Adjusted Reality

chapter fic: [mcu/arrow/the flash/sanctuary crossover] there is justice in the end; chapter 5

linesfade — Fri, 01 Dec 2017 17:06:52 GMT

Author: linesfade
Rating: T/PG-13
Chapter: 5 / ??

Summary: HYDRA hasn't been destroyed, they've only been sent running to the shadows. With no one currently at the helm, Grant Ward takes it upon himself to become the head of HYDRA. He proceeds with an old HYDRA plan to infiltrate the shadowy Sanctuary Network, which only serves to draw the Avengers, Phil Coulson and the other Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. into the mix. The only problem is that they're cutting in on someone else's turf; Starling City already has a protector, and Team Arrow isn't going to take kindly to the invasion. They can handle the goings-on in their own city, including taking down HYDRA, once and for all. Or, so Oliver Queen thinks. It might just end up being more complicated than any of the heroes and vigilantes could have ever imagined.

Spoilers: Arrow: AU post 3x01, minus Sara's death; The Flash: Season 1 finale; Agents of SHIELD: Season 2 finale; Avengers/MCU: post Age of Ultron, with the minor change that Barton has a farm, but no family; and Sanctuary: AU after S1 finale, minus Watson's death.

Disclaimer: I do not own or have anything to do with Disney, Marvel comics, the MCU, Sanctuary, DC comics, the DCCU, the CW, ABC, or Syfy networks. I'm just playing in the sandboxes, and OH BOY, is it fun! No harm is intended, and the only thing I claim are the original characters.

A/N:So, I'm basically taking on one HECK of an undertaking with this fic, meshing these huge 'verses together. I hope, hope, and HOPE this turns out as good as it sounded in our heads, but we'll see. The Sanctuary portion of this is based on an RP that sweetveritas and I share, where Ashley and Declan are an item. (Just roll with it. It works, I promise! ;)) And a BIG, LARGE, McHUGE THANK YOU to sweetveritas and sietepecados for helping me keep everything straight with this crazy brainchild!

:x:

FIVE

OCTOBER 9
CLUB VERDANT, "THE ARROW CAVE"
STARLING CITY; 8:58 PM

Sara Lance punched in the code to the basement and took a deep breath as the lock disengaged. She honestly wasn't sure if she was ready to blatantly lie to Oliver's face about what had happened with Felicity tonight, but if Felicity wanted a night to herself to relax after being mugged, Sara would do her best to give it to her. In all honesty, it was probably for the best that Oliver didn't find out tonight. He was itching for a fight, if the way he'd sounded on the phone while she was on her way over was any indication. News of Felicity being mugged roughly, and rescued by a trio of Avengers was not going to sit well with him. At best, his head wouldn't be in the game, and at worst...he'd hop on his Ducati and speed hellbent toward Felicity's apartment. Given that that's the part she was aiming to avoid tonight, Sara figured her best option was just to say nothing and hope he didn't press her for more.

She pulled the steel door open and headed down the steps with her typical cat-footed grace. Diggle only looked up when she flopped her leather jacket over the back of Felicity's chair and slid into it herself.

"Hey, Sara," Digg greeted as he continued cleaning his sidearm.

"Hey, Digg," she grinned at him. "How's Lyla doing?"

"Good," he shrugged. "I was tempted to stay home with her tonight, but she practically shoved me out the door. Guess it's a good thing she did."

Digg nodded to the salmon ladder on the far side of the mats where Sara saw Oliver, glistening with sweat, tiredly working his way to the top of the ladder.

"How many times has he done that tonight?" She asked quietly, and Digg started toward as she began typing to reboot the comms system.

"Six," Digg answered her quietly.

"Jesus," she murmured and cast another glance to Oliver. Sara shook her head and went back to typing. "He's not going to be any good tonight if he doesn't quit. Probably won't be, already."

"I've tried, believe me," Digg answered quietly as he started rebuilding his handgun. "Something new happen between he and Felicity?"

"She's not..," Sara paused and looked up again. "She's not feeling well."

Sara used a keyboard shortcut to pull up a text editor and typed in, ‘She was mugged tonight. Doesn't want Oliver to know.’

Diggle's eyebrows rose in complete surprise, and Sara deleted the text before closing the program with another key command.

"She okay?" Digg asked quietly, his concern for Felicity filling his features.

"She will be. She needs the night off, so I made her go home. Told her I'd handle all of this," Sara answered quickly, under her breath. "She wants you and Roy here to keep an eye on Oliver, but she needs tonight to herself."

"Okay, but who's watching out for her?"

"Oliver isn't going to like that part, either," Sara sighed as she watched him drop down from the top of the salmon ladder and start again. "Neither did I, really."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Digg looked at her, confused.

"We've got company in town," she told Digg quietly. "Something is about to go down, and it's not going to be good. Don't tell Oliver yet, though, I'm looking into it."

Digg's eyes narrowed, and he crouched down beside Felicity's chair to speak quieter.

"Tell me," Digg demanded, watching as Sara's fingers flew over the keys. She punched in the final code to complete the final reboot of the communications system, the computers powered down once more, and then started up again. While the startup noise played, Sara looked to Digg.

"The Avengers are here, Digg," she told him quietly. "At least three of them. They weren't in uniform, but it was Captain America that saved her tonight. Whatever is going down, we have to get a lead on it, and now."

Digg nodded. "I'll have Lyla put out word to her contacts at A.R.G.U.S., see what she can find out. You keep working it from your end & we'll see what we come up with before we bring it to Oliver."

Sara watched him drop from a middle rung on the salmon ladder and nodded.

"Just between us, for now," she agreed. "Now go suit up; the comms will be up and running in less than ten."

Digg nodded and rose, eyeing the coffee pot. "Let's do this."

"Let's do this," she echoed as Oliver came over, wiping his face down with a towel.

"Good, you're here," he spoke gruffly, and Sara frowned at him.

"Good evening to you, too," she shot back saucily. Diggle tried to stifle a grin as he poured himself a fresh cup of coffee.

"I'm going to grab a quick shower, and then let's get out there. Roy is already out, keeping an eye on things. Digg, I want you here on comms. Sara, suit up. You're with me," Oliver barked out orders as he headed for the shower, and Sara exchanged a look with Digg.

"Yeah, we aren't telling him for a long time," Digg muttered as Oliver closed the door to the bathroom and started the shower.

"Agreed," she nodded and pushed away from the desk. "I guess I'd better get ready for tonight. The chair is yours, Digg. Just remember, no crumbs on the keyboard, or she'll kill us both."

"I hear that," Digg laughed, and nodded his agreement. "Watch yourself out there."

"Always, Digg," Sara grinned and retreated to the corner where she had stashed her bag of weapons and leathers. It was looking more and more like it was going to be a long night for all of them. If so, Sara was not looking forward to that in the least.

:x:

BIG BELLY BURGER, THE GLADES
STARLING CITY; 9:02 PM

Felicity emerged from the restroom before CSI Michaels a few minutes later. She hadn't realized that so many photos could be taken in such a short time, but apparently it was possible. She almost felt as if she'd been blinded by the flashbulb, and was rubbing her eyes as she exited the diner's restroom. She heard the telltale rustle of movement at the table she had been sitting at with Steve, Wanda, and Sam, and she held up a hand.

"I'm okay," she assured them. "Whoever invented the flashbulb should be shot. Or hung. Or shot, and then hung. I’m really not picky with the punishment there."

She heard Steve's chuckle and opened her eyes to see the table of Avengers smiling at her.

"What?" She asked, unable to stop the smile from stretching across her own face.

"I like her," Wanda grinned.

"Me, too," Sam added.

"What did I do?" Felicity asked as she raised her hands in confusion, the smile still on her face.

"You are cute," Wanda grinned at her. "That is all."

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "Funny, too. That helps."

Felicity's eyes narrowed a little in confusion, and she just shook her head as a breath of laughter escaped her. "Um, thanks, I guess?"

She looked to Steve and noticed him just watching her, a slight smile on his face.

"Ignore them," he told her gently. "They're a couple of meddlers."

She gave him a curious look as she drew nearer to the table and slid in beside him. Steve shook his head and changed the subject.

"All finished?" He asked Felicity quietly, and she nodded.

"Yep," she nodded. "At least, I hope so. And hopefully without permanent retinal damage from repeated flashbulb exposure. My eyes are already bad enough."

"Oh, speaking of..." Sam gave her an apologetic expression and pulled out a mangled pair of glasses. "I think...these might have been yours?"

“Aw, crap," she muttered as she picked up the plastic frames and twirled them around between two fingers. "I guess that means it'll be contacts tomorrow. I hate wearing those things all day, especially when I have to code..."

"All right, Miss Smoak," CSI Michaels spoke as she emerged from the restroom, camera and case of evidence collection equipment in hand. Felicity subconsciously made a fist with both of her hands and pulled them under the table; her fingers felt like they were on fire from having every bit of grime possible, and then some, scraped out from beneath them with a plastic stick. She would never look at the orange sticks in her manicure kit the same way again. "We're all done for tonight, so you are free to head home. I'm sure one of the officers will be in contact tomorrow, just to make sure we didn't miss anything tonight and check up on you. Is there anything else I can do for you tonight?"

"No," Felicity shook her head and tried to smile up at the CSI. "Thank you. I'm just ready to get home and sleep."

"I can imagine," Michaels nodded, and gave Felicity a sympathetic smile. "Be safe out there, okay? Get as much rest as you can. It helps."

Felicity watched the CSI walk away with her cases, and sank down into the seat at the sound of the door chime.

"It's over now, right?" She asked softly. "I mean, at least until tomorrow..?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. "You did good."

"You did 'well,'" Wanda corrected him with a smirk and a nudge to his shoulder. Wanda turned her eyes to Felicity and gave the blonde a smile, as well. "And you did do well, Felicity."

Felicity blushed slightly, and looked down at her hands in her lap. She was intently caressing her fingernails, which only served to make them ache more as she released the pressure. She watched as Steve's hand came over to lay atop of hers, stilling her movements, then looked up at him.

"You did," Steve assured her gently. "And, yes, tonight is over. You can head home now and relax."

She gave a breathy, exasperated laugh and held up her mangled glasses.

"Only...I suppose that will be in a cab because I am not going to be driving anywhere without these," she murmured and tossed the plastic frames lightly onto the table.

"We could drive you," Sam offered, and Felicity smiled, but shook her head.

"I've got a Mini Cooper. There's no way all three of you, plus me, will fit in my car," Felicity answered. "But thank you. I really appreciate it."

Sam and Steve exchanged nervous glances, and then Steve shook his head beside her.

"I'll tell you what," Steve spoke quietly, "Sam, you and Wanda head back to meet with the rest of the team."

Felicity's eyes went wide as she looked to Steve. His admission that the rest of the team was in Starling was like confirming her worst fears. Something big was happening, and if the Avengers were in town, that something big was also something very bad.

"I'll escort Felicity home and meet you there," Steve finished, and Felicity attempted to school her face. She couldn't quite manage it, though, and she knew that Steve had seen her concern when he looked back to her. "I'll keep you safe; I promise."

Felicity tried to smile at him, but her inner panic at the thought of an impending threat kept it to a tight, worried smile.

"You sure, Cap?" Sam asked as he started gathering his gear. "It's a pretty small car..."

"I've got this," Steve nodded, silencing Sam with a look.

"All right, then," Sam shrugged, took one last drink of water and shrugged back into his coat. "Call if you need us."

"Well, a ride back might be nice. I'm sure Tony's picked up a car-"

"Or four," Sam cut in.

Steve smirked and let out a quiet chuckle. "Or four by now. Grab one and you guys can come and get me, once Felicity is home safely."

"I'll...ah, I'll have him text you the address," Felicity added, feeling Steve's hand squeeze hers again reassuringly before he released his gentle hold on her.

"Understood," Sam nodded. "Stay safe, you two."

"And you," Steve nodded. "Watch each other's backs, understand? That's an order."

"We will," Wanda nodded. "I promise it."

Steve nodded. "See you soon."

"See you," Wanda echoed, then looked to Felicity as she rose from the booth and shrugged into her coat, too. "And I hope to see you again, too, Felicity. Try to sleep well tonight."

"I'll try," Felicity nodded, giving Wanda a grateful smile. Wanda patted her on the shoulder and went to the counter to thank Carly for the meal. Sam shook hands with Steve, then with Felicity, and he was gone, too.

Felicity looked to Steve, saw him watching his teammates walk toward the shadows, and she looked down at her own, mostly untouched, plate. She should probably just wrap it up and take it home, eat it tomorrow.

"Will they be okay?" Felicity asked quietly as she looked back to see concern etched on Steve's face.

"They should be," he answered, turning back to her, "but I always worry. They're my responsibility. Whatever happens to them, it's on me."

"That's not true," she countered.

"They're my team. I'm their leader, so it does fall on me," he shook his head, refusing to listen.

"What is it with you hero types all thinking like that?" She muttered, and Steve quirked an eyebrow at her. She swallowed hard at what she'd almost let slip, and tried to cover quickly. "You, Captain Lance...all of you in authority seem to think that if someone that you work with falls or gets injured, then it must be your fault. Care to explain that logic? And before you start, let me give you a hint: said 'logic' is completely flawed."

He looked at her and gave a small, amused smile. "How do you figure?"

"Because you can't control the bad guys. You can't control who they are, or what they do any more than you could a roller coaster ride at a carnival. The tracks are set, and you can't change their course," she answered softly. "All that you can do is hang on tight, and try to be prepared for those times when you are going to fall. What matters is how quickly you can pick yourself back up afterwards, because that's what's going to help the people around you to do the same."

Steve gave her a curious look, his blue eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her intently. She stared back at him, in turn. She couldn't help but smile shyly as he studied her eyes, her face, and body language for something, but she wasn't sure what. Apparently, he didn't find the answer to whatever he had been looking for, and it left him to shake his head in bemusement. He smiled back at her slowly, as if he couldn't quite figure her out.

"You know, you remind me of someone I used to know," he spoke slowly, and the way he met her eyes made her cheeks warm. "She had the same spark, the same habit of telling me I was wrong and not sugar coating it."

She laughed softly. "Probably why I'm still single...or at least a part of it."

"Their loss," he answered quickly, and Felicity couldn't tear her gaze from his own. A moment later, though, he nodded to her plate. "What do you say we pack that up, and I'll drive you home?"

She nodded for fear of not being able to find her voice, and cleared her throat.

"I, ah," she started, "I hope you can fit in my car. It's really small and you, you know, aren't. At all...anywhere..."

She bit her lip to keep from going on, and Steve just smiled at her. He actually seemed amused by her awkwardness, which was a relief. "I'm sure I can manage."

Felicity nodded, and then turned to find Carly. She was standing at the end of the counter, untying her apron and rolling it around her pad of order tickets. The rest of the diner was empty; the other patrons had already filed out.

"Carly? What time is it?" Felicity glanced up at the clock. "Oh, crap. It's after nine?"

"Yeah," Carly shrugged. "I've got to head out and relieve the sitter, but you're both welcome to stay for a few more --"

"No, no," Felicity told her quickly. She rose and crossed the diner to pull Carly into a tight embrace. "Give A.J. a hug for me, okay?"

"Will do," Carly nodded, then looked back to the table. "Do you want a doggie bag for your burger? You hardly touched it."

"Yeah," Felicity nodded sheepishly. "Sorry..."

"Don't be," Carly told her as she stepped behind the counter to pick up a styrofoam container and white paper bag. She held it out for Felicity, who took it with a grateful smile. "You've had a shock. You just get yourself home and rest, okay? Call me, if you need something. Or call John. Promise me that much."

"I promise," Felicity nodded. "I'll be okay."

Steve rose behind her, and she heard him step closer to the two of them.

"Ms. Diggle, if you're leaving, please let me walk you out," he offered. "It's the least I could do after the free meals."

"If you're sure..." Carly murmured, glancing up at him.

"It's not a problem at all," he shook his head, and smiled warmly, then turned to Felicity. "I'll be back in a jiffy."

"I'll be here," Felicity couldn't help but smile brightly at the old-fashioned phrase as he escorted Carly to her car and made sure that she was safely locked inside. While Steve saw to Carly's safety, Felicity went back to the table to place her leftovers in the take-out packaging.

She slipped the burger in first, poured the cold french fries in beside it, then closed the lid. She glanced out the window as she slipped the styrofoam container into the bag, and saw Steve holding a hand up in farewell to Carly as she drove off. When he turned, he caught her watching him and smiled. Felicity gave a small smile in return as she shouldered her purse, picked up her bag of leftovers, then dropped her broken phone and mangled glasses into her purse. By the time she had her car keys in hand and was ready to head toward the door, Steve was re-entering the diner. She stopped short and met his eyes as he entered.

"Ready?" He asked, holding a hand out to her. Felicity smiled and nodded as she took his hand and let him help her out of the diner.

"So ready," she breathed, her mouth curving up into a genuine smile. "I cannot tell you how ready I am to just go home, sit on my couch, and just pretend that this never, ever happened. Although, I would actually be kind of sad if I hadn't met you guys, because I kind of like you. And by that, I don't mean just you-you. I mean, yeah, I like you, too, but I meant 'you' as in the group of you, and oh my gosh, I'm doing it again...I am so sorry...I'll stop."

Felicity pressed her lips together in a tight line to stop herself from rambling further, but Steve - Steve Rogers, the man who was actually Captain America - simply held onto her hand and laid it over his arm with a chuckle. It was accompanied by a wide smile, this time, and a look of genuine amusement and understanding on his face as he walked her to her car.

"Don't apologize," he smiled at her. "You have nothing to apologize for."

"Only for rambling like a total idiot," she muttered and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Not like an idiot," he assured her. "'Refreshing' would probably be where I'd go with that."

Felicity's eyes shot up to his face, even with her cheeks burning, only to see him looking down at her with that same wide smile on his face.

"Why on earth would you call that refreshing?!" She questioned, dumbfounded. "That's just..."

"It's not every day you meet a dame -- ah, sorry," he cut himself off and tried again, "a woman like you, Felicity Smoak. Like I said earlier, you remind me a bit of someone I used to know."

Felicity looked stunned as they came up to her car. He took the keys from her and unlocked the vehicle, then opened the passenger door for her before she could even come back to her senses. She wondered for a brief moment if he had meant that the way it had sounded, then decided there was no way he possibly could have.

"Thank you," she answered softly, unsure of what else to say as she lowered herself into the passenger seat.

"You're welcome," Steve nodded. He started to close the door, but paused for a moment before he closed it completely. He looked down at her and gave her that same, wide smile. It was contagious, making him look even younger than he appeared, and Felicity returned the bright smile with one of her own.

"Besides," he added, fingers flexing around the frame of the door to rap on the window. "We like you, too. I'm glad we did meet, even if I am sorry for the circumstances."

"Am I going to have to keep saying 'thank you'?" She grinned, and he chuckled.

"Only if you want to," he smiled back at her before closing the door and walking around to the driver's side of the car. She reached across, slid the seat all the way back on its track to hopefully accommodate his six-foot-plus frame, and waited for him to slide in next to her. Maybe her night wouldn't turn out to be the worst ever, after all.

:x:

OUTSIDE OF BIG BELLY BURGER
STARLING CITY, THE GLADES; 8:57 PM

May, Daisy, and Lincoln blended well into the shadows, given that they were all wearing mostly dark colors. Even Lincoln's maroon shirt looked black in the inky light from the moon that barely filtered into the alleyway access across the street from the diner. The neon sign referred to it as "Big Belly Burger," and Daisy might have laughed at the ridiculous name, if only she hadn't been so hungry. A burger actually sounded outstanding.

They had arrived in the same moment that a red-headed woman had, and had opted to tuck themselves into the shadows across the street, instead of entering the diner behind her. They had watched as the diner's patrons seemed to be filing out rapidly, too, which had led Lincoln to posit that perhaps it had been nearly closing time.

May had remained silent, and pulled out a pair of binoculars from her pack, while Daisy had pulled out her tablet and searched the diner's hours.

"Yeah," she announced finally. "They close at 9:00. So much for getting something to-go."

Lincoln grinned, and crouched down beside her. Daisy tucked the tablet back into her backpack, and looked to him for a brief moment. He gave her a silent nod. Daisy knew that he was still nervous. Sure, he could defend himself when the time arose, but he hadn't been trained tactically. That was new to him, and while he had taken to the training she and May had been giving him, he still looked unsure of himself. Daisy supposed maybe that could be to their advantage during a fight. Lincoln was slight, and quite unassuming. He didn't look like anything special, and that had been why she'd wanted him on her team. He had been her first choice, and she had lobbied Coulson for a week about it. Lincoln's power had been the thing to win Coulson over, and once he had started picking up the subtleties of hand-to-hand combat, rather than the bar room brawling style he had favored before, Coulson had nodded and smiled at her proudly. Coulson was the only paternal figure she had left, and she absolutely wanted that sort of recognition.

"You okay?" She asked Lincoln softly, and he nodded.

"I'm fine," he answered, fingers flexing slightly as if he were itching to let a bolt of electricity loose. "I promise."

"Quiet back there," May scolded in a whisper. "This is still a stakeout."

Daisy grinned and looked down, then glanced back up at the diner. "Is that...?"

"Captain America, Falcon, and Scarlet Witch," May supplied, keeping her eyes locked on the table with her binoculars. "A fourth, too, but she's an unknown."

"No chance of danger since she's apparently with the team," Daisy muttered and watched as the blonde rose from the table, only to lead the red-headed woman into the diner's restroom. The redhead had a camera and an extra case that she towed behind her, which made Daisy chew on her lip thoughtfully. Outside the building, the diner's sign suddenly shut off, the last vestiges of excitement in the particles of neon gas fading away into complete darkness. Daisy hecked her watch. "Nine P.M., on the dot."

"Cook is clearing down the grill," May supplied. "It's definitely closing time. Get the tracker ready, just in case we need it. Rogers might know me, but I doubt he'll know you, Daisy. He certainly won't know Campbell."

Lincoln perked up at the sound of his last name. "Me?"

"You may have to plant a tracker on the team, if Hill doesn't find the rest of the Avengers," May clarified, turning her head back to the table as the last of the diner's patrons exited. That left only the two women in the restroom, the waitress, plus the trio of Avengers at the table. "Be prepared, if we need to make a move."

