#mean stack development certification course

“I’ll remember that.” I took off my clothes that I had worn throughout the night and pulled on Derek’s shirt. It was soft cotton and it smelled like him. It was a little big so it would have to be tied with a ponytail holder. I looked over, seeing my jacket hanging up on the back of his door, “Mind tossing me my jacket?” He grabbed it off the door and tossed it my way. As it flew through the air, an envelope fell on the floor. Derek stared at the envelope and picked it up, looking it over. 

“Oh my god, I completely forgot about that.” I took the envelope from his hands. It had some water damage but the words were still readable on the outside. 

“The Lunar Circle?” His jaw clenched. 

“Yeah, do you know anything about this?” I asked, opening it up. 

“Your parents were a part of it.” 

“Really?” I grinned, opening up the very official looking letter. 

To (Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N), 

We send our condolences in the matter of your parents passing, all of us here at the Lunar Circle cherished your family and we think of them fondly. 

As two of our founding members, your parents were meant to travel to our facility to discuss relations between them and the clan of hunters in your area, the Argents. Since they have passed, this duty falls to you - the sole survivor of your clan. 

We will have a messenger arrive soon to bring you to Shetland, in the northern Isles of Scotland. Please pack warm. 

We look forward to meeting you, 

Sincerely, 

Praetor Lachlan McLeod

I read the letter aloud, Derek was becoming more and more stern. 

“I mean, it seems like they want me to go whether I like it or not. But I think they would be able to take the rest of the spell away so I could remember.” I smiled and looked up. The smile dropped, “But you don’t seem as enthusiastic as I do.” 

“Only werewolves who get invited can go. I can’t go with you.” 

"I mean, they probably wouldn't care. You're my partner."

“That’s not the point.” He walked back to his dresser, grabbing his leather jacket that he had draped there. 

“Then what is the point, Derek?” He didn’t answer, walking out the door and into the hallway. 

“Hey, I’m talking to you.” I called, storming after him. 

He stopped abruptly in the hall and turned around, “The point is that I can’t be there with you. I can’t stop any of those people from taking you away from me.”

“Are you insinuating that I would cheat on you?” I glared.

“No.” His face softened, “But they could use the spell against you. A condition that they could have would be to break our bond so you can get your memories back.” He held my face in his hands, making me look up into his eyes, “I want you to remember, but I want to be there for it.” 

“You said I’m stubborn. Maybe I could convince whoever is going to show up that I need you to come with me.” I smiled, “I’m gonna go home and look through some of the stuff from my house.” 

“I’ll call you after I get done here.” He kissed my nose. 

“And what are you doing?” 

“Erica’s getting Jackson so we can test if he’s the kanima.” He started walking again. 

“Uh and what if he is?” I asked nervously, “Listen, I am all for killing him on a good day but you can’t kill him. There has to be a cure.” 

“And if there isn’t?” 

Rubbing my temples, I thought for a moment. Pros: - No more kanima...No more Jackson... Con: Prison for Derek. Regardless of morals, the kanima was dangerous to everyone. 

“Make it look like an accident.” 

As I made my way out of the depot, Erica was walking in, dragging Jackson by his bicep. 

“Erica.” I nodded, smiling brightly. 

“(Y/N).” She smiled back. It seemed like after the kanima attack there was a silent understanding between the two of us.

“Wait!” Jackson called, trying to get out of her grasp, “Wait! (Y/N)!” There was a sick part of me that was going to think about his calling to me for help later and smile. 

-

It was late morning when I got home. Stiles had given me hell through text but that was just how he showed his love. The next thing was to stop staring at the cardboard boxes that held the remaining pieces of my life that had been stashed in my closet. Out of sight, out of mind since I really wanted to distance myself from the memory of my parents death and all of the fact that my parents had unfairly taken memories of my life away. I understand that they did it to protect our family, but at the end of the day... that didn’t seem to make much of a difference. 

Time to bite the bullet. I kneeled down in front of the closet and pulled out the box labeled: (Y/L/N) Evidence #24. I looked over my shoulder to make sure the door was closed, then grew a claw on my pointer finger to cut the tape on the box. Was that lazy? Of course, but I think anyone in my position would. I took a deep breath and opened the box. I wish that I was hit with a wave of nostalgia, the smells of home, but all I could smell was smoke. 

I squeezed my eyes shut, gripping the sides of the box, “Come on, don’t cry.” I sniffled, trying to keep the tears at bay. Blowing out air, I opened my eyes again. Inside the box were photo albums. I took out the one I recognized most, it was a dark teal color with our last name in gold cursive font. I traced the letters fondly. Opening it up, I saw pictures with my parents from when they bought this house, bringing me home from the hospital, pictures of my parents and Stiles’ hanging out. They all looked so happy, they were laughing and having fun. I lightly touched Aunt Claudia’s smiling face. It was still hard to believe that she was gone, but she was sick... She couldn’t live like that any longer. I flipped through the book, watching Stiles and I grow up. Birthdays, slumber parties. Slowly Scott popped up in the pictures until we became a trio. But Stiles and I were always together. Which made me wonder how much of my life was missing if he was the only friend I could remember. 

The rest of the box was documents that had been found in the safe in the basement. It was a miracle that had found the safe since it had been hidden in the wall. Deeds, marriage license, birth certificates, social security. In the next box, there were some of my baby things. But this box has become more interesting. Family heirlooms that I had only seen once when they were being cleaned. At the bottom of the box was a wooden box that I definitely didn’t remember. 

“Jack pot.” I smiled and lifted it out of the box. It was a dark stained wooden box with intricate vines and flowers decorating the borders. There was a stamp burned into the top. My last initial in a full moon, stars randomly placed around it. 

I opened the clasp, lifting the lid open carefully. There was a glass bottle, sealed with teal wax. The neck of the bottle was wrapped in twine with a bronze charm, on the charm was a wolf. It was filled with dried herbs and what looked to be a lock of hair, my hair. I set the bottle aside, wanting to bring it to Deaton to figure out what was inside. But I was fairly certain this was the spell jar that took my memories away. The next thing inside that I pulled out was a scroll, sealed with the same teal wax and this time the crest was more visible, it was the same crest as on the box. 

I carefully removed the wax from the paper to not break the seal, unrolling the papers. The larger of the two was a family tree, more family that I could even imagine that I had, going back ten generations. But the tree got smaller and smaller until I was the last branch. I am the last member of my family. That made me feel more alone than before. 

The next paper was more recent looking and it was addressed to me. 

𝘛𝘰 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳, (𝘠/𝘕).

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘰, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘶𝘱, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘩.

𝘞𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘯. 𝘞𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘞𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴.

𝘉𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 - 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘸𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴. 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭.

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘞𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘶𝘴. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴. 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦,

𝘔𝘰𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘋𝘢𝘥

I wiped my eyes with my sleeve, making sure my tears didn’t smug the ink on the page. They acknowledged that they did wrong and they were planning on reversing the spell. And seeing my mother’s handwriting again? The best. 

In the bottom of the wooden box was a white package that had been faded yellow. The package was labeled with the name of the local pharmacy where you could also get photos developed. I took out the thick stack of photos and gasped. Christmas morning when I was twelve, I was looking up into the camera but my face was hidden by the glare coming from my eyes. Another picture had me with a wrist brace on, a thumbs up and a smile. Then the next pictures lifted my spirits. It was pictures of Derek and I. From the time we were toddlers until six years ago. Smiling, laughing. Some where he was in his basketball uniform, others when I was in my lacrosse gear. It seemed like Derek was just as much a part of my life as Stiles was. There were pictures of me with Laura Hale, we were on the floor cross legged while she sat behind me, braiding my hair. There was another where I was holding a little toddler on my lap, who I could only assume was Cora. There were even baby pictures of me with this woman I couldn’t recognize...but something told me that it was Derek’s mother Talia. Wait, Talia Hale. I never knew that name before. I was starting to remember. But it wasn’t enough. I needed to remember more. 

But these pictures were important to what I needed. I slipped them back into the package and grabbed the vial, putting them in my bag. 

