#fanshort

what the feck.....

It has been a very long while since I’ve posted a HL Short! In fact, the last one was the first! This short is slightly different from usual HL Shorts - it explores the emotional side of HL Scientist, though not induced naturally of course.

Enjoy!

A Taste Of His Own Medicine - HL Short

A small smirk spreads over his face as he scans his hand. The door slides open and he strides in. "Morning, kid!" His greeting is left unanswered. She's sat on her bed, under her blankets. "Ignoring me, huh?" he mutters, "I said good morning!" "No," a muffled retort comes from beneath the blankets, "You said morning!" He smirks as he approaches her bed. "Someone's grumpy!" he announces, abruptly pulling her blankets off the bed. "Get off!" she shrieks, "Go away!" "Howzabout you sit at the table?" "No!" He leers over her, his face growing suddenly dark. "I'd advise you not to test me, kid," he snaps. "...Fine." Reluctantly, she slides off her bed and ambles over to the table. After a moment's hesitation, she sits down.

"Thank you, sweetheart," he gives a sickening smile as he seats himself across from her, "I have something fun for us to do today!" "Fun for you or fun for me?" she mutters, crossing her arms. He laughs, amused by her familiar bitterness. "So cheerful," he chuckles, "Why don't we find out?" "You said that you wouldn't hurt me today!" she snaps, rising angrily out of her chair. She suddenly pulls up her T-shirt, revealing a myriad of awful cuts and bruises, "You said I needed time to heal!" He laughs again. "I'm not gonna hurt ya, kid. You're right; you need time to heal." Slowly, she sits back down, once again folding her arms. "So..." she begins hesitantly, "What are you going to do to me?" He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a syringe, filled with a glistening blue liquid. "NO!" once again, she jerks out of her chair, "I'M NOT LETTING YOU INJECT ME WITH THAT!" "Relax!" he orders, beginning to lose his patience, "It's not the hallucigens!" "I DON'T CARE! YOU'RE NOT STICKING THAT IN ME!" Rapidly, she bolts to the other end of the room. She hears him sigh angrily as he rises from his chair. "Listen, you little brat," he snarls, advancing towards her, "We can do this the easy way - I inject you with this and then leave you alone. OR, we can do this the hard way. I inject you with this, and then punish you. Which is it gonna be?" "GET AWAY FROM ME!" in a moment of fury, she seizes the syringe needle. "Hey! Gimme that!" "No!" He suddenly dives forward, reaching for the syringe. Taking the opportunity, she quickly plunges the syringe needle into his arm and presses down the plunger, injecting him with the blue substance. He lets out a yelp of surprise and pain alike, and pulls the syringe back out. "You BRAT!" he snarls, "You'll pay for that!" He turns and storms out of the room. She slides down to the floor with a breath of relief. He's gone...He's- Her short lived relief shatters as he suddenly strides back in, medical equipment bulging in his pocket, a First Aid kit in one hand, and a familiar smirk on his face. "Let's have some fun, shall we?" ......... "Ten!" A scream of pain echoes around the room, ricocheting off the walls. "And that's another one, kid!" The cool metal digs once again into her stomach, drawing a new red line. "STOP! STOP!" she continues to yell, "GET OFF ME!" "What's the magic word, sweetheart?" "GET OFF ME, YOU JERK!!" "...None of those were the magic word," he replies drily. She begins struggling against the rubber restraints, but to no avail. "You're just gonna give yourself more bruises, kiddo," he laughs, "You make this far too ea-" slowly, his voice trails off.

A metalic ping is heard as the scalpel falls from his hand.

She glances up at him, trying to conceal her relief. He's frozen, staring at his hands. "...What are you doing?" she dares ask, "I didn't-" she cuts herself off as she notices tears in his eyes. He never cries. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong. He instantaneously pulls off the restraints. Before she can move, she feels herself be pulled close in a tight embrace. "H-hey!" her angry protest is muffled by his labcoat, "Let go!" He hugs her tighter. He's trembling. "W-what...what's wrong?" she asks in a whisper. She wants to shove him away, but is paralysed by fear. What on earth is- "I-I'm sorry," he chokes out, his voice barely above a whisper, "I'm s-so sorry, I'm s-sorry!" A sob overtakes him, drowning out his apologies. She stays silent, confusion overwhelming her. He's...crying. And...apologising...Is he broken? "Y-you're...you're sorry?" she repeats slowly. He tries to reply but the lump in his throat prevents him. "What...what do you mean, you're sorry?!" she suddenly yells, shoving him away. Her confusion and fear are replaced by anger and indigence, "You were literally just cutting me open a second ago and now you're sorry?!"

