swollen because his are too. You’re both still coated in blood and you share a familiar glean in your eyes. 

“I never hated you,” he sounds breathless and you love that you’re the cause of it. “I just didn’t want to lose you.”

You scoff, but there are no cruel intentions behind it. “So you push me away before you ever get a chance to have me?”

He gives you a crooked smile, “I never said I was smart.” You can’t help but laugh at that. Slowly, he helps you to your feet, ignoring the puddles of blood and bits. “We'll have to call Charles. He needs to help the people out there.”

“We also need to let him know there’s no trafficking ring. Just one fucked psyche.” You shoot another glare at the pile that was Kimiko, still bitter about her experiment with your brain. As Logan helps you up the stairs of the basement, you stop him just before you reach the door. 

He gives you a concerned look, like he thinks you’ve hurt something somehow. “I want to talk to you. Really talk to you about everything.” Concern gives way to dread and you can’t help but smile at the regretful look on his face. “But first,” his head perks in interest at your tone, “maybe we can finally enjoy that master bed together?”

“You know,” he leans down, swiping his arms under your knees and lifting you. You gasp, through your arms around his neck and squeezing until you worry you might suffocate him. “You really are the smart one of us, aren’t you?”

“Clearly.”

You’re not sure how well this transition to married couple to tentatively something else is going to go. But you have hope and it's kept you going for all these years. What's wrong with letting it linger a little longer?

a/n: Guess who's back, back again? Hint, it's Flux. I missed writing for them, so I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did. Although, I worry the ending was too cheesy.

Reblogs, comments, likes, and requests are always appreciated !!

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp ♡ 

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte

@mrs-ephemeral  @wolviesgirl @insomniachox @izbelross @spktrlvr ♡

you jolted awake, gasping. the world felt too real, too solid, and you couldn’t quite shake the vividness of the nightmare clinging to your mind. your chest heaved as you tried to ground yourself, pressing your hands into the mattress, but the fear and memories were still clawing at you.

you were back there - in the past. hands bound, eyes wide open, watching everything but being unable to do a thing. the missions, the screams, the people you’d hurt... it all replayed in slow motion, burning through your mind like it had never really left.

logan stirred beside you, his body instinctively shifting when he felt your movements. he was a heavy sleeper in some ways, but when it came to you, the smallest sign of distress was enough to get his attention. his arm draped over your waist, pulling you closer, his chest pressed against your back. normally, the warmth would be enough to calm you, but tonight you felt like you were drowning in the heat, unable to escape the memories.

“what’s wrong?” logan’s voice was a gravelly whisper, heavy with sleep but alert. his lips brushed against the back of your neck as he spoke, his breath warm on your skin. “bad dream?”

you didn’t answer right away. you couldn’t. the words felt too heavy, too tangled up in the nightmare. your hands were trembling, and it was only when you realised how tight your grip was on the sheets that you forced yourself to let go.

“yeah,” you finally whispered, voice barely audible. “just a nightmare.”

he didn’t ask for more, didn’t press you. logan wasn’t the type to demand explanations. instead, he shifted so he could pull you against his chest, his arms wrapping around you like a shield. the weight of him against your back, the solid feel of him, was grounding in a way that nothing else could be.

“you’re safe,” he murmured, his voice rough but soothing. “nothin’s gonna hurt you. i won’t let it.”

the words should’ve been enough. they always had been before, but tonight they weren’t. not because you didn’t believe him - logan would go through hell to protect you - but because the danger wasn’t outside. it was inside you, trapped in your head, a part of the past that wouldn’t let go.

you swallowed hard, your throat tight, and turned to face him. his eyes were heavy-lidded with sleep, but there was a sharpness there, a readiness to do whatever needed to be done if it meant you’d be okay.

“it’s... it’s not about right now,” you started, your voice shaky. “it’s the past. stuff i... i can’t forget.”

logan’s brow furrowed, his thumb brushing absently over your shoulder. he didn’t say anything, just waited. the silence between you was thick but not uncomfortable, the kind of silence that meant he was listening. that he’d listen for as long as you needed, without judgment.

you drew in a breath, trying to steady yourself, but the memories were still fresh in your mind, too close to ignore.

“i keep dreaming about them,” you admitted, your voice quieter than before. “the missions. the people. what i did before... before you.”

logan didn’t react right away, but his hold on you tightened slightly. his jaw clenched, and you could tell he hated that you were still haunted by that part of your life. but he didn’t interrupt, didn’t tell you to stop talking. he just let you get it out.

“i try to let it go. i try to move past it, but it’s like every time i close my eyes, i’m back there. doing things i can’t take back.”

you hated how raw your voice sounded, hated that those memories still held power over you. but more than anything, you hated that even now, after all this time, they could still make you feel like you were drowning.

logan’s hand moved up to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek in slow, gentle strokes. his eyes were dark, filled with an understanding that came from his own history, his own pain. you weren’t alone in that, not with him. logan had his own ghosts, his own past that bled into the present in ways he couldn’t always control.

“you did what you had to do,” he said, his voice low but steady. “you survived. and that’s what matters.”

you shook your head, pulling back slightly. “but it doesn’t change what i did.”