Daisy’s cell beeped softly from inside of her pocket, and she pulled it out carefully.

"It's Hill," she announced before picking up the phone with a whispered, "This is Daisy."

"Johnson, where the hell are you?" Hill demanded, and Daisy rolled her eyes.

"Surveilling," Daisy whispered. "Why?"

"You didn't check in with Coulson," Hill answered, and Daisy could hear her frown over the phone.

"Sorry," Skye spoke quietly. "We were trying to run silent. We've got eyes on Cap, Falcon, Scarlet Witch, and an unknown blonde woman. We're hanging back until we can figure out who she is, and whether or not she's a threat."

"Understood" Hill replied, and Daisy heard a rustling in the background. "Does everything appear all right with the team?"

"Yeah, they all look fine. They appear to have had dinner at a diner, and they've just been sitting with this woman until now. She just got up and went to the restroom with a redhead. The redhead had a camera and a kit that she took with her, so...a CSI, maybe?"

"A CSI?" Hill echoed. "What's happened out there?"

"No clue," Daisy frowned. "When we got here, they were all seated at a table together at the diner. No cops in sight."

"All right," Hill sighed. "Keep an eye on them. I've got the rest of the Avengers at the old Queen Mansion, and Mack and I are with them now. They've been worried about Cap and the others; he was supposed to have rendezvoused here a couple of hours ago."

"Let them know that everything appears fine," Daisy assured her. "If anything, it appears as though the Avengers are protecting this blonde."

"She looks rather shaken," May tossed over her shoulder. "On the verge of shock. Red marks on her neck, like she'd been attacked."

"You get that?" Daisy asked, and put the phone on speaker.

"Affirmative," Hill answered. "So it's reasonable to assume that Cap and company rescued this woman?"

"I'd say so," May nodded, keeping her eyes on the diner through the binoculars.

"And knowing him..," Hill started.

"Knowing him? He's not leaving her until he's sure she's all right. At least it doesn't appear that he's gone off-book already," May finished.

"My thoughts exactly," Hill agreed. "All right, maintain your tail on them, if you can, and make sure they stay out of trouble. Mack and I will meet up with you here."

"Understood," May nodded, then sat up straighter. "Wait one. I've got movement."

Daisy, May, and Lincoln watched as the bathroom door swung open, and the blonde emerged rubbing her eyes. She held up a hand as Cap started to rise, and he eased back into his seat.

"Report," Hill commanded.

"Nothing major," May replied, watching as the blonde sank back into the booth beside Rogers. "The blonde is out of the restroom, and she's back sitting with our team."

"Threat level?"

"Minimal," May answered shortly. "She shouldn't be a threat to a trio of Avengers."

"All right," Hill answered. "Be careful out there. Let us know when they head our way."

"Will do," May answered. "May, out."

She motioned for Daisy to hang up the phone, and Daisy disconnected as ordered. She pocketed the device, and lounged against the wall behind May. Daisy exchanged looks with Lincoln, and he came to stand beside her, too, only to wait in silence for something to happen.

A few minutes later, May's stance shifted slightly, to something a bit more attentive, and Daisy pushed away from the wall.

"Movement," May alerted them.

"What is it?" Daisy asked as she edged around May slowly to get a look, too.

"The redhead is heading out," May answered. "Hopefully that means we can narrow down the vehicles that are left. If the Avengers didn't drive, we should be able to tail them on foot."

Daisy nodded and watched as the red-headed woman loaded her various cases in the trunk of her car, then slid into the driver's seat. She sent off a quick text message, buckled her seat belt, then left the parking lot.

"She's gone," Daisy spoke quietly. That just left the table of Avengers, the blonde, the cook, and the waitress. "We in agreement that she was a CSI?"

May nodded. "I'm convinced."

Lincoln just shrugged. "I haven't had much experience with them, outside of television and attending biology classes with a few people who wanted their forensic science degree, so I'll take your word for it."

The group lapsed into silence for a few more moments, watching as the group of Avengers conversed together. Skye turned to Lincoln and gave him an encouraging smile; he was doing well with them, given that this was his first true field mission. She just hoped he was picking up some of the things that he needed to as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

"Eyes up. Falcon and Scarlet Witch are on the move," May spoke, breaking into Daisy’s thoughts. Daisy’s eyes snapped up to see Falcon and the Scarlet Witch seeming to say their goodbyes while slipping into their coats.

"I suppose we don't need the tracker, since we know where they're staying?" Daisy queried, readying the tech to be slipped back into her bag.

May nodded. "Stow your tech. Be ready to move. We may have to split up."

Daisy had already started slipping the case into her bag, when May held up a hand. "Wait. Give me one."

May's hand stuck out behind her, toward Daisy, and Daisy eased a tracking disc out of the zippered book. She placed a single tracker carefully into May's palm, and zipped the case back up before slipping it back into her pack. The discs were one of Fitz's many designs, and one that he and Mack had perfected together. The thought of Fitz alone, back at the Playground mourning Jemma, made Daisy’s heart ache all over again, but she knew that she had to push her grief aside during the mission. She could try to talk to Fitz once they had returned to the base. They had to get Jemma back, or the Avengers wouldn't be the only fractured team in existence.

"What are you going to do with the tracker, May?" Lincoln asked quietly from behind them. He had been quietly absorbing everything from behind them, watching how Daisy and May worked in tandem. Daisy and May had become a good team together, and they knew each other's strengths and weaknesses. Hopefully it wouldn't be long before Daisy and Lincoln could say the same about each other.

"We're going to plant it on the blonde's car," May replied, rolling the disc end over end between her index finger and thumb for a moment, trying to learn the lines and patterns of the new tech. She stilled and pulled it back into her palm without taking her eyes off of the diner. "She's an unknown, who seems to be getting close to our team. We need to know who she is, and what she's up to."

"I'm on it," Daisy nodded and started to go for her bag, only to be stopped by May again.

"Not here. Just make sure the tracker is powered up and recording," May countered.

"Understood," Daisy nodded, slipped her tablet out of her backpack, and powered up the app she had helped Mack and Fitz code. She tapped the screen a few times, and the tracker came to life in May's hand with a soft whir. Her app set to record the GPS data, Daisy turned the screen off and slipped the tablet back into her pack. "All set."

May nodded, then passed the binoculars to Daisy.

"I'll tail Falcon and Scarlet Witch," May told them. "You two be ready to set the tracker on the blonde's car, and we will rendezvous back at the mansion as Hill requested. Understand?"

"Understood," Daisy nodded, and May handed the tracker over to Daisy. "Stay safe."

May looked directly at Daisy for a moment, then nodded. "You, too."

Before anyone could get out another word, May was gone. Daisy let out a sigh and fixed her eyes on the diner through the binoculars.

"So," Lincoln started. He sounded unsure of himself, and Daisy had to resist the urge to turn and look at him. "She do that often?"

"What, take off like that?"

"Yeah," he answered. Daisy heard the crumple of his jacket and assumed he had shrugged. "Go all secret-agent-intense and just go for it?"

"It's her job, Lincoln. She's good at the whole 'secret agent' thing...really good at it. The best, actually," Daisy replied quietly as two of the three Avengers left the diner and headed out on foot. She caught the slightest glimpse of May's dark hair reflecting light from the streetlamps in the darkness, just for a split-second, before it was gone again. "You have to trust her. You're S.H.I.E.L.D. now, too."

"I trust you," he answered. "I spent too long questioning the motives of S.H.I.E.L.D. to just blindly accept them."

"And that was Jiaying's fault," Daisy countered, almost feeling sick again at the thought of her mother, and the all-out war she had nearly started. "S.H.I.E.L.D. is full of good people, Lincoln. May is one of them, trust me."

"Like I said," he replied softly, "I do trust you. It's the others that I'm not so sure about. I mean, what happens to us if we mess up? If we let someone get the better of us, or slip past us on a mission?"

Daisy pulled the binoculars from her eyes and fixed Lincoln with a hard look. "Would you do that, Lincoln? Just 'let' someone slip past you on a mission?"

"Of course not," he frowned. "Not on purpose."

"Because you promised to have my back," she continued. "And just like with my mother, not all of us with abilities fall strictly in the 'good guy' column. The ones that pose a threat to the world, they have to be addressed."

"Yeah, but the whole fish oil debacle? S.H.I.E.L.D. can't just put everyone who ingested it on the Index and hope for the best."

"No," Daisy agreed. "We can't. We've just got to take things one day at a time, and it starts with you and me. Can you handle that?"

Lincoln stared at her for a long moment, then nodded. "Yeah. I can handle that."

"Good," she nodded, looking back to the parking lot. Her eyes going to the pair of late-model cars in the lot. They were dirty, one of them a bit more beat up than the other, and she pulled the binoculars back up to her eyes to get a better look. Skye frowned, then looked to the red Mini Cooper S in the lot. It was clean, shining even in the dim lights from the street lamps. She shifted her gaze back inside where the waitress appeared to be readying herself to leave, as well. There was a key on the counter, and it looked old and beat up, as well. If she let her deductive reasoning skills take the reins for a moment... "The blonde drives the Mini."

"What?" Lincoln's head snapped to her. "How do you know?"

"If you lived or worked on this side of town, would you drive something that you take care of that well? Washed, shiny, and red? In a neighborhood rife with gang violence?" She asked. "Besides, one vehicle is parked almost behind the building, and I would assume it to be the owner's or the cook's, since he has to be there early...and the cook may be the owner, for all we know. Either way, that crosses off that vehicle and leaves us with the Mini and the other late-model vehicle. The late model is black, dirty, a subtle choice if you work out here. Besides, there's a key next to the waitress' hand that might match the age and condition of that vehicle, so my guess is that it belongs to her and not the blonde."

"Wow," Lincoln spoke softly. "Nicely done."

"Thanks," Daisy’s mouth quirked up into a small smile at his praise, but she never took her eyes off of the diner. "I think the waitress is leaving. Keep your eyes sharp."

Lincoln nodded, and turned his eyes to the parking lot. They watched on in silence as Cap rose from the booth and escorted the waitress toward the door. Daisy passed the binoculars to Lincoln and let out a breath.

"I have to do this," she breathed, and opened her hand to stare at the tracking disc. "I can do this."

"You can do this," Lincoln reassured her softly and blindly reached out a hand to rest on Daisy’s shoulder.

She took a deep breath and let his touch ground her. She had been studying scientific articles on moving objects with vibrations, and had been working on moving things herself, just to test the hypothesis that she could make it happen. So far, she had moved a pencil and a quarter a very short distance, but nothing like this, and nothing with the weight of Fitz's tracker. Its size was the same, but its weight was twice that of a quarter, and Daisy was nervous.

She laid the tracker on the ground, then placed her hand beside it, so that the little device fit within the angle created by her thumb and index fingers. Daisy closed her eyes and sent out a small sampling of her ability and directed it at the device. She could feel it rippling from the space between her fingers, and turned up the power that flowed from her. The device rattled slightly against the asphalt, and then slid forward about an inch. Daisy let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, and then picked up the device.

"They're coming outside," Lincoln told her quietly.

"Run silent," she whispered to him, and retook her place by Lincoln's side. Her eyes took in everything, watching as Cap thanked the waitress for her help, bid her goodnight, and held up a hand in a goodbye gesture as she drove off in the black late model car. She smirked at being proven right, and saw Lincoln's lips curve upward, as well. She had called it.

When the Captain turned and made to go back inside, Daisy rose from her crouch and readied herself to toss the tracker toward the Mini. She would try to direct it the rest of the way with her ability. She watched as Cap pulled the door open and slipped inside, then tossed the tiny disc toward the vehicle. It sailed through the air silently, then sank and hit the ground roughly three feet from the car. Daisy cursed inwardly; May would have landed it right beneath the car.

She didn't have time to berate herself, so she sank back down into her crouching position and pressed both palms to the ground. Daisy took a deep breath, and focused all of her energy on the tracker. It rattled slightly, and she leaned forward, urging it onward with everything she had.

"Come on," she whispered. "Move..."

Daisy could feel a light sheen of perspiration break out on her forehead and throat; she'd not tried to move objects from so far away before. She added more power, her hands trembling where they met the pavement as she tried to will the device to slide across the blacktop. She took a deep breath and held it, using more focus to urge the tracker to slide, but only succeeded in making it jump. She let out her breath, pulled her hands from the pavement, and shook them out. That attempt had nearly felt like a boot heel pressing into the backs of her hands, and she had to stop, or else face breaking her own hands.

"You're trying too hard," Lincoln spoke softly. He spared one last glance to the diner and then set the binoculars aside. Kneeling beside her, Lincoln placed both hands on her shoulders, and then ran them gently down her arms until he had her hands in his. He guided her hands back to the pavement, and laid them down gently. His fingers tapped at the hollow between her thumb and index finger, and he met her eyes. "You can do this. Let it flow from you, don't force it. It won't work when you force it."

Daisy nodded, her hands trembling slightly.

"Relax," he coached her with a soft breath, nodding back at her, "and focus. I know you can do this."

His eyes flicked between hers, and Daisy held his gaze. Lincoln was her friend, her guide, and he had been helping Inhumans transition for years. He was her greatest asset and ally, when it came to her powers, and she trusted him to coach her in this, implicitly.

"I can do this," she repeated softly, and let her power funnel through the space Lincoln had tapped on her hand. She felt it leaving her, this time, and it wasn't as painful as it had been a moment ago; this was almost peaceful, natural, easy.

"Close your eyes," Lincoln took her wrist in his hand and lifted her right hand from the ground gently, letting it hover an inch or two from the ground. "I'll help you guide it. Just focus your power, and envision the tracker moving smoothly."

She looked at him for a moment, then did what he asked. Her eyes slid closed, and she let out a deep sigh, focusing on letting her power issue from her in a smooth arc.

Lincoln watched as the tracker began to move jerkily at first, but then smoothed out. He lifted her hand a bit more, and the movement began to be flawless. He smiled out of pure pride, and looked back to Daisy.

"That's it," he whispered. "You're doing it."

She smiled slightly, but kept her concentration up. The tracker moved slowly, one foot gone, then two, and she felt Lincoln raise her hand again. The tracker slid the third foot, and then it disappeared beneath the car.

"Now," he spoke softly. "It's under the car. You have to make it jump up so that the magnet adheres to the chassis. Are you ready?"

Daisy nodded, and took another deep breath.

"Don't hold your breath," he reminded her, and she let it out in a rush.

Daisy held out her thumb, index, and middle fingers, and curved the others into her palm. She knew how to do this at a distance. Or, she hoped she did.

Her hand dipped down slightly, and she tried to envision her power sliding beneath the tracker, embracing it. She took a deep breath and flicked her hand up, only to be rewarded with a series of bounces. It hadn't worked.

"Damn," she breathed.

"Try again," Lincoln spoke quietly, his hand steady around her wrist.

She sighed and tried to settle back in. She let her power flow outward again, toward the tracker, and imagined herself finding it. She let her power cover the device and, after a moment, she flicked her hand upward again. This time, she heard a single, faint metallic clang, as if a magnet had engaged.

"Did I do it?" She opened her eyes and looked to Lincoln.

He released her wrist to pick up the binoculars, and glanced through them. With a smile, he handed them to Daisy.

"You got it," he beamed at her as she pulled the binoculars to her eyes, and watched as her shoulders sagged in relief.

"Thank God," she breathed, and sank back to the ground. She took a moment to rest, and then turned to her backpack. Daisy pulled her tablet out, and consulted the tracking app once more, just to make sure the tracker was working properly. Even the screen before her read, 'ENGAGED,' and Daisy felt relief wash over her. "I really did it."

She made sure that the app was recording the tracker's data once more, and then stowed her tablet.

"You really did it," Lincoln smiled at her. "I'm proud of you."

"Thank you, Lincoln," she beamed back at him.

"You don't have to thank me, Daisy," he replied, shaking his head. "I didn't do a thing."

"You did more than you think," Daisy grinned at him, then picked up the binoculars again as Captain America and the blonde headed for the Mini. Lincoln set about making sure their gear was ready to leave while Daisy kept watch. When they bypassed the driver's side of the car, Daisy’s eyebrows flew upwards. "They're on the move...and Cap is tucking the blonde into the passenger seat? What?"

"Seriously?" Lincoln smirked and looked up from his gear.

Daisy looked the woman over, her eyes stopping on the darkening welts around the blonde's throat.

"She really was attacked," Daisy murmured and passed the binoculars back to Lincoln. "Her throat, look."

"Wow," he breathed. "That is going to look nasty in a few hours."

"Yeah, but we can at least safely say that the most likely option is that Cap, Falcon, and Scarlet Witch saved her from whatever happened here tonight," Daisy answered. "We'll wait for them to leave the lot, and then we'll head uptown to meet up with May and Hill."

"All right, then," Lincoln nodded, watching in amusement as Captain America attempted to fold himself into the Mini Cooper S. He let out a quiet chuckle, and even Daisy had a hard time suppressing a smile of her own as they waited for the pair to leave.

There was, however, another set of eyes in the darkness; eyes that were watching the pair of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents from his own darkened alleyway in the Glades.

Grant Ward had frowned and fought the pangs of jealousy in his chest as he had watched Skye with the other man, the man who would have been him, once upon a lie. At least she was here, along with May; Ward had seen her, too. That meant that Coulson and the rest of the team wouldn't be too far off. With the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. making an appearance in Starling City, he supposed it was time to start putting his plan into action. Yes, he would start making his movements tomorrow. It was time.

chapter fic: [mcu/arrow/the flash/sanctuary crossover] there is justice in the end; chapter 4

linesfade — Fri, 01 Dec 2017 16:53:49 GMT

Author: linesfade
Rating: T/PG-13
Chapter: 4 / ??

WARNINGS: There is a mugging at the beginning of this chapter that may be difficult for some readers. Please proceed with caution.

Summary: HYDRA hasn't been destroyed, they've only been sent running to the shadows. With no one currently at the helm, Grant Ward takes it upon himself to become the head of HYDRA. He proceeds with an old HYDRA plan to infiltrate the shadowy Sanctuary Network, which only serves to draw the Avengers, Phil Coulson and the other Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. into the mix. The only problem is that they're cutting in on someone else's turf; Starling City already has a protector, and Team Arrow isn't going to take kindly to the invasion. They can handle the goings-on in their own city, including taking down HYDRA, once and for all. Or, so Oliver Queen thinks. It might just end up being more complicated than any of the heroes and vigilantes could have ever imagined.

Spoilers: Arrow: AU post 3x01, minus Sara's death; The Flash: Season 1 finale; Agents of SHIELD: Season 2 finale; Avengers/MCU: post Age of Ultron, with the minor change that Barton has a farm, but no family; and Sanctuary: AU after S1 finale, minus Watson's death.

Disclaimer: I do not own or have anything to do with Disney, Marvel comics, the MCU, Sanctuary, DC comics, the DCCU, the CW, ABC, or Syfy networks. I'm just playing in the sandboxes, and OH BOY, is it fun! No harm is intended, and the only thing I claim are the original characters.

A/N:So, I'm basically taking on one HECK of an undertaking with this fic, meshing these huge 'verses together. I hope, hope, and HOPE this turns out as good as it sounded in our heads, but we'll see. The Sanctuary portion of this is based on an RP that sweetveritas and I share, where Ashley and Declan are an item. (Just roll with it. It works, I promise! ;)) And a BIG, LARGE, McHUGE THANK YOU to sweetveritas and sietepecados for helping me keep everything straight with this crazy brainchild!

:x:

FOUR

OCTOBER 9
BIG BELLY BURGER, THE GLADES
STARLING CITY; 7:23 PM

Felicity had finally managed to pick up her to-go order, and was ready to head for home. She had just been a part of the absolute longest wait that she had ever witnessed at the burger joint, and that had been followed up with a little bit of chit-chat with Digg's sister-in-law, Carly. Carly had been married to Digg's brother before he had been killed several years back, and then two years ago, Carly and Digg had given a relationship or their own a shot. It hadn't worked out for them, obviously, as Digg was now back with HIS ex-wife, Lyla, and they were expecting their own little one any day now, and it had led to a good amount of awkwardness between he and Carly.

Felicity rapped her nails on the counter absently as the cashier punched in Felicity's credit card information. A moment later, Felicity was signing the store copy of the receipt and getting her card back. With a smile, Felicity then gathered up her food and dropped her credit card and wallet back into her purse as she headed for the door. Her phone buzzed in her purse, reminding her that she had a new voicemail. Given all of the drama that had surrounded she and Oliver back at the foundry, Felicity hadn't cared to listen to it. As she pushed through the door, though, she took the phone from the inner pocket of her bag and pulled up the voicemail.

As the message began to play, she registered Ashley's voice, the woman she had met the day before with Sara at Big Belly, and smiled. Felicity had been hoping she'd call. She was actually looking forward to building something from the ground up, and if this was something that could help her to put off working for Ray Palmer for another day or two, she was all for it. She was mentally filing away details as she fished for the keys to her car in her purse.

It was a stupid move.

Every woman in Starling City, hell, in the world knew to pull her keys out of her purse before heading to the car to make getting in a smoother ordeal and to help ward off would-be muggers and kidnappers. Yet there she was stopped beside her car, phone held up to her ear by one shoulder as she listened to the message, digging in her purse one-handed while she held the take out bag in the other. She was a prime target. She didn't even hear the footsteps until after the muzzle of a revolver had been jammed into her spine, making her cry out in both surprise and pain as the cold metal connected with bone. The phone fell from her shoulder with a clatter and a cracking sound, and her take out hit the ground right behind it. She watched, horrified, as the contents of the white bag spilled over the asphalt, before it registered that she was actually being mugged in the parking lot of Big Belly Burger.

"Oh, FRAK!" Felicity whined. "Why am I suddenly that girl?! Oh, God, I’m such an idiot!"

"Zip it, girlie," a gruff voice spoke up behind her. His voice was too rough, like someone who had wasted forty years of his life on a pack-a-day habit, and the scent of him served only to confirm her hypothesis. Between that and the reek of booze wafting off of him, Felicity idly wondered how his own toxic fumes hadn't knocked him out cold. "Hand over the purse, and you can go on your merry way."