He carefully kneels down in front of her and gently places his hands on her shoulders - she can still feel him shaking. There's an unfamiliar pain in his eyes, clouded only by tears. "I'm sorry," he whispers again. He reaches for the First Aid kit and takes out some bandages and anti-septic. Cautiously, he pulls out a chair for her and motions for her to sit down. "What are you doing to do to me?" she asks warily. "I j-just want to b-bandage your wounds," he answers softly, his voice cracking once again. Hesitantly she sits down. He holds out his hand for one of her arms, and she gives it to him. The small girl sits silently in her chair, observing as her abuser tenderly cleans and bandages her many cuts, bruises, scrapes and scars. This isn't right. He isn't like this! What is wrong with him?! As she ponders over his sudden change, she glances once again at his eyes. Usually, she'd avoid them, because they're full of malice and a savage, glimmering desire for triumph...Any form of former arrogance has been completely extinguished. All that she can see in his eyes now is...remorse.

A few moments later, he places the First Aid kit down on the table and stands up again. "H-how do you feel?" he asks, "A-are he bandages t-too tight?" "No..." she mutters, "I feel fine." "Good...good..." He begins absent-mindedly picking the hem of his labcoat pocket. She continues watching him, filled with apprehension. Her attention turns momentarily to the head of a syringe sticking out of his pocket...What was in that?

He slowly backs into the wall and slides to the floor, covering his face. This is overwhelming. He needs a moment. Just...just a moment. ...... This is disorienting.

Everything is hitting him at once, like a tidal wave crashing down on him. He's never felt...pain like this before. His gut is twisting in horrifically tight knots, turning and churning. The nausea is almost overpowering. Guilt? Is...Is this what guilt feels like? "The drug," he whispers, running his hand through his hair, "I-it's the drug..." The blue liquid in the syringe, which had been intended for the girl, had been filled with a drug he'd concocted himself. It was designed to evoke an extreme emotional response from the subject - well, now he knows it works...

He looks up from his hands to see the original subject staring at him, still seated in her chair. "W-what?" he mutters, attempting to wipe tears from his face, "Stop staring at me..." "Or what?" she rebuts, folding her arms. A moment's silence passes. Slowly, he stands back up. He watches her flinch - another ripple of guilt washes over him. Taking a deep breath, he continues walking over to her. She shrinks back a little in her chair as he walks over. Gritting her teeth, she forces herself to sit up straight again. She hates showing fear. She is NOT weak. "Um...k-kid?" "What?" she snaps. There's still that...strange sadness in his eyes. What is wrong with him?! He reaches over and picks up the First Aid kit. "I'm just going to take this upstairs...I'll be back in a moment." She sighs angrily. "I don't want you to come back! I hate you!!" "I...I know," he replies quietly, "I'll be right back."

She watches as he scans his hand and leaves. Once the door shuts, she jumps up and begins to pace, muttering angrily to herself. "He's not like this! This...This can't be real. It can't be...It can't be!" ....... A few moments later, he returns. He looks...tired. "Back so soon?" she mutters spitefully, pausing mid-pace. "...Are you okay?" he asks. "Why do you care?" He sighs and kneels down to her height. He doesn't want to frighten her...anymore than he has done. "I...I want to take you upstairs," he says softly. She stares back at him in silence. "W-would...would you like that?"

"You're lying," she says slowly, "You're lying!" "I'm not l-" "YOU'RE LYING." She jerks away from him, her firey temper ignited, "You just want to trick me! This is all a trick!! I'm not an idiot!" He looks back at her for a moment, still knelt on the floor. "I'm not lying," he repeats, "I...I understand why you would think it's a trick, but it's not. I swear." She walks over to her bed and plops down. "May I sit with you?" "No." "...Okay..." This isn't right. He can't really want to take her upstairs! Can he? "You usually don't ask," she suddenly says, looking up at him, "You'd just sit down." He remains silent. "And you never cry! O-or say you're sorry! You...You're acting weird!" "I know," he mutters, trying to conceal his embarrassment, "Look, do you want to go upstairs or not?" he suddenly snaps. "...Fine."