“no, it doesn’t,” he agreed, his voice quiet but firm. “but you ain’t the same person anymore. you got out. you’re here. with me.”

he said it like it was simple, like the fact that you were with him was enough to erase everything else. and in a way, maybe it was. logan had a way of grounding you, of pulling you back from the edge of your own mind. he wasn’t one for long speeches or trying to fix things with words. he just... existed with you in the moment. and that was what you needed.

you felt a tear slip down your cheek, and you wiped it away quickly, not wanting to make a big deal of it. but logan saw. he always saw.

his hand caught yours, stopping you from brushing away the rest of the tears. he pressed his forehead to yours, his breath steady and calming, like an anchor. “you don’t gotta be strong all the time. not with me.”

that did it. the dam broke. you closed your eyes, letting the tears fall freely now, no longer fighting to hold them back. logan didn’t say anything, didn’t try to stop you. he just held you, his arms solid and strong, letting you release the weight of everything you’d been carrying.

the room was quiet except for your breathing, the soft sounds of your sobs fading as the minutes passed. it wasn’t a loud cry, nothing dramatic. just a release, like the pressure had finally built too high, and you couldn’t hold it anymore.

logan held you until your breathing evened out, until the tears dried up and you were left feeling hollow but lighter. his hand kept a steady rhythm on your back, rubbing slow, calming circles.

“you okay?” he asked, his voice softer than before, almost a whisper.

you nodded, your head still pressed against his chest. you felt the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the slow, calming beat of his heart. it was enough to pull you fully back into the present, away from the nightmare.

“i’m okay,” you whispered, even though you didn’t quite believe it. but you would be. with logan, you always ended up okay.

he kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there, warm and steady. “good. ‘cause you don’t deserve to be stuck in the past. not when you’ve come this far.”

It wasn't long after you found yourself in the company of the world's strongest heroes. With your intellect and specific set of skills, both Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne thought you could be an invaluable member of the Justice League. Though, instead of fighting on the front lines, you would offer advice and wisdom when needed - along with helping the team with the tech that you created. 

So, it didn't come as a surprise when Arthur called you on your 'Super Watch' as you called it, when you made it for you and the team. He came to you when he needed advice, which was a lot. If it had been anyone else, you would've been more than willing to help. But it was Arthur. However, you were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"I need to cash in that favor." He said. There was no greeting - no pleasantries. Just straight to business. Like he usually did when he needed something. 

You rolled your eyes. If only you hadn't asked him to take you to see a Humpback Whale - him with his Kingly Atlantis powers. It had always been a dream of yours, and why wouldn't you take a chance to experience something new and amazing like that? During the time, in awe of the giant Humpback before you, asking for that favor was totally worth it. 

However, at the moment, you didn't want to know what he wanted. There were so many things that he could possibly want. But, it was the weekend. Saturday. Not the day for you to play babysitter for some superpowered superhero. You already had to watch over Damian Wayne. You loved the kid, but you didn’t really think babysitting was your thing. "What do you want?" You asked, not bothering to mask the impatience in your voice. "I have a book I need to get to..."

"I need you to watch over somebody for me." He answered, seemingly aware of your impatience as he continued with a small grin on his face, "I believe that you heard that my brother has joined the surface world. He'll be needing some help adjusting and I think you-"

"Oh, no, no, no," You interrupted, shaking your head as you glared daggers at the hologram before you, "I am not babysitting your murderous brother." You ran a hand through your hair, "Do you know how much damage control I had to do when he tried to kill us surface-dwellers? It took me weeks to fix all that he did - with little help by the way!" You pointed an accusatory finger at him, "I already have a tough time babysitting the supers, I am not babysitting him too."

He sighed heavily. "Look, I know that this is a bit of a big favor-"

You scoffed, "A bit?"

"And I understand that being around new people is not exactly fun for you-"

You couldn't help but roll your eyes again, "Not just that, Art, I am not like you and the other supers. If your brother tries anything, I won't be able to stop him."

"He won't try anything," Arthur grinned, "He's changed, dude. He's not the same as he was over a year ago." 

You nodded, taking another glance at the sky outside your window. "That's good if what you say is true." You agreed hesitantly. "If I am going to do this, and if," You emphasized, letting out a deep breath, "How am I going to find him in the first place? I don't know what he looks like or even where he is. On top of that, I don't even know what his name is."

Arthur gave a small nod. "His name is Orm. I believe he is residing in Metropolis at the moment. For the past couple of weeks, he's been going from city to city, with what little Atlantean money he has left on him. I'll send you a description of his appearance. That'll help, but I think you'll know it's him when you see him."

"Really?" You asked, resting your hand on your hip, "I'll know?" But, Arthur said nothing, only giving you that 'know-it-all' look before hanging up the hologram call. 