Felicity just stood still, but tried to turn her head to catch a glimpse of her mugger. She figured he'd done this before by the way he kept himself behind her, and her assumption was only furthered by the fact that he shoved her roughly against the door of her car with an audible thud. Her hip impacted the handle on the car door just right, and Felicity couldn't help but let out a squeak of pain as she tried to crumple to the ground to escape his hold. She was only stopped by her assailant grabbing a handful of her blonde ponytail and hauling her back upright.

She screamed then, and he shook her roughly by her ponytail. Tears sprang to her eyes at the force behind the abuse, and she did the only thing she could think of, even if it wouldn't be nearly as effective as when she was wearing her high heels: she planted her heel firmly over his foot at the base of his toes and dug downward, twisting with all her might, then followed it up with an elbow to his stomach. She tried to execute it just as Digg had taught her, but she was uncertain she'd done it to the best of her ability. Nevertheless, she ducked under his arm as the shock of her actions caused him to release his grip on her hair and double over, and Felicity tried for her escape. She must have been right and not have hit him hard enough, or in the right place, because his hand shot out and caught her ponytail again. He pulled her back, and this time changed his grip until he had a hand around her throat, and slammed her back into her car. Panic seized her then, watching the ghost that had been behind her morph into someone real, plainly desperate, and vicious. He squeezed roughly and she tried to scream, but only managed a strangled cry.

"I told you to hand it over, girlie," her attacker tsked at her. "Now you get to pay for that little stunt."

"I am only going to warn you once: take your hands off of the lady, pal," a calm, authoritative voice floated in from behind the grizzled visage that would most certainly be in her nightmares for the next six months. The new voice, though, it had a slightly calming effect on her, even in her current situation. It wasn't a familiar voice, which shocked her, but at the moment, she wasn't going to bring herself to complain.

Her attacker glared down into her eyes, his green eyes ablaze with unconcealed rage at the interruption. His fingers squeezed harder around her throat, and she clawed at his wrist as she fought for breath for just a split second before he released her, whirled, and rushed the new voice blindly, only to be caught by a devastating uppercut to the midsection.

Felicity had gasped as the man's hand left her throat, and she collapsed to the ground in a heap, biting her lip to keep the tears from welling up in her eyes. She fought to regain her breath and to fend off the sudden dizziness as tears fell down her cheeks, unbidden. She grasped at her throat, as if she were still trying to peel the offending hand away, and started when a gentle hand fell on her shoulder.

"Are you all right, Miss?" It was that same calm voice, the voice of the man that had saved her. Felicity shook her head, completely unsure of anything, her shoulders quaking under his touch. She looked up at him slowly, as if in a daze, and her eyes met a pair of concerned blue orbs staring at her intently from an incredibly short distance away. The first thing she would have said about those eyes, was that they were sincere, caring, real.

Felicity came back to herself slowly and realized she was staring into his eyes. Next, she realized that he was staring back. A throat cleared behind them, and her savior blinked. The moment broken, she took the moment to look over his face and the rest of him as he crouched before her. His features were strong, "chiseled" was probably an accurate head-to-toe descriptor for the man standing before her, because, God, the width of those shoulders! "Soldier" seemed to be an appropriate follow-up to that first descriptor. He absolutely looked like a soldier, despite the dark navy jeans, dark tee shirt, and leather bomber jacket he wore. The leather smelled old, of gin and the spice of his aftershave, and everything about him suddenly gave her the sense of complete safety. Her savior glanced behind him, and she followed his eyes. Two people stood behind him, a very well-built African-American man that she would also describe as having the distinct look of a soldier, his entire body tensed and battle-ready, should her attacker try to get back to his feet and run. On the other side of him stood a woman, incredibly pale-skinned with dark hair, who looked as though she wanted nothing more than to maim the assailant in any way possible, if only she could decide where to begin. If it were up to Felicity, she would tell the woman to have a field day, but at the moment, she wasn't even sure she could speak a word.

Her savior turned back to her and offered a small smile. And dear God in Heaven, that smile was seriously the most charming thing she'd ever seen.

"Are you all right?" He asked again, and his accent filtered it's way through the haze surrounding her to her ears, this time. It sounded like something from New York, or thereabouts, and God, was that sexy, too. "Can you move?"

She nodded gingerly and tried to answer, but only a croak came out. She frowned, cleared her throat, and tried again.

"Yeah," she rasped. "Sorry, I think so..."

"Here. Let me help you up," he offered, standing and holding out both hands to her to help her to her feet. She made sure that she had her purse around one arm, then slipped her hands into his. Felicity had to bite her lip at how gentle he was with her. His large, calloused hands devoured hers, but he drew her up to her feet to stand carefully and helped to steady her when she swayed on her feet. "Better?"

"Honestly?" She croaked, then thought better of it and changed to a whisper. "Not sure yet."

He gave her another soft smile, and this time she couldn't help but return it. He held her eyes for another moment, until the door to the restaurant behind him banged open and she heard the sound of tennis shoes slapping across the pavement.

"Felicity?! Felicity! Are you okay?!" Carly rushed to Felicity's side and cupped her cheek, then pulled the blonde into an embrace. "Oh my God, look at you! I've already called the cops, they're on their way...are you okay?!"

"I...I don't..." Felicity started, her voice cracking, but Carly shook her head.

"Don't speak, just come inside. All of you. Burgers are on the house," Carly spoke, smiling at each of them.

"I'm gonna stay out here and keep an eye on the trash, if you don't mind, Cap," the black man spoke up, and her savior nodded at him.

"Just keep an eye out," 'Cap' answered. "Call if you need us."

"Yes, sir," the other man nodded, then looked at Felicity. "You're in good hands. Don't you worry about a thing."

Felicity just nodded, still a bit bewildered by what was happening around her. Her mind was reeling, and the only things that were keeping her grounded was Carly's grip on her hand and 'Cap's' fingers against the small of her back as they led her inside the restaurant. Even the door chime hardly registered amongst the deafening silence in the diner. A few murmurs circulated amongst the crowd as they walked to the back of the restaurant; however, Felicity and Carly paid them no mind, nor did the woman who had stood with her savior, or 'Cap' himself.

Finally, Carly sat Felicity down into a corner booth, and patted her shoulder.

"Do you want me to call John, Felicity?" She offered softly. "I'm sure he would be here in a heartbeat..."

"No!" Felicity answered quickly. Her voice was hoarse and fragile and it broke repeatedly as she tried to speak. Her eyes flashed with both fear and dread as Carly watched her closely. "No, not Digg. No...I'll be all right. I...he'd bring Oliver along, and I am SO not ready for this conversation with him right now. Considering he...already thinks I can't take care of myself, this would only prove him right. Yeah, no. No Digg."

Carly laughed a little. "There's my girl. Let me get you a drink...I'll be right back."

"Kay," Felicity whispered, nodding. She winced and laid a hand on her tender throat again, and looked back to the pale woman and her savior. "I'm not sure...that a 'thank you' would quite cover what you did for me."

His mouth curved up into a half smile for a moment as he slid into the booth across the table from her. The woman pulled a chair from an adjacent table and turned it backwards so that she could straddle it and rest her forearms on the chair back.

"You don't have to thank us," he answered her gently. "It was the right thing to do."

"There's not a lot of people in the Glades interested in doing 'the right thing' these days," Felicity croaked out, clearing her throat repeatedly as she spoke.

"So we've heard," the woman spoke, and Felicity's eyes went instantly to her.

"You're Russian?" Felicity asked, surprised.

"Sokovian, actually," the woman corrected with a small smile.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry," Felicity backpedaled. "I couldn't imagine..."

"Thank you," the woman smiled sadly, then held out a hand to Felicity. "Wanda Maximoff. Pleasure to meet you."

Felicity took the extended hand and shook it gently.

"Felicity-" she started, then coughed into her sleeve. Damn that man's grip. "Felicity Smoak. My friend is..."

"Carly Diggle," Carly finished for her as she returned to the table with a tray of waters. She set them down before each person at the table, and passed Felicity a chocolate milkshake as well.

"You're a goddess, Carly," Felicity smiled at her.

"What can I say? I try. I've got you a new burger on order, Felicity. Can I get you two anything? Or for your friend outside?" Carly asked, looking between the other two at the table.

Felicity glanced back at the man who had saved her and found him looking at her again. She gave a shy smile and he returned it, then looked to Carly.

"A burger and fries would be great. Nothing too fancy," he answered, then thanked Carly. She nodded at him and winked at Felicity. Felicity just blushed and looked down, trying to hide herself behind the tall milkshake.

"I would love the same, please," Wanda answered as well. "That sounds lovely. Thank you."

"My pleasure," Carly answered. "How about your friend?"

"I'm sure he could do with a burger, too," 'Cap' answered, and Carly nodded before heading off to turn in their orders as well.

Felicity glanced outside at the sight of red and blue lights and the sound of sirens, to see the other man that had been with them talking down to the man who had tried to mug her. Her attacker looked up from his place on the asphalt, and seemed to glare up at the man above him. A door slammed, and Captain Lance exited the car. He spared a look for the criminal, his eyes going wide as he took in the scene before him. He turned around, meeting eyes with Felicity and the other two at the table with her and promptly marched inside, leaving the officers in the squad car behind him to deal with the perpetrator.

Felicity excused herself from the table and rose as Captain Lance entered the diner and strode toward her.

"Hey, kiddo," he greeted, not stopping until he had folded her into an embrace in the middle of the diner. She collapsed against him, never ceasing to adore how he treated her like one of his own daughters. "You okay?"

"Still not sure," she answered, her voice cracking as she answered. She realized she hadn't gotten a drink of water yet and mentally admonished herself for the oversight. "You didn't have to come, personally..."

"Are you kidding?" He shifted so that he could he her out at arm's length, and gave her a frown. "Felicity Smoak, you're like one of my own, of course I was gonna come. Besides, you think I'd trust those lunkheads to take care of you? Notta chance, kiddo. Notta chance."

"Thank you, Captain Lance," she beamed at him in gratitude.

"Any time," he answered, then shifted his eyes to her throat. "Damn it. He did a number on you..."

Lance tucked a knuckle under her chin and lifted gently.

"You know we're going to need to get photos of this, right?" He asked softly. "And your statement?"

"I know," Felicity whispered, her smile fading fast.

"We can do the statement tomorrow, but we should try get the photos tonight, once the CSI shows up. Maybe even get some more tomorrow when they look worse," he told her gently as he released her chin.

"Tomorrow would be great, Captain," she sighed in relief. "I don't think talking will be easy tonight. Thank you."

"Sure thing, kiddo," he nodded. "Let's sit and get you a drink or something..."

He looked toward the booth where she'd been sitting, and both her savior and Wanda stood to greet Captain Lance. Lance's jaw dropped for a moment, but he recovered quickly.

"Son of a bitch," he murmured as he strode toward the table and half out a hand in greeting. "I thought I'd recognized you, son, but I wasn't so sure Starling City could get so lucky. Captain Quentin Lance, SCPD."

"Captain Steve Rogers," her savior answered, taking Lance's hand in a firm grip. "This is Wanda Maximoff, and outside is our other teammate, Sam Wilson. Happy to assist the SCPD in any way you need, Captain Lance."

"I appreciate that," Lance nodded. "I assume you were the ones who put a stop to this outside, by the way your buddy's keeping vigil over that creep outside?"

"Yes sir," Steve answered, but Felicity tuned out their conversation from there as she drew closer.

She looked at Wanda, queries and theories running through her mind. She looked out the window to see the man Steve had referred to as Sam Wilson watching on intently as her attacker was stuffed into the back of the squad car in cuffs, and then turned back to the man who had saved her. Her eyes went wide as the truth finally registered in her mind. She didn't know how she'd missed it before; she'd watched the replays over and over again on the news when the tragedy in Sokovia had happened, and before that, the clips from the alien invasion in New York. Steve Rogers. Steve Rogers was Captain America. He had been there during both catastrophes and had had a hand in saving the day. Even Wanda had been caught by cell phone camera in Sokovia, fighting beside - and with - the Avengers. The man outside, Sam Wilson, had been pictured in a flight suit thingy, fighting alongside Captain America the day that HYDRA had taken down S.H.I.E.L.D..

"Oh my God," Felicity whispered to herself in realization. "They're Avengers. Oliver is SO going to crap his territorial pants over this!"

She slipped silently past Wanda and Steve as they talked with Captain Lance and sank back into the booth, drawing the milkshake to herself and taking a long, deep gulp. She was definitely going to need more than this, before the night was over.

:x:

STARLING CITY PRIVATE AIRPORT
QUEEN/MERLYN HANGAR; 7:54 PM

Maria Hill and Melinda May had set the Quinjet down twenty minutes prior, and then exited the plane to check that their surroundings were secure. Daisy checked and rechecked the action on her sidearm, but knew that it wasn't the really necessary. Being an Inhuman had its perks; her ability to tweak the resonating frequency of any object in existence, that was weapon enough. She looked up at the clang of boots on the metal cargo ramp as May and Hill walked back toward them, weapons holstered. Coulson and Daisy stood at the ready, Lincoln Campbell, one of the Inhumans and a friend of Daisy’s, stood with Mack behind them. Fitz had elected to stay behind. Well, it was more than that. He had outright ignored Daisy when she had begged him to leave the Playground and come back into the field. He was still one hundred percent focused on finding and bringing Jemma Simmons home, and Daisy was becoming more and more concerned with each passing day. Mack could handle the tech side of things, and he was incredibly gifted, but he wasn't Fitz. Daisy just wanted her friends back...he and Jemma, both. She just wasn't sure that there was much hope for finding Jemma anymore. She had stumbled upon a few leads that she'd laid out for Fitz to look into, but she wasn't sure that even he could make heads or tails of them. She hoped for all of their sakes, but mostly for his, that he could.

"Everything appears to be all right here, Phil. The Avengers' jet is here, too, but Stark didn't see fit to cloak it, the arrogant ass," Maria spoke as they walked back up the cargo ramp. Daisy caught the uptick of a smirk on May's face, but it was gone in the blink of an eye.

"Looks like they all went their separate ways," May added. "I can't tell where they've gone, the dust inside the hangar ends at the Tarmac, but it looks like three of them headed off on foot towards the Glades. It's the riskiest move, so that was probably Rogers. Maybe it's best that we start out there, if he's not one hundred percent in the game."

"No, Rogers will have things under control," Coulson disagreed. "We need to find Stark. His inclusion makes him the wildcard in all of this."

Daisy nodded and dropped to her knees to unzip her bag. She pulled out her tablet and unlocked it, then pulled up everything S.H.I.E.L.D. had on Tony Stark.

"First order of business," she murmured to herself, "financials..."

A few taps to the tablet screen, and Daisy had everything in front of her. She flipped through page after page until she found what she was looking for.

"Got him. Looks like the paperwork was signed early this morning on a...wow. A huge property here in what appears to be the most affluent neighborhood in Starling City..."

"Gee, that doesn't sound like Stark," Coulson smirked.

"Looks like it was purchased this morning for an UNGODLY amount of money..." Daisy’s eyes widened considerably at the figure, but didn't quote it. "It was formerly owned by a Robert and Moira Queen, and then passed on to Oliver and Thea Queen upon the event of Moira Queen's murder. God...and then Queen Consolidated took control of the property from Oliver Queen in about mid-2014. Poor guy went from having everything to nothing...and now his house is owned by Stark Industries, That has to totally suck for him."

"Yeah," Coulson shrugged. "I'm sure it does."

"Keep Googling his name and you'll come up with a long list of things that have 'sucked' for Oliver Queen," Maria added acerbically. "The least of which is probably his family's meteoric fall from their elite status as members of the one-percent."

"Ouch," Daisy frowned at Maria and stuffed the tablet back into her pack. "That's a bit cold, don't you think?"

"Do you remember two years ago when half of this city was reduced to rubble?" Maria asked Daisy, point blank. When she nodded, Maria continued. "It was Robert and Moira Queen who were in league with Malcolm Merlyn on that little plan. They helped to level half of this city, and even if Moira did have a change of heart in the end, no, I don't think it's all that cold. I think it's karma."

Daisy paled a bit and shouldered her pack, then glanced back to Lincoln. He simply shrugged at her and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. Coulson turned to look at them, and Daisy shook her head at him gently. She supposed there was a reason that Hill was one of Nick Fury's top agents, and her sometimes cold pragmatism had to have been one of the catalysts that got her there.

"All right," Mack spoke from behind all of them. "So what's our plan, then?"

"Head to the former Queen mansion," Coulson answered matter-of-factly. "May, you take S—Daisy and Lincoln and see if you can't get a lead on Rogers and whoever else he's got with him. Don't interact, just keep an eye out and let me know when you've located them."

May nodded, and Lincoln shouldered his bag of medical supplies over the leather coat he wore. Daisy hoped he was ready for his first field mission, but regardless, she knew she could count on him to have her back; Inhumans always stuck together, no matter what. His electrical powers were certainly an asset to their team, he had already saved her life once, and she just hoped he was past his suspicion of S.H.I.E.L.D., in general, so that he would have everyone else's back if it came down to it.

"Are you staying, Maria?" Coulson asked, looking her squarely in the eyes.

"I can stick around for a while, but I'm needed back at Stark HQ soon," she answered warily. "Why?"

"I need you and Mack to check out the mansion, see if any of our friends are there while I run a quick errand," Coulson answered.

"And what's that?" She asked, quirking up an eyebrow at him.

"I'm going to get us a car," he answered with a grin, then tucked his wallet into his pocket. "You know. Might come in handy."

:x:

THE FORMER QUEEN MANSION, THE HEIGHTS
NORTH OF THE BUSINESS DISTRICT
STARLING CITY; 8:23 PM

"I don't like it," Natasha Romanoff spoke for the fourth time. "Something is off. Cap and the others should be here by now."

Clint Barton just sighed and leaned out, sweeping his keen eyes over the lush, green grounds of what was formerly the Queen mansion. "If Rogers was in trouble, he'd let us know."

"Unless he can't," Natasha countered, climbing up onto one of the parapets beside Barton. "He said he'd be here in an hour, you heard Stark. And Steve is never late, you know that."

"Nat, just give him a bit longer," Clint replied, trying to calm her. "He probably just...found a stray cat or something. You know Rogers."

"Seriously? You've been spending too much time around Stark," Natasha frowned at him, then slugged him in the shoulder.

"Ow!" Clint protested playfully. "Okay, while I agree it's not like Rogers, I really think one of them would make contact if they were in trouble. Don't worry. Yet."

"It's been nearly three hours since we split up, Clint," Natasha frowned at him. "I think that entitles me to a little bit of concern."

"Okay, fine. Three hours of no contact, and I'd start to worry even about you. Do you want to get down there and...hold on. Incoming."

Natasha drew her Glock 26 with her right hand in a flash, and a pair of binoculars with her left hand.

"I count two unknowns," Natasha confirmed. "Behind the rose bushes. Not even trying to be subtle, are you?"

"Let's get down there and find out what's going on, before we raise the alarm," Clint suggested, and reached in his quiver for a grappling arrow.

"What, you're already going to put holes in Stark's new house? Some house guest you are," Natasha smirked, and Clint grinned.

"Nah," he answered as he notched the arrow and fired it quickly toward one of the lower outbuildings. Natasha tracked it with her binoculars, and nodded as she saw the flash of sparks when it embedded itself into the stonework. "We are going to put holes in his new house."

"Got a lock," she told him, throwing him a smirk, and he nodded. Clint secured the other end of the cable tightly behind them and reached up with his bow to notch it on the zip cable.

Clint motioned her closer and hooked an arm around her waist. She smirked as he drew her in tightly, and fit her against him. "Cozy?" He smirked back.

"Very," Natasha put away her binoculars and drew her other Glock. "Ready when you are."

"Then, we're off," Clint grinned at her and flicked a switch on his bow that would close a latch around the cable. He gripped her tighter around the waist and held on tightly as she trained her weapons on the unknowns in the garden. Clint launched them off of the parapet with a hard kick, and they sped silently down the cable toward their targets. Natasha kept her eyes and one gun trained on the rose bushes, the other gun extended behind them for when they would pass behind the bushes. She needed to quickly be able to change vantage points, once they dropped off of the zip line behind the intruders.

A few seconds more, and they were behind the unknowns in the garden, heading quickly for the wall of the outbuilding his arrow had anchored to.

"Dropping in three, two, one, go," Clint counted softly into her ear, then released the latch on his bow to drop them to the ground. He gave her a slight push off to let her drop the few remaining feet on her own, and they landed beside each other in a crouch. Clint and Natasha exchanged glances and silent hand gestures, then nodded to one another. Natasha took off at a silent run toward the left side of the bushes, while Clint took the right.

Natasha pulled up and took a knee behind the bushes. The shadows of the garden made it a likely spot for kids to break in and make out, but these two weren't kids, let alone making out. They were each crouched down as she was, seemingly surveilling the mansion. Well, she and Clint were about to put an end to that. Natasha looked up and instantly found Clint's eyes on her. She motioned for him to draw an arrow, and get ready. The fools cowering in the bushes didn't even know they had been spotted, or so it seemed.

Natasha nodded to Clint, and they both popped up from the bushes at the same time. The two intruders startled, and before Natasha could even shout, 'Freeze!' the male was on her. She parried his hard strikes quickly, and while he had brute force on his side, he struck with a hesitancy that showed his hand; he wasn't a true fighter. A true fighter lashed out to win, to kill. This man didn't enjoy the violence; he only did it because it was required of him, and that was what was going to cost him.

Natasha kicked him in the midsection, sending him backwards for a brief moment so that she could regain the offensive. When he launched himself at her, she wrapped her arm around the base of his skull and used his towering height and momentum to flip him over. She straddled his chest, digging a knee into his right arm to pin him, and had leveled both handguns at his face when a shout rang out.

"Romanoff! Stand down!" Natasha's head snapped up, but her guns remained trained on the man who had attacked her.

Maria Hill stepped out of the shadows, followed closely by Clint Barton.

"Hey," he grinned, pointing at Maria as he replaced the arrow in his quiver. His quiver whirred mechanically as it locked the arrow back into place, and then all was silent. "Look who I found."

Natasha frowned at them both, and sighed. "I'm assuming he's with you?" Natasha queried. She stared directly at the former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent as she nodded to the man pinned beneath her.