She reluctantly gets up, keeping a cautious distance from him. "Um...follow me," he tells her. She watches as he scans his hand and punches something into the keypad. "Quickly - it only stays open for a minute." Nervously, she follows him out of the door. She dithers just long enough to hear it slide shut behind her. Fighting the instinct to whirl back around, she begins following him up the stairs. "This way," he mutters. They've reached the hallway. She's made a couple of escape attempts before, but she's never made it past the hallway. Suddenly, she spots sight if what appears to be the door out...outside. He turns to her, about to say something else, when she suddenly bolts for the front door. Immediately, she shoves herself against it. It doesn't open. "You'll need my hand for that, kid," he sighs, striding over. "L-let me out!!" she demands, her face turning red with embarrassment, "I want to go outside!" "...Maybe later," he says, "I...I want to show you around first." "NO!! LET ME OUT NOW!" "No," he snaps. He takes a firm hold of her wrist, "I said this way!" She yanks her arm away, but reluctantly follows him. "This is the living room," he announces, leading her further on, "And this is the kitchen." He points to a large black box-shaped object, "That's the fridge. I'll show you how to get water from there later..." She follows him back out of the kitchen and along the corridor. He shows her his bedroom and his "office". "And...That's a room you're not allowed in," he says, his voice trailing off. He stares at the door, suddenly zoned out, it seems. "O-or what?" she dares retort. She once again notices tears in his eyes; he's not listening. "Hey! Cry baby!!"

He hurriedly wipes away his tears and turns to her. "Just...Just don't, okay?!" he snaps loudly. The girl flinches instinctively, but quickly regains her composure. "...This way...Let me show you to your room..." They walk a little further down the corridor, and he opens the door to a fairly large room with a bed, a couple of drawers and...A big sheet of glass? There are two large blue pieces of material hanging at each side of the glass. Intrigued, she goes over to the glass and presses her hand against it. "I...I can see outside," she whispers. "It's a window, kid," he informs her, "And...Yeah. You can...Ya like it?" he adds anxiously. She nods. "Erm...Thanks," she mutters, still staring out the window. "I...I'll come back later, but for now, just um...Stay in here, okay? Ya can even leave the door open if you want." "...Why do I have to stay in here?" she asks. "...Reasons." "Fine," she mutters, "I'll just stay by the...w-window?" "That's right...I'll be back later."

She watches as he leaves her in peace before returning her attention back outside. Everything's so...green out there. Except for what he told her was the "sky". That's blue. Like the blanket-type things on the window's sides. Curious, she turns around to the bed and inspects it. The blanket and pillow are both blue...Anxiously, she climbs on it and lays down. It's...comfy. And soft. Much softer than the bed in her other room. She likes this bed much better...It's more colourful too. She allows herself a small smile. Sticking that needle in him was the best thing she's ever done. "Ha," she whispers, "...I win." Her triumphant thoughts are interrupted by a weird noise coming from down the corridor. She knows she's supposed to stay in her room...but...It's not like he's going to do anything. He's completely broken.

Quietly, she creeps off her bed and tip-toes along the corridor. The noise is louder now - it sounds almost like howling... She follows the noise and traces it to what she believes is his bedroom. The door's slightly open. Deciding to be a tad more daring, she taps it open with her foot and then hides behind the wall. She spies into the room...He's in there, with his head on the desk. He's...crying. Loudly. Sobbing would be a better word.. .She cringes a little and begins to back away. She doesn't want to watch...that. Hurriedly, she races back to her new room and shuts the door as quietly as she can. "Ew," she mutters, flopping back on the bed.

It's so comfy...And she's starting to get tired...So...tired... ...... "GET UP, YOU BRAT!"

She's suddenly yanked up by her wrist, startled awake. Where is she?! What's going on?! It's him. He's got her. "Get off me!!" she screeches, "Y-you're hurting me!" "GOOD!" he roars, starting to drag her off the bed. She realises that she's being dragged out of her new room...and back towards the stairs. Desperate to escape, she fights harder. "LET GO!" she yells. She's kicking and writhing but it's no use. He's too strong. "Where are you taking me?!" "Back where you belong!!" he snaps, pulling her roughly down the stairs, "You little brat! Injecting me with that crap and doing THAT to me! You'll pay!!" "YOU DID IT TO YOURSELF!" she yells, "YOU MADE THE THING!" He slams his hand on the scanner and hurls her to the ground - back in the basement room. She lets out a cry of pain before scrambling to her feet. She races towards the door  and watches it slide shut.

"Oh no," she whispers. She whirls around to face him. "You're gonna pay for what you did to me," he snarls quietly. "SHUT U-" he cuts her off with a sharp slap to the face. Everything's suddenly dancing. There's a ringing in her ears.