Huffing, you dropped your hands, only to raise them to your face and rub your cheeks; overall pretty annoyed. Freezing, you cursed at yourself, forgetting to ask how long you'll be watching over this Orm. 

~~~

Sitting on a small bench, you adjusted your open book, glancing down at the pages. But, instead of reading about a boy and his little sister who fell down a laundry chute and into a strange underground world, you let your eyes wander across the sheet of printer paper that you placed in between the pages. Hiding the fact that you were looking for someone by pretending to read. Your eyes scanned around the page slowly, trying to memorize what Arthur gave you. How could you possibly find this man? Especially with what Arthur had given you to help you find him? Metropolis was huge!

Looking up, your eyes quickly settled on someone in front of you at an outside restaurant, there was a man; tall - seemingly - and blonde; eating a burger. Immediately as your eyes landed on him, you knew. Arthur was right. This was definitely him. 

You suddenly stood, shutting your hardcover book with a snap before walking across the street. Your eyes again locked onto his frame, watching as he continued to chow down on the large burger in his hands. It confused and unnerved you, but the closer you were getting to the man, the more your heart began to race. And it may or may not have been because you thought this Orm was rather attractive. Arthur's family had some good ass genes. 

Before you could even figure out what you were supposed to say, you took a seat across from him; the metal of the chair's legs scraping against the concrete ground sharply. The younger Atlantean prince paused his chewing, his crystal blue eyes staring at you with confusion and obvious caution. You understood that if anyone sat before you while you were trying to enjoy your lunch, you probably would've reacted the same way.

"Hello," You began, immediately inwardly cringing at how awkward your own voice sounded, "Um, I'm Y/N." You watched as he continued chewing, though slowly, his eyes continuing to look over you; still wary. "I'm friends with your brother. He asked me to help you, uh, get used to the surface."

At that, Orm huffed, setting down his burger; annoyed. "I do not need any help." He spoke, his voice firm, but smooth; a shiver ran down your spine. “How did you find me?” Without another word, you pulled the paper from Arthur out of the book, showing it to him. Orm’s eyes widened before narrowing, “Is that supposed to portray me?” He asked, gesturing to the crude drawing of himself - drawn by none other than Arthur himself - you could tell that Orm was not fond of the portrayal at all.

You gave him a deadpanned look, mentally finding this whole interaction very funny - funnily enough. But, you still had work to do. "Listen, I don't really want to do this either. I'd rather be at home reading. But, I owe him a favor and I'm a woman of my word. I understand that you are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, but you are technically a fish out of water in this situation. There are going to be things here on the surface that you won't be able to navigate." You let out a breath, rubbing your temple with two fingers, "So please, let me at least help you with a few things that are mandatory for those that live on land."

After a few moments of silence, Orm squared his jaw as he rubbed his hands clean of the burger's grease with a napkin. The silence between the both of you was unnerving and tense, but you fought through it, not wanting to back down. Even though you were rather annoyed by this whole fiasco, you were a good person, and you weren't about to let a guy with an attitude ruin things for himself just because of his pride or whatever.

"Fine." He grumbled finally, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "What must I do then?

"Well," You began, gesturing to the side of his burger where you saw a pair of bug legs sticking out, "We have a lot to cover."

~~~

For the next couple of weeks, you began teaching Orm about the surface world, though he was rather hesitant to follow your instructions. In the beginning, he complained and made small comments here or there, but Orm seemed to have noticed your no-nonsense nature. He didn't complain anymore after another firm talking-to, and you found out afterwards that he was a rather fast learner. He had no consistent place to live, moving from hotel to hotel, you knew he could only do that for so long; plus you knew from experience that some hotels were less than ideal to stay in, especially ones that were located near the center of the city. 

Therefore, you decided that Orm staying in one of your homes, near the shore in California, was a more ideal option for him. And if you were being honest with yourself, you were beginning to enjoy the youngest Atlantean prince's company; far more than Arthur's, that was for sure.

During the time that Orm has been staying in your humble abode, you made sure to keep him up with the latest tech, which was far different than in Atlantis, you were sure. From the toaster, blender, microwave, and even computer, you made sure that Orm had at least some, if not all, basic knowledge on the appliances around the house. As said before, Orm was an incredibly quick learner, having mastered most of everything within a matter of days.