"He is," Maria nodded, and motioned for Natasha to holster her weapons. "Now, do you mind releasing my mission tech? I kinda need him."

"Mission tech?" Natasha repeated, raising an eyebrow in surprise. She looked down at the man beneath her as she holstered her weapons. "You fight well, for a tech."

"Yeah, well," the man beneath her panted. "It's not really an even fight, coming up against you two."

Natasha rolled off of him smoothly and got to her feet, reaching down with one hand to help the giant up.

"I see you know us, so I'm guessing that you're a former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, as well?" Natasha asked as the big man got to his feet. He was huge: tall, well-built, dark skinned, and had an intelligence in his eyes that belied the look of brute force about him.

"Current S.H.I.E.L.D. agent," he corrected as he greeted her with a squeeze of her hand. "I work closely with the current Director. Alphonso Mackenzie. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Agent Romanoff."

"It's just Natasha, now," she corrected him.

"Then you can just call me Mack," he nodded and dropped her hand to start brushing himself off.

"All right," she nodded. "Mack, Clint Barton. Clint, Mack."

Mack and Clint nodded to each other from several feet apart, in typical male fashion.

"Now that we're all acquainted," Natasha continued, "do you mind telling us what you're doing here, Maria?"

"The director of S.H.I.E.L.D. asked me to come, since you know me. They picked up on the same intel as Tony did, and wanted to come and check it out themselves. They saw in the financials that Stark Industries bought up this place this morning and figured it was the best bet to make contact, if we needed to. The Director sent us ahead to see if you were even here yet," She explained, fudging the truth enough to suit their needs while her eyes combed the grounds for threats and weaknesses.

"Obviously, we are," Natasha smirked.

"Obviously," Hill echoed as she matched Natasha's expression.

"Any chance you're going to fill in the gaps as to who this mysterious new Director is?" Clint asked as he tweaked a setting on his bow without looking up.

"Not just yet," Hill shook her head and shrugged. Natasha just nodded her head and grinned, more out of annoyance than anything else. She'd expected that answer. "So, are you willing to work with S.H.I.E.L.D., if they need the help?"

Natasha looked to Clint, and they held a silent conversation for a brief moment.

"I think," Clint spoke up, "that that's up to the boss, not us. Though, I personally wouldn't be opposed."

"Nor would I," Natasha agreed, "but officially, you'd have to ask Steve."

Maria nodded. "So where is he?"

Natasha and Clint exchanged concerned glances again, and this time Clint drew closer to Nat.

"We don't know," Clint answered first.

"We were hoping that you might," Natasha added, and Maria sighed.

"Well, damn," Maria muttered, pulled out her cell phone, and began to dial.

:x:

BIG BELLY BURGER, THE GLADES
STARLING CITY; 8:32 PM

The thirty-or-so minutes after Felicity had realized who her rescuers truly were had passed quickly, given the endless number of thoughts and questions ticking through her mind. Carly had delivered their burgers to the table somewhere during that time, but Felicity had ignored hers completely. She felt eyes settle on her from time to time, but she never looked up once to meet their questioning gazes. She hadn't even looked up when Captain Lance had left; she'd simply drained the milkshake and started in on her glass of water in lieu of paying attention. She was starting to feel cold and idly wondered if the chill was from the milkshake, or from shock because of the ordeal she'd just been through.

Before she realized it, a calloused hand had reached out to her from across the table, and given her hand a gentle squeeze. She blinked twice and looked up to see that Steve had slid back into the booth across from her. Wanda was in the process of retaking her seat at the head of the table, and their third team member had just walked through the door.

"Captain Lance said he'd swing by your place tomorrow afternoon to get your statement," Steve told her gently. "I wasn't sure if you'd heard him or not..."

"No, I didn't," she answered quietly, her eyes flicking back and forth between them before she settled on the man across from her. Thankfully, her voice was sounding a little better. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he nodded and squeezed her hand again, but didn't pull it away.

"You're Captain Rogers. Captain America, I mean," she breathed quietly. It wasn't a question, more a statement that she knew, but wanted it affirmed by him anyway.

"I am," He sighed softly, and moved to take his hand back, but she held on.

"Then...thank you, Captain," she spoke quietly as Sam made his way to the table. "For everything."

She stared into his blue eyes, hoping that he understood her meaning. She was thanking him not only for saving her, but for being the man that he was, for his sacrifices, for fighting to make their country something better every single day of his life. She wanted him to know that she was grateful, that someone in America was grateful for the things that he had chosen to give up. He held her gaze for a long moment, and only when her grip loosened on his hand did he smile softly at her and nod.

"You're welcome," he spoke again, "Miss Smoak."

"Ew, call me Felicity, please," she laughed a little as she pulled a teasing face. Felicity then smiled softly back at him, canting her head slightly to one side as she bit her lip in thought. A throat cleared for the second time since he'd saved her, and Felicity looked up to see Wanda's eyes averted, studiously watching the ice floating in her water glass, and Sam Wilson standing over all of them at the end of the table.

"So, do you two need your own table, or can a guy sit and grab a burger with you?" He smirked, and Felicity blushed a bright shade of crimson. She released Steve's hand at the same time he released hers, and Steve slid in toward the wall to make room for Sam.

"Ha-ha," Steve deadpanned, then gave an apologetic look to Felicity. She just smiled softly and shook her head as if to tell him not to worry about it. "He didn't give you any trouble, did he?"

"Nah," Sam shook his head as he slipped into the booth. "Nothing I couldn't handle, Cap."

Sam turned to look at Felicity and gave her a smile. "You okay?"

"I think so," she nodded, and slipped further into the booth, herself. She wasn't sure if she was trying to melt into the corner, or hide from the prying eyes of the other patrons, but Steve seemed to catch her unease and gave her a gentle look. She attempted another smile. "Maybe. At least my voice is coming back. I'm just ready to call this day 'over,' you know?"

"I can imagine," Sam nodded, leaning back into the booth for a moment, then leaned toward her and held out a hand. "I guess Cap, here, isn't gonna do it, so allow me to introduce myself. Sam Wilson."

"They already kinda told me who you were," Felicity told him, offering a small smile and a shrug of her shoulders as she shook his hand. She was slightly amused by Sam, and she couldn't tell whether he was trying to be funny on purpose to lighten the situation, or if it was something that just came naturally to him. Either way, she was grateful for his humor. "I'm Felicity Smoak."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, officially," Sam grinned at her, then nodded toward the window. "And...looks like you've got a visitor."

Felicity looked at him, puzzled, and the group all turned toward the window as Sam pointed.

"Sara!" She exclaimed, seeing the other blonde just on the other side of the window. "Excuse me, guys. And lady. I'll be right back...Promise."

Felicity slipped out of the booth and rushed outside, meeting Sara who was nearly to the doorway herself. The other blonde enveloped Felicity into a hug, and Felicity held onto Sara tightly.

"Hey, Cutie," Sara sighed, and Felicity felt as though she could hear Sara's disappointment in that exhale. "My dad called. Luckily, I picked up instead of Oliver. You okay?"

"I think so...I'm so sorry, Sara," Felicity muttered. "I was so stupid. I feel like a total idiot. I didn't think, and I just...wanted to get home so I wasn't paying enough attention to my surroundings, and..."

"It doesn't matter now," Sara cut in. "What matters is that you're okay. You are okay, right?"

"I think so," Felicity nodded, and Sara reached out a hand to lift Felicity's chin. "I mean, I'm sore, but nothing that a good night's sleep and some Tylenol won't cure."

"Damn," Sara muttered as she bushed a thumb over the bruises that were forming. "That jackass did a number on you. My dad got him, right? Because if he didn't..."

"It's okay. He's locked up," Felicity assured her, brushing Sara's hands away. "You don't have to do...whatever it is that you're planning on doing. Your dad's coming over tomorrow to get my statement. I just...haven't felt much like talking about it tonight...for obvious reasons..."

Sara smiled and tucked a stray hair behind Felicity's ear. Felicity reached up to rub lightly at her throat, and Sara frowned.

"You need to go home," Sara told her sternly. "Rest. Tonight is probably going to be rough enough for you to sleep as it is."

"I know," Felicity answered as she ran a frustrated hand through her hair, "but I just redid the comms system and I need to make sure the reboot happened and that everything is working..."

"I can handle it, Cutie. You did the heavy lifting, I think I can manage a systems check. Thanks for that, by the way," Sara winked at her, and Felicity grinned.

"You know me," Felicity grinned. "Super cool, super talented, I.T. genius needs to work."

Sara grinned at her, then glanced to the window where Felicity had been sitting. "You make some new friends?"

Felicity followed Sara's eyes, only to catch Steve glancing back at them. Wanda had slipped into Felicity's place in the booth and was watching she and Sara, as well. Steve gave a small smile and looked away, leaving Felicity to blush lightly.

"Yeah, I guess so. They showed up at the right moment," Felicity answered. "They saved me, Sara. Carly fed us on the house, and I haven't had anything but a granola bar for breakfast today, so I'm sticking around. Plus, I don't think the CSI has showed up yet to do photos of my neck, the cops still have my car taped off, and...they make me feel safe, Sara. Not that you guys don't, so please don't take it that way, but Steve's...different..."

Sara quirked a teasing eyebrow and gave Felicity a small smirk. "Steve, huh?"

"Yeah, yeah," Felicity rolled her eyes.

"Seriously, though," Sara's eyes went serious again. "You know who they are, right? What it means that they're here?"

"Yeah," Felicity breathed. "I know. It can't be anything good, but...Wait. Did your dad tell you?"

"He did," Sara frowned. "And you know if Oliver had been the one to pick up that phone, he'd be down here, himself, having a pissing match to determine who was the bigger jackass."

"I know it," Felicity glowered. "Carly already offered to call Digg, and I wouldn't let her. I knew he'd just end up bringing Oliver, regardless of what I asked him to do. Oliver would win that contest, by the way.”

Sara nodded. "Yeah, we don't exactly play well with others."

"Don't I know it," Felicity grumbled. "We already went through this exercise yesterday, remember?"

Sara gave her a soft smile. "I suppose I should meet them, then. In the spirit of friendly cooperation."

"You mean so you can try to dig some information out of them," Felicity corrected, glancing down at the phone in her hand as it rang. She wasn't even sure how she'd gotten it back, let alone how it was in her hand now. She certainly didn't remember picking it up, but now that she had it back, she noticed the monstrous crack that ran the length and width of the screen and the picture of Oliver that was flashing on the device. She groaned, both out of need for a new screen, and for having to talk to Oliver at all while she tried to process everything that had just happened. "Guess who."

"You've got this. I'm going to go inside for a minute. See you in a sec?" Sara gave her a reassuring smile and laid a hand on Felicity's arm.

"Yeah," Felicity nodded, and walked back toward the diner with Sara. Felicity stopped at the door and leaned against the side of the building to make sure she was in the light. "I'll be inside in a second."

"Kay, Cutie. Just...keep an eye out this time."

"I'll be sticking right here by the door this time, too," Felicity assured her. "I really will be right back inside."

"Okay," Sara nodded as Felicity answered the phone.

'Play nice,' she mouthed to Sara, and put the phone up to her ear. "Hi, Oliver."

"Hey, there you are," she could hear the relief in his voice, and a pang of guilt hit her stomach. She heard the slap of hands against the Wing Chun dummy in the background, and mentally breathed a sigh of relief. It meant that they'd stayed put. "I've been trying to get a hold of you for almost an hour."

"Crap, I'm sorry..," she frowned trying to come up with something to tell him, "I was trying to get into my car and I dropped my phone. It cracked the screen and it's not been working quite right since."

"Is everything okay?" He asked quickly. Felicity swore she could hear him sit up straighter in whatever chair he was sitting in.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Sort of. I'm honestly not feeling all that great right now. I don't know if it's because I skipped lunch today, or if I've got something else coming on, but I don't think I'm coming back tonight. And before you ask, I've already called Sara about it. She's going to manage the rest of the system reboot for you so you can still go out tonight."

She had heard him shift and start to say something on the other end of the line before she had cut him off. Felicity frowned. She hated lying to him like this.

"Hey, listen, I promise I'm okay. I just ran out to get something for my stomach and a sore throat, and I'm going to be heading back home in a minute," she added. She was suddenly grateful for the croak that was creeping back into her voice.

"Why didn't you call? Digg or I could have..."

"Oliver," she cut in again and let out a sigh. "I'm okay. I'm a big girl, and I can handle this. Honestly...I also kind of need a break from the drama tonight, okay? I feel like...never mind. I'm not talking about this now. I am staying in tonight, though, okay? Don't worry about me. Just...do your thing. Sara can come and check on me, if you need someone to, because you do need Digg and Roy watching your back out there. I don't want you getting hurt, okay? But just...don't...it can’t be you. You understand? I just need tonight, Oliver."

There was a sigh, followed by a moment of silence, and then Oliver answered her quietly.

"I understand," came his curt reply, and Felicity's shoulders fell slightly. A tear came to her eye at his tone and she sniffled slightly, clenching her eyes closed to try and ward off any other traitorous teardrops. She brushed the emotion away hurriedly, hoping that no one would see. She didn't want to hurt Oliver, but she knew her refusal to see him tonight had struck a chord within him. She just didn't want him to know what had happened...at least, not yet. "I hope you feel better, Felicity."

Before she could even say, 'Thank you,' he had hung up. Felicity leaned back against the wall and let out a sigh. She took a moment to compose herself, then turned and pulled open the door. She walked back into the diner, ready to rejoin Sara and the trio of Avengers at the table, and maybe even get a bite of that burger that had been sitting there, going cold for the past...who knew how long. Sara, who had taken up Wanda's former place in the backward chair, looked up at the chime of the door and let her shoulders relax minutely as she saw Felicity enter the diner. Felicity gave her a small, grateful smile as she walked back over to the table.

"So," she started, wagging the broken phone before setting it down on the table in front of Sara. "Sorry about that. Work."

"Hey, again. Come on and sit yourself down," Sam grinned up at her and shoved his plate across the table to rest beside Wanda. Felicity saw Steve give Sam a questioning look as Sam rose from the booth, but he simply ignored it and motioned for Felicity to take his place. Her stomach fluttered for a split-second, though she wasn't sure why. She gave Steve a shy smile and sank into the booth beside him, then looked back to Sara, who just gave her a grin that could only mean trouble, once they could steal a moment together in private.

"Everything okay?" Steve asked softly, his blue eyes studying Felicity when she turned back to him.

"Yeah, I think so," she nodded, then looked back to Sara. "I just begged off the night shift, after all of this...so it looks like you're on it, Sara. Sorry..."

"Eh," Sara shrugged. "Worse things have happened. I'm just glad Dad called me, and that you're okay."

"Your dad?" Sam asked between bites of his burger.

"Captain Lance," Felicity supplied. "Sara's his youngest daughter."

"Really?" Sam grinned, motioning between Sara and Felicity. "This why he came out here himself? You two work together?"

"Yeah," Sara nodded. "We're pretty close, too. Felicity's like family to Dad and I."

"What about your sibling?" Wanda asked, genuine curiosity on her features. "Sister or...brother?"

Felicity caught the flicker of hurt in Wanda's eyes as she asked, and instantly reached across the table to the brunette. She couldn't help herself. Wanda took her hand and squeezed gently, a silent expression of her gratitude.

"Sokovia?" Felicity asked gently, and Wanda nodded. "I'm so sorry, Wanda. I couldn't even imagine..."

"Thank you, Felicity," she murmured, averting her eyes.

"Her brother saved one of our teammates," Steve spoke softly. "He was a true hero."

Felicity looked to Steve, more out of surprise than anything else, and caught Wanda doing the same out of the corner of her eye. The way he spoke of what Wanda's brother had done moved her, made her think even more highly of the man who shouldered the mantle of Captain America. The haunted look Steve wore, though, it made Felicity want to reach out to comfort him, too. He took a deep breath then looked to her. He must have seen the sympathy in her face, because he gave her a soft smile. The smile he gave her launched a whole new wave of something in her stomach, and she blushed slightly.

"I couldn't imagine losing my sister," Sara spoke quietly, pulling everyone back into conversation. "Either of them. So thank you, all of you, for saving this one. And I probably wouldn't be the only one lost without her."

Felicity looked to Sara again and smiled brightly. Leave it to Sara, once again, to make her feel highly valued amongst the team. Between Sara, Roy, and Digg, she never lacked for praise and appreciation.

"You're welcome," Steve smiled softly, and Felicity would have sworn she felt his eyes on her again. If the twinkle in Sara's eye was anything to go by, she was right. "I'm just glad we happened by at the right time."

Felicity turned back to him and, indeed, found his eyes on her.

"So am I," Felicity added, smiling gratefully.

"Well, kids, looks like I have to get to work," Sara spoke after a moment, rapping her fingernails on the tabletop. She reached out and squeezed Felicity's arm gently before she continued. "You rest up tonight, okay? No staying up and marathoning something ridiculous on Netflix."

Felicity laughed, holding up both hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. I promise. No all-night Netflix."

"I assume one of you will see her home safely?" Sara looked pointedly at Steve, and Felicity gave Sara a chastising look.

"I'll see to it," he agreed with a nod. "Don't worry."

Felicity felt her stomach flip again, and she pressed a fist into it to quell the sensation. It didn't help.

"Try some arnica gel on those bruises, Cutie. Or aloe, if you don't have any. And tomorrow, you'll probably need a scarf," Sara told Felicity gently. "I'll swing by and check on you in a little while, okay? Maybe I’ll make you some tea, or something."

Felicity nodded. "Be careful out there. The crazies are definitely out."

"Always," Sara smiled softly. "You be safe getting home, okay?"

"Felicity Smoak?" A voice questioned from behind her, cutting into their goodbyes, and the table turned to see who had spoken. Steve's hand had instantly gone to her wrist under the table in a protective gesture, and Felicity reacted instinctively. She reacted the very same way that she would have if Oliver, Digg, or even Roy had made the same gesture, and leaned closer to Steve’s form. She had to resist the urge to sink completely into his side and hide from the stranger, even if said stranger was just a slight, red-headed woman. The shock of what had happened to her had really started to get the better of her, which meant that the sooner she could get home, and out of public, the better.

"Emily Michaels," the woman introduced herself quickly, seeing her unease. "Captain Lance sent me over to take some photos of your injuries. I understand you had some trouble tonight."

She relaxed slightly, and as she did so, she did find herself sink into Steve's side. He squeezed her wrist reassuringly, but didn't make her move. She was eternally grateful for that.

"You'll be okay from here, Cutie," Sara assured her. "I've got to run, but I promise I'll drop by when I can get a break, okay?"

"Deal," Felicity looked up at her and nodded. "Thanks, Sara."

"Always," Sara answered, then looked to the group at the table. "Take care of my girl, okay?"

"We will," Wanda promised, and Sam nodded his assent.

"As long as you need us," Steve told Felicity softly, and she shivered at the nearness of his voice.

"And, hey," Sara added quietly, hooking a finger under Felicity's chin. "You're a tough cookie, but tonight would have shaken anyone. Don't beat yourself up over this, okay? We've all made mistakes."

"Thank you," Felicity nodded, her voice a whisper. Sara just smiled back at her, then waved at everyone else at the table before she headed out. Felicity heard her motorcycle fire up, and take off. Suddenly, she realized, she felt a little bit more alone, despite the company surrounding her, and the ridiculously muscled superhero that was protecting her.

"Are you ready to get this part over with, Miss Smoak?" CSI Michaels inquired gently, holding up her camera. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get over, but you're free to head home after I'm done here."

Felicity nodded slowly, and reluctantly edged upward, away from the warmth of Steve's chest.

"Yeah. Let's get this over with," Felicity echoed the CSI, and made to get up from the booth. Steve's fingers, fingers that she hadn't even realized were still holding onto her wrist, slipped away slowly under the table. She missed his burning warmth instantly, but maybe that was just the shock of the night and her loneliness talking. No one could possibly be that warm without being ill. "Is the restroom okay?"

"That should be fine," the woman nodded, and for the third time that evening, Felicity found herself saying that she would be back to the group of Avengers at the table. She felt their eyes on her as she led the way to the diner's restroom, and this time she found she didn't mind their attentiveness so much. She was just realizing that what she'd told Sara honestly had been the truth; she really did feel safe with them watching out for her.

It wasn't the same feeling she had when she thought Oliver was watching out for her, though. Now that she had something to weigh it against, she had started to realize that Oliver had simply been pushing her into a corner to protect her, trying to keep her from being hurt altogether, when that wasn't at all what she wanted. She had become a part of his mission, even taken a bullet for Sara, but Oliver hadn't wanted to put her in that position, ever. If he had his way, she would be kept in the basement of Verdant every single night, tucked neatly away like a child in her crib. He had called her his partner once, but she was starting to realize that he hadn't really meant it. The way the Avengers seemed to be with each other, that was a partnership, that was how a team operated. That was what she had wanted from Oliver...she just wasn't sure she was ever going to get it.

chapter fic: [mcu/arrow/the flash/sanctuary crossover] there is justice in the end; chapter 3

linesfade — Fri, 01 Dec 2017 16:16:58 GMT

Author: linesfade
Rating: T/PG-13
Chapter: 3 / ??

Summary: HYDRA hasn't been destroyed, they've only been sent running to the shadows. With no one currently at the helm, Grant Ward takes it upon himself to become the head of HYDRA. He proceeds with an old HYDRA plan to infiltrate the shadowy Sanctuary Network, which only serves to draw the Avengers, Phil Coulson and the other Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. into the mix. The only problem is that they're cutting in on someone else's turf; Starling City already has a protector, and Team Arrow isn't going to take kindly to the invasion. They can handle the goings-on in their own city, including taking down HYDRA, once and for all. Or, so Oliver Queen thinks. It might just end up being more complicated than any of the heroes and vigilantes could have ever imagined.

Spoilers: Arrow: AU post 3x01, minus Sara's death; The Flash: Season 1 finale; Agents of SHIELD: Season 2 finale; Avengers/MCU: post Age of Ultron, with the minor change that Barton has a farm, but no family; and Sanctuary: AU after S1 finale, minus Watson's death.

Disclaimer: I do not own or have anything to do with Disney, Marvel comics, the MCU, Sanctuary, DC comics, the DCCU, the CW, ABC, or Syfy networks. I'm just playing in the sandboxes, and OH BOY, is it fun! No harm is intended, and the only thing I claim are the original characters.