I started walking down the stairs, feeling happier than this morning, but it all went away when Stiles’ text message. The first was a picture of Lydia at the front of Finstock’s class with someone help me written on the board from an hour ago. The next was a message that had come over that minute.

Stiles:

Isaac and Erica are testing Lydia to see if she’s the kanima... And I think she failed. 

I got downstairs and was stopped by Uncle Noah in the kitchen, his arms were crossed over his chest. I was definitely in trouble. 

“Hi, Uncle Noah-”

“Where have you been?” Straight to the point. 

“Busy. With work and stuff.” My lying was not getting better. I tried to walk past him but he called my name. 

“(Y/N)” I stopped, slowly turning around, “I know you’re an adult, but I promised your mom and dad that if anything happened to them that I would protect you. I mean, you’re gone all day and all night. I get vague text messages after hours.” 

“I’ve just been busy with work, that’s all. Believe it or not, Coach puts in long hours-”

“Now, why am I having trouble believing you?” He looked up at the ceiling as if the answer was written there.

Probably because I’m lying, I’m actually a werewolf, one of many in this town and we’re fighting a teenage mutant murder lizard that may or may not be Lydia, you know Lydia, the girl Stiles was in love with?

“I don’t know. Maybe because you’ve been working long hours on four murder cases and overworking your brain.”

“Is this about that Lunar Circle thing you got in the mail? What is that thing anyway?” 

I sighed, “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. If it were nothing, you would say that it’s junk.” 

I sighed, “It’s a group my parents were a part of and they want me to go there.” 

“To Scotland? No way.” He shook his head. 

“What? You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do. I’m an adult.” 

“You are apart of an open murder investigation where the murderer is still at large. I can’t in good conscience let you leave the state, let alone the country.”

“That’s not your decision to make.” I glared, “I am a legal adult, I am not a suspect, I can leave whenever I want.” 

“Not true. As a part of the agreement with your parents, if they were to be killed, I am to be your guardian for six months, no matter how old you are.” 

I pulled at my hair in frustration, “That’s ridiculous!”

“Call it what it may, but that’s what your parents wanted.” 

“Screw what they wanted!” I snapped, “They took everything from me!”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” He barked back.  I sighed in frustration, grabbing my keys off the counter and storming towards the door. 

“Hey! We’re not done talking!” I kept going, “(Y/F/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N), you get back here!” 

I opened the door and looked back, “YOU’RE NOT MY DAD! STOP ACTING LIKE IT!” I slammed the door shut and hurriedly got into my car. I gripped the steering wheel hard, the plastic cracking against my palms. I shouted into the wheel, breathing hard to make sure I didn’t turn in the car. After a few minutes and a lot of breathing, the anger turned to guilt. Uncle Noah was just trying to make sure I was safe and what I said wasn’t fair. He treated me like his own and I should appreciate that more. I’m just relieved I didn’t see the look on his face when I shouted at him, I’m sure I would never be able to get his face out of my head. 

My cell phone ringing brought me out of my thoughts, I pressed answer and held the phone to my ear. 

“What do you want?” I snapped.

“(Y/N)?” 

“Jackson?” My eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. 

“Duh.” He said in his usual douchey way. Just my luck, the last person I wanted to talk to was calling me. 

“What do you want, trust fund?” I put the phone on speaker and started driving. 

“Look, we need your help. We need you to distract Derek.”

“No problem.” I hung up the phone, driving the short drive it took to get to the depot.

-

I leaned against the doorway leading into the depot, grabbing Derek’s jacket as he walked out.

“Where ya goin’, Der?” He looked back at me, backing up. 

“I was on my way to see you.” 

I smiled, “How coinvent. I just got into a huge fight with my Uncle which I’m sure you felt and I found pictures of us together that I wanted to show you.” I held up the package of photos. 

We had gone back inside the depot, sitting on his mattress. Derek turned the bottle in his hands to get a look at all the herbs inside, “I can see monkshood, mistletoe, salt. Not sure what the rest is.” He handed the bottle back to me. I filled his empty hand with the package of pictures. He took out the stack. He stared at the pictures for a long time, almost like he was memorizing them.

“I lost all my copies of these photos in the fire.” He smiled as he looked through them, “Did you remember anything?” 

“Just one thing.” I handed him the photo and his mother holding me, “I remembered her name, Talia.” He stared at the photo, his face changing. 

“She’s so young here.” He whispered. I rested my head on his shoulder, looking at the photo. She was smiling at me in an exaggerated way, her dark hair tucked behind her ear. She was so beautiful. Derek looked over at me, then out the window. He set the photos down slowly and stood up. Shit.

“You were sent here to distract me, weren’t you?” He stared down accusingly. He felt betrayed, a feeling I didn’t like giving him. 

“I came here to show you the pictures.” I stood up to face him. 

“That may have been what you wanted to do originally, but on your way here they told you to distract me so I couldn’t kill that monster.” He gritted his teeth, moving towards the door at a determined pace. I caught up to him and grabbed his arm. 

“Derek, it’s not Lydia!” 

“How do you know that?” He spun around, his gaze was menacing, but he didn’t scare me anymore, “She failed the test, the kanima venom didn’t affect her. It has to be her.” He slammed the door of the depot open, walking out into the night with me hot on his heels. 

“And what if it’s something else? You told Scott to trust his instincts and I trust mine, it’s not Lydia.” 

“I’m doing this to keep you safe, keep them all safe. Isn’t that what you want?” There was a growl in his voice. I stopped following him, opting to get into my car and speed to Scott’s house. 

- 

I pounded on the front door when I got there, praying that they hadn’t completely padlocked the door yet. Stiles opened the door and pulled me inside, slamming the door shut behind me. 

“I thought you were distracting Derek.” He whispered. 

“I was. He saw through it.” I whispered back. Stiles looked out the window, a grim look on his face. I looked out the opposite window and saw Derek standing outside, with Boyd, Erica and Isaac behind him. I looked back and saw Allison standing in the hall. 

“You need to tell Scott to get here right now.” I looked back on the window, reaching over and touching Stiles’ shoulder. 

“It’s me. You need to get here right now.” 

-

Allison was staring down at her phone, her other hand occupied with a small crossbow. 

“What are you doing?” Stiles asked. 

“I think...” She paused, “I think I have to call my dad.”

“Are you nuts?” I asked. I mean, what could the pack outside do without drawing the attention of the police, not much. Derek wouldn’t go that far... Or at least I hoped he wouldn’t. 

“But if he finds you here, you and Scott-” 

“I know.” She cut Stiles off, clearly frustrated, “But what are we supposed to do? They’re not here to scare us, they’re here to kill Lydia.” She said the last part a little quieter. Jackson and Lydia were upstairs doing... whatever it is exs did. I wouldn’t know, my ex was dead haha.... I wish there was therapy for people like me. Were there werewolf therapists? 

After staring at the pack for a while, Stiles spoke up. 

“I have an idea. Shoot one of ‘em.” Allison and I looked at him.

“Are you serious?” She asked. 

“Stiles, if they get in, I’ll handle it.” I said, not really believing myself. 

“You can’t take a whole pack by yourself. That’s literally impossible. I think.” He said, “We told Scott we could protect ourselves, so let's do it! Or at least give it a shot, right?” 

“Okay.” She sighed. 

“No, not okay, have you ever heard about how you’re not supposed to poke the sleeping bear. Shooting one of them would be like-like whacking a sleeping bear with a baseball bat.” I said, very not okay with the plan. 

"They don't think we're gonna fight, one of them gets hit, guarantee you they'll take off. So just shoot one of them."  Stiles said. In theory, yes. In practice, probably not. 

She peeked out the window, "Which one?" 

 "Ummm...Derek. Yeah, shoot him. Preferably in the head." 

“Stiles, are you trying to kill me?” I shoved him, having to pull my arm so I didn’t use my full strength. He yelped, holding his arm. 

"If Scott's able to catch an arrow, Derek definitely can." Allison said, looking out the window.

"Okay, um, just shoot one of the other three then." 

"You mean two." Stiles and I stared at her like she had three heads. 