This is a canon fan short, from before the story. This is what I imagine would occur if the Scientist ever tried to ‘go through with it’.

He paused outside the door to the basement, taking a deep breath. Concentrating on assuming a steely demeanor, he placed his hand on the scanner.

Stormy Weather - DH AU Short

Another DH AU Short with everyone included. This one is fairly long. It’s quite similar to Montana’s original DH AU Short, ‘A Storm’, except it’s the RS peeps that are involved in the stormy disputes... Enjoy!

They can hear the faint crashes of thunder as they reside in the basement. It's a horribly unfavourable situation, but they don't have a choice...

The spiteful one is pacing in one corner, muttering to himself in an agitated manner; he gains frequent concerned looks from his child, sat a few feet away from him on a sofa beside the child that bites.

On the other sofa, the Nice Ones and the Dramatic Ones are sat closely beside each other. The Dramatic One is trembling as his child hugs him; he's struggling to fight against the panic in his chest. He hates thunderstorms - well, they all do - this feels like his worst nightmare. The Nice One has one arm around him, and his other arm around his daughter. His daughter is also hugging him tightly. The kind one is trying not to let his anxieties show.

 Ava is sat beside her brother, near the Nice Ones on the sofa. He's sat next to her, letting himself be hugged by Ava's daughter. His sister has her arms around them both; they're both frightened by thunderstorms. He offers the child a weak smile of reassurance as he returns her embrace. He appreciates her efforts.

 The violent one is sat in another corner, snapping a rubber band repeatedly against his wrist as he mutters to himself angrily. He refuses to let himself be scared - anger fills the gap instead. The Scary One's child is sat with the sad child on the couch; the two of them are conversing quietly.

 The Nice One looks at the Angry Child; she's leant against the wall, sat on the floor. Her beanie is pulled over her face and she's scowling at nothing in particular. The kind one notices that her Scientist isn't with her.

"Kid?" the gentle one makes eye contact with her, catching her attention.

"What?"

"Where's yours?"

"How should I know?!" she snaps rudely, "I don't care." She slouches sullenly against the wall again and closes her eyes, returning to ignoring everyone.

 The Nice One is concerned, and begins to pursue the matter when a conspicuously fierce rumble of thunder cuts him off. He quivers.

"It's okay, Dad," his daughter hugs him a little tighter, "It'll be over soon, and then we can all relax."

"Thanks, sweetie," he smiles weakly. What would he do without her?

 The storm should be over soon. It'll be okay. It will be okay...

 ----

 It's been a couple of hours since they all hurried down to the basement. The rumbles of thunder have been growing less and less frequent over the hour; the storm seems to have passed.

 The Nice One stands up, breathing a shaky sigh of relief.

"Do you think we should go back upstairs now?" he asks.

All of them - except the stubborn child, who appears to be asleep - give eager nods.

"Sweetie?" the kind one reaches out and gently taps the Angry Child's shoulder, "We're going back upstairs if you want to come with us."

She opens her eyes, and immediately jerks away from his touch.

"Get off me!" she scrambles indignantly to her feet.

"Sorry," the Nice One takes a step back, "We're heading upstairs no-"

"I heard you!" she snaps.

"Um...okay...good."

 They all follow the gentle one up the basement steps in a rush.

"Stop pushing!" the kind one calls down to the Scary One and his child, "We'll be up much quicker!"

 As he opens the basement door, he immediately hears what sounds like frantic knocking on the door. He freezes in the hallway.

"Someone's at the door," he hisses to the Dramatic One beside him, "You guys watch the kids..."

 Cautiously, he creeps closer to the door.

"P-PLEASE! PLEASE L-LET ME IN!!" A shrill, panicked plea can be heard from the other side of the door. It's the Berated One.

The kind one gasps and scrambles to open the door.

 The quiet one steps quickly through the door and stands in the hallway, soaked to the skin. He's deathly pale and shaking violently.

"What happened?!" the Nice One gently ushers the deflated one further along the corridor and shuts the door.

 The Berated One attempts to speak, but the words catch in his chest, snatched away by a ragged breath. He's still panicking.

"It's okay," the gentle one leads his quieter self to the stairwell and sits him down on the bottom steps, "Deep breaths. In...And out...That's it, you're doing great." The kind one crouches down beside him, aiding him to calm down.

 After a few minutes or so, the Berated One's breathing steadies. He's still pale and shaking tremendously, but at least he's not hyperventilating anymore. The Nice One stands up.

"What happened?" he asks him calmly.