A/N:So, I'm basically taking on one HECK of an undertaking with this fic, meshing these huge 'verses together. I hope, hope, and HOPE this turns out as good as it sounded in our heads, but we'll see. The Sanctuary portion of this is based on an RP that sweetveritas and I share, where Ashley and Declan are an item. (Just roll with it. It works, I promise! ;)) And a BIG, LARGE, McHUGE THANK YOU to sweetveritas for continuing to be my sounding board and help me keep everything straight with this crazy brainchild!

:x:

THREE

OCTOBER 9
THE PLAYGROUND
NEW S.H.I.E.L.D. HEADQUARTERS
LOCATION: CLASSIFIED
CONFERENCE ROOM; 5:14 PM

Daisy stood before the holotable in the conference room swiping at the displays, enlarging images, and jotting down notes on paper with a pen. It was old school, the way she was doing it, but it actually felt good. Usually, typing away at a tablet or a keyboard helped her to stay grounded, but this time she needed to do this the old fashioned way. Doing it this way meant that HYDRA, that Ward, wouldn't be able to hack her files and get into her findings. He wouldn't be able to get to their intel, which meant that he wouldn't know that they were coming for him...whenever Coulson decided that they had enough information to make their move.

It looked like Tony Stark had been right; Starling City, a port city that sat on the west coast, seemed to be the place that most of the clues pointed to, but Daisy still wasn't certain. Why make the file so easy to decode? Any trained monkey would be able to decipher the content of the communique, given enough time and access to Google's image search tool. It didn't all add up just yet, and that was the thing that concerned her the most. She needed more time, but she wasn't certain that she was going to get it.

Coulson had begun organizing teams as soon as the meeting with Maria Hill had ended, around one in the afternoon. She and Melinda May had joined Coulson in his office, and the door had remained firmly closed behind them since. She hadn't even gotten the lunch that Coulson had promised.

"Well," she shrugged, muttering to herself, "Maybe it was a promise. Though, if I mention ordering lunch, I would at least follow through."

"Crap," Coulson's voice came from behind her. "I forgot. I...I didn't mean to..."

"It's okay," she turned and gave him a smile, one that was meant to wordlessly tell him that all really was forgiven. "When HYDRA's involved we all tend to space out a bit."

"That we do," he agreed. "What do you have? Is Stark's information accurate?"

"How'd you know I'd be double checking his data?" Daisy arched an eyebrow, and let out a chuckle. Her face broke into a smile, despite her questions that remained regarding the communique. She should've known that Coulson would know what was going on in her head.

"You always do like to be thorough," he answered as he stepped into the room, May and Hill hot on his heels.

"That I do," she nodded. "So far, everything looks right. The landmarks, articles, even the majority of the people in the photos, everything points to Starling City, though I can't figure out why just yet. There's..."

Skye paused and sighed.

"What is it, Daisy?" May pushed. "What do you see?"

"It's not what I see," she answered, her confusion evident from the way she held herself right down to the expression she wore, "It's what I don't see. There's too much extra here, too much that I can't place. And while it could all be just random data, a bunch of red herrings meant to throw us off, that idea just somehow feels wrong, like there's something we're missing...something I'm missing. And then there's the fact that it's just been too easy to—"

"To crack?" Maria Hill spoke along with her. "I know; Tony said the same thing. He left the Vision working on it while he flies the Avengers to Starling."

Coulson turned to look at Hill, confusion now on his face.

"I thought Stark had resigned from the Avengers," Coulson queried, his eyes narrowing. "What's he doing flying them to Starling?"

"Honestly, I think he misses suiting up," Hill smirked. "He ushered me out the door of HQ, nearly first thing this morning, and sent me here. That meant he was the only pilot left on staff today. Well, if you don't count the Vision, since he still does do most of the flying for Stark. He is half JARVIS, after all."

Daisy couldn't help but laugh quietly. "I'll bet that's a picture."

"Oh, it really is," Hill agreed. "If you want to meet him -"

"Whoa, whoa," Coulson held up a hand, stopping Hill's train of thought. "The Avengers still think I'm dead, Agent Hill."

"One: I am not an agent anymore, Phil," Maria corrected him, and leveled him with a look of mild disbelief. "And two: While I did intend that invitation for Daisy, don't you think it's time that you rectified that little oversight?"

"No," he answered, a little too quickly. Daisy canted her head to the side and lifted an eyebrow at him. Coulson shrugged slightly, and just repeated himself. "No. I don't. Fury made certain that my death would be the catalyst that brought the Avengers together. If I stepped out of the shadows now, where would that leave the..."

"Seriously, Phil?!" Maria frowned at him. "Banner is in the wind and Romanoff won't even look for him, Stark is semi-retired, Thor is either back on Asgard or off-grid somewhere with Dr. Foster, Barton is off doing whatever the hell Barton does, Captain Rogers is neck deep in training the new recruits—who are nowhere near ready for this sort of operation as a team, by the way—and have I mentioned only half of Rogers' head is in the game? He's still spending his down time searching for his old war buddy, James Barnes...the same Barnes who ended up being captured by HYDRA, tortured and brainwashed into becoming the Winter Soldier, the assassin that almost took out both Fury and Rogers. Damn it, Phil! What sort of cohesive team do you think the Avengers could possibly be right now?"

May remained stoic and silent as ever, watching the back and forth without saying a word, while Daisy finally put down her pen and notepad.

"So," Daisy began cautiously, "you're saying that the Avengers..."

"Are fracturing," Maria supplied, "if they're not already broken. They just haven't seen it yet."

"If it's that bad, Rogers will see it," Coulson murmured thoughtfully.

"Don't count on it," Maria shot back. "Like I said, he isn't exactly 'all in' at the moment."

"So, what, if someone found this...James Barnes...?" Daisy questioned, and Maria nodded.

"Sure, it might help," she shrugged, "but Romanoff has had her feelers out for months, and even with her substantial contacts on the lookout, there's been nothing on him. He's a ghost, Daisy. He always has been."

"The Winter Soldier has been," Daisy corrected, but May shook her head.

"No, Daisy," May finally broke in, her voice quiet. "Something happens to a person when they go down that road, willingly or not. That amount of darkness...it can break even the strongest of men. Barnes will never be the same man that Rogers knew before. While he was programmed to do the things he’s done, he also remembers being the Winter Soldier; it's a part of him now. Hiding in the shadows...that's his natural state. You won't be able to find him, not until he wants to be found."

"Exactly," Maria nodded in agreement. "And even if we found him...I highly doubt that Rogers would have any more of his head in the game than he does now. He'd be so focused on saving his friend, that he might let things slide."

"No, come on," Daisy scoffed at them, "You're talking about Captain America here. He's, like, the embodiment of an old school 'Mission first, self second' kind of guy. He wouldn't—"

"He would if he made his friend the mission," May ventured, and the room went silent in thought.

Daisy refused to think that Captain America, Steve Rogers, would go so far off-book for something personal that he would wind up letting the Avengers down. It just wasn't him.

"I agree with Daisy," Coulson spoke, finally breaking the awkward silence. He shifted his injured arm within the sling, and Daisy gave him a look of sympathy. He offered her a small smile in return, and then looked between May and Hill. "Steve Rogers is still Captain America. Bucky Barnes may be a mission for him, but he is not the mission. He'll see it through."

"Bucky?" An amused smile crested Daisy’s face, and she gave Coulson a curious look.

"Barnes' nickname. Short for his middle name, Buchanan," Coulson offered up automatically.

"Look, Phil, I get that you've always been Cap's fanboy, but you have to look at it straight here—" Maria tried to argue, but Coulson fixed her with a stare that silenced her.

"No," he said again, holding up one finger. "This is not about anything owing to Steve Rogers being a hero of mine. I'm saying that I don't believe that Rogers is off-book, but he may be multitasking the best way that he knows how, given the situation. If it makes you feel any better, I'll take a team to Starling and keep an eye on them. If something starts looking like it's going to cost us the mission, we will intervene."

"And if it has to be you who does the 'intervening?'" Maria queried skeptically.

Coulson drew himself up to his full height, and met the challenge in her eyes. "Then it will be me."

Maria weighed him with a look for a long moment, then drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"All right," she conceded, checking her watch, "Get your team ready, I'll fly you in on the Quinjet, but we'll have to leave within the next half hour. The Avengers will surely be there any minute now, so we don't have time to waste. I can have you in Starling within an hour to an hour and a half, if we're lucky."

"Good," Coulson nodded, then looked to Daisy. "Pack your gear and round up the team. We'll need everyone on this; Lincoln, too."

"Yes, sir!" Daisy grinned, then realized they were down a member of their team. "What about Fitz..?"

Coulson pressed his lips together, worry creasing his brows as it had done ever since Jemma Simmons had disappeared.

"Try to get him to come. If not, bring Mack. He’d be a good, strong arm to have on this mission," he answered, giving Daisy a wink.

"Seriously," she laughed, despite herself. "Stop it."

"Stop what?" He asked, scrunching his nose as he tried not to grin.

"Get out of here!" She laughed, tossing a wad of paper at him. "Go...pack, or whatever it is that you need to do."

"I don't need much," he shrugged, then added, "Maria, do you feel like giving me a hand?"

"That's it!" Daisy groaned and shut down the holotable. She picked up her pen and notepad, then pulled the encrypted drive free of the machine. She nudged past the trio in the room with her, and threw her hands up as she tried not to laugh. "I'm done! You two, you're on your own with this one!"

Coulson just chuckled softly as she passed. It was impossible for Daisy to miss the small smirk on May's face, and she even caught Hill trying to keep her smile to herself. Sometimes, in the midst of a crisis, you just needed something stupid to make you smile. Daisy was glad they had Coulson; she honestly didn't know what they, or S.H.I.E.L.D., would do without him.

:x:

STARLING CITY AIRPORT
ABANDONED PRIVATE HANGAR; 5:35 PM

Touchdown was light, as always. Tony Stark was a perfectionist in everything, including piloting aircraft, and the landing may only have been lighter if the Vision had been piloting the craft. Thankfully, Stark had found an abandoned runway and a large hangar, one that had formerly belonged to a pair of families by the names of Queen and Merlyn. Stark had snickered at the names, and murmured something about how it was fitting that he had appropriated the facilities for Avengers use, after what the pair of families had done with their fortunes. Steve had questioned him about what that meant, but Stark had just simply turned to look at him and answered, in the most solemn tone Steve had ever heard the snarky billionaire use, that he truly didn't want to know the answer to that question. No one else on the team had stepped up to fill in the blanks for Steve, so he found himself even more determined to find out what had happened in Starling City. It had to have been something beyond ghastly, if it had reduced the normally too-vocal Tony Stark to biting his tongue, along with the rest of his team. But, that was a mystery for another day. Today, they had to get settled in Starling City for the night and draw up a plan. Maybe the Vision would have something for them by the time they found some place to bunker down for the evening.

"Okay, team," Stark called out, waving his hands in the air as if he were trying to summon everyone's attention toward him. When all eyes were on him, Steve's eyebrow raised in question. "Yeah, yeah, I know, Cap. It's your show. However, Pepper just closed a deal for us on a property in town, up in the Heights, that's been kinda-sorta on the market for about a year now. It's probably going to be a little spartan until we can get some furniture in the place, unless the previous owners were gracious enough to leave something behind, but I figure the majority of you are used to that sort of thing..."

"Tony," Steve let out a low warning growl and narrowed his eyes. They needed to get moving, not have Stark going off on a tangent.

"I got it," he answered, holding up both hands. "I'll go pick up the keys and meet you there in an hour or so. Get yourselves something to eat and see the sights, or something...I'll have the place opened up in no time."

"What place?" Natasha inquired as she checked the clip and slid it home into one of her beloved Glock 26 handguns. She reached behind her and slid the weapon into the concealed holster at the small of her back, then tucked her PPK into the ankle holster inside of her boot. "Clint and I can do some recon in the area to make sure it's secure, in the meantime."

"I'm in," Barton nodded. "Address?"

"Seriously? You need an address? This place is basically a castle!" Stark gave them a look of disbelief when Nat gave him a pointed look, then shrugged his shoulders. "It's only something like the biggest house in Starling, okay? It's the old Queen mansion."

Natasha and Clint both stopped their prep and stood up slowly.

"The Queen mansion," she repeated. "You're serious?"

Steve looked between them, and then to Sam, Wanda, and Rhodey behind him. Wanda met Steve’s curious glance and shrugged. At least he wasn't the only one in the dark on this. Who were these people who kept reducing his team to awkward silences?

"Anyone want to fill a guy in?" Steve spoke finally. "And that's not a request. What are we dealing with, here?"

Rhodey stepped closer to Steve, bent down to take a tablet from a vacant seat and tapped at the screen. He stopped, finally finished with whatever he had been searching for, and handed it to Steve.

"That's why, Cap," Rhodey spoke quietly. "Malcolm Merlyn, along with Robert and Moira Queen...they were responsible for that. Anyone with ties to the Merlyn or Queen families these days aren't looked upon favorably within Starling."

Steve looked from Rhodey, down to the tablet, and his eyes widened at the headline alone, ‘503 DEAD IN STARLING CITY: GLADES REDUCED TO RUBBLE.’

"What on earth happened here?" Steve muttered to himself as he skimmed the article. He felt Wanda step up beside him and shifted so that she could read along with him.

"My God," she breathed, her voice lilting with her Sokovian accent. "They did this?"

There was a color photo beneath the headline that stretched from margin to margin, filling the page. His exacting blue eyes took in the mass of leveled buildings in the photo, both businesses and homes, that had collapsed and fallen into towering piles of rubble together. It was almost as if they had been set up to fall like a row of dominoes. The image was so large that the copy barely began above the fold. It had clearly been front page news, most likely for months.

"That was two years ago," Tony spoke quietly, "and that neighborhood still hasn't recovered. There's a lot of gang and criminal activity in the Glades neighborhood...even more than there was before that happened, and that crime rate was staggering. We have to be careful where we set foot here, too. They've got some vigilante, or a group of them, who've been trying to help this city fight the corruption that's basically been an epidemic here for decades, but he's barely treading water. The cops seem to have embraced him since he gets results that they can't, but he’s a killer...or he used to be, so watch your step. I can't remember what he goes by these days, the Vigilante, the Hood, the Arrow--"

"Whoa, now," Barton tossed in, his head picking up on the conversation again. "The Arrow?"

Natasha smirked and nudged Barton in the ribs. "Jealous you're not the only archer on the scene here?"

"Jealous? No," Barton shook his head. "More like...annoyed."

"Jealous," Natasha and Stark countered at the same time, making the team chuckle. Barton glowered at both of them, and looked back down to check his quiver of trick arrows.

"Well, you know, Barton," Steve grinned. "Maybe you'll meet the guy, and you can swap shop talk. Maybe he has something you don't."

"Yeah, like what?" Barton scoffed. "I've got just about everything I could ever need."

"I don't know," Stark shrugged playfully, "Maybe something with a...boxing glove?"

Barton pressed his lips together and fixed Stark with a glare of disdain while the others laughed quietly.

"What? It could come in handy!" Stark protested as he pressed the button that would lower the cargo ramp onto the tarmac.

"Doubtful, Stark. Incredibly doubtful," Barton shook his head, frowning.

"All right," Steve spoke up, instantly receiving all eyes on him. "Barton, Romanoff, go and scout the area around this mansion. If this is going to be our base of operations for the foreseeable future, we need to know all of its possible weaknesses. Stark, take Rhodes with you, just in case something comes up in the meantime. Sam, Wanda, you two are with me."

"What did you have in mind, Cap?" Sam asked as he shouldered his own bag, ready to move out.

"I want to check out this neighborhood," Steve answered. "This might have been two years ago, but if it's as Stark said and this place doesn't appear to have improved much, I want to get a feel for the city. I want as many eyes on it as possible with me. We'll go in undercover, and just...take a walk while we look it over. Maybe we'll get some grub along the way."

"All right," Wanda nodded, flexing her fingers subconsciously. "Let us see what we can find."

Sam nodded in agreement. "I'm in, Cap. I go where you go, man."

"Good. Everyone, keep an eye out," Steve warned. "There's no telling what we might run into out there."

"All right, folks," Stark grinned. "You heard the Captain! Let's roll!"

Stark drew out the words until they seemed to be made up of multiple syllables as he mimed a gun with one hand and spun his wrist as if he were a used car salesman directing traffic. When Stark aimed his imaginary weapon at the cargo bay door and made a pop noise, Steve just rolled his eyes at the display and shook his head.

Sam Wilson slowly drew up beside Steve and snickered. "Is this an actual thing that you guys had to deal with all this time?"

"What, Stark?" Steve chuckled. "Yeah, unfortunately."

"I heard that!" Stark shot over his shoulder. "Don't pretend you don't love me, Spangles! Everyone loves me!"

Steve looked up, and met Stark's smirk with a deadpan expression.

"Nah," Steve pretended to think on it for a moment, then shook his head. "Not everyone."

"Yes they do!" Stark called back as Steve, Sam, and Wanda headed for the cargo bay door. Barton and Natasha had already disembarked from the aircraft, silent and stealthy as always, which left only Stark and Rhodes on board. Steve tossed a smirk over his shoulder, only to see Rhodes trying not to laugh behind Stark's back.

"See you in an hour or so, Stark!" Steve called out, and motioned his two teammates on. It was time to try and get a feel for Starling City.

:x:

CLUB VERDANT, THE GLADES
THE "ARROW CAVE"
STARLING CITY; 5:51 PM

Felicity had gone directly to the Arrow Cave when she had left Tech Village that afternoon. Roy and, more recently, Sara had been pestering her relentlessly to rejigger their communications network. In retrospect, it was a great idea to have their comms jump frequencies during their nighttime activities so that no one would easily catch onto their band, but she had been so busy pulling double shifts to make ends meet at the hellhole she had previously called a job that there had been no time left over for it. Now that she'd quit, however, she had had the entire afternoon and evening to herself, and that meant she could dig into a full-on teardown and rebuild of the entire framework of the comm systems that were dedicated solely to Team Arrow use. She was so deep into finishing up the rewiring, so involved in her task and one of her favorite playlists on Spotify, that she didn't even hear the locking mechanism disengage upstairs over the sound of the throaty guitar riffs that were flowing freely from the speakers at her workstation.

She bounced on the balls of her feet along with the rhythm to the song, Tonic's 'Head On Straight,' as she finished stripping the end of the cat 5 cable that she had laid around her neck. She had opted for a more secure version of their existing VOIP infrastructure, and had spent a couple of hours this afternoon rewriting the protocols to make sure that they were also jumping from IP provider to IP provider within a custom virtual private network. It was an extra measure of precaution on top of everything else that would help protect them, just in case anyone was out there trying to track them down. No one would be able to hack them without a serious amount of trouble...or without letting her know. She had also set up alerts within her system that would ping her phone and tablet if anyone made so much as a half-serious attempt at hacking Into their system, or tracking them. Felicity was incredibly proud of her creation, this time. Whereas before, she had created their system out of necessity, this time she had created a work of art. This would have been her crowning glory...if anyone could have ever known it existed.

She was startled from her task by the sound of footsteps barreling down the steel steps, and whirled to see John Diggle and Oliver Queen storming the room, Digg with his sidearm drawn. She went wide-eyed in shock and held up both hands, her crimping tool falling to the floor with a clatter as Oliver glared at her in disbelief and shut off the speakers at her workstation.

"Hey! Hey!" She sputtered, once she realized herself. "Easy there! Down, boys! It's just me: quirky, resident I.T. genius doing that revamp of the comms that everyone has been pestering me to do..."

"Felicity?" John managed to get out as he quickly stopped aiming his weapon at Felicity and pulled it up toward the ceiling as he flipped the safety back on.

"What the hell are you doing here so early?" Oliver barked out, his eyes wide and wild like a startled animal's.

"Uh," she started, then motioned to the wall of relays behind her. "Comms. Remember? I'm pretty sure I just said that...wait, what time is it?"

"Nearly six. And shouldn't you still be at work?" Oliver asked, his eyes narrowed at her in confusion. "I thought you had to be there until closing tonight."

"Yeah, uh, about that..." She glanced down at the cable in her hand and motioned to the panel behind her. "Do you mind if I finish this before we get into the interrogation part of the evening? I was kinda in the zone, guys."

Digg just grinned, chuckling as he holstered his sidearm.

"Do your thing, Felicity," Digg told her, reaching out to pat her shoulder as he passed and headed for the gym portion of the lair. "Sara and Roy are going to be stoked that you got to the comms."

"Yeah, and so will I! I won't have to hear them harping on it anymore," she grinned, and turned back to finish with the end of the cable so that she could plug it into the relay. Felicity could feel Oliver's eyes boring into the back of her head as she fed the group of wires through the clear plastic plug, and she sighed. She really didn't need this, whatever was about to happen between them, especially what with the awkwardness that had grown up between them in the past week. She bent to pick up her crimping tool again and squeezed down on the plug to close off the cable. As she unwound the cable from her neck, she glanced back at him once before plugging in the cable to the box on the wall and sorting out all of the new cat 5 wiring into their proper cable management devices. "What is it, Oliver?"

"You said you had to work tonight," he spoke quietly. "Again."

"Yeah, well, I did. Until about six hours ago when I quit," she answered simply, making the 't' in 'quit' pop with a bit of added emphasis.

"You what?! Felicity!" He started to protest, but she turned on her heel and fixed him with a glare.

"No, Oliver. I am going to stop you right there," she told him as she held up one imperfectly manicured finger. Constant typing and chewing nervously on her nails during night missions had chipped the neon orange varnish that she had been favoring this week, and they were edging toward a desperate need of a re-do. "This is my life. I get to choose what I do with it, and which devil I decide to work for during the daylight hours."

He flinched. Good; that meant that her insinuation wasn't lost on him.

"I wasn't trying to say that you didn't—“ He started, only to be cut off again.

"I said 'stop,' Oliver. Just...let me get this out, please?" She begged, a sigh issuing from her before she could rein it in. "I took the job at Tech Village because I needed a way to pay the rent. It was barely doing that, even with all of the double shifts I've been pulling. Yeah, I'd saved up a lot, but I've been burning through said savings faster than you can notch an arrow. Did you know that my closet hasn't seen a new dress or a new pair of heels in four months? I couldn't live like that anymore, and I certainly could not keep working in that place. It was killing my soul, Oliver."