"I mean three." Stiles said. We smushed our cheeks together to look out the window at the same time. Isaac was missing. 

“...Where the Hell is Isaac?" Stiles asked, looking around. Isaac had left his position besides Derek, probably when we were trying to figure out a plan. 

“I’m gonna go protect Lydia.” I backed away from the door and ran upstairs, I got into the room right as I heard the crashing downstairs. Isaac had gotten in. 

“Why are you here?” Lydia said, she breathing was quick and she was on the verge of a panic attack. 

“Me?” I looked around, “Where the hell is Jackson?” I saw Scott’s open window. That slim ball ran at the first sign of danger. I grabbed her hand, pulling her into the bathroom. I closed the door quickly and locked it. 

“What’s going on?” She whispered, tears falling down her face. 

“Someone’s breaking in.” I lied, “Just stay quiet.” I put a finger to my lips. I could hear growling and shouting, a body being slamming into the door hard. I pressed my body against the door, hoping my body could keep it there. 

“Hi-hi- I need the police.” I looked down, seeing Lydia on the phone with the cops. I groaned under my breath, blocking out her phone call to try and listen to what was going on outside. 

“Stiles! It’s here!” I heard Allison shout. My eyes widened. The kanima. It was here, it wasn’t Lydia. I backed away from the door and started to unlock it. 

“What are you doing?!” She shouted. I held out my hand.

“I’m gonna keep you safe. You have to trust me.” She stared at my hand, “Look, Stiles trusts me. And I know somewhere inside of your cold exterior you know Stiles would never let you get hurt. So if you don’t trust me, trust Stiles.” She stared a moment longer before taking my hand and pulling herself up. 

“You will not mention this to him.” She huffed. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” I opened the door, leading Lydia through the house and out the front door. And when we got outside, I stared at all of them in confusion. 

Isaac and Erica were both on the ground, Derek, Boyd, Scott, Allison, and Stiles were staring at the roof as police sirens were getting closer. 

“Would someone please tell me what the hell is going on?!” Lydia shouted. 

"It's Jackson." Scott whispered. I stepped off the porch and looked at the roof, the kanima was on the roof, slithering just out of sight. 

--------------

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“I dug into it seven years ago. There was never any death certificate issued, so as far as the state, and this, is concerned, it’s fine.”

“You know that’s not what I’m referring to.”

-

Apollo cannot decide whether to tell – read: is stalling on telling – Klavier about the contents of his talk with Wright. The back half of August brings with it a few small cases: “Our luck is picking up!” Trucy announces brightly, just a few days before the school year begins again and leaves Apollo alone, rattling around the empty office like the cryptkeeper among the dead. Phoenix is gone, again, as ever, as always, and Apollo starts applying to nearby convenience store cashier jobs, figuring that he can’t actually keep this up much longer. He takes a few days at the end of September to do some research on the country of Khura’in, digging up anything he can find just to remind himself that it is a real place anchored in the mortal realm. It's hard to find much of anything, but he tracks down - written in Khura'inese, of course - an article from earlier in the year, detailing the beginning of the second phase of construction on the queen’s palace of iron, a prohibitively expensive venture when she demands every piece hand-wrought.

Yes, the people of Khura’in are as paranoid and superstitious as any; Apollo suspects there's good reason for that, given how close the name of that country is to the name Kurain Village, said to be where the Fae Court in California sits. It was just Dhurke who wasn’t.

Apollo pushes his laptop away, tries to forget, again, like he does every time when the goddamn cycle of the hazy memories of his childhood wraps back around to this stage; and he grabs his phone and texts Klavier.

I talked to Mr Wright about what you said

The reply is nearly instantaneous, and Apollo wonders how Klavier gets any work done -- and doubtlessly he has work -- if he jumps at every message anyone sends him.

-About the office or about him?

(Maybe he doesn’t actually have that many people sending him messages.)

Him

(Trucy says, from word of the obsessive online fandom and the tabloids, that the Gavinners technically haven’t broken up but there’s been nothing since a statement about Daryan, and the other three have only been sighted without Klavier.)

-Do I have to warn you again how unwise that question is?

(Klavier hasn’t been seen in public at all for a month.)

It worked out fine Especially since he is human

-One day it -What

He told me he’s human Was pretty clear stating so actually

Apollo stares at his phone for a minute and with no response, sets it aside and stares at the stack of files on his desk. He pulled copies of some of Phoenix’s old cases again to look back through -- maybe he can glean something about his history, what could have led him into so many curses -- but they don’t seem especially appealing now. He dug out the first case long enough to recognize the name of his co-counsel, Mia Fey, and that there seemed clear enough corroborating evidence to Phoenix’s statement: young and far too stupid to know better. And maybe he’s a witch, or maybe he’s some sorry soul who got trapped in a deal with no benefit to him, but if one of the fae taught him how to be a lawyer, it would certainly explain -- well, everything about him.

-Did you mention me or just tell him you yourself suspected?

That wasn’t the response Apollo expected after nearly ten minutes. He’d figured it would be something longer. Not less self-obsessed, though. That seems typical.

I didn’t mention you but he figured it out

He has a message typed out about the hellhound and deletes it. Phoenix and Klavier and Trucy can see things that other people can’t, and Apollo isn’t like them -- he should be like Clay, or Mr Eldoon, ignorant of it. He doesn’t want to know if it means something that he sees it, and he thinks Klavier would tell him.

No response. Apollo folds the corners of a sticky note until they tear. How does he miss Trucy’s daily annoyances this much? He goes out to the main room of the office and wonders if any of these props go to a magic trick that is simple enough for him to learn from the internet. He sends another message, one not related to demon hounds.

He said you have something called the sight, or whatever Is that what makes your eyes do that thing 

How have phones not had an unsend text feature develop yet? Apollo thought this conversation was a good alternative to digging around in the memories he has tried to repress, but all he is doing is giving himself some to newly repress.

-Very eloquent. You have some trouble with your rhetoric classes, ja? ;)

At least I know how to stick to ONE language at a time

Apollo can at least be grateful that Clay isn’t here. They would probably be fighting for the phone, Clay having decided that Apollo should respond to the flirting in kind.

- :( -It’s part of my charm, I’ll have you know. 

Answering questions directly is not, apparently

-It would be a very boring conversation otherwise -You want this to sound like a cross examination? ;) 

Implying those ever answer questions directly

-You are as ever correct XD

Even Trucy doesn’t use this many emoticons. What did Klavier call this office -- a liminal space? Apollo certainly feels like he has slipped through to the other side of something.

-I’m quite flattered that you’ve spent enough time staring into my eyes to notice ;)

He really is a fuckboy, but of the most benign sort. (Clay has some horror stories about guys he’s texted with.)

-But yes, that is what that is

How did you get like that Like where does a gift like that come from 

-I wouldn’t call it a gift precisely -If I’d wanted to talk about it I would’ve explained it when we talked - :) -Does that smiley make it read more or less passive-aggressive? -I’m going for less -I don’t think it worked 

He’s trying to be nice, and Apollo thinks he shouldn’t be laughing at that, but he does. It’s ridiculous. There’s nothing about this that isn’t ridiculous. “This is my life now,” Apollo says aloud to the empty, cursed office.

But it is true that Klavier dodged the question at the cafe, how do you know, to the point that it made him seem as suspicious as Phoenix. If there was ever a time to tell, it was there.

It’s fine

Does that seem passive-aggressive? Now’s when he does need Clay over his shoulder.

Does the prosecutors office have as little work as I do or are you just slacking off

This is a good place to lie down and die, right here on the floor of the office. Rest in peace, Apollo: can’t fucking make small talk without sounding like a jerk. There’s a reason that Clay manages to make friends and get dates while Apollo can do neither.

-I’ll have you know I am excellent at multitasking :) -Do you really have so few cases? 

Suddenly Apollo regrets bringing it up. “Buddy, you have no idea,” he mutters.

A whole 0 for September 

- :(

“Apollo, why are you lying on the floor?”