 The quiet one glances over at his child. She looks back at him with a cold, steely glare. The deflated one quickly looks back to the kind one and shakes his head frantically.

"I understand that you're very shaken up right now, so I won't push it. But I do want to know later, okay?" the gentle one says. The Berated One nods reluctantly.

"I'll go and make us all a cup of coffee. Why don't you go and get changed out of your wet clothes?"

"O-okay," the quiet one struggles to stand. He's shaking far too much to even stand without the help of the banister.

"Erm...Hey, man?" the kind one turns to the Dramatic One, "Can you help him out?"

The excitable one nods quickly and rushes to help the Berated One up the stairs.

"C'mon, buddy. Let's get you sorted out."

"Th-thanks..."

 The Nice One waits until they're out of earshot before turning around to the others.

"Can someone fetch some blankets for when he gets downstairs? He's bound to be freezing," the kind one asks.

Ava's brother nods and dashes down the hall towards the utility room.

 The kind one sighs heavily before making his way to the kitchen. He begins to make several cups of coffee, trying to fathom how the Berated One could have ended up in the storm. Well...He has an idea, but the very thought disturbs him. Surely she wouldn't.

He sets the cups of coffee down on the table and sits down, waiting for the others.

 ----

 Ava's brother appears in the doorway a few moments later, carrying an armful of blankets.

"Here ya go," he dumps the two or three blankets on a chair.

"Thanks, man." The Nice One gives him a grateful smile.

Ava's brother nods before leaving once again.

 A few moments later, the Berated One and the Dramatic One come to join him. The Berated One is still rather pale, and is shaking violently.

"Here, man," the kind one reaches out and gently drapes a blanket over the Berated One's shoulders.

"Th-thanks," the quiet one forces what he can manage of a smile.

"Are...are you cold?" the kind one asks.

 The deflated one hesitates momentarily before shaking his head. He pulls the blanket tighter around himself, trying to fight against the tears stinging his eyes. Being locked out in the storm...It's making him remember so much he wishes he couldn't. He covers his face as tears fall from his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I-I c-can't..."

"Hey, it's okay," the Nice One pulls his chair closer to the Berated One and wraps his arms around him in an embrace, "I...I know you can't. I'm not going to ask you to," the gentle one says softly.

The kind one can still feel the quiet one shaking beneath the blanket. Carefully, he unhinges himself from the deflated one and gets another blanket from the pile on the chair. He wraps the second blanket around the Berated One.

 The quiet one draws his knees to his chest, hiding his face. He's trying to conceal how upset he is. He feels like a small child.

Everything is coming back to him like icy cold waves, and it's impossible to shut it out.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

"It's okay," the kind one rests a hand on the deflated one's shoulder, "I won't ask you anything until you're ready...I can't imagine what you must be feeling right now."

The Nice One and the Dramatic One exchange an anxious glance. Having all shared the same childhood, they reckon that the quiet one must be pretty disturbed by being locked out in a storm.

 The gentle one looks and realises that the Berated One hasn't touched his coffee. It'll be cold by now.

"I'll get you a fresh cup," the kind one stands up from the table.

"Thanks," the Berated One mumbles.

He suddenly sits up and wipes the tears from his face.

"Do you feel ready to tell me what happened?"

"Um...I-I think so..."

 ----

 The kind one offers the Berated One a reassuring smile as he sets a fresh cup of coffee down on the table for his quieter friend. He sits down beside the Dramatic One.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" the kind one asks.

The anxious one looks back at the one in the orange T-shirt, fiddling nervously with his fingers.

"It's okay, you have as long as you need," the Nice One says calmly.

The Berated One gives a hesitant nod, but still doesn't say anything.

 A few moments later, the deflated one takes a small sip of his coffee.

"I was...I was locked out," the Berated One says quietly. He's tries to conceal his anxiety by taking another sip of coffee.

The kind one nods in acknowledgement.

"I...I felt it start to rain and I went to come i-in...But I couldn't get in," his voice fades. He continues drinking his coffee at a steady pace.

"Do you know why you couldn't get in?" the Nice One inquires.

"Um...The door was locked," the Berated One mumbles.

"How?" the Dramatic One suddenly pipes up. He looks back at the quiet one with a questioning look on his face.

"I d-don't know," the Berated One answers quickly. He stammers over his words and looks at the floor.

He's not a very good liar.

"Are you sure?" the gentle one prompts. He knows that his quieter self is lying, but he can sense his anxiety. He's trying not to push him too far.