However, what you did not expect was for you to begin to like him.

~~~

It had been a long night. You were sending email after email to some of your closest contacts and employees, making sure that they were keeping your empire afloat all the while you were on your "vacation" away from Metropolis. Some of your employees tried to get you to enjoy your so-called vacation, but it was hard to just not check up on how things were doing. 

It was well past midnight, reading and re-reading past emails, and checking your phone every now and then, waiting for the familiar notification sound to go off signaling a new text message to come through. You frowned as you set your phone down on the desk beside your computer, letting out a sigh. You leaned your elbows on the table, rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands, tired and absolutely exhausted. 

Standing up, you shut your laptop and headed to the kitchen, quickly making yourself a small cup of tea; praying that it would hopefully help you go to sleep. You silently wandered around your seaside home, faintly hearing the ocean waves crash upon the shore. Taking a small sip of your tea, you hummed as it warmed your throat before pushing the back door open and stepping outside. 

The warm breeze made you smile, as did the smell of the salty ocean a couple hundred feet away from you. It was hard to see it, but you could see the moon reflecting off the waves. Resting your forearms against the wooden railing of the porch, you occasionally sipped your tea while enjoying the quiet.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" The smooth, yet low voice asked, startling you slightly.

Raising a hand to your chest, you let out a deep breath as you swiftly turned to see Orm standing a foot or so behind you; arms clasped behind him. His eyes never met yours, the deep blues staring right back at the raging waves. 

"Of course." You replied softly, as he did, turning to look back at the ocean in question, "It always is."

Orm wandered over, taking the spot next to you before speaking, "Do you enjoy the ocean?" He asked, his question surprising you slightly, but you didn't hesitate to answer.

"Yes." You replied, "Ever since I was a kid." Taking a sip of your tea, you swallowed before continuing, "I always lived in the city. I hardly got to see the ocean, we- my family rarely went to the beach. But that never stopped me from loving it." You shuffled one of your feet, the soul of your slipper slipping against the white wood. Looking up, you finally made eye contact with him, "What about you? I mean, you lived in the ocean most of your life, what's it like?" You asked, your curiosity clear in your tone.

He looked at you, his sharp eyes almost glowing from the moon's rays in the darkness of the night. "It is wonderful." He replied simply, looking back out towards the sea once more. "But, I cannot really describe it; it is not something one can explain simply." You gave a nod, as he shifted uncomfortably in his stance. "You had spoken that helping me acclimate to the surface was a favor owed to Arthur, correct?"

You nodded once more, "Yes, it was," You began, glancing over at him only to see that Orm was already looking at you, "Though, to be perfectly honest, his favor was much bigger than mine was." You chuckled lightly, scratching the back of your neck as you stared into his blue eyes.

He tilted his head curiously, "Is that so?" He questioned, 

"Well, yes-" You bit your lip, shifting in your position as you glanced back at the horizon, "I just asked to see a whale." 

At that, Orm raised an eyebrow, "A whale?"

You hummed in confirmation, "Yep, I just wanted to see a whale. I really like whales. And sharks. But I like whales the most. They sleep upright which is super cool. They are just so fascinating." You gushed, a bright smile slowly spreading onto your face before you cleared your throat, "I mean, you must’ve noticed. I have like ten paintings of whales in there." You finished, gesturing back at the house with a nod of your head, feeling a bit embarrassed by your small rant. Meeting Orm’s gaze once again, you swore that you saw a small smile on his face, but before you could fully confirm it with yourself, he hummed before looking back at the ocean.

"Was it all that you hoped?" He then asked.

"Yeah, definitely. When I was available, he took me to Maine and used his ocean magic to summon a Humpback Whale." The memory of seeing that whale made your chest swell with pride. You smiled as you watched the waves ripple gently across the sand. "When it breached the water, I felt as if I took my first breath. It was the nicest thing Arthur has done for me."

Orm felt a pang in his chest, a wave of jealousy washing over him, making him shift in his stance, his grip on his hand behind his back tightening. For the past month or so, Orm had grown accustomed to being around you, and he had found himself liking you quite a bit despite how much he disliked humans. It wasn't something he'd admit to anyone else aside from himself, but you managed to make him feel a little better, more relaxed, even. And, he actually enjoyed spending time with you. "Does Arthur do nice things for you usually?" Orm inquired, attempting to push down his jealousy.

You shook your head, "Nope, never." You laughed lightly, before placing both hands on the railing, leaning forward slightly, "He usually likes to tease me, you know, joke around. I find him annoying most of the time." You admitted, "But, I should thank him next time I see him in person." You yawned, grabbing your empty cup from the wooden railing with one hand as Orm turned to look at you properly.

"Thank him?" He asked, his eyebrows furrowing together ever so slightly as you paused at the back door, your back facing him.

"Yeah." You responded softly, shrugging one shoulder, "If he didn't ask me to help you, I never would've met you." There was silence between the two of you for a few moments until you turned your head to look back over at him, meeting those same deep blue eyes that seemed to stare right into your very soul. You took the moment to let your eyes travel over his handsome features: the light stubble along his jawline, his blonde hair combed perfectly, the softness of his skin, and his lips. You could have stayed longer looking at him, staring at the man who unknowingly caused so much pain in your heart, but you could not allow yourself to continue. Instead, you quickly averted your eyes, clearing your throat awkwardly, "I'm going to head to bed. Goodnight, Orm." You said before ducking back inside.

"Goodnight, Y/N." Orm muttered, his voice low as he stared at the back door, where your figure had disappeared into, his blue eyes lingering on the door for a moment before he sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. It wasn't long until he looked back at the crashing ocean, his eyebrows furrowed. 

When Orm found himself living with you at your beach house, he did his best to keep his distance, avoiding you as much as he could when you weren't trying to teach him the ways of the surface-dwellers. His stubbornness was also partly due to the fact that he was brought up in such a way to hate surface-dwellers; to despise them as a whole, and everything they stood for. But, even still, he couldn't bring himself to truly dislike you. Despite the nagging of his father's words echoing in his mind whenever he was close to you. He felt... something towards you. Something different; something new.

~~~

The next morning, you were up bright and early, heading downstairs to grab yourself a cup of coffee. Humming a soft, upbeat tune, you shimmied around the kitchen as you poured yourself some coffee; adding cream and sugar.

Glancing around the kitchen, and tilting your body to the side to peer into the dining room, your humming came to a stop. Usually, at the time that you came down for coffee, Orm had already figured out how to make his breakfast. Which usually consisted of eggs, bacon, and tea. 

Frowning, you furrowed your eyebrows, glancing at the clock on the wall before finishing up stirring your tea. Grabbing the warm mug into your dominant hand, you pulled the edges of your cardigan closer around you; the mornings were always so chilly, being so close to the ocean and all. 

Stepping out onto the back porch, you paused. There was Orm, leaning against the wooden beam of your railing - just as he did the night before. He was dressed for the day, in the Surface-Dweller attire you helped him buy. Sometimes, it was hard to believe that he wasn't from the surface world, he fit in so perfectly. His forearms were resting against the railing, slightly bent at the hip, his stormy blue eyes staring off into the crashing waves of the ocean only a couple of mere hundred feet in front of him. You leaned against the doorframe, worrying on your bottom lip. He must have missed his home - Atlantis - you knew that he did. You couldn’t imagine leaving your home, being forced to never return, in fear of imprisonment or even death. Even though you and Orm had a pretty rough beginning, your heart broke for him. 

Your mind raced with possible ideas of how to try and cheer him up, your eyes flickering down at the wooden porch floorboard, spotting bits of sand sprinkled around here and there from your many adventures from the shore. You allowed your gaze to flicker back to the Atlantean man, studying the contours of the side of his face closely, taking in every detail. His brows furrowed tightly together, his lips slightly pursed in deep thought. He was so... Beautiful. Especially as the morning sun filtered into his hair, shining upon the blonde strands, causing them to appear almost white. 

You blinked for a moment, shaking your head slightly as you focused back on trying to come up with an idea to cheer the man up. And then, it hit you. A surge of excitement rushed through you, making your skin buzz slightly at just the idea. Making yourself known, you walked over, taking your place beside him as he had done last night for you. 

"Hey," You spoke up softly, setting your mug down on the railing, your fingers curling around the ceramic; warming them. "Good morning."

Orm turned his head, his gaze landing on yours before he returned his attention to the ocean, "Good morning."