He smiled a little at her and she saw him press his lips together in an attempt to hold his reply in. She gave him a little smile despite their awkwardness, and despite knowing that she was about to tell him something that would rip his heart out. God, she didn't want to do this.

"Oliver..." She started, then paused. She had no idea how to start. "I quit the job at Tech Village...because Ray Palmer bought out the holding company that owned every franchise in the world. I quit because I didn't want to work for him."

Oliver's eyebrows rose sky high. "Palmer?"

She nodded.

She watched the wheels in his mind turning, recognizing when the gears clicked into place. She had quit because of her loyalty to him, to Queen Consolidated. Oliver opened his mouth again and reached out to her, but she held up a hand again.

"Wait," she spoke slowly and softly. "I'm not...finished yet."

"Okay," he spoke quietly, and drew in closer to her, sensing her need for comfort. She only wished his closeness could comfort her this time.

"You...you should sit. You're...not going to like this next part," she told him, her voice dropping into something that sounded forlorn and completely unsure of herself.

"What is it?" Oliver queried as he studied her, confusion drawn all over his face. "What's wrong, Felicity?"

She turned away from him, wanting but not wanting the nearness of him at the same time. His rejection still stung her deeply.

"I quit because I didn't want to work for Ray Palmer," she spoke solemnly. "But just a handful of seconds after I told him I was quitting...he offered me another job. A better job."

Oliver's eyes, eyes that had been narrowed in confusion, with a hint of annoyance at the mention of Palmer's name, were flaring with anger when she chanced a look back at him. She had to instantly divert her eyes again. Felicity hadn't wanted that look leveled at her, ever. She prayed that he wouldn't blow up at her, that he would just hear her out before he lost it or...

"What job?" Oliver asked quietly, an undercurrent of anger rippling through his voice. He was trying to nudge her along, to get her through it, and even through the awkwardness of their situation, she still appreciated it. She appreciated him.

"The VP position," she answered quietly, finally summoning the courage to lift her chin again and meet his eyes. "He wants me to be the Vice President of his--of the company."

Oliver's shoulders sagged visibly, and a ragged breath escaped him.

"I don't want to," she added quickly. "I really don't. I don't want to work for him when the company is rightfully yours."

"Felicity," he answered quietly, shaking his head. "That was the board's decision, not giving the company back to me. And they were right. I...I made the company into a joke, squandered my family's assets, and for what? For this?!" Oliver held his arms out at his sides, motioning to their surroundings before he continued.

"I have thrown away everything that my father built with his bare hands, and the legacy that my mother's father left to us has been destroyed. My trust is nearly gone, and I don't even know if Thea has anything left to her name. I don't have a home, Felicity. QC owns that now...and even if I could get it all back today, tomorrow, next week...I don't know that I deserve it."

"Oliver," she breathed, wanting to go to him and comfort him.

"No," he shook his head. "I did this to myself. I trusted Isabel Rochev with my company and my fortune, and it's all been ripped away from me. You know, it's actually a little bit funny. Since I came home three years ago, all that I have wanted to do was disappear, to have the press find someone or something else to cover in their reports...and now I have it. I'm no one now. I have nothing: no job, no money, nowhere to live, and I have no skills with which to make anything of myself."

"That's not your fault," Felicity protested.

"Isn't it?" He countered. "I signed my company over to Isabel. I did that. Yes, Slade may have kidnapped my sister, but I made that choice to sign the paperwork without doing my due diligence. That is on me."

Felicity's jaw fell slack at yet another item being added to the list of never-ending crimes Oliver Queen seemed to have convicted himself of, and reached out a hand to him, only to have him turn away from her and pace the floor between where she stood and her workstation. Her hand remained outstretched for a few moments as she stared at him in total disbelief, then she let it fall to her side.

"You don't actually believe that," she murmured as she knitted her brows together in frustration and bewilderment.

"I do," he shot back, "because it's the truth. But you...Felicity, you have a choice."

He stopped pacing and turned to look at her. She mouthed a 'what?' at him, and he stuffed his hands into his pockets anxiously.

"Take the job. You deserve that life, that position. You were too good for Tech Village, and you were absolutely too good to be pigeonholed as my EA," he told her, the words tumbling out faster than he probably intended them to.

She swallowed anxiously, watching him. She hated this, hated what it was doing to him. Felicity wished upon wish that she could be the one to fix it, but she didn't think he would let her. He had been wordlessly pushing her away, after all. She felt her heart twist in her chest, yet again, at the thought.

"I may...have made a few demands of him, when he asked me," she spoke softly. "I'd get your office...and a really big paycheck. Like, big-big. Really high six-figures guaranteed, big."

He looked up at her and narrowed his eyes in confusion. "Why? Why would you ask that of him?"

Felicity just looked at Oliver like he was being the most foolish man in the world, which he was.

"Have you literally missed the entire driving force behind this conversation? I don't want to work for him. If he needs me as much as he says he does, he'll make it worth my time. Me being in your office, that means I don't have to worry about someone desecrating that space, and a big paycheck means you and Digg get new toys while I get new tech. LOTS of new tech, because this place? It needs upgrades. And we do still have a bit of debt that we owe to some seedy people in Bludhaven. I would prefer it if they didn't come after me or Digg to break our kneecaps when we don't pay up on time..."

Oliver looked at her like she had grown a second head, and she stopped her ramble before it had even really begun.

"Oh, come on. You have to know how much we owe on your suits and weapons," she spoke again, giving him a chastising look

"I know how much we owe to Lodai, Felicity," Oliver answered, shaking his head. "I just don't understand why you would think I would let him, or anyone, hurt you."

"Maybe because you've hurt me," she answered quickly, without thinking. Oliver visibly flinched, and she closed her eyes. Felicity mentally kicked herself. "I'm sorry. So sorry. It just...slipped out and I shouldn't have, but I did, and I'm just going to go away now, okay? Okay..."

Felicity turned quickly, left her boxes of cat 5 cable and the connectors where they lie on the floor, and retreated to her desk to pick up her purse.

"Felicity, wait," Oliver called after her, a pleading note coming through in his voice.

She stopped, took a deep breath and turned back to face him.

"I..." He started, then frowned as if he wasn't sure what to say to her to make it right. "I didn't mean to..."

"I know, Oliver," she told him quietly. "But you did, and right now, this is all getting to be too much for me. I just need to take a walk, okay? The comms should be just about set, and will reboot within the hour to function on their new parameters. I'll clean up this mess when I get back, just...don't do any vigilante-ing until I get back."

"I'm sorry, Felicity," he blurted out as she shifted her weight to turn. She paused and looked back to him, taking in the look he wore that made him resemble something akin to a kicked puppy. She felt her heart constrict inside her chest, as if someone had taken a vise to it. God, she really didn't need to feel like this!

"So am I, Oliver," she sighed. "I should be back in an hour or so."

Felicity turned and headed upstairs, the hardened heels of her flats clacking slightly with each step. The small sound reverberated through the basement space and refracted back at her, giving her heart a new rhythm to follow as if it hadn't just been crushed all over again. Whatever was going to happen between Oliver and herself next, she had no idea. He had put one nail - or maybe it was more like five - in their metaphorical coffin as a couple, and it would be up to him to pull it out. Honestly, she truly thought she had done enough on her end, just by staying by his side.

Felicity punched in the code at the top of the metal stairs and let herself out. Walking across the barren floor of the abandoned and boarded-up nightclub, she thought it was rather fitting for where she had suddenly found herself in life: alone and forgotten. It wasn’t true, really. What friends she’d had before she had joined Oliver on his crusade periodically kept asking her to join them on nights out. Maybe she should finally accept one of their invitations...or two. She needed to start making a few changes, and while her head knew that pining for Oliver wasn't healthy, her heart hadn't quite caught on yet. Maybe she'd start working on that little piece of the Felicity puzzle tomorrow, but today...she just needed to get home and change into something that made her feel a little more fierce than her Tech Village uniform. Well, after a stop at Big Belly Burger, she amended internally as she strode toward her red Mini Cooper S. She had skipped lunch, and her stomach, it seemed, was going to churn and gurgle loudly until she did something about it. She would grab a burger and fries, then head home for a bit of downtime and a change of clothes. That certainly had to make her day better...right?

:x:

NEW SANCTUARY FACILITY
STARLING CITY
ASHLEY'S OFFICE; 6:10 PM

Ashley checked her watch and stretched behind her desk. Talking shop, especially when it came to tech, made her tired. Tech was Henry's thing, not hers, and it made her realize how much she had been taking him for granted. Henry Foss was basically her adopted brother; her mother had taken him in as a boy when she found him abandoned on the moors, and she had made a home for him. He and Ashley had grown up together, but whereas Ashley had come to favor the rescue and retrieval side of the Network's goings-on, Henry had shown an incredible, almost natural talent for all things technological. That skill set had given him an obvious place to fit in within the Sanctuary Network, his status as an abnormal, himself, notwithstanding. He kept that a closely guarded secret, though, only telling those that were the closest of family to him. Her mom classified his abnormality as a 'class nine hyper-accelerated protean life form,' but, whatever; that was just a fancy way of saying that Henry was a werewolf.

As the need for new technology grew within the Sanctuary, Henry had become a bigger player until he found himself put into place as head of the tech division, and had started darting in and out of the Old City facility as much as Ashley and her mom, except Henry was helping to beef up security and the development of weapons at the rest of the facilities worldwide. Aside from that, Henry always either made or found her the coolest toys.

Ashley grinned at the thought and pushed back from her desk. She'd have to bug Henry to make her something cool next month. She needed, well, she wanted a new toy. That would make up for having to write all of that technobabble down on paper. She had no idea what it meant, but hopefully this Felicity Smoak would. Ashley hadn't gotten a hold of her yet, but she'd left a voicemail for the I.T. girl. Maybe she was working, in which case, Ashley couldn't fault her for not answering. God knew she, herself, was guilty of ignoring calls while on the job. It was life or death sometimes, if you didn't.

A throat cleared in her doorway and she looked up quickly to find her husband holding up the door frame, leaning one shoulder into it while he had both arms crossed across his chest. One foot crossed over the other as he watched her with an amused expression and a tender smile. God, she felt absolutely loved and adored when he looked at her like that.

"Hey, Hero," she grinned as she stood and stepped out from behind her desk. He nudged himself off of the wall and righted his stance as she approached. She wrapped her arms around his waist and sighed contentedly as his arms wound around her in return. She felt a kiss drop on the top of her head, and Ashley snuggled in a little tighter, still marveling at the feel of how well she fit against him. "I was just about to come to your office."

"Well, you did say to be finished by six, love," he laughed. "It is currently about fifteen after."

"Missed my own deadline? Damn," she laughed. "Whatever will you do with me?"

"Make you feed Jack for a week?" He pondered aloud, and she pulled back to look at him with a glare on her face.

"You wouldn't," Ashley protested. She was still leery of the Pleski they had rescued together when she was sixteen...the very same one that had come dangerously close to killing Declan, and likely would have, had she not intervened. The Sanctuary network's staff had come a long way with Jack, but not far enough for her taste. He remained unpredictable, at best. Add to that the fact that he always sensed her tension and was always on high alert when she came near? No, that didn't sound like fun at all. She wasn't even sure why her mom had shipped Jack to their facility. They might have to have a talk about that later.

"Nah," he grinned. "I wouldn't. I'll just have to think up something else, won't I?" He grinned mischievously.

"You'd better, mister," she frowned at him and punched his shoulder playfully. "Ow. You been working out more than usual, or something?"

"No, why?" Declan looked perplexed as Ashley made a fist with her hand, then released and shook it out.

"Flak jacket?" She queried again.

"No," he drawled slowly. "Again, why?"

"You're getting tough in your old age, then," she teased, her eyes glittering with mischief.

"How's that?" Declan chuckled.

"That shoulder's a bit more firm than I remember, 's all," she shrugged. "Whatever, though, it's kinda hot."

He smirked at her, pulling her close again. "Is it, now?"

She wrinkled her nose and grinned up at him, laying her hands over his arms. The jacket he wore bunched up slightly under her touch, and she smoothed it down.

"What do you say..." She started, grinning impishly, "we get changed, head to Starling City proper, and get a good Italian meal under our belts? Then we can head back here and do...whatever."

Declan smiled charmingly down at her, and pretended to ponder her suggestion for a moment.

"Well, I could do with a bit of supper," he grinned. "Only, what do you mean by, 'get changed?'"

Ashley just grinned at him again, her blonde hair swaying over her shoulders as she bounced up and laid a kiss on his lips.

"Dress up, Soldier," she grinned. "It's a fancy dress date, and we have reservations at 7:30."

"Ash," Declan protested. His arms fell away from her as a groan escaped him, and Ashley just laughed. "You know I hate getting into a suit, let alone for supper."

"Yeah," she grinned, wrinkling her nose again. "I know, but you always look super hot in a suit. Just humor me tonight. You can pick what we do tomorrow."

"Do I?" He laughed. "I seem to recall that the last time you said that, it was actually two weeks before I got my way, love."

"Oops?" She giggled, and Declan swatted at her shoulder as she darted away a little too quickly.

"Using vampiric powers now, are we? I do believe that's cheating!" He protested playfully.

"Nah," she grinned at him, her eyes flickering black for a brief moment as she halted the change. "You're getting faster. It's good exercise for you."

"Is that how it is?" He smirked, and lunged for her, only she phased out in a flash of pink and gold, and reappeared several feet away from him up the hallway. "Teleporting?! Now that is cheating."

"Come and get me, Hero," she smirked. "If you're quick enough."

Declan rocked back on his heels a moment, and Ashley cocked an eyebrow at him in challenge. He narrowed his eyes at her and took off like a shot, accelerating at a speed he hadn't known in decades. Yes, the serum had most definitely worked, and he was ecstatic about it. He turned his speed up a notch, and Ashley squealed in laughter. She turned and took off running, too, as he grew closer. Two steps later, she teleported away from him again.

The hallways of the newest Sanctuary were alive and well, currently gleaming with the pink and gold flashes of Ashley’s vampiric teleportation and reverberating with the sounds of love and laughter. They had a long way to go, yet, before it was a fully functional facility, but Ashley and Declan would have it up and running. If any one thing was for certain in the Sanctuary Network, that was it. Ashley and Declan had been sent to Starling City by Helen Magnus because she had known one thing: the Starling City Sanctuary would be their legacy. They would be the ones to change the world and make it a better place, both for humans and abnormals alike.

:x:

SOMEWHERE IN THE GLADES
STARLING CITY; 6:39 PM

Grant Ward walked the streets in darkness, cloaking himself in the growing shadows cast by the waning sunlight. He clung to the shadows and only emerged as he was required to in order to make contact with his teammates. Could he truly call them that, though? What he had was a rag-tag bunch of morons hardly worthy of HYDRA's time, let alone their name. They were low-level pawns; pill pushers and bookies, thugs for hire, the worst dregs of humanity, but they had a line on all things that he could possibly need, starting with names and information. That line into the seedy underbelly of Starling City was what Ward needed, and that was why he kept them around.

His fist tightened around a scrap of paper that had been surreptitiously passed to him in a handoff two streets back. If his team was worth their pay, it was a name; a name that would make all of his hopes for the current mission begin slotting into place, a name that was about to become his own. He had already sent the order out for new papers, a passport and photo I.D., but he needed the name if he was going to start creating a new persona for himself. He needed to know who he was going to be, how the name would sound to his ears, how it might roll off of his tongue as he introduced himself as someone new.

It had been quite a while since he had last created an alias. That last alias had used his own name, but the person behind that name had been different. That alias had been the one burned when he had been outed as being on John Garrett's payroll, as being a HYDRA agent. That had been the only alias that had made him feel like he'd been a part of something real, made him feel accepted...maybe even loved. For the first time in his life, Grant Ward hadn't been a loser, a lone wolf, a damaged kid in need of...well, he didn't even know what. He had had a team, a family, that wanted him and that had picked him up when he fell. He wanted that back, but the team he had now...all he could say for them was that if, and when, the money ran out, there wouldn't be any warm feelings left to go around.

He peeled away from the streets, further down an alleyway, and sank into something of a dark corner created by a foul-smelling dumpster that reeked of decay, amongst too many other things, and the section of wall from the building it rested against. The growing darkness from the sunset hid him well, and he finally felt comfortable enough to pull the slip of paper from his coat pocket and read it.

James Ward Thompson.

He initially frowned at the use of his real last name, but shrugged. It would only be a temporary alias, and it would help him to keep things straight when the name was still new. He closed his eyes and let the names roll through his mind, echoing, absorbing them into himself. He changed his stance, trying to find a new way to carry himself that would still harken back to having a soldiering background, but show himself a bit more relaxed as if he had been out for some years. He rolled one shoulder slowly, then the other, as he attempted to work out the kinks. Ward cracked his neck and shook out his arms lightly, then took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes a moment later, his mouth curved up into a lazy smile, his eyes warming as he fell into the act. His shoulders hunched over slightly, but his frame still held the battle-ready tension of an experienced soldier. He glanced around the dark, empty alley, and gave a good ol' boy smile.

"Pleased to meet you," Ward spoke slowly to the emptiness, his voice taking on the slightest hint of a southern drawl. "Name's Thompson. Ward Thompson."

chapter fic: [mcu/arrow/the flash/sanctuary crossover] there is justice in the end; chapter 2

linesfade — Sun, 19 Nov 2017 14:32:08 GMT

Author: linesfade
Rating: T/PG-13
Chapter: 2 / ??
Summary: HYDRA hasn't been destroyed, they've only been sent running to the shadows. With no one currently at the helm, Grant Ward takes it upon himself to become the head of HYDRA. He proceeds with an old HYDRA plan to infiltrate the shadowy Sanctuary Network, which only serves to draw the Avengers, Phil Coulson and the other Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. into the mix. The only problem is that they're cutting in on someone else's turf; Starling City already has a protector, and Team Arrow isn't going to take kindly to the invasion. They can handle the goings-on in their own city, including taking down HYDRA, once and for all. Or, so Oliver Queen thinks. It might just end up being more complicated than any of the heroes and vigilantes could have ever imagined.

Spoilers: Arrow: AU post 3x01, minus Sara's death; The Flash: Season 1 finale; Agents of SHIELD: Season 2 finale; Avengers/MCU: post Age of Ultron, with the minor change that Barton has a farm, but no family; and Sanctuary: AU after S1 finale, minus Watson's death.

Disclaimer: I do not own or have anything to do with Disney, Marvel comics, the MCU, Sanctuary, DC comics, the DCCU, the CW, ABC, or Syfy networks. I'm just playing in the sandboxes, and OH BOY, is it fun! No harm is intended, and the only thing I claim are the original characters.

A/N:So, I'm basically taking on one HECK of an undertaking with this fic, meshing these huge 'verses together. I hope, hope, and HOPE this turns out as good as it sounded in our heads, but we'll see. The Sanctuary portion of this is based on an RP that sweetveritas and I share, where Ashley and Declan are an item. (Just roll with it. It works, I promise! ;)) And a BIG, LARGE, McHUGE THANK YOU to sweetveritas and sietepecados for helping me keep everything straight with this crazy brainchild!

:x:

TWO

OCTOBER 9
AVENGERS TRAINING FACILITY
UPSTATE NEW YORK; 11:30 AM

Steve Rogers looked out over the railing as Wanda Maximoff and Sam Wilson sparred on the mats below. James Rhodes kept a close eye on the progress from his place on the sidelines, clad in his military fatigues with his hands clasped behind his back. Sam was well-trained, Steve knew; a powerhouse in every sense of the word, while Wanda was still a bit too much of a wild card for his liking. She was trying, he did grant her that, but with every move she still appeared to be relying on her abilities to taint the mind of her opponent. That instinct, the more he thought about it, might have something to do with being locked away in a HYDRA base for months on end, with nothing but her abilities and her brother to keep her company. That sort of emotional damage was hard to overcome, he knew. He had seen it first-hand in some of his Howling Commandos during the war.

He still thought of Bucky every time he saw Wanda reach out to that power and wondered where his old friend was, wondered how he was. Steve and Sam hadn't heard heads or tails of Bucky, even with all of the files they had dug up and poured over, or the HYDRA safe houses they had discovered and picked apart. Not even Natasha had been able to pin Bucky down yet, and her lack of luck may have been the thing that worried him for Bucky the most. Steve almost felt as if they were coming to the end of a very short tunnel in regards to the amount of intelligence that could be found about the Winter Soldier, and even Bucky, himself.

A handful of files that they had uncovered had pertained to the methods that had been employed to break down what was left of the man Steve had known decades before, and then used to mold him into something new and vicious: the Winter Soldier. Most of the files they had found, however, simply read as laundry lists of the Winter Soldier's kills. The files were kept by the United States intelligence branches, and the hits and dates within them were so far apart, so disparate, that one could tell the files did, indeed, read as a ghost story, just as Natasha had said once before. It was as if the government had used the Winter Soldier's file as a catch-all for unsolved hits perpetrated across the globe. It was insane, and it was no wonder he had never been captured, cryogenic storage aside. Every mark had been so carefully selected, and spaced so widely in timeline, that none could be connected to the other without a deep investigation long after the fact. Steve had to admit, HYDRA possessed an uncanny ability to time the kills precisely and, afterward, to hide all evidence of the perpetrator.

The Winter Soldier was a man who knew how to elude detection, to elude capture, and was highly trained in the art of the kill. Steve worried for Bucky's heart, for his soul. He would be lying to himself if he thought for a moment that his old friend, once so kind and carefree, could ever be the same again. Hell, even Steve, himself, wasn't the same as he had been back then; he was wiser, perhaps a little more jaded through his experiences, but he had still managed to hold onto what part of himself had convinced Dr. Erskine that he, Steve Rogers, was the one meant for Project: Rebirth back in 1941. He had to hold onto that part of himself, or all that he had done, all that he had lost would have been for nothing.

"Penny for your thoughts, Cap?" Natasha spoke quietly behind him, her words pulling him from his brooding thoughts.