 "My kid," the Berated One replies after almost a minute of silence, his reply barely audible, "My kid l-locked me o-out..." His voice cracks as tears once again sting his eyes.

"I had my suspicions...But I hoped I was wrong," the Nice One says. He sighs sadly.

The quiet one quickly wipes the tears from his face and takes another sip of coffee.

 "I'm going to go and talk to her," the Nice One announces as he stands up.

"No, please!" the Berated One objects, "You don't need to! It's okay, really!"

"No, it's not okay," the kind one answers, "I'm sorry, but I must."

Without even a second of hesitation, the Nice One walks briskly out of the room.

 "No, please!"

"Hey!" the Dramatic One quickly puts his hands on the deflated one's shoulders to stop him from getting up, "It's going to be okay, man."

The nervous one fiddles anxiously with his fingers, looking back at his dramatised self.

"It's not that I don't trust him - it's...I..." he stumbles over his words, "I don't...I don't know how to explain it..."

"That's okay," the Dramatic One offers his quieter self a foolish grin, "I feel ya there."

The Berated One chuckles nervously before taking another small sip of coffee.

"It'll be fine," the Dramatic One assures him, "Shoulder Angel always handles these things calmly."

The deflated one nods in agreement. Things...Things will be fine, right?

 ----

 The Angry Child sits on her bed, doing nothing in particular. She's bored, but it's better than sitting in the same room as hers...

 Suddenly, the Nice One enters her room. He doesn't look best pleased.

"Aren't you supposed to knock first?" she mutters.

"Did you lock yours outside?" he answers her sarcastic question with another question.

"No."

He stands with his arms folded; he's trying to remain calm. The Angry Child feels...unsettled by how upset he seems. The Nice One is usually very calm and gentle.

"I want you to tell me the truth, kid," he replies slowly, "And I'd appreciate it if you tell me the truth NOW."

She continues to glare at him from where she's sat on her bed.

"Did you lock your me outside?"

"...Yes."

 "How could you do that to him?!" the kind one explodes. He's not yelling, but he's definitely angry, "Do you have any idea how scared he must have been?!"

"Why are you all so scared of thunderstorms?" she asks, "It's just loud noises!"

The Nice One pauses for a moment to think, before resuming his pacing.

"...Imagine...Imagine the thing you're most scared of," the Nice One begins, "Your worst fear."

She nods slowly, trying not to show how unnerved she is by his manner.

"Now imagine how that makes you feel," he continues, "That's how your dad f-"

"He's not my dad!" she interrupts him.

 The Nice One takes a deep breath before continuing.

"When we were younger - me, yours - all of us... when we were younger, we didn't have anyone who really cared about us. Not the way a parent should. We...We didn't have parents at all. And we ended up with a lot of b-bad people, who hurt us. O-on purpose." He's trying to remain authoritative, but there's a tremble in his voice.

"Are you...okay?" the spiteful child asks.

"Yes, I'm okay. It's just...d-difficult to talk about," the kind one mutters.

"Then don't."

"I don't want to, but I feel like it's s-something you need to know. I-I'd appreciate it if you didn't interrupt me. Okay?"

 The Angry Child rolls her eyes, but then mumbles an, "okay."

The Nice One takes another deep breath to try and calm himself.

"When we were younger than you are now - we were m-maybe three or four - one of the people we were with l-locked us in the trunk of a car...And it was d-during a thunderstorm. We couldn't get out...That's why we're all so s-scared of thunderstorms..." He's shaking, but forces himself to meet the child's eyes.

The irritated kid looks shocked. She didn't expect...This.

"We didn't have what you d-do," the kind one continues, his voice cracking, "W-we never knew our parents." He quickly wipes away the tears that have formed in his eyes.

"I...I didn't know," the bitter child mutters defensively.

"I know you didn't," the gentle one replies calmly, "We don't like talking about it... You're very lucky, kid. You have a dad who loves-"

"He's not my dad!" she yells, cutting him off, "He's an idiot and I hate him!!" She's had just about enough of feeling sorry for him.

 The Nice One looks back at the kid in silence. He suddenly realises how little time he'd taken to calm down. He acted whilst angry...That was foolish.

"Kid," he says, "I realise that I wasn't exactly calm when I began speaking to you. I'm sorry for not calming down first."

"Whatever..."

"No, it was wrong of me to act in anger. I should have waited...You're hurting too," he states, "I know that you're acting based on your grief. You must miss your sister terribly...I know my kid misses her sister too."