You sighed, turning your gaze to stare at the ocean yourself, shuffling one of your socked feet against the wooden floorboards. "Have you eaten?" You breathed out, raising your cup to take a sip.

"Yes," Orm muttered, glancing at you briefly, "And you?"

You shook your head slightly, taking another sip, "No," You spoke against the rim of your mug, "I have not yet." You suddenly felt nervous, as the words that you had wished to say slithered on the tip of your tongue. "I was wondering if you'd like to go on an adventure with me?" You asked, turning your head to look back up at him, his eyes meeting yours. 

"An adventure?" He repeated, raising a single eyebrow.

You nodded, unable to stop a smile from spreading on your face, "Yeah, well, I was thinking, you've been cooped up in this house for far too long." You placed your mug aside, turning your body to face him, your eyes bright. "So..." You trailed off, tilting your head to the side a bit - trying to read him, he seemed curious. "What'd ya say?"

"Where is it that you would like to take me?" He asked then, sounding curious and yet, hesitant. 

"It's a surprise." You answered quickly - your excitement obvious - before grabbing your mug and speeding back inside. Pausing at the door, you braced your hand against the doorframe, looking back over at him. "You'll love it. I swear."

~~~

"May I open my eyes now?" Orm asked as you helped him out of your car, his hand covering his eyes, as you had asked him to do. From stepping out of the car, Orm could feel the difference in the air; it was warmer out, and he could still smell the salt of the ocean. And yet, he had no idea where you were taking him. 

"No yet," Orm felt you take his other unoccupied arm, your two hands intertwining as you led him away from your parked car towards what he assumed was the entrance of something.

Orm hummed, the hand over his eyes twitching slightly from the urge to just look, "You are not leading me to my death, are you?" He asked, his tone laced with amusement.

"Hmm, no." You played along as you pulled open one of the double doors, leading him inside, "I wouldn't have you stay with me, for almost four months, just to take you to some secondary location to kill you." Your words made Orm chuckle as you began to drag him further into whatever mysterious place you had taken him to.

As Orm followed blindly beside you, he tried to tighten his hearing, seeing if he could pick up anything around him. For the most part, he didn't hear any signs that anyone else might be around. As far as he could tell, it was only the two of you. He couldn't help but wonder, why the sudden trip? With a gentle tug, he felt you come to a stop, one of your hands dropping from his arm. 

"Okay," You breathed out, "You can look now." Dropping his hand, Orm blinked his eyes rapidly, before they widened. So... This was where you were taking him. An aquarium. The water from the aquarium tunnel reflected on the walls in a kaleidoscope effect, tinting in stunning blues and greens. Fish, some sharks, and even a few stingrays of all species swam about everywhere. The underwater tunnel gave off a soothing atmosphere, as if the water itself was saying; 'Welcome.' His eyes followed the graceful movements of the sea creatures above, his ocean-blue eyes flickering from fish to fish, his lips parted slightly. You broke your gaze from the tunnel, turning to look up at Orm, your smile slowly dropping as you took notice of the expression on his face. It was hard to decipher it, your mind beginning to overwhelm you with 'what ifs' and terrible doubts. "Do you not like it?" You asked softly, your voice filled with uncertainty. Orm swallowed hard, but you continued, "I mean, of course, you might hate it." You began to ramble, running a hand through your hair, looking anywhere else but at him, "I mean, this is technically like a prison for fish. But, I assure you, I practically built this aquarium - all the fish have all the food they could possibly want, all the space-" Orm looked down at you, watching as you continued to stumble over your words, “I know you must have been feeling homesick, and I know you can't really go into the ocean, so I thought that you might like it here-”

“Y/N.” He finally spoke, interrupting your rant, “Thank you.” The words seemed to have easily slid off his tongue, his eyes softening as you stared up at him with those eyes of yours. 

“So, I haven't upset you?” You asked, pulling your bottom lip under your teeth once more. 

Orm shook his head, reaching up with his hand, his thumb gently brushed against your bottom lip, pulling it from between your teeth, freeing it; you felt your cheeks heat at the touch, your eyes fluttering momentarily as the warmth of his finger pressed against your bottom lip. “You have not upset me.” Orm tried to reassure you, giving you that smile of his that made your heart flutter. “In fact, this must be the best surprise I have ever received.” 

“Really?” Your eyes lit up, your smile growing, and at Orm's nod, you sighed, “Wow…” Turning back to look at the fish swimming in the large aquarium glass around you, you spoke once more. “Beautiful, isn't it?” You mimicked his own words from two days prior.

"Yes," Orm muttered, "Very beautiful…” 

Looking up at him, you were surprised to find Orm already looking down at you. You felt your breath hitch, again, unable to look away as his eyes bore down into yours with such intensity. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, a faint crease appearing on his forehead. The air around you grew thick, and it wasn't until Orm reached out, cupping your cheek with one hand, that you finally realized just how much closer your faces were than usual. And yet, you did nothing to pull back. Instead, you simply held your breath, your gaze locked onto his, as his thumb ran along your cheek, his fingers tangling themselves in your hair slightly, drawing you closer to him.

His brows furrowed deeper, his eyes darkening slightly as he gazed down at you. His lips parted slightly, a breath leaving him, before he leaned forward; his lips barely brushing against yours. Slowly, hesitantly, he closed the distance between the two of you. Your eyes fluttered shut as his hand slid down from your cheek to cradle your neck, keeping you close. Your arms wrapped around his middle, your fingers gripping tightly at the fabric of his sweater - you never wanted this moment to end.

The kiss lasted mere moments before you both pulled apart, unable to stop yourselves from smiling at each other. Orm felt an immense sense of happiness overtake him as his blue eyes met yours, his cheeks tinted a soft pink. "Arthur was right," He said - mentally hating the words that seemed to slip so easily from his lips - his hand moved to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, his thumb grazing across the shell of your ear.

You couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, raising one hand to press his palm into your cheek, "Arthur was right about what?" You narrowed your eyes playfully, "He's hardly right about anything."

Orm let out a deep sigh, silently agreeing with you, "The surface world is not as terrible as I always believed and was told." He smiled down at you, his hand falling from your cheek to take your hand in his, "You have proven that. As well as Arthur.” You tilted your head to the side lightly, letting out another laugh before shaking your head; Orm's smile quickly turned into a small, anxious frown, "Don't tell Arthur I said that."

"I won't." You promised, your eyes crinkling as you laughed out your words, "He wouldn't shut up about it if I did." Orm chuckled as he nodded his head as you interlaced your fingers with his, "So..." You trailed off, "Do you want to see the rest of the aquarium? I rented it out for the next two hours. So, we got the whole place to ourselves." You waved your free hand in the air, gesturing to the long empty tunnel that led the way to the rest of the aquarium.

He wasn't used to sitting idle, which led him to start cleaning up the house during those few hours and familiarizing himself with the rooms. Orm was now a free man, left to live his life however he wanted. And yet, when Arthur came to him with a certain proposition, he didn't even think before agreeing.

What he's said before was true—Orm did feel indebted to you for everything you'd done over the years. But it wasn't the main reason he dropped everything and allowed Arthur to bring him to the sea house.

Orm used the opportunity of having you out of bed (if it could even be called that) to clean it up and take off the bed sheets. A surprising amount of human medicine rolled out from various crevices of crumpled blankets, which he put on the table to carefully read about later. Human ingenuity managed to surprise him every now and then, and instructions printed on every surface possible were something he appreciated.

He heard the water run in the shower, which was a good sign. So far, no screams, shouts or sounds of a body hitting the floor broke the peaceful evening. Orm wouldn't mind it staying that way.

It took him a few moments to figure out the way human bed sheets were supposed to be used. Everything felt new to him, but he took pride in every step. There was a certain novelty to doing things wrong and not having a whole nation watching.

The lock opened with a mechanical click. You stood in the doorway, looking pale and wet, resembling a wet rat Orm had once seen in a canal. The loose shirt you put on had a lot of soaked spots.

“I can't take it off.”

Orm moved his eyes away from the shirt clinging to your body. “Pardon?”

Your lips formed a thin, anxious line. “The old bandage. Even after I soaked it, I can't take parts of it off.”

Orm knew he'd sooner grow old and turn to dust than hear from you words such as ‘Please, could you help me? I can't do this on my own.’ In any other person, such a trait would endlessly annoy him.

“Let me have a try.” It was a perfectly diplomatic answer that made you walk back into the bathroom.

You leaned over the sink with your back to him and pulled the shirt up. From up close, Orm realized that some of the wet patches on the shirt came from blood. Removing even part of the bandages resulted in aggravating the wounds again, and pulling on the ones that were stuck hard only made it worse.

For a moment, Orm beheld the scale of the task. “What happened to you again?”

“A building.”

It looked as if you were dragged through a few of them. Repeatedly.

“...must've been a big one.”

“Your brother has a talent of making the worst possible choices.”

“Hard to argue with that.”

His heart hurt when he started pulling on the scabbed wounds that had dried with pieces of bandage and dressing inside the wound. He was no medic, but he'd been in enough duels and fights not to overlook unhealed injuries. With lips pressed thin, he tried to be as gentle as possible, but his work was difficult.

He was impressed you didn't flinch or curse. Orm only heard quiet hisses from you and noticed your heavy breathing.

“I'm sorry it's taking so long,” he broke the silence after a while, thinking it would distract you enough. “I wish we had some of the Atlantean medicine that could speed this up.”

“I actually might still have some in the cabinet to your left from that time we fought those necros. Your healers gave me a lot, but I don't remember which is which.”

Orm froze. “And you're only telling me this now?”

“In my defense, I didn't even remember about it until you asked.”

Orm dropped the paper towels he used to wipe the blood off your back into the sink. He found a crumpled bag with a few small, familiar jars. Some of the medicine had already dried out, but the one he was searching for remained intact.

“It's a good thing you didn't throw them out. This one is a special salve; it breaks the bond between dried out wounds and cleans them.”

Orm layered it thickly, working fast and trying his best to focus only on your injuries. Your skin was hot under his fingers and smelled vaguely of soap.

“I tried to soak them under the shower, but it didn't really help.”

“There was not enough water.”

You frowned and raised your head a little to look at Orm in the mirror. He seemed to be engrossed in cleaning the scabs and fabric off. Even though the pain subsided significantly, something still bothered you.

“...I'm pretty sure there was a decent amount of water in the water that I used.”

“Not enough, apparently.”

“In what other terms may I present to you thousands of years of Atlantean technology development that went into producing this salve? Its effects are greatly enhanced.”

“Did you just say my water is too dry??”

“Ah, right. I forgot you're the water experts. Should I start calling you professor?”

Orm tightened the bandage as he caught your eyes in the mirror.

“You can call me whatever you want, as long as it keeps you alive.”

A shiver ran down your spine, and you were sure that despite the bruises and bandages, Orm could clearly see what his words did to you. You cleared your throat, breaking eye contact first.

“I'm sure you think you sound cool, but you might've overlooked the possibility of me abusing such power easily and with a smile on my face, Salve Master.”

Orm chuckled. His fingers lingered around your waist. “You'll be the death of me. But as I've said—whatever keeps you going.”