"Just thinking," he answered, turning away from the railing to face her. "Do you have something?"

"Not on that front. Sorry, Steve," She gave him a small, wry smile, knowing he was thinking of Bucky. It seemed to be all that he did lately, and she had been giving him that very same look a lot. If he were looking for any other person, he would have scaled back the search months ago, but this was Bucky. He wouldn't stop looking for his friend until his time on this earth was done. His shoulders slumped minutely at the disappointment, but he straightened back up as Natasha produced a tablet and handed it to him. "But we've got something else that could bear looking into."

Steve stepped closer to her, his eyes dropping to the screen of the tablet.

"This is from Tony?" He asked, noting the source of the transmission.

"Yeah. He's been looking for Bruce..." she answered, her voice cracking a bit as she mentioned Dr. Banner. The loss of him had cut them deeply, maybe Natasha most of all. She and Banner had been working so closely together, leading to a deep relationship that had been growing between them for months. That relationship had nearly turned into something real for the two of them, before he had stolen a Quinjet and left without a word after Sokovia. Steve knew well how betrayed she must have felt, how she must still feel. Steve laid a gentle hand on her elbow in comfort, and she smiled up at him softly before she continued. "No luck yet, but he did find a message being broadcast over an old HYDRA comms frequency. He's been up all night back in NYC decrypting the data burst, and just sent this through. It's a list of locations."

She pinched at the screen and pulled upward, turning the tablet into a holographic projector.

"New Stark tech?"

"Yeah," she grinned at having one of Stark's newest pieces of tech in her hands. "Neat, right?"

"Very," he answered her smile, then looked at the hologram. "He plotted the data points?"

"Yep," she agreed. "There are locations referenced all over the world, but the heaviest concentrations are within the U.S., but most of the intel specifically points to a city near the west coast, Starling City, and one city about six hundred miles further inland, Central City."

"Starling City," he mused aloud as he looked at Starling City on the map. "All right, what sorts of intel did he dig up? Why are we interested?"

"Because of this," Natasha flicked a hand through the hologram and it sank back into the tablet. She turned a page and then pulled up a second hologram that showed the initial broadcast, a quick burst of data with photos, words, colors, pure randomness, until she slideshow came to an end. She paused the flickers just before the file stopped playing, and Steve glared at the logo she had stopped on.

"HYDRA," he growled.

"HYDRA," she acknowledged. "It's the first lead we've had on them in months, Cap. First thing this morning, Tony sent Maria Hill off to meet with the new S.H.I.E.L.D. director, whoever it is, to make sure they have this information."

"S.H.I.E.L.D.?" he questioned, lifting an eyebrow. "Since when has S.H.I.E.L.D. been back in operating mode?"

"I don't know," she answered, shaking her head. "It was news to me, too; you'd have to ask Hill about that one. She's the one who volunteered the information yesterday."

Steve frowned at the implication.

"Hydra shows back up at the same time S.H.I.E.L.D. does? That's too much of a coincidence for me, Natasha," he told her, a quiet warning note in his tone.

"I know, but we're going to need all hands on deck for this. Are they ready?" Natasha nodded behind him, toward the training mats, and Steve turned to look over the railing again.

Rhodey had swapped places with Wanda and was now sparring with Sam while she watched on, her eyes flicking over every move, analyzing everything. As they watched, it became clear the men were now trying to teach her some sort of combination move, by the way they would pause here and there to explain a hold to her.

"I suppose we'll find out," he answered, the confidence of Captain America creeping back into his voice. "Call Barton. Like you said, we're going to need all hands on deck for this. I'm not going to let HYDRA slip through our fingers again."

:x:

THE PLAYGROUND
NEW S.H.I.E.L.D. HEADQUARTERS
LOCATION: CLASSIFIED
DAISY’S LAB; 11:39 AM

Daisy had fallen asleep over her laptop's keyboard at some point during the night, leaving a decryption program of her own creation processing the file while she slept. Something shook her gently, and she roused groggily to find a hand on her shoulder. She jumped upright, wide-eyed and gasping in surprise, as she was jolted into full awareness from her dream. She looked behind her to find the source of the hand and relaxed upon seeing that it was only Coulson.

"Sorry," he spoke softly. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"No, no, it's okay," she answered, still waiting for her racing heart to settle in her chest. "Bad dream."

It wasn't, really. At least, not at first; not until she had remembered who the man truly was that had been sharing her dreamscape. She had been finally getting the date she and Grant Ward had planned before he had been revealed as a HYDRA agent. It had been nice, pleasant, even, until he had taken her hostage...again. Coulson's hand on her shoulder had saved her from running through corridors, being chased by the madman that Ward had become.

Skye assumed that part of the dream had been influenced by the incident report that Lance Hunter had filed on behalf of his ex-wife, Bobbi Morse. She was still in the med bay recovering from the torture that Ward and former S.H.I.E.L.D. operative Kara Palamas, codename Agent 33, had made her endure. They had done a number on her, and she was likely to be laid up for weeks more on account of it. For Bobbi, one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s best assets, being laid up in the led bay would have been torture enough.

S.H.I.E.L.D. had recovered Palamas' body at the facility where they had found Bobbi, so at least there was one psychopath they didn't have to worry about anymore. Ward, though, was still in the wind, which had been the source of many a sleepless night for most of the members of Coulson's team. He had gotten close to them, infiltrated their team and their trust, worked his way into Daisy’s heart, and then betrayed them all, nearly killing several of the team in the process. The trail of destruction that was always left in Grant Ward's wake needed to end, now.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Coulson offered.

"Nah," she brushed the offer aside as she ran her fingers through her hair. "It's just the usual."

Coulson frowned. "Ward?"

"Yeah," she sighed, meeting his eyes. Coulson was like a father to her, having given her a place to finally belong after a lifetime without. He hadn't ever doubted her, even during the incident with the Inhumans when she had turned away from S.H.I.E.L.D.. She owed him so much, and she surely couldn't lie to him.

"We'll catch him, Daisy. I promise."

"I know. I just hope I'm the one who gets to lock him away for good," she answered, the pain in her eyes reflected back at her in Coulson's. She cleared her throat and smiled a little, then turned to the computer in an effort to subtly change the subject.

"Did you make any headway?" Coulson asked, sensing Daisy’s need to discuss something else. He had always been good at reading her.

"I wrote a decryption program yesterday and set it to run before I passed out..."

"You needed the sleep," he assured her softly, and she smiled at his gentleness with her.

"I guess so," she shrugged. "I need to get this done, too, but Fitz...I couldn't get his attention away from the obelisk."

"I was afraid of that," Coulson frowned deeper. "He's worried about Simmons."

"So am I," Skye countered. "We all are. He's...completely absorbed with that thing. He's convinced it's the reason Simmons disappeared, and I'm not too sure he's wrong."

"How so?" Coulson asked, studying Skye's features intently.

"It's giving off EMF and all sorts of different readings that we've never seen before, except..," she paused, and Coulson's eyes narrowed, silently urging her to continue. "Except with Gordon."

"The teleporting Inhuman," he answered without thinking. "Are you sure?"

"One hundred percent," she answered. "Fitz and I have checked and triple checked the results. Each time the obelisk phases, there's a new spike. It's almost like the thing is...searching, Coulson. For what, I have no idea, but it's searching for something. When it finds what it's looking for, though, we might want to run."

"What makes you say that?"

"The Inhumans. They said it could be used as a weapon against us, against Inhumans, I mean. What if it's more than that, though? What if..?"

A hand slapped against the doorframe to Daisy’s lab, causing both she and Coulson to jump in surprise and turn to glare at the intruder, only to find May leaning into the room with her typical inscrutable look on her face.

"Conference room. Five minutes," she told them, then went off in search of the rest of the team.

"Well," Coulson smirked. "That's one way to summon everyone to a meeting.

Daisy couldn't help but laugh.

"You can say that again. I guess we should head that way," she answered. "Raincheck on the obelisk theory?"

"Absolutely. We can discuss it after the meeting, if you want to," he smiled at her.

Daisy got the distinct impression that Coulson was proud of her for being able to throw herself back into S.H.I.E.L.D. work and keep up with it all, even after everything that had been happening lately, and she couldn't help but smile back. It felt infinitely good to have someone be proud of her, especially after growing up thinking of herself a wholly unwanted orphan. At least now she knew better, because even as twisted as her parents had become, they had still wanted her, and S.H.I.E.L.D. had become another family to her. She finally had a home.

"Yeah. I'd like that."

"We can order a late lunch and have Mack pick it up. He owes me a favor, so maybe I can convince him to give me a hand." She saw the crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepen when he smiled, and it was good to see his humor returning, even if it had morphed into something a little more self-deprecating.

"Okay, that's going to get really old," she laughed as she closed her laptop and pulled it free of the charge cable. Tucking it and her notes under her arm, she led the way from her lab, and into the hallway. "Mack is going to stop doing favors for you one of these days."

"Well, you know," Coulson answered as they walked down the hall to the conference room, voices fading out the further they went from the lab. "I've got to get them in while the wound’s still fresh."

"Ha-ha," she deadpanned. "You need new material. Seriously."

"I didn't think it was that bad," he smirked.

"Believe me, it was," she laughed as they rounded the corner, leaving the hallway empty and echoing with her laughter behind them.

:x:

TECH VILLAGE
STARLING CITY; 11:40 AM

"I hate this job," Felicity grumbled as she got out of her car, locked it, and walked up to the front of the store. She was due in at noon for the afternoon shift, but was feeling the same sense of dread she felt every time she drove up to the place. "Never actually thought I would miss my EA position at QC. Never thought we would be undercut in our bid to get the company back, either, but here we are. And, yeah, stopping that train of thought right now!"

It had happened early that morning, during a meeting with the board when Oliver was poised to get his company, and his sole source of income, back in his name as CEO. Felicity would never understand why they hadn't just filed a motion with the courts to have his CEO position returned to him, since he had only - and unknowingly! - turned it over to a terrorist while under duress. Kidnapping his sister, yeah, that was low. Like, the lowest of lows, and his own company refusing to hand the reins back over when they knew the full extent of what had happened? Yeah. That was even lower.

But then she, in her infinite wisdom, had met the man - also unknowingly! - the previous night who would end up putting Queen Consolidated completely out of reach. Felicity had basically handed QC to Ray Palmer on a golden frakking platter when she had opened her mouth and dictated to him what basically amounted to a hacker's skeleton key. She was responsible for having all but given Palmer unfettered access to everything Queen Consolidated, including the keys to the front door. She was the reason they were all broke.

"Idiot!" She cursed herself. She had so much to apologize to Oliver for, now...only she still didn't feel like it, what with being pushed away like she didn't exist on any physical plane of existence. "I am such an idiot! I can't just let Palmer get away with this without repercussions. Like, porcupine flatulence coming from every device and speaker he owns, kind of repercussions. He stole QC out from under us, so he has to pay, and not just the billions it took to be able to purchase the right to put his name on the side of our building...Oh, God. He’s totally going to do that!"

Felicity growled to herself as the realization hit her. Things were never going to be the same again, and it was all her fault. Well, hers and an army of Mirakuru-enhanced psychopaths that was led by one psychopath mightier than the rest of them, formerly known as Slade Wilson. At least, she hoped that A.R.G.U.S. had traded his name for a number. That would only be highly appropriate for a mass murderer.

"You have got to be frakking kidding me!" Felicity stopped herself short as she noticed the sign on the door proclaiming new management, said new management being named as one tall, pompous, maybe attractive if you weren't pissed off at him, "Ray. Palmer."

"You paged?" came the reply from beside her, and Felicity turned on her heel to face him with the worst death glare she could possibly muster.

"Really?" She glared at him.

"What?" He grinned, hands stuffed into his pockets as if he was used to being read the riot act by genius-level intellect blondes day in and day out who should probably turn in her notice and see if Stark Industries was hiring. At least her talent wouldn't be wasted there. "Wait, Stark Industries?"

Felicity blinked and backed up half a step before realizing she'd spoken all of that out loud again.

"Damn it! But yes, Stark Industries! Since there is no more QC, that means I won't be getting my ridiculously high-paying EA job back, or even my ridiculously high-paying I.T. job. I wouldn't be picky at this point, and let's be honest, Oliver owes me," she spat at him, drawing out the 'owes' into something two syllables long, just because she could. "I would take a job at Stark Industries just to see you fall flat on your face, Ray Palmer, because, let's face it. I am irreplaceable."

"Yes, you are," he agreed, staggering her again. "Why do you think I offered you a job again this morning?"

She glared again. "Why do you think I said, 'No'?!"

"Why do you think I bought Tech Village?" He countered back.

"Wait. Let me just...you bought one store, just so you could call me your employee? That's pathetic, even for a man who steals a company out from under its rightful owner," Felicity turned again and made to walk into the store.

"Well," he winced, then offered a shrug behind her back. Felicity turned slowly to face him again, crossing her arms over her chest in irritation as he continued. "Technically...I didn't buy this franchise. I bought the holding company who owns all of the Tech Village franchises across the globe. Some $1.2 billion dollar price tag, but I'm not trying to brag..."

"And yet, you are," Felicity growled, leveling him with a glare she usually reserved for Oliver when he was in Idiot Arrow mode.

"Sorry," he offered unapologetically, pulling a hand free from his pocket to wave the sentiment away. "I guess somewhere down the line that does make me your boss, but that's..."

"You know what? No. It doesn't. Because I quit," she spat back, nearly shocked at her own retort. She had nothing but Team Arrow, if she quit her job. No income, no social life, just...playing vigilante with Oliver, Sara, Roy, and Digg. If it paid, it wouldn't be such a bad gig, but vigilantism wasn't known for cutting checks that would cover the rent.

"Sorry, what?" He queried, watching mystified as she made up her mind and unpinned her name badge from her shirt.

"You heard me," Felicity shot back. "I. Quit. Do you need me to write that down on paper for you, or is the verbal version good enough?"

"Felicity, I never meant to-"

"Just...don't. I don't need to hear the literal billion and one reasons why you felt you needed to make yourself into an international conglomerate, or something, just to be able to piss me off. In case you are unaware I am THIS CLOSE," she held up her hand to him and spaced her thumb and index finger just slightly apart as she moved closer to him, "to using my loud voice on you. Believe me, you wouldn't like it if I used my loud voice on you."

He just smiled irritatingly down at her from his ridiculous, towering height. She hated that he made her feel so short, and she hated Tech Village even more for being a place that she couldn't wear her armor of four-inch heels and dresses; Oliver had his leather, bow, and arrows, and ashe had Jimmy Choo and Calvin Klein.

"What?!" She demanded of his expression, her voice inching up toward shrill territory before she threw her hands up and began the walk back to her Mini Cooper in her so not dress code orange and white fox ballet flats. "You know, I don't even know why I bother!"

"I bought the company so I could make you my VP, Felicity!" He called after her, and she stopped in her tracks.

Felicity turned slowly on one heel, and leveled a harsh glare at him. "What did you just say?"

"The board wanted the new VP to be an existing employee, someone who knew the ins and outs of QC, well, Palmer Technologies as of, oh, now," he started with a smile, but then saw the seething look she threw him and held up both hands in defeat as his smile fell. "No one knows the company better than you, Felicity. Like I said this morning...and earlier, I need you."

His eyes widened as he registered the words that had come out of his mouth and held up a hand, "Not...wait. I need you for the company. I mean, the company needs you. The company won't get by without you. You know all of the names, the faces, you know the who's-who of Starling City and I..."

Was that what she sounded like when she rambled? God, she hoped not. Inwardly, Felicity frowned at herself.

"And you don't?" She interrupted, quirking an eyebrow. "Yeah, shocker."

Felicity rolled her eyes and started to turn away, but thought better of it.

"I will think about it, under two conditions," she told him sternly, and held up two fingers.

"Which are?" The jerk grinned like a kid on Christmas about to open his favorite toy, Felicity thought. Well, not that she'd know about Christmases, being Jewish, but that was beside the point.

"One, I get the big office on the executive floor. No one so much as looks at that office but me without my expressed permission," she demanded. That one had been Oliver's office. No one would set foot in that office, if she had anything to say about it.

"Done," he offered up quickly. "And two?"

Damn. Was he really was going to give her anything she asked for? Might as well pull out the big guns, she thought.

"A six-figure salary," she answered. "A high six figures. I'm the best. You and I both know that, and if I am going to work for you and not Stark Industries, I want a salary that makes my time worth it."

That, and certain masked vigilantes needed to eat. And buy gear. And tech...lots of new tech...

To his credit, Palmer actually thought about it for a moment; she could see the gears in his head turning instead of just blurting out a 'yes' all over again.

"If...I say yes, would you take the job?" He asked, scrutinizing her face and eyes for a telltale sign of her answer. Once upon a time he might have found one, but not now; not on this Felicity Smoak who worked nightly with heroes and had put in her own time saving what little bit of sanity and morality that was left of Starling City.

"I said I would think about it," she replied coolly. "That's the best you'll be getting from me today."

He nodded. "Six figures it is. We can talk numbers tomorrow, and..."

She snorted in indignation and shook her head.

"Tomorrow is Friday," she reminded him. "And I just quit this hellhole, so tomorrow? Officially my day off. Have a nice day, Mr. Palmer."

With that, she turned and made the trek back to her car, then slipped into the driver's seat. She took a moment to breathe, trying her hardest not to turn and see the smug look that she knew must be on Ray Palmer's face. Oh, she would take the job. Team Arrow needed the resources, that much was a certainty. What was uncertain...was just how horribly Oliver was going to take the news of her accepting a job from the man who had undercut them at the QC board meeting.

And she still thought that the PowerPoint she'd made for it was bad ass. Too bad Oliver had chosen not to use it.

:x:

NEAR THE NEW SANCTUARY FACILITY
STARLING CITY; 2:56 PM

The thing that Grant Ward missed about being a part of S.H.I.E.L.D. was traveling by Quinjet. Silence, stealth, and speed; the three keys to tactical transport in the black ops world. Well, at least in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s world. They would have arrived in Starling City hours earlier, if he had had a Quinjet at his disposal. He wouldn't have had to put up with the last minute astronomical cross-country fare, either, if he had been in possession of a Quinjet. They'd have to steal one, at some point. Too bad he hadn't thought to keep the one Kara and Morse had flown in on.

Kara, damn.

He shook his head to clear the thought of her. Losing Kara had been a tragedy. Pulling the trigger on her himself, even unknowingly, had scarred his heart deeper than he had thought possible. Hers was a loss that he couldn't afford. He needed her.

That was a moot point now. Kara was gone, and he had to find a way to move on without her. This move against the Sanctuary Network, to Ward, seemed like the perfect distraction from her loss, so here he was in Starling City, in a hotel just two blocks from the location of the new facility, planning and plotting his next move. He had to get in, to infiltrate the facility and familiarize himself with the operations there. For now, though, he was intent to watch, to learn, to observe the comings and goings. He would wait patiently for his chance to get in, and when the opportunity came, he would take it.

:x:

NEW SANCTUARY FACILITY
STARLING CITY; 3:00 PM

'Ashley Magnus-Macrae
Sanctuary Network Associate Director'

She beamed at the door to her office, at the glimmering gold letters over frosted glass that matched the look of the door to Declan's office. Now, that was a gorgeous sight. She still hasn't gotten used to it, the hyphenated surname. Magnus-Macrae. Granted, they had only been married for three months, and she had spent just as long beforehand debating what to do with her last name: to hyphenate? To just adopt his name outright? To keep her own? She was the only child of Helen Magnus, after all, and the name would not carry on without her. The Magnus name had been synonymous with the Sanctuary Network and its work for nearly two centuries, starting with her grandfather. It had seemed a shame that there would be no one after her to carry the name onto new generations, and that was why she had eventually decided that hyphenating her name was the right choice. It was the perfect union of surnames, too. Her own, plus Declan's, a man who had given the majority of his life to the salvation and rehabilitation of abnormals, not to mention his invaluable tutelage under Dr. James Watson: the man who had been a surrogate father to Ashley herself, lover and partner to her mother in all things Sanctuary, and a better father figure and teacher to Declan than his own ever had been.

Declan was like...a second James, in many ways. He was practical, sometimes to a fault, but honest, virtuous, an amazing fighter and mentor, and incredibly patient in every way imaginable. He had been her source of refuge for at least half of her life, since they had met when she was twelve. He had been just out of the military, then, and twenty-seven. It seemed horrible when she thought of their ages in terms of numbers, but things had never worked that way in her mind, not for them. She had fallen for him at sixteen. She hadn't told anyone, of course, and he had done all that he could to dissuade her from the emotion, once he realized what was in her head. He had even broken her heart once, at eighteen, when he told her they could never be, that it wouldn't be right. She hadn't wanted to hear it, but she had been just a kid with a crush. Well, more than a crush, but he had been right. It had taken her a very long time to admit that he'd been right, and that right then...there was no possible way for them to be.

There had been relationships for both of them after that point, horrible relationships. Each one of them had ended in Ashley wanting to set a pleski loose on the idiots that broke her heart. None had wounded her as deeply as Dec had, but that hadn't mattered then. She was over him by then, or so she thought.

One night, after a particularly awful breakup, she had burst into the library of the Old City facility like a whirlwind, cursing her ex up and down, not even having the presence of mind to realize that Dec had been there. He had been sitting in the Old City library, just reading a book and minding his own business after a meeting between himself, James, and Magnus about the future of the Network. It was the first time she had seen him since he had broken her heart, the first time she had seen him since she'd realized he had been right. She had learned a lot in the year and a half since she'd seen him and, at the time, when she was nearly twenty, she had become more acutely aware of what she had put him through. She had tried to imagine a sixteen year old falling for her and it had squicked her at nineteen. That thought was even worse now that she was twenty-eight herself; she understood absolutely why he had shut her down, and she felt awful for the way she had reacted to him when he did it. By the time she had found him in that library, she had just wanted his friendship back, and they had made a point that night of mending their friendship, thanks to late-night fast food and the solitude that could always be found up on Dead Bridge.