She narrows her eyes at him in a feeble glare. He's right - but she doesn't want to let on to what she's feeling. She doesn't like any versions of him...Let alone trust them.

"I think you should apologise to yours."

 A long moment of silence passes. She knows she should...What she did was cruel...She doesn't want to apologise, but this version of him is being pretty stern.

"Fine," she sighs heavily and jumps off her bed, "I'll apologise!"

"Good," the Nice One says, "I know yours will appreciate it."

The child rolls her eyes before heading downstairs, the kind one following behind.

 -----

 The Berated One tenses as he watches the Nice One return, following behind his kid.

"Hey, sw- I mean - hey, kid," he greets his child with a nervous wave. She doesn't wave back.

"She's got something she'd like to say," the gentle one announces, "Don't you, kid?"

The Angry Child glares at the floor.

"I'm sorry I locked you out in a storm," she mutters, "...It was mean."

"Aw, kid, that means a lot. The apology I mean. It's okay, I forgive you," the deflated one smiles at his kid.

 The spiteful child looks back at him, and sighs heavily. She still feels...bad about it. Apologising isn't enough...

 Suddenly, she storms over to hers and embraces him. It's only for a moment, before quickly letting go and storming off again.

The Berated One smiles a little wider. She never hugs him...He wishes she would. She'll never know how much he loves her...

 "Good girl," the kind one suddenly speaks up, "I'd like you to go and sit in the corner now, kid."

"But I apologised!" she cries indignantly, "Why do I have to sit in a corner?!"

"Because what you did warrants a punishment," the Nice One answers calmly.

The stroppy kid gives an aggravated sigh and storms off out of the kitchen.

 "You alright, Shoulder Angel?" the Dramatic One asks, noticing that his usually calmer-self seems a little distressed.

"I'm fine," the Nice One replies, forcing a smile, "Just a little...shaken. I spoke to her about our childhoods..."

"Aaw," the theatrical one stands up from his chair and walks over to the gentle one, "Want a hug?"

"Sure," the kind one chuckles, "why not?"

 Just as the Dramatic One pulls the Nice One into a warm embrace, the Scary One walks in.

"Honey!" he gives a dramatic gasp, "Are you...cheating on me...With Shoulder Angel?!"

The theatrical one quickly releases his other self.

"No, dear, of course not!" he replies quickly, "I was comforting him, that's all!"

"Well I need comforting now!" the Scary One cries, "You're breaking my heart, honey!!"

"Alright, out of the kitchen if you're playing that game," the Nice One sighs, beginning to shoo the married couple.

"Our marriage isn't a game, Shoulder Angel!" the violent one protests, "Though I know you wish it was..."

A wink from the Scary One results in him being sprayed with cold water.

"HISSSSS!"

"C'mon! Out!!"

 The crazy one grabs his husband's hand and vacates the kitchen. The Nice One breathes a sigh of relief before turning to the Berated One.

"Are you okay, man?" the kind one asks.

"Yes, thank you...For speaking to my daugh- kid. My kid," he replies.

"You're welcome. I-"

The Nice One is cut off in mid-sentence by the sound of a smash in the next room.

"I'll be right back," he sighs before leaving promptly.

Late Nights – DH AU Fan Short

 This is another Dysfunctional Household short, written by me.

Her eyes open as she shoots awake.

“No, come back!” she claps a hand over her mouth, muffling her plea as she realises it had just been a dream.

Or rather, a nightmare.

She lifts her head off the grey carpeted floor, and steals a quick glance up at the white door; he’s in there.

She hadn’t wanted to follow him in, and he didn’t protest her absence, so she had stayed put. It’s dark in the corridor, and cold. She shudders, feeling the unnerving resemblance to her nightmare. Hugging herself tightly, she reluctantly relieves the dream.

It had been so dark, and cold, and he wouldn’t come back! No matter how loud she tried to shout for him, he didn’t come back!

 ‘I’m never coming back.’

His voice echoes in her ears, like a far off din that wouldn’t quieten.

“No,” she whispers, “Stop, stop!”

She feels tears trickle down her cheeks as she lays on her side. The corridor is so lonely.

Hearing footsteps, she quickly sits up, wiping away her tears.

“Whatcha doing here?” a voice asks.

She looks up, and immediately recognises him as the Scary One. Gasping with fright, she backs away.

“It’s the middle of the night. Shouldn’t ya be in your room?” he crouches down beside her.

“He’s mad at me,” she replies quietly. She wants to shift away again, but there isn’t anywhere to go.