Orm Marius, former Ocean Master and currently just some guy, sat in the middle of the kitchen, making his way through a book. The seaside house was home to many books, although you doubted the original owner ever had the time to browse through them.

A small mercy had been granted to you and Orm didn't notice you had woken up. You couldn't help but observe him. Even though he was no stranger to you, and quite recently you'd helped break him out of prison and even somehow saved the world together, you still felt mesmerized by the way he moved and looked.

Even now, the dying evening light entering through the window painted the room in deep shadows, and softened the planes of Orm's face. He had positioned himself close to the window to read in the dimming light. It allowed you to see the softened curve of his shoulders and the way he tilted his head, studying the book just as carefully as you studied him.

“Glad to see you're doing better,” Orm said, without moving.

You jumped a little, making your injuries flare up in a wave of pain. A startled whine escaped your lips when your body reminded you how sore it actually was.

Orm put the book down and stepped over to the couch. Before you managed to say anything, he pressed his hand to your forehead. Whatever words rose in your throat, scattered.

“You're still burning,” Orm muttered with concern and furrowed brows. “Are you sure your medicine is working?”

“...it just needs some time.”

Your voice came out weaker than you expected. You felt fuzzy, and the room around you was definitely moving a little.

Orm was not convinced, and disappeared from your line of sight for a while.

Your fever was probably on the rise again, which was to be expected. For the past few days you'd been in and out of it, drowning in sweat and fighting off the urge to scratch underneath your bandages.

You kicked off the thin blanket, hoping Orm wouldn't touch you again. You were dreadfully aware of how wet Orm's hand must've come off and of the old sweat stench surrounding you. In your defense, you didn't expect any visitors, so for the past few days you focused on passively surviving rather than dragging your corpse to the shower once a day.

You heard Orm's steps before he entered your vision. “Man, just leave me alone. I'm seriously fine on my own—”

A wet towel slapped onto your face, splashing cold water around. What a simple, yet effective way of both shutting you up and providing relief. You'd be impressed if it didn't piss you off so much.

You dragged it off your eyes and came face to face with Orm, suddenly crouching way too close to your liking. He looked at you intensely and then raised an eyebrow.

“If you want me gone, then you should be perfectly capable of throwing me out. You didn't have any trouble last time we sparred.”

“That would be so rude of me. It would crush your ego.”

“As if you ever bothered being polite.”

“I am the nicest person that has ever graced this Earth.”

“You look like a corpse on its way to the afterlife. Unless your state improves, I'm not leaving. The only choice you have is finally dying or getting better and kicking me out. And since I'd rather see the outcome of option number two, I think we have to start with these bandages.”

“They’re in place.”

“The wounds need to be cleaned and dressed again. I can smell that from back here.”

With a hiss through clenched teeth, you dragged yourself into a sitting position, as far away from Orm as was possible on the couch.

“...look who's impolite now.”

Orm moved closer to you with a darkened expression. It made you shiver and put one bare foot on his chest in the only defense you could muster. He wrapped his fingers around your ankle, but didn't move any closer.

“It's not about politeness or pride,” he explained slowly, not taking his eyes off you. “I want you to feel better, regardless of what it takes.”

The way your cheeks heated had very little to do with the fever. In a kinder world, Orm wouldn't have noticed it.

But in this one, he was too observant to miss something like that. His lips curled in the faintest of smiles just as his hand moved further up your leg, slowly dragging his fingers over your scorching skin. Your heart was in your throat and wanted out.

You slapped the wet towel onto his arm and freed your leg.

“Such profound words for someone so annoying.”

“Whatever gets you moving. These wounds really do need cleaning, and I will not back down from that one.”

“I can do it myself.”

“If you could, you would've done it days ago—when it was actually due. That's enough waiting, take them off.”

You thought back to how far your injuries went under your shirt. It provided you with a surprisingly effective burst of motivation to heave yourself off the couch and onto semi-steady legs.

You wobbled off in the general direction of the bathroom, wishing for your torment to finally end.

“Please do avoid any further injuries,” Orm called after you, watching your unsteady search for clean clothes and a towel. There was painful stiffness to your joints, but you were extremely motivated to overcome it.

“I promise to graciously call for your aid right before I break my neck on these marvelous tiles.”

There was not much dignity left in you, but you did your best to protect it by switching the bathroom lock rather than slamming the door.

This could be the end of everything So, why don't we go somewhere only we know?

Orm was standing on the beach, watching something floating towards the shore. His heart sank as it got closer. It was a body, Y/N’s body. He moved, picking her up and carrying her up to her chair on her porch, setting her down.

“Y/N?” he said, shaking her gently. She opened her eyes slowly and looked at him.

“Why did you do this?” she asked. Orm frowned. “Why didn’t you save me?” She closed her eyes, and he knew she was gone.

“I tried…I tried…I tried,” he repeated, falling into her lap as he sobbed.

“Orm, wake up!” Atlanna said, shaking her boy. He woke, sitting up from the bed he had in the lighthouse. He was pale, stomach turning. Aria was standing in a corner, eyes fixed on him. “It was a nightmare.” His mother held his face, leaning her forehead to his like she did when he was child.

“I can’t save her. I can’t do anything,” he whispered. Atlanna shook her head. “Mother, is this what it felt like? When you had to leave here? Everything feels like its ending.”

“Yes, that’s what it felt like to leave Tom and Arthur…but that’s also what it felt like when I was forced to leave you,” she said. Orm looked at her. He knew her banishment to trench was forced by his father, but he always figured she hated being in Atlantis anyway, hated his father, hated him, so death might have been a relief. He never imagined leaving him had hurt her like this. He took a breath.

“Did you talk to her?” he asked her. She nodded.