He tilts his head back and sees Trucy flinging her backpack onto the couch and grabbing her hat from the piano. The afternoon has worn on without him noticing and she is back from school, ready to liven up the office by annoying him 

“Changes in perspective help my thinking,” he says.

“What’re ya thinking about?” She plops down on the floor next to him. “Who ya texting?”

“Oh, it’s, uh…” She is already giving him that doubtful look. “...Prosecutor Gavin,” he admits, and her eyes go wide. “I had a question for him about--”

He doesn’t have to try and lie about what they’re talking about -- he could say Machi’s case, but that is months old now, last of the details wrapped up -- because his phone buzzes and her squeal interrupts him. “You have Prosecutor Gavin’s number? Since when? Why did he give it to you? That’s so cool, Polly!”

“It’s really not -- he’s really not -- stop trying to read my messages!”

“Children, children, please.” They both freeze at Phoenix’s voice, and Apollo recovers quicker, yanking his phone away from Trucy and scrambling upright. “If you’re going to kill each other, do it somewhere else, because I don’t want to deal with the hassle of having a murder right here in this office.”

“Daddy!” Trucy cries, springing to her feet. “I thought you were gonna be out late again!”

“So did I,” he says with a tired grin that doesn’t do anything to distract from the lines of exhaustion beneath his eyes. “But my ‘secret project’ is coming to the end of its first phase, soon, and I might have some more time to be around.” He glances about at the mess of the office, a Sisyphean task that Apollo has tried to deal with before only for Trucy to immediately disturb all of his hard work while searching for a prop that he thought he put away in a logical place. “Don’t look so upset about that prospect, Apollo.”

“Wh -- I wasn’t --”

Wright laughs, and Apollo stalks back to his desk, remembering only after a few more minutes that he had another text.

-That office might not be *cursed* but I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve had some prospective clients run far and fast from the doorstep. No slight against you ;) but it’s quite the unsettling place

Apollo sinks into his chair. When he got here, he didn’t have to dust anything in “his” part of the office, though Trucy told him they were basically just using it for storage. Even the back of the piano has never gotten dusty, and while Apollo takes care of the plants now, they were flourishing through what must have been neglect, based on everything he knows about Trucy and Phoenix. There’s a thermostat he’s never thought about touching, his suit jacket flung over the back of the couch that he’s never had to think about wearing.

I’ve never found it unsettling Though that itself was kinda unsettling when I first came here Like it’s TOO welcoming 

-I wouldn’t fall asleep there -Don’t know where you might find yourself if you let your guard down 

Like anywhere’s gonna be much worse than here

-Ja, you say that, and then…

Yeah probably shouldn’t push my luck Since I don’t have much of it in the first place 

-

A week later, Apollo is well aware of his luck.

That old whisper, Gramarye, crescendos. Trucy tells him that Valant is back in town, though she hasn’t seen him. She knows like everyone knows that long-ago name, and Apollo knows that something is stirring. “How much magic was there in the troupe?” he asks Trucy one afternoon, curious himself but also put up to it by Clay, who has wanted to know every detail about Valant’s role in the case at the concert while insisting that the Gramaryes are definitely witches and definitely shouldn’t be trusted. “Real magic, not tricks.”

“It’s all real magic, Polly,” Trucy says, grinning at his sullen look. “Gotta keep the mystery intact!”

“Is that just how you say ‘I was too young to remember’?”

She is the one now frowning at she stares at the old faded portrait hanging above the piano. “No comment,” she says. After another minute, she adds, “No, I do remember it was real. Grandpappy especially. He could do strange things. He gave me Mr Hat, I think.”

“Gave you?” Nothing is given with magic, not without price. Nothing for free.

She nods, her expression still one of pinched concentration, but any further speculation on the matter is undercut by the opening of the door and Phoenix’s entrance. “Hi there, stranger!” Trucy chirps.

And Apollo wishes that he had stayed a stranger, because in just a few minutes, his plans for the day -- nothing, noodles, and maybe Trucy dragging him on a hopeless quest around the city to find and say hi to Valant -- are ground to dust. Phoenix gives to Trucy a sealed envelope to be opened “when it’s time”, and to Apollo the beginnings of a headache and the fervent wish that one day Phoenix would tell him literally anything in advance. He would have liked to know that he would be the Jurist System guinea pig, to have time to learn more about the proposed system than the two-minute crash course that Phoenix gives before throwing him out the door to meet his new client. And the client herself says nothing at all but just gives them the location of the crime scene.

“That’s just how Mr Wright is,” Ema says, leaning up against the shelf of paints in the studio, after giving it an experimental push to test its stability. There isn’t much space left uncluttered by paintings, supplies, or the tools of the police investigation, and it leaves Apollo, Trucy, and the bottle of poison detectant spray that Ema gave them with a lot of ground to cover.

“You could be doing this,” he says, waving the bottle at her. She shrugs. He had complained to her on arrival about Phoenix, to learn that he had told her they were coming. She followed this with nodding and grumbling in a way that Apollo presumed meant she wasn’t listening to his grievances, until she had spoken.

“I tried everywhere -- I want to see if your eyes can find something different.” Ema picks up a small can of paint and examines it, looking bored. “But anyway, Mr Wright, he’s -- it’s probably not you,” she continues. “I mean, it could be. I don’t actually know you off the crime scene. But he doesn’t trust anyone -- he’s got the right idea. I learned that much from that case I worked with him; if you don’t trust anyone you can’t get burned.”

“What a sad way to live,” Apollo says. Her assessment makes sense with what he has dealt with of Phoenix. He glances over at Trucy, who isn’t looking at them.

“Yeah,” Ema says quietly. “Sad. That’s the word. We kept in touch for a year or two after I went to Europe, and that’s how I felt about him. That he’s the loneliest man on earth.”

Trucy yells for them to come look at the traces of atroquinine she found, and they return to rote investigation.

-

“Where did you get that, Miss Trucy?” Valant splutters, reaching for, at the same time Apollo does, the envelope that slipped from Trucy’s pocket. In the midst of the case, and longing for a normal client, he had almost forgotten about Phoenix’s mystery Recycle-Your-Plastics-Day gift.

So much for rote investigation. Apollo doesn’t know why he bothers hoping.

“Daddy gave it to me,” she says. “My Phoenix Wright daddy.”

Valant grabs it from the ground before Apollo can, holding it in trembling hands and squinting, his face gone gray and bloodless. “This signature -- do you not recognize it? It is Zak’s!”

“My -- my daddy?”

Apollo snatches the envelope from Valant. Rude, unquestionably, and probably worthy of a minor curse or two, but he doesn’t trust anything to do with the Gramaryes and he doesn’t like the way Valant was looking at the envelope. “Polly!” Trucy scolds. He’ll worry about it another time. “Daddy said not to open it yet,” she adds, to Valant, and his face falls.

As quickly as he can, Apollo makes an excuse about them having to hunt down the reporter, the witness to the crime -- and they really do have to find him, and that is what they came looking for Valant for -- and drags Trucy away. Maybe Klavier and Phoenix’s paranoia is rubbing off on him. Maybe it’s justified.

Surely it’s justified, by the time they make it back around to the studio -- the reporter is nigh-useless and gives Apollo nothing but insight into the reason that Valant apparently doesn’t like him -- and find that the rough sketches beneath the forgeries -- because the paintings are all forgeries, of course, the victim is a forger, because there are layers of crime on top of crime, of course -- are of Apollo’s three big cases, the three that involved Wright and the Gavins. If he had thought that Brushel, the reporter, was a lunatic before, now he is really feeling it -- he would kill to disentangle himself from this magic madness, and there’s the man chasing Valant for a seven-year-old story.

No, Apollo is probably cursed -- somehow, even when the players in this mess that is his life are human -- and this is what it has left him with.

-

The last thing Vera says before the start of the trial is, “Do they… allow dogs in?” 

Her eyes are fixed over Apollo’s shoulder and he turns, only spotting the feathery fan of a tail as it slips around the corner. After a month of no sightings, trying and failing to tell himself that he could put the matter out of his mind because neither he nor Phoenix has died yet -- here it is, just when he very much does not need to be more nervous.