The broken bridge was one of her favorite meeting spots for Network contacts because it was so unsafe. No one but the most daring ventured out there, and she and Dec absolutely fit that description. They were some of the most daring people she knew, even amongst the Sanctuary staff, who had to be daring on account of the very definition of what they did. They waited out the night on that old gothic bridge just talking, sharing burgers and french fries, and beginning their friendship anew. By the time the sun had crested the horizon, they were on familiar ground once more. It had been a defining night for them, for their future. He had made clear to her that night that if there was going to be something between them, ever, they both had to be patient. That had spoken to Ashley's heart, telling her that he did feel something more than a brotherly affection for her after all, and in that moment, she had decided to wait. She had poured herself into the work they did, and she waited.

It wasn't until she had turned twenty-one that they both sensed the burgeoning change in their relationship. For her birthday, he had given her the necklace she wouldn't take off for years, a sterling silver rectangular locket that was empty, save for a tiny scrap of paper that had simply read, in his own version of an elegant scrawl, which really wasn’t very elegant at all, "Soon." She had smiled like she'd won the lottery, met his eyes, and he had given her a gentle smile from within the shadows at the back of the room, unconsciously hiding from the prying eyes of friends and family around her. He had nodded to her minutely, and she had instantly palmed the note and clasped the necklace around her neck. From there, it had been coffee (and tea) dates, lunches, and then finally dinners after permission from her mother and James Watson. From those dinner dates, things had progressed quickly, until she suddenly found herself standing, wrapped in both her coat and his to ward off the cold, as he went down on one knee before her and proposed one snowy night out on Dead Bridge.

And now she was standing still, in awe once again, at seeing her name and his together on the door to her office. She had always dreamed of this, truly since she was a child, and here it was. Her dreams had come true.

"Well, love," Declan's voice came from behind her. "That look is decidedly better than the one I must've been wearing before lunch."

He laughed softly and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her hip to his as they gazed around them at the offices in what was finally starting to feel like their new home. It was different from Old City, different in the best way, because it was new and it was theirs. It was unfamiliar and foreign, with the underlying smells of something so new that the fresh paint and sanitizer scents hadn't yet faded away. Still, it remained somehow familiar. The hallways felt the same as they traversed them, trying to learn the layout of the new facility and commit them to memory, and the abnormals that had been brought in to help reduce the strain on the older facilities across the globe had already helped to lend a sense of home. These abbies were ones that Ashley and Declan had known for years, and had built a rapport with, ones who could welcome them home.

"Yeah," She turned her head up to meet Declan's eyes and beamed at him. Her joyful smile turned into something more mischievous, and she added, motioning to the name. "I like my door better."

"So do I," he laughed. "Besides, the gold suits you."

"Yeah," she beamed, looking back at the glittering letters and canted her head in thought. "It matches my guns."

They way she drew out the word 'guns' dreamily drew another laugh from Declan.

"Have I mentioned lately that I love you?" He questioned her, crooking a finger under her chin and bringing her eyes back to his.

"I don't know...have you?" She grinned brightly. "I must've forgotten. Remind me?"

He turned so that he was in front of her and took her face in his hands tenderly, almost reverently.

"I love you more than anything in this life, and more than anything I could possibly have in any other, Ashley Magnus-Macrae," he told her softly, his calloused thumbs brushing the silky skin over her cheekbones. "Will you keep me, love?"

Ashley beamed up at him, her love for him glimmering brightly in her eyes as he held her gaze. "Forever and always, my Hero. Forever and always."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close, making him wrap his arms around her waist and draw her into him.

"I love you, Dec," she murmured into the side of his neck.

"I love you, too, Ash," he answered, pressing a long kiss to her temple. "Let's get this paperwork done so we can get to something a little more important, yeah?"

"Yeah," she agreed softly, pulling back to plant a long, deep kiss on his lips. "Let's get on that. You get on the security personnel stack, I'll call Mom and start looking at what the network connections need on our end. Unfortunately, Henry is backlogged and stuck out in India, so until he can finish up with the rebuild of that entire local network's firewalls and..."

"Ring the girl we met yesterday," he told her, waving off all thought of Henry Foss. If he was held up by a backlog of work in India, then that was where he needed to focus his attentions. "Felicity, yeah? You've still got her card?

"Yep," she nodded as she pulled away from him to fish the card from her pocket. She'd been thinking of calling the blonde I.T. specialist for input on where to go for a night out, anyway. "Right here."

"Yeah. Ring her," Dec shrugged. "We need to be set up, and if Henry can't get to it yet, we'll just have to make it work from our end. We do have non-disclosure agreements for things like this."

"Yeah, but...are you sure? I'm pretty sure the girl she was with was packing, and there's no telling..."

"She was," he nodded. "Probably a .9mm, based on her size, but it could've been more substantial. She had the look of a soldier about her. Let's get the ball rolling and phone her. If Felicity's friend is looking for a new line of work, she might be a perfect fit for us."

Ash's questioning look, turned into an approving smile.

"I like the way you think, Hero," she grinned. "I'll go call her. Be done on your end by six, okay? I've got plans for us tonight."

"Do you now?" He grinned, pulling her closer again. He laid a tender kiss to her lips, and she smiled into it before she sank into him. His arms were heaven for her, and his kiss was even more. Her heart leapt in joy within her chest, and she leaned into him even further as she curved her arms around his waist.

She murmured an 'mmhmm' against his lips, and then broke the kiss reluctantly.

"So get a move on, Dec," she smirked up at him. "Six o'clock."

"Eighteen hundred hours," he grinned. "I'll be ready."

"Good," she grinned, pressed a soft kiss to his lips, and then slipped out of his embrace slowly. "Let's get to work. I've got a phone call to make."

She smiled at him and turned flirtatiously on her toes before heading off for her office, leaving Declan standing in the middle of the front office, staring after her, as she closed the door to her office and picked up the phone to dial.

:x:

AVENGERS TRAINING FACILITY
HANGAR BAY
UPSTATE NEW YORK; 3:17 PM

Barton had arrived a little over two hours earlier, and Stark had turned up piloting the Avengers' jet thirty minutes prior. Just as Steve had predicted, though, Stark had brought three Iron Man suits with him. When asked why he'd come himself if he had retired, Tony had just used the excuse of having shipped Maria Hill off to S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ to meet with the leadership, so he was down a pilot. As for the suits, Steve had gotten a shrug and a simple, "Just in case."

Steve had just shaken his head and let out a chuckle. Tony Stark was absolutely predictable. He wouldn't be able to give up being Iron Man any time soon, and both Stark and Pepper Potts knew it. Steve supposed that's why they worked so well together: Pepper knew Tony Stark, knew when he was outright lying, when he was telling the truth, and when his truths would only hold for the moment. As Stark had said before, he was the only Iron Man, and he always would be. Sure, Colonel Rhodes was War Machine, but Stark would always be Iron Man, and Steve wasn't certain that Stark could ever be convinced to give up that mantle by anything other than death or old age. Still, he was glad to have Stark along for the ride...even if he could be a pain in Steve's—

"Hey, Spangles!" Stark called out from behind him. Steve rolled his eyes and turned, shouldering his duffel bag as he moved.

"Are you ever going to stop using that moniker? It sounds ridiculous," Steve grumbled as he walked toward Stark.

"I'll stop using it as soon as it quits getting a rise out of you," the billionaire smirked. "Though, I don't really see that happening anytime soon, so..."

"Is the jet ready?" Steve cut in, quirking an eyebrow at Stark.

"Yep," Stark answered, popping the 'p' on the end. "Everyone is on board but you. We'll be in Starling by dinner time."

"Good," Steve nodded and headed for the loading ramp. "Stark?"

"Yeah, Cap?"

"I'm glad you're here, just in case," he spoke quietly. They had gotten a rocky start, but Steve had come to respect Tony over time. Every so often, they would cut the banter and find a serious moment, even if those moments wouldn't last long.

"No problem, Cap," Stark nodded. "Now, get yourself on board! Wheels up in ten, unless it takes you that long to get there, gramps!"

Steve rolled his eyes as Stark moved past him and bounded up the ramp in excitement. Yes, Tony Stark was one hundred percent predictable. Steve took a look around behind him, and then climbed the ramp, wondering if this trip would be the one where he didn't make it home, or if everything would still be standing when he did. One of these days, his luck would run out. He just prayed to God that it wouldn't be today.

chapter fic: [mcu/arrow/the flash/sanctuary crossover] there is justice in the end; chapter 1

linesfade — Thu, 06 Aug 2015 21:09:49 GMT

Author: linesfade
Rating: T/PG-13
Chapter: 1 / ??
Summary: HYDRA hasn't been destroyed, they've only been sent running to the shadows. With no one currently at the helm, Grant Ward takes it upon himself to become the head of HYDRA. He proceeds with an old HYDRA plan to infiltrate the shadowy Sanctuary Network, which only serves to draw the Avengers, Phil Coulson and the other Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. into the mix. The only problem is that they're cutting in on someone else's turf; Starling City already has a protector, and Team Arrow isn't going to take kindly to the invasion. They can handle the goings-on in their own city, including taking down HYDRA, once and for all. Or, so Oliver Queen thinks. It might just end up being more complicated than any of the heroes and vigilantes could have ever imagined.

Spoilers: Arrow: AU post 3x01, minus Sara's death; The Flash: Season 1 finale; Agents of SHIELD: Season 2 finale; Avengers/MCU: post Age of Ultron, with the minor change that Barton has a farm, but no family; and Sanctuary: AU after S1 finale, minus Watson's death.

Disclaimer: I do not own or have anything to do with Disney, Marvel comics, the MCU, Sanctuary, DC comics, the DCCU, the CW, ABC, or Syfy networks. I'm just playing in the sandboxes, and OH BOY, is it fun! No harm is intended, and the only thing I claim are the original characters.

A/N:So, I'm basically taking on one HECK of an undertaking with this fic, meshing these huge 'verses together. I hope, hope, and HOPE this turns out as good as it sounded in our heads, but we'll see. The Sanctuary portion of this is based on an RP that sweetveritas and I share, where Ashley and Declan are an item. (Just roll with it. It works, I promise! ;)) And a BIG, LARGE, McHUGE THANK YOU to sweetveritas and sietepecados for helping me keep everything straight with this crazy brainchild!

:x:

ONE

OCTOBER 8
NEW SANCTUARY FACILITY
STARLING CITY; 2:14 PM

“Declan Macrae, PhD.
Starling City Director
Sanctuary Network”

Declan stopped dead in his tracks, the paperwork and clipboard in his hands nearly falling to the floor, forgotten. He couldn’t help but stare at the sight before him, dumbfounded, at what had been done. His name and title were emblazoned across the door to his office, each letter a shimmering gold decal pasted onto wavy, frosted glass. He frowned as he looked at what would surely come off as a display of ego to anyone who came to his office, and the thoughts that raced through his mind were the very definition of ‘annoyed.’ He had walked through this door so many times in the past week without paying the words on it any mind, but this time it had leapt out at him like the bloody thing had a literal blinking arrow pointing directly to it. He hated it.

"'S a little much, don'tcha think?" a musical voice floated over his shoulder, breaking into his thoughts, and a smile instantly blossomed over his face. His wife bounced up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, her blonde hair billowing around her shoulders. They had just been married three months prior, and planning a wedding along with establishing a new facility to house abnormals in Starling City, had put quite a lot of pressure on the both of them. Perhaps he had delegated too much to Henry Foss as they drew closer to the wedding date. Declan would never have gone this far; his name in a black sans serif font face on the frosted glass window would have been perfectly sufficient. Even a simple, “Director” would have been more than adequate to suit the purpose. Declan Macrae was not a man who needed his ego stroked.

"Yeah, love," Declan grinned at her, the one and only Ashley Magnus-Macrae. "It's far too much. I never should have let this task to Henry."

"He meant well," Ashley laughed. "It is Henry, after all; you probably should've expected it. And, hey, at least it isn't on your business cards."

"Good Lord," Declan groaned. "I haven't even looked at those yet."

"I did," she beamed, eyes sparkling with mischief as she stepped around him and flicked one into the air with deft fingers. "They're cute."

"Cute?!" Declan sputtered. "I swear...If Henry put some fool bloody thing on there, like..."

Declan plucked the card out of midair without pause, and turned it over for a critical inspection. His reflexes and hand-eye coordination had rapidly been gaining speed and accuracy after the conclusion of his Source Blood treatments the week before. Helen Magnus, the Sanctuary Network's founder, had been reluctant to give the treatments to Declan at first, but her daughter, Declan’s Ashley, had already been forcibly dosed with the original Vampire Source Blood six years earlier, and she had nearly ceased aging as a result. Ashley had also developed vampiric abilities that had given her accelerated healing and the ability to teleport. They all still carried a heavy hatred for the Cabal after such a violation, but the changes to her DNA were not something that could be undone. They had kept an ear to the ground for the Cabal’s movements, and while Declan didn’t think that it was possible for the Cabal to have just disappeared completely, that appeared to be just what had happened. He had often theorized that the Cabal had been absorbed into some other entity, and James Watson, Helen Magnus, and even Ashley, had been inclined to agree that it could have been possible. No one, no single organization so large and so hellbent on the collection of Abnormals as the Cabal had been, could have disappeared so completely, without someone to hide the evidence. They were bound to show up again, and when they did, Declan and the entirety of the Sanctuary Network would be ready.

When Declan had asked Helen Magnus’ permission for her daughter’s hand in marriage, though, their priorities had taken a small, temporary shift. Magnus knew, better than most, that relationships didn't tend to last if you couldn't grow old together. Sometimes they wouldn’t even last then, but she had wanted her daughter and Declan to have their best opportunity to do have the life they wanted. She had given them both her blessing and the promise, if indeed it was within her power, to not let her daughter outlive the man she loved.

Magnus had joined forces with Dr. James Watson and created a derivative of the Source Blood for Declan, one extracted from within her own DNA. She had been the only one of the Five to inherit longevity as her gift from taking the Blood during their time at Oxford in the late 19th century, and had hoped to identify the markers that would bestow the same gift to Declan. They still weren't certain if her technique had worked on him, as the Source Blood was always unpredictable at best, but he knew he certainly felt younger these days. He was becoming quicker, both in mind and body, which would help in innumerable ways as head of the Starling City Sanctuary. Declan was beginning to feel as he had in his younger days when he had worked under James Watson in the London facility, which was simply a miracle. He owed the world to Helen Magnus.

"It's working," Ashley observed, and her face curved up into a smile of approval as he picked the card out of the air.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. The Source Blood serum? It is," Declan answered, looking up from the card and grinning despite the threat of 'cute' Ashley had leveled against his business card. "It's working quite well. Did you ever doubt your mum, love?"

"No," she grinned, canting her head to one side. "But she did say that it could take time for the serum to kick in, since it was just a derivative of the original Source Blood. I'm glad she was wrong."

Helen Magnus wasn't often wrong on anything.

"As am I, Ash," he smiled. "Looks, and feels, like we've got quite a lot of planning to do for the future, starting with this."

He waved the card at her, and finally summoned enough courage to get a good look at it. His eyes narrowed quizzically as he looked up at Ashley.

"Got-cha!" she sing-songed. The blonde grinned brightly as she extended her index finger and thumb into a gun, winked, and made a clicking sound with her tongue. Declan just shook his head, chuckling softly, and pocketed the plain card with just his name, office phone number, and email address in black print on a crisp, white stock.

Ashley sauntered over and wrapped her arms around his neck, beaming up at him with an innocence that should have left her a decade or more ago.

"I love you, Hero," she told him softly, and pressed her lips to his.

"I love you, too, Ashley," he answered as the kiss broke, his voice every bit as tender. "How about we take a break and head out for a late lunch?"

"I'd love to," she grinned as she took his hands and drug him off toward the garage. "I heard about this burger joint this morning when I ran out for breakfast. It's supposed to be THE BEST in Starling City..."

:x:

BIG BELLY BURGER
THE GLADES NEIGHBORHOOD
STARLING CITY; 2:36 PM

Felicity Smoak frowned into her chocolate milkshake and tried to stir it up with her straw. It was still too thick to stir yet, so the straw just bent where it emerged from the icy deliciousness that was today's comfort food. She knew she could just choose not to go to the lair tonight, but there was really no choice in it. She was as much a part of Team Arrow as Oliver was. One almost-date and a healthy dose of awkward pushing-away later, which basically amounted to a breakup — wait, could you even call it a breakup if you never even made it to the end of the meal of your first date before the restaurant was blown up?

"I'm going to go with a 'no' on that one, Cutie," Sara Lance smiled softly from the outside seat of the booth beside her. A realization struck Sara that those words weren't supposed to have come out, as she watched Felicity's face register an abrupt shock. "Oh, you didn't mean to...right..."

"Again?!" Felicity groaned. "God, Sara, I'm sorry...Maybe it really is a bad idea for me to show up tonight. The last thing that you guys need is me thinking that I'm thinking about reaming out Oliver, only to find out that I am actually telling Oliver how much I think he's..."

"An ass?" Sara supplied, stealing a spoonful from the top of Felicity's milkshake, chocolate sprinkles and all.

"Well, I was going to go with something a little bit nicer, but..."

"Nope, 'ass' is definitely the word you're looking for there. He's let you into his world this far, dating shouldn't be a hangup. I mean, he's dated before."

"Yeah," Felicity gave her a disdainful look. "The main distinction there being that you are, you know, you, and obviously, with all of your shared island time and experience with the League and all of that training, you can take care of yourself, and do so on a regular basis. It's a concept that seems to have completely embedded itself into his brain: apparently, I can't take care of myself well enough for his liking - not that I've ever really even cared to do a workout that consisted of more than yoga and crunches in my living room - but I could defend myself if I had to, you know?"

"I know you could," Sara nodded, giving her a sympathetic smile. She had been the one to give Felicity self-defense training alongside John Diggle, another member of their team. Sara knew Felicity's strengths and weaknesses better than most. "Ollie’s just...being Ollie."

"You said it," Felicity grumbled, taking a spoonful of milkshake. It hovered before her mouth for a moment before she dropped it back into the mixture and looked up at Sara. "But it's not like I haven't held my own before! Or like he hasn't used me as bait before! All of that with Slade? Yeah, that was me, helping to take him down. I handled myself just fine! I could handle dating a vigilante, I swear! But no, he doesn't seem to think so."

"Then we make him think so," Sara countered. "Dating him or not, it wouldn’t hurt to train you harder. We could stand to add an extra day a week to your schedule, too. I'll do it. Not like I have anything better to do at the moment."

"I don’t know, Sara. Is it even worth it to try and prove that to him? I’m getting tired of the push and pull between us, and you have League stuff..."

"When I'm gone, Digg can take over," Sara shrugged like it wasn't a big deal, stealing another spoonful of Felicity's milkshake. "You know, there is nothing more I miss when I’m in Nanda Parbat than Big Belly Burger and their milkshakes.”

Felicity made a noise of protest, and Sara’s eyes widened at her obvious verbal misstep.

“And you!" The assassin amended.

Felicity laughed and rolled her eyes. "Nice save."

Sara gave a mock bow from within her seat beside Felicity and grinned. Sara opened her mouth to say something else, but stopped out of pure reaction when the door chimed. The smile died on her face, and Sara’s hand instantly went to her side, inches from where Felicity knew a firearm was concealed behind her back. Felicity's eyebrows rose out of surprise at the drastic reaction, and she turned in her seat, training her eyes on the diner’s door, too. Felicity, out of the corner of her eye, caught Sara relax minutely moment later, once the assassin realized that it was just a couple entering. Felicity glanced back at Sara and realized that although some of the tension may have left her body, Sara’s instincts remained on high alert.

The blonde hacker turned back to measure the couple, and took a few mental notes: the newcomers had a vast age difference between them, but in this day and age, was it really all that out of place? She noted the matching pair of silver rings on their left hands and felt a pang of jealousy tug at her heart unbidden. The newcomers were married.

Was everyone either married, or happily in love, except for her? Felicity stuffed the emotion down, and looked quickly to Sara.

"You okay?" Felicity asked Sara under her breath, studying her friend closely. Felicity wasn't quite sure when Sara Lance had become her closest confidante, but she had missed these girls' nights, or, more accurately, afternoons, since their nights were usually full of vigilantism and saving the city alongside Oliver Queen as the Arrow, Roy Harper as Arsenal, and Digg as their backup.

Sara had been rescued from the island of Lian Yu, where she had been shipwrecked with Oliver. She had eventually been saved, trained, and then had been employed by the League of Assassins, headed by Ra's al Ghul. She had left the League after realizing the life of an assassin was too dark, too cold, for her to handle, and Felicity had come to be grateful for having a woman on the team like Sara, the rough start between them notwithstanding. But when Slade Wilson had threatened Starling City, Sara had done the only thing she knew she could to help them win: return to the League. She had given them her vow to return to Nanda Parbat, Ra's, and the League, if they would help her defend the city where her family, and all those she loved, called home. She had come through with Nyssa al Ghul and an army of assassins who helped save Starling once again from an army of criminals that Slade had dosed with a Mirakuru derivative, making them all super-strong, super-crazy, killing machines. She had come back to Starling on business, what for she wouldn't say, but Felicity wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. She was going to get all the girl time in that she could with Sara while she was in town, because randomly hopping a train for the six hundred miles between Starling and Central Cities to meet up with Felicity’s next best girlfriend, Caitlin Snow, or getting Caitlin to Starling, was next to impossible. Between Felicity's night job, and Caitlin's place on the Flash's team at Star Labs, there weren't many chances for them to meet up for moping over bad or broken relationships and girl talk as they sipped at the best chocolate milkshakes the world had ever known.

Sara hadn't answered Felicity’s query. Instead, she let her hand slide further toward the butt of her handgun as the man's eyes met hers. The younger woman with him followed his gaze as they waited in line for a table, and her eyes found Sara's as well. Felicity shrank back a little in surprise, but laid a warning hand on Sara's leg under the table as the blonde by the door flashed a small smile in their direction. The man she was with gave a gentle nod of acknowledgment, himself, before the hostess came and started picking up a pair of menus. The hunter in Sara clearly recognized the hunter in the two newcomers, and it had Felicity's curiosity piqued, and her sense of self-preservation kicking into high gear. She had seen the same look, now etched onto Sara's face, each time a new mask had come into town and met with Oliver for the first time. Felicity felt the need to defuse the situation in the restaurant before it even became a situation in the first place.

"Sara, wait," Felicity whispered, patting her friend's leg. "Just wait. Maybe it's okay."

The hostess brought