“So you’re sleeping out here?”

“Yes.”

She looks up at him, and sees the bags under his eyes. He looks tired; why is he awake?

“Did he tell you to stay outside?” he asks, jolting her out of her wonder.

“No,” she replies, “But I didn’t want to make him madder.”

She notices a kindness in his eyes as he adjusts himself, sitting down properly. In the dim light filtering in through the window, she sees bruises on his face. Did his do that to him?

“What’s wrong?” he sees her gazing at him.

“N-nothing!”

“C’mon, Kid, I won’t get mad, I promise.”

Hers had promised – but this one isn’t like hers. Maybe he means it?

“Please?”

“There are – um – bruises on your face,” she comments quietly, “What happened?”

He chuckles softly and then answers,

“My kid hates me; attacks me every chance she gets.”

She’s shocked. How could she do that to him?! But then again, she doesn’t know just how much he does to her either.

“Don’t blame her though,” he mutters,

“Home come you’re still awake?”

“I – um – I don’t know,” she lies; she doesn’t want to talk to him.

“Scared of me still?” he asks, grinning a little, “Ya know I meant it when I said I won’t hurt you. You’re not my kid; yours would kill me.”

“R-really?”

“Yeah,” he laughs, “Like I said, he does care about you.”

“He says he doesn’t,” she whispers, “He said he doesn’t care about me at all.”

“That’s a load of rubbish if I ever heard it,” he replies flippantly, “He does care. Trust me, kid.”

For a moment, she looks at him, waiting for him to say something else. But he doesn’t; instead, he looks back at her.

The silence feels too loud, and the dark feels smothering. Everything feels strange at night.

“Why are you awake?” she asks, breaking the silence.

“Just am,” he shrugs, “I never sleep much.”

“Oh…Me neither.”

“Bad dreams?”

She looks at him, trying not to show her surprise. How does he know? Does he have bad dreams too? Slowly, she nods.

“What about?”

“Him,” she begins, “He leaves me all on my own, and it’s dark, and he says he’s never coming back. And I-” the lump in her throat cuts her off. Suddenly, she realises what she’d told him. Snapping her mouth shut, she stares at the floor.

“Hey,” he says, “Kid?”

She looks up at him unwillingly, and notices that he is smiling at her. For a moment, she feels a strange feeling. She feels…warm. Safe. Hers never smiles at her. For a moment, she almost smiles back. But then she remembers – he isn’t hers.

“He’d never leave you,” he says, “He wouldn’t be able to do without you.”

“Really?”

“Definitely,” he replies, “I know that I couldn’t be without my kid. She’s a pain, but she’s mine, ya know?”

“You’re not like him,” she says, “He never smiles.”

“I’m glad I’m not like him,” he mumbles quietly, “I don’t like the way he treats you – not that I’m at liberty to judge that, but…Yeah.”

She stiffens as she feels him put a hand on her shoulder.

“He does care, I promise.”

Without another word, he rises. She listens to his footsteps as he heads back down the corridor. Once again, she’s left alone.

It was about to overwhelm her, she could feel it as pain seeped through her being like poison. Like Merlin's poison. No..she couldn't go through this again. Her whole body trembled, her breath came in frantic gasps, and tears streamed down her face. It was as if someone has set fire to her soul. Then the break came.

“LOKI!” she screamed to the sky, “I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME,” he was watching. He was always watching from afar, with the same broken heart. She knew because the familiar feeling of his eyes on her back haunted her. She knew because she dreamt it, and sometime...just sometimes in those dreams she got to touch his pallid features again. Did he feel it? Up there in the stars did he feel her cool touch.

Now she fell to her knees, tears falling to the ground as she clutched her aching torso. For a moment...she thought she would rather have someone just come to her and end it, but not before saying goodbye. Not before making amends. So many she had lost, so many had betrayed her...now she was alone. When there was no light, he had come into her world. For some short bliss, she was no longer alone. For a short time she was understood. But as always, she came to her tears alone and so cold. Now all that he had left behind was a hollow existence. Not again, she could not lose someone she loved again, could not be betrayed by someone she cared about again.

“Loki...please,” she sobbed, the snow beginning to paint a blush on her features, her eyes misty with tears, “I can't do this, I can't lose another one, I can't lose you,” and in the silence of the dark sky, she surrendered everything without words. Nothing was more important to her than him, not the throne, not Emrys's blood, not Arthur's bane and she could finally admit that she wanted love in place of power. Now all she had to do was wait to see if Loki could also admit it.