Prosecutor Gavin seems different -- different from the two other times Apollo has faced him in the courtroom, and very different from their conversation just a week ago. He is ever-quick with objections, but even quicker to snap at and shut down the defense. Apollo doesn’t need any special tricks to see that he has been rattled by something, that he knows something they don’t. At the name Gramarye, he breaks, the last of his faint composure shattering, turning on the defendant with a force and fury that Apollo has never seen from him. Vera shrinks away, almost trying to tuck herself beneath the witness stand, like that can save her.

Like all things, it seems, they are coming back to Phoenix Wright. Wright, his forgeries, and Klavier.

And Apollo knowing nothing, told nothing, left without a clue in the face of Klavier’s snarl. “He’s told you nothing about this, has he? Your soiled, sullied mentor -- nothing?”

Nothing but that he is human, and that had to be pried from him. Apollo doesn’t say anything and lets Klavier explain the evidence, a page of a diary, that seven years ago got Wright disbarred -- the diary page that Vera, the real forger, Apollo’s client (his kingdom for a normal client), created. And she and her father were hired to do that, and their client—

The answer, the final answer, to that mystery of seven years -- did he do it? -- lies at their fingertips. All there is left is to ask. Apollo’s question -- desperate, pleading, “Vera! For all our sakes, who asked you to forge that evidence? Who was it?” -- could end in exoneration or damnation for the man Apollo once so admired.

(It never ends so simply.)

“I remember so clearly,” she mumbles, hugging her sketchbook to herself, swaying slightly in place. Poor girl; she must be terrified. She stops and turns her eyes again on Klavier, like she has before, an unblinking stare while her lips move absently, as though she is talking to herself, trying to understand something. “Who gave me the… the diary. It was…” She wobbles again, staggering and bracing herself with one hand on the stand.

“Is she okay—”

Trucy doesn’t get to finish her question. Klavier is moving from the bench, toward the witness, even while Vera is still, barely, holding herself upright, and no longer looking at him. “It was --” She reaches for her throat, the last words brittle and barely forced from her lips. “It was the devil.”

She crumples to the ground with a last strangled gasp. The gallery bursts into a flurry of sound and activity, the judge adding to it as he tries to yell for a bailiff at the same time as he demands order. Trucy shoves Apollo out to the witness stand, where Klavier has knelt next to Vera, first there because he first moved -- because he moved even before she fell. Like he knew what was coming. He looks up at Apollo and eyes are wild, not flickering between hues but almost cloudy, glazed over, vacant, even though it is obvious that Klavier is, like the rest of them, far too present in this moment. His voice has lost almost all trace of his accent and it sends a shudder down Apollo’s spine. He sounds like Kristoph. He sounds just like Kristoph.

When they leave the courtroom, Trucy again pulling Apollo along with her to see if they can learn what hospital Vera was taken to, they leave Klavier still on the floor, frozen like a statue, and the hellhound circling the stand and him. At first Apollo doesn’t think he sees it -- which doesn’t make any sense, does it? -- but then it bumps its head into his face. He reaches a hand to rub its fur without looking at it, his eyes still fixed on some distant point far above.

-

“Apollo Justice speaking.”

“Mr Justice? This is the Hickfield Clinic. You are the attorney for Ms Vera Misham, correct?”

“I -- yes, that’s me. How is she doing?”

“She is alive but unconscious in intensive care, not to be disturbed for any reason.”

“What happened to her?”

“We aren’t sure yet. It’s going to take some time to determine any more about her condition, because your client, Mr Justice -- she isn’t human.”

-

“Aren’t there privacy laws that telling you that sort of thing goes against?” Trucy asks. They are sitting on the steps in front of the courthouse, watching the extra swarm of police cars begin to depart. They haven’t seen Klavier leave the building, and Phoenix finds the two of them and ushers them onto their feet and away.

“There’s no time to sit around -- you’ve got a case to solve, right?”

“Our client just nearly died, Mr Wright.”

“Then it’s more important than ever that you find out what happened, yes?” Phoenix claps Apollo on the shoulder and pushes some files into Trucy’s hands. “Though, actually, Trucy, can you take those to Edgeworth? And let him know what’s happening down here.”

“C’mon Polly!” she says, about to skip down the stairs, and Phoenix stops her.

“No, Apollo’s coming back to the office with me. There’s some old case information I think he’ll find relevant. Maybe it even won’t be boring.”

“But shouldn’t I get to know it too?” Trucy asks. “I want to know!”

Phoenix shakes his head. “No, you wouldn’t enjoy it.”

Apollo watches for red and sees none. Trucy rushes off ahead of them, leaving Apollo with Phoenix, acutely aware that the last time it was just the two of them was that conversation over Phoenix’s humanity -- and assumed lack thereof -- and the presence of the hellhound. He glances around again, expecting it to have followed him out of the building. “I’m surprised she didn’t see right through you sending her away,” Apollo says. Phoenix snorts. “You could have told me that Vera isn’t human, too.”

“I could have, yes.” Phoenix starts walking again. Apollo wishes he had something that he could throw at the back of his head. “But that wasn’t a relevant matter when this case began.”

“So now it is?”

“There is a lot that is relevant now, Apollo.” Phoenix’s eyes are blue when he turns his head. “And you aren’t close to being caught up to where I am -- and where Klavier doubtlessly is.”

“What do you think he knows?” Apollo asks.

“Oh, almost everything. I’m sure he’s figured out the real killer by now -- I think he would be able to see that.” Phoenix smiles. Apollo wants to scream in his face that a girl is nearly dead and her father is and there is a broken legal system that needs their help and everything is just jokes with him, an empty poker gaze. “You wouldn’t be able to tell from across the courtroom, but I was watching, and this whole trial, he never let up with his Sight.”

“What does that mean?” Apollo asks. “Do you -- you don’t always see that whole magic aura stuff?”

“God, no.” Phoenix laughs. “What you saw through the magatama, what I can see when I choose” -- his eyes flash again -- “no human is meant to stare at that for any length of time. Our brains just aren’t built to take it all in.”

“Then why would Prosecutor Gavin do that, if it’s just going to drive him crazy or whatever?”

“He was looking for something,” Phoenix says. “And he saw it.”

Back at the office, Phoenix unlocks the bottom drawer of his desk. The magatama sits on top of a stack of papers, mostly handwritten, and barely readable. But the date on them is clear: April, seven years ago.

-

“Are you sure you’re human, Mr Wright?”

“I thought you could see that plainly for yourself.”

“You have quite the ‘eye’ yourself, don’t you? Though you should be able to… see that mine isn’t so good now.”

“...”

“I ask because only one man before has ever beaten me in a game of poker, and he was very much not human.”

“And who was he?”

Chapter 1: Victims of Contingency

“Wake up sleepy head! Let’s go play!” 

 You did not even need to open your eyes to know who had just disturbed your slumber. 

“Nina…” a low grumble rumbled through your chest, a delighted round of laughter tumbling from the little girl as you acknowledged her. You felt a tug on the sleeve of your labcoat, and sighed, hands going to try and rub the exhaustion off of your face. 

When you finally glanced down at her, the smile she sported seemed to double in size (if that was even possible, you pondered) and she instantly latched onto your arm. 

“Yay! You’re awake!” she exclaimed, and practically dragged you out of your chair in her excitement for this new play session. 

You gave the girl a few pats on the head before you gently pushed her back onto the floor. “Nina, why don’t you go play with Apollo for a little bit? I need some breakfast before I can play.” 

 The tiny brunette pouted, her arms folded across her chest as she stomped angrily on the hard wood of the bedroom floor. “But I wanna play now!” 

 “Nina?” 

 You picked up the sound of a door being pushed open, and a sigh of relief left you when you noticed that Nina’s mother, Anna, had come looking for her daughter. 

 Her long, brown hair was thrown over her shoulder in a sloppy braid, wisps of hair framing her kind face. Crinkles formed around her dark eyes as a grin emerged on her thin lips, and the older woman kneeled down slightly to place her hands on Nina’s shoulders.

 “How many times must I tell you that it’s very rude to enter someone else’s room without knocking first, Nina?” she scolded. 

 The young girl looked away from her mother’s stare, her own expression bashful as she looked to the floor, the pattern of the wooden boards appearing very interesting at the moment. “I’m sorry mama,” she muttered, her hands folded behind her back. “I just wanted to play.” 

 Anna tucked her own hands under Nina’s armpits and easily picked her up, carrying her as if she were still a baby. “Why don’t you come and help me make breakfast? I’m sure that (Y/N) would be very happy to find a nice stack of warm, fluffy pancakes when they came out to eat with us. Whaddya say?” 

 Nina instantly brightened at this suggestion, and she pointed in the direction of the kitchen almost immediately. “Yeah! Pancakes, pancakes!” she sang out, and gave you a parting wave as she and her mother made their way to the kitchen. 

“I’m terribly sorry that she intruded upon you like that.” 

 You instantly straightened your slumped posture, and your hands fumbled to tidy up the wrinkled lab coat that, more than likely, had ink stains all over the cuffs. “M-mister Tucker!” your voice came out more startled than you would have liked it to, to which the older man simply chuckled at. 

 “Please, (Y/N), I’ve told you time and time again to call me Shou. We are in my home, there’s no need to be so formal.” 

 You relaxed, albeit slightly, and silently berated yourself for not remembering this order you had been previously given. “Sorry, sir,” 

 An irritated sigh left Shou when he heard the use of yet another formality, but he decided that it would be best to simply let it slide...this time. “You must forgive Nina for being so ill behaved. It seems as though my wife is allowing her to get away with certain truant behaviors that would not go unchecked if I were given more time to supervise her.” 

 You nodded your head in disagreement and waved off his concerns. “It’s not a problem at all, sir. She is only two, there’s only so much I can expect out of someone her age, and being full of energy is certainly something I anticipated.” 

“I commend you on your patience. I’m sure that a lot of people would have taken that transgression much more seriously.” 

 “I’m sure that they would have understood,” you replied, and slowly began to compile the messy stack of papers that were sprawled across your desk. 

 This seemed to have shifted Shou’s focus, and he strided over to your workspace. He pushed his round glasses further up the bridge of his nose, as he attempted to sneak a peek at any notes that you had jotted down throughout the night. 

 “You don’t need to hover over my shoulder, sir. If you’re curious about anything I might have come up with, you’re free to read my research,” you stated, and earned a round of quiet laughter from the man. 

 “I see that you were reading over the case files that I had given you,” he observed, and picked up a bundle of papers you had finished organizing. 

“Yeah,” you muttered, and frowned. “I cannot lie and say that I was not in a state of shock when you first handed these to me. I mean, real life chimeras, and ones that could have easily blended into human society?” 

 A delighted grin split Shou’s face at the mention of such perfect specimens. “Yes, indeed. As someone who has been studying these creatures for almost the entirety of their career, it gave me hope that I would be able to replicate these experiments and add to our findings.” 

 “It would be remarkable if we could make advancements in this field of study. It was a real shame that the previous test subjects managed to escape,” you griped, irritated that such vital and precious information had managed to slip through the military’s incompetent fingers. 

 “Indeed. That is why I am grateful that we are able to work on our own pace with this. I’m more than certain that the two of us will be able to crack the secret to human-chimera transmutation.” Shou appeared elated at the idea, and his giddiness seemed to transfer to you as well, and the both of you had wicked grins on your faces. 

 “Oh! I almost forgot,” you suddenly chirped, and clipped the top of your most recent set of analyses before you handed it to Shou. “I believe that I, if I may say so, had a stroke of genius last night, sir!” 

 Shou practically snatched it out of your hands, going silent as he flipped through it, and gave careful attention to the diligent annotations that you made on the cases. “Hmm...this is very interesting. So you believe that the five that had been experimented on were only successful because just a portion of the animal was used during the procedure?” 

 “Yes,” you replied. “I personally came to the conclusion that it may be impossible to transmute a human being with the complete vessel of the animal, for their bodies would be incompatible and they would live in constant pain due to their different extremities.” 

 “Some people go through their whole lives dealing with chronic pain. Are you saying that their existence is worth less than that of someone who develops without a care in the world?” 

 Shou’s question surprised you, and your hand stilled over your mouth in silent shock. “T-that’s not what I meant, sir,” you stuttered, as you tried to make up for your obvious fumble. “I have only concluded that it would be inhumane to merge two completely sentient souls together, as it would most likely result in their death.” 

 “Of course, I meant no harm by what I said,” Shou gave you an uneasy smile, a hand placed on your shoulder as a sort of reassurance. “Your hypothesis is interesting, and it saddens me that we are unable to test it.” 

 You huffed and got up out of your seat, shedding your lab coat and tossing it onto your bed. “I doubt that the government would be willing to offer anyone up, even if they were the scum of the earth.” 

 “Yes, ever since they shut down laboratory five, it’s become impossible to receive any subjects.” Shou glanced over at the clock that ticked away on the wall, and tapped a finger against your desk. “I see it’s almost time for you to head out. Make sure that you aren’t late for your briefings. I’m sure that the generals will be very pleased with these new discoveries of yours.” 

 You gave him a small bow, the golden buttons of your military uniform clicking against one another. “Thank you. I sincerely hope that this is what will finally allow us to become state alchemists once and for all.” 

 Shou offered you an encouraging grin. “I hope so as well. Now you best be heading out. Prove that even we scientists have a place amongst the elite ranking of the military.” 

The meeting with the generals when about as well as you expected: they had listened to the bare minimum of your proposal, but when you could provide no definitive proof of your claims, they swatted you away and ignored all of the data that you had compiled, scratching it off as “too complicated to follow.” 

 Your leg bounced anxiously as you sat in one of the many hallways in Central Command, arms folded across your chest and gaze up at the ceiling. It was infuriating to be turned down on such weak grounds. This would not have bothered you if this had been your first trip here, but both you and Shou had been trying to earn your state alchemist license for months now, and you were beginning to feel disheartened, like all of your work was going to amount to nothing. 

 “Hey there! Long time now see!” 

You jumped when you glanced down and found someone standing uncomfortably close to you, however you eyes narrowed slightly when you realized who it was. 

 “Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, so...nice to see you again.” 

 “Oh come on, (Y/N), what did I do to deserve that tone of voice?” 

 You could feel the couch sink a bit as he took a seat beside you, hints of concern laced on his face when he picked up how upset you were. 

 Must be his parental instincts kicking in, you thought bitterly, annoyed that he was able to read you so easily. 

 “I’m really not in the mood to talk right now.” you mumbled, and hunched forward so you could prop your elbows on your knees, your cheeks squished when you decided to rest your face in your hands. 

 “Did the higher ups chew you out again?” he questioned, but you decided to be stubborn and keep your mouth shut, staying true to what you had said earlier: you did not wish to talk to anyone. 

 You heard him sigh, and a warm hand was placed on your shoulder. “You really need to stop all of this from getting to you. I know it’s frustrating to not be taken seriously, but you just need to keep pushing. You can’t give up just because some jerk didn’t see the value in your research.” 

 “That’s easy for you to say,” you quipped, and rolled your eyes when you noticed the smirk on Hughes’s face. He had gotten you to break your supposed “no talking” policy, and quite easily, you might add. 

 “Come on, (Y/N). You just need to head back to Tucker’s house, and get back to work. Every time I see you back here, you seem much more confident, as though each time you’re turned down, it only strengthens your resolve to become an alchemist. That doesn’t go unnoticed.” 

 You understood what Hughes was trying to get across, and even though his kind words did help you calm down a bit, it was still hard to fight this feeling of rejection, a sensation that you had practically conditioned yourself to experience whenever you were in Central. 

 “It’s just...really discouraging to get assigned this task, and toil over all of this information on such a complicated subject, and be dismissed over and over again, even when you’ve made some discoveries on precisely what the military wants to know.” you confessed, while you shoved your documents into your bag. 

 “Just know that you’re not the only one, okay (Y/N)? Everyone that you’ve met here stationed in central, regardless if they’re an alchemist or not, went through a lot to be where they are today. It’s not an easy road to get to where you wanna be in life, and sometimes you don’t even get there. But the one thing you can’t do is give up.” Hughes pointed down a nearby hallway, and you followed his indicated target to find that it was directed to the office of Colonel Roy Mustang. 

 “Despite being a colonel right now, Roy’s aiming to become the new Fuhrer of Amestris.” 

 Your eyes widened in amazement, for you could not believe that someone was trying to have one up on King Bradley himself. “Are you serious?” you gaped. 

“Of course I am!” Hughes exclaimed. “Even if it seems like a hopeless endeavor, what with how sappy he is, I still can’t allow him to lose faith in that slim possibility. Which is the same sentiments that I’m carrying over to you.” 

 A smile finally broke through your gloomy expression, and you flinched as Hughes slapped you hard against your back when he noticed the mood change. 

 “There’s a happy face!” he said, before he grew a bit more serious, while still retaining his jubilant personality. “Just know that even if nobody else has said anything, that I still believe in you.” 

 You could feel your cheeks grow hot at Hughes’s encouraging words, and turned away from him to hide your embarrassment. It meant a lot to know that someone was supporting your endeavor, for it often seemed as though you had taken up this undertaking all on your own. Shou was definitely a presence within your work, but he was often enveloped within his own tasks, and the two of you hardly interacted in order to increase productivity and make sure there were minimal distractions. 

 It was often overwhelming, dealing with the stressors of such a demanding job, and receiving little to no reassurance for your accomplishments, no matter how small they may be. You were practically all alone, since you had moved away from your home in Dublith in order to be in an apprenticeship with Shou, one of the leading pioneers in the field of bio-alchemy. Sure, you called your parents from time-to-time to see how everyone was doing, but besides menial chit chat on your studies, and the occasional play-date with Nina, you were often consumed by your work, giving you little to no time to socialize and form more lasting bonds with anyone that you happened interact with. 

 It just made you feel...special, was that the correct word? No, it was more as though all of your struggles had been validated when Hughes disclosed his faith in everything that you had been striving so hard for.

 You finally gathered the courage to face him again, a shaky sigh leaving your tired body as you managed to give him a shy grin. “Thank you, sir. I really appreciate what you just said. These past few months haven’t been easy.” 

“That’s certainly the understatement of the century,” he joked. “I’m glad that you aren’t throwing in the towel, (Y/N). It takes a lot of guts to keep going. Be proud of the fact that you aren’t conceding to defeat.” 

 Your chest swelled with this sudden sense of pride, and you gave him a well deserved salute to express your gratitude. “Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.” 

 Hughes burst into a round of laughter, an arm wrapping around you as he brought you into a bone-crushing hug. “Finally, someone who’s earnestly taking my advice to heart!” 

 “Excuse me, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes,” 

 You peered up at the woman who had called for Hughes’s attention, and you recognized her as one of the many secretaries housed in the building. She was a tiny thing with big, bulging blue eyes and short, black hair. 

 “Oh, hello there! What can I do for ya?” Hughes did not seem to mind that your pep talk had been interrupted, nor did he seem to mind the appearance of this surprise visitor, as the embrace he had you in remained quite strong. 

 You fidgeted slightly in his grip, wanting to appear at least a little dignified in front of the woman, but it was no use. 

 “Actually, I was told that they would be with you, so I went looking for you, sir.” she said, and handed you a piece of paper. “There’s a call waiting for you on line three.” she directed, and was gone almost as quickly as she came. 

 You glanced down at the note, written in cursive, that a Miss Nina Tucker was requesting an audience with you. 

 “Nina, hmm? She sounds cute. Is someone crushing on you, (Y/N)?” Hughes cooed. 

 You grimaced at the implication and shoved the nosey man off of you. “No,” you seethed, as you grabbed hold of your bag. “She’s the daughter of the alchemist I’ve been staying with.”

 “Oh, scandalous!” 

 You glared at him, all but threatening to hurl you satchel, heavy with your research papers, at his cocky face. “She’s only two years old, Romeo, don’t get any sick ideas.” 

 Hughes practically pounced on you when you said this, his wallet being whipped out at inhuman speeds while simultaneously unfolding itself to reveal the dozens of pictures that he kept of his wife and young daughter. “My little Elicia is only one! Wouldn’t it be so perfect for the two of them to get together and have an adorable little play-date? Huh, whaddya say?”

 “I suppose I could talk to Anna about it. Nina does get rather lonely,” you mumbled, more-so to yourself than to Hughes.

 He gave a delighted cry in response, and ogled at the most recent photo of Elicia, one where she and his wife, Gracia, were blowing at the seeds that bloomed from dandelions later in the summer months. “That would be wonderful! You better get back to me as soon as a date is set. Now, hurry along to Miss Nina, you wouldn’t want to keep her waiting.” 

 You gave Hughes one last goodbye before you walked over to a nearby telephone. You winced slightly as the cheap strap on your messenger bag dug into your shoulder muscle from pushing it all to one side, and then reached for the telephone. You pressed the three on the keypad and was instantly greeted by a huge ruckus on the other end of the line. 

 “Hello? Nina?” you called out, unsure if someone was still even there. A few moments of silence passed before you managed to pick up the sounds of a scuffle, and then soft puffs echoed into your ear. You pushed the phone closer, pressed to make out any of the noises occurring in the background. 

 “Nina?” you repeated, much louder this time. 

 “Mommy and daddy are fighting again.” 

 You seemed to freeze on the spot as you registered those words. 

 Her parents...Anna and Shou...were fighting? And did she say again? So this is not the first time that she has overheard them bicker amongst one another? 

 You could not believe it. You had been living there for months, and had yet to witness any sort of violent altercation between the two of them. Surely you would have noticed the physical evidence of abuse taking place, you saw Anna and Shou every day, it would have been nearly impossible to keep such things hidden for as long as you had been there. 

 Although, you did leave the house quite often whenever you had to make trips to Central, so perhaps it took place behind closed doors, when no one else was around to interfere. Still, the idea itself was preposterous in nature. Why hadn’t Nina come to you for help? She clearly understood that something was wrong, why keep it quiet? Was she afraid that she might become their scapegoat if they found out that she talked to someone? 

 No, this had to be a simple misunderstanding. Perhaps they were just being passive-aggressive to one another, and Nina mistook it as them fighting? She was still only a child, afterall. She might be blowing the whole situation out of proportion. 

You shook your head vigorously in disagreement, upset that you would even think of blaming Nina during an incident such as this. You had to get a better grip on the situation. 

“Nina, what do you mean that they’re fighting?” you questioned, and made sure to keep your tone soft and gentle, you did not wish to startle her. 

“Yelling… so much yelling… and mommy threw stuff.” her voice faltered slightly, and you hear her gasp, probably terrified of what she has just witnessed. 

“Where are you right now?” you were concerned for her safety, and sincerely hoped that her parents would not punish her for seeking help. Who knows what sort of discipline a man as powerful as Shou had in store for her if he caught her. 

“Mommy and daddy’s room. Yelling… the yelling is downstairs.” she sniffles. “Apollo is with me.” 

A small sense of relief fills you when she mentions that the family dog, Apollo, is with her. You doubted that even a full grown man would take on a great dane, and one that was extremely loyal to Nina. That dog would fight off even the renowned Brigg’s soldiers if they dared to take arms against his master. 

“That’s good. Apollo will protect you. Do you want me to come and pick you up?” 

“Yes, yes! Please, please pick me up!” 

“Alright, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” you reply, and start to wonder if Hughes would be willing to take your offer up on that play date a lot sooner than you anticipated. Nina was certainly going to need something fun to help her cheer up. 

“Mommy’s coming.” 

That’s good, you think to yourself. Maybe she’s going to find Nina and apologize for what she saw-- 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

You felt your heart stop. 

“Who are you talking to? What did you say? What did you tell them you little brat?” 

No… this couldn’t be Anna… 

“Nothing. Mommy, nothing!” You heard Nina’s pleas fall on deaf ears, and almost dropped the telephone when a loud smack echoed through the receiver.

“Filthy liar.” 

Silence, a thick silence rang through your head, and you were too frightened to hang up the phone. 

“Who is this?” Anna’s voice was harsh, cold, and it cut right through you. 

Your mouth was sealed shut, you could not even breathe, and the few seconds that passed in between crackled with tension. 

Then the call cut out, and the dull drone of the operating number buzzed through your ears. 

Your feet were rooted to the spot, your mind in a daze, unable to process what just happened. Did that really just happen? 

Nina. Nina was your priority right now, you needed to make sure that she was okay. 

You glimpsed down the hallway and gave a silent hallelujah when you saw that Hughes was still there, the man showing off his impressive amount of family photographs to some poor, unsuspecting sap that had happened to walk by. 

“Hughes!” you called out. 

He gave you a sideways glance, and ushered down to meet you halfway. “(Y/N), have you seen this picture of my beautiful wife and my beautiful daughter? It happens to be one of my favorites, but oh, who am I kidding, I love all of these pictures!” 

You knew that you had to get to the point fast otherwise you’d be stuck here for hours, and you could definitely not waste any time with small talk.

“Sir, I was wondering if we could schedule that playdate relatively soon… as in, today. Would that be alright? We could go and pick Nina up right now--” 

“Say no more.” You nearly leapt out of your skin as Hughes all but dragged you down the halls, and out of the doors to Central Command. The next thing you knew, you were in his car and being driven down the streets of Amestris. 

“Where to?” he gave you a grin whose brightness could rival that of the sun, and you quickly instructed him on how to arrive at the Tucker’s house. 

When you arrived, you threw open the passenger door and sprinted towards the entrance of the home. Your heart beat started to pick up again as you frapped erratically to signal your arrival, anxious as to what may greet you on the other side. 

Would they even open the door? Would they take one look at you, and immediately slam it in your face? You truly did not wish for Lieutenant Colonel Hughes to get involved, but if they refused to let you inside, you would have no choice but to use force. Nina was what was important here, not your reputation amongst the scientific community. 

To your surprise, the door went ajar slightly after you had knocked, round glasses reflecting off the bright light of the midday sun. There was an elated gasp and you mentor, Shou Tucker, poked his head out to give you a crooked smile. 

“Ah, (Y/N), so nice to see you again. I take it that you’re back from the meeting in Central?” 

You took notice of his disheveled appearance, his shirt torn, and tiny bits of glass dusting his thin hair from what you could hypothesize as one of the items that Anna had hurled during the heat of the argument. A large welt was also beginning to form on his right leg, dried blood crusting over the tear that had been made to his pants. 

You tried swallowing a large lump in your throat, nervous as to how you should proceed. If you told him that you gotten a phone call while in the office, they would know that Nina had been talking to you amongst the pandemonium, and she would be severely chastised. You supposed that bringing up the possibility of allowing her to leave their… care for several hours might help relieve some of the strain, so you went along with that excuse. 

“Yes, and while I was there I ran into an acquaintance of mine, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes.” you could tell that Shou was disinterested, and you fumbled over your words as you made haste to take Nina away from them. “A-and well, he has a daughter of his own, you see, and I was wondering if Nina would be okay with meeting little Elicia, and if she wanted to play with her.” 

Shou pondered the idea for a moment, the hand that he had placed on the door trembling a little, before he nodded his head. “Yes, that sounds like a rather good suggestion. Anna and I have actually been needing some time to ourselves, so you showing up is kind of a blessing.” 

The pitter-patter of tiny feet scrambling to reach the outside caused you to unexpectedly peer over Shou’s shoulder, and he flinched under your intense stare as he took several steps back into the shadows. Nina shoved past her father’s legs, almost tripping on the stairs in her haste to make her escape. You opened your arms up for her and she promptly leapt into your embrace, while her tiny body trembled slightly as she buried her face in the crook of your neck. 

You turned to make your way back to Hughes’s waiting vehicle before Shou called out to you. 

“I… um… I will call you when it’s time to bring her home.” 

Your common sense was all but begging you to scream back at him that Nina wasn’t going to be coming back, but you could not take their daughter away from them. You needed more evidence if you wanted to press charges, and even then, the military police would not take action for they had not seen in take place themselves; they did not want to burden themselves with more work than necessary. 

A solemn nod was your response, not even bothering to turn around and face the man who had assisted in frightening his own child so terribly. You placed Nina in your lap as you took your spot in the passenger’s seat, and felt a great sense of reprieve when Hughes began the drive to his apartment. 

You did not wish for Nina to deal with anymore unwanted stress, so you tried to pull her out of the rut she was in at the moment. If Hughes could pick up when you were feeling upset, then just imagine how simple it must have been for him to assess that Nina had been victimized within her own home. If he had questions about what happened, then he could direct them to you at a later time. Right now, you just wanted to get Nina smiling again. 

“Hey Nina, do you know who this is?” you cooed. 

She glanced up at Hughes, a blank expression on her face as he smiled at her. She turned back to you, and nodded her head. 

“His name is Mr. Hughes, and we’re going to his house. Mr. Hughes has a daughter of his own. Her name is Elicia, and I’m sure she’s very excited to play with you!” 

Nina brightened at the mention of Elicia, and the future prospect of having some fun with another kid around her age. “A… a girl?” she murmured. 

“Yup! That’s my Elicia for ya! She is going to be so happy to know that she’ll have a playmate, and an adorable one at that!” Hughes was beyond elated, and it was pretty difficult to not catch even a little bit of his optimism. 

“I’m going on a playdate?” Nina questioned, and her voice sounded much happier. 

“Yeah you are. Oh this is going to be so much fun!” 

A grin finally broke through Nina’s gloominess, the brunette beginning to bounce excitedly in her seat. “Yay! I’m gonna play! I’m gonna have fun!” 

The ride to Hughes’s residence was certainly much more pleasant, and you suspected that Nina and Hughes must have exchanged thoughts whilst on the way there because as soon as the both of them hopped out of the car, they started to race up the stairs. By the time you had managed to catch up with them, Nina and Elicia were already together, the younger of the two handing Nina some building blocks so that they could work in tandem to create something. 

It did not come as much of a surprise to you that the two girls hit it off almost instantly, or that the hospitality that was provided by Hughes and his wife Gracia would be exemplary. Gracia not only made coffee, but she also baked a delicious apple pie, one that you believed could rival even the finest patisseries in Amestris. 

Your time with the Hughes family passed by amicably, it was a genuine safe haven, and one that you were repeatedly invited to visit again and again. While the girls enjoyed their time playing, you happened to have a very stimulating conversation about your most recent findings with Gracia and Hughes. It was actually quite surprising how much Hughes knew about bio-alchemy, but he only attributed this knowledge from when he was helping his friend, Roy Mustang study, when he took up the feat of becoming a state alchemist.

In spite of the peaceful time that you were having, you knew that it could be interrupted at any time by that call from Shou telling you to bring Nina back. You were dreading that moment, and you were earnestly trying to keep yourself from blatantly staring at the telephone. Maybe if you didn’t think about it, that it wouldn’t happen? 

Briiiiiiing. Briiiiiiing. 

Eugh. Of course. 

“Oh? Who would be calling at this hour?” Gracia wondered, and pushed herself out of her seat so she could answer the phone. 

Maybe it wasn’t Shou, maybe it was someone from Central, or maybe it was one of Gracia’s family members. You didn’t need to jump the gun on this. 

“(Y/N), it’s for you. A Mr. Shou Tucker needs to speak to you. He says it’s urgent.” 

Perhaps you could convince Shou to let Nina stay the night. You could say that it would give him and Anna more time to reconcile between one another, and that you would make sure to keep an eye on Nina. You could lie to a superior if it was for the greater good, right? 

“Hello?” 

“Oh, (Y/N), I’m so glad that you answered. You must come quickly,” Shou sounded slightly out of breath, but there was a gleeful undertone that you could not ignore. 

“Are… are you alright, sir?” you prodded, and supposed that if you changed the subject that he would forget all about asking you to bring Nina back.