“She told me to tell you she would see you again, but not just on Halloween?” she said, not sure still what Y/N had meant. Orm smiled. She planned on coming back to him alive and well. Her confidence made him feel better. “I’m glad you know what she meant.”

“What are you doing about actually freeing her?” Aria asked from her post by the window. “Or are you just leaving her there to stew for awhile?” Atlanna frowned and looked at the girl.

“Why would we leave her?” she asked. Aria swallowed. “I know that in the past the royal family have not treated those they deemed below them well, but Arthur is not that kind of king, he is a better king.”

“Ya, that bar was really low…” Orm said to himself.

“Be that as it may, we have put in the evidence that she was not involved with the assassination, and that it was Hendrix looking alone. We should not only be able to clear her name but the rest of the Atlantis for All members that are currently in prison still waiting punishment. And you Aria, will also be cleared,” the queen explained. “There is one final piece we need. Y/N is going to talk to Hendrix and get him to confess.”

“Why would he even talk to her?” Aria asked.

“He will have to, she is going to be put to death and her last request will be to speak to Hendrix,” Atlanna explained. Orm’s eyes widened.

“What do you mean she’s going to be put to death?” he demanded, the dream coming back to him. Her body, cold, lifeless, him just standing by as she passed on.

“It is the only way to force Hendrix to speak with her. He must answer her last request. Her death sentence is not official, but he doesn’t know that. We are going to record him. She says she learned from Aria how to get him to say things he shouldn’t,” Atlanna explained further. Aria smiled, proud of her friend. She looked up, hearing AJ crying from his room. “I will be back, don’t worry my son, you will see her again.”

Aria watched her leave the room before looking at Orm. She was trying to figure him out. He wasn’t like she expected, how was this guy, a crying mess at the thought of a single woman being in danger, the same man who had killed hundreds just a few years ago without batting an eye?

“You can say it you know,” Orm whispered. “You can say it should be me, that I’m a coward and I should be going back to Atlantis, demanding her freedom in exchange for my head. I don’t deserve her; I don’t deserve to be free after what I did.”

“I have thought that many times since she was taken, but that’s not what I was thinking now,” she said. She moved to sit next to him, playing with her rings. “I was thinking that she saved my husband on the day of that tidal wave. She used her power, exposing herself to possibly any Atlantian that could have been around, someone who could have reported her, but she saved him because she knew I loved him. And now she’s in love with you, the person who caused all that pain. I was thinking, I should be watching you hurt with joy but I can’t.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because she loves you, and she’s happy with you. You haven’t redeemed yourself for your crimes but you’re starting and that is important,” she said. “She will be back with you soon and you better spend the rest of your life showing her that you can be better than you were.”

“Don’t worry, I’m never going to be less than she deserves,” he said. Atlanna came rushing into the room.

“Hendrix is gone. Aria, go back to the house, see if he goes there, I’ll find him in the water,” she instructed. They were gone and Orm had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Hendrix arrived at Y/N’s cell, ready to grant her last request. He had no idea why she would ask for him, but he couldn’t refuse. He was ready, the letters and the video made him look bad and he had started planning his escape as soon as he left the king’s office. He was going to break Arthur by killing his family, before returning to the throne room with Orm’s body, proving the king was a liar and hid the tyrant. Then Hendrix would be king, and things would change.

Y/N was humming to herself when he arrived. Poseidon’s blood, he hated her obsession with music. She sounded terrible and she didn’t care. How could she not care?

“What did you want terrorist?” he asked, standing before her. She stood and looked at him.

“Is this what you wanted? The death of anyone who would actually stand up for the rights of the lower city?” she asked. He rolled his eyes.

“You are such an idiot, no one cares about you, this is about me. You are just a pawn in this game, a sacrifice to be made. Once you are dead I will find Aria now that I know she’s alive and…” he stopped talking. This wasn’t right. She looked smug, like she knew something he didn’t. She was trying to trap him. He stormed forward, hands padding over her clothes. She cried out in surprise, but he found what he was looking for, strapped to her back.

“What are you doing?” she asked as he ripped the recorder from her skin. She cried out in pain, and then again when he hit her with it. Her cheek started bleeding and he smirked.

“You think you are so clever, trying to trick me into saying something I shouldn’t” he taunted. “I am not an idiot Y/N.”

“You’re not as smart as you think Hendrix. Everyone can see what you’re doing. You are sloppy, you’ve always been sloppy. Mailing letters to people without checking who is receiving it? Not disguising your pulsar enough so I didn’t see it before you killed the king? Now even, you openly show your hatred for the king, rumors spread that you actually tried to poison Orm several times when he was ruling. You are an insignificant little person who thinks he deserves to be king…” she stopped when he hit her with he recorder again. She was knocked to the floor, staring up at his enraged face.

“I AM GOING TO BE KING!” he screamed. “My plan to kill Orm was perfect. I got you to tell me the parade route using sweet words, because you have always been craving someone to be a good daddy for you…and maybe I would have done that if you had let me kill that bastard. None of you knew because I was so good at hiding it! And poisoning Orm? Would have been simple if he wasn’t so paranoid of his stupid brother coming to usurp him. Then Arthur…what a joke. He thinks his family is safe in that lighthouse? Just wait until you’re dead, then I’ll kill them all and I WILL BE KING.” He stormed out the door and Y/N smiled as she called the guard.

Arthur took the holodisk and went to the council. The confession was enough to get the guard out to arrest Hendrix on not only one count of treason but several. Y/N was released and taken to Arthur’s office where a doctor cleaned up and bandaged her cuts.

“I can go home now,” she said. Arthur nodded. Guards came running into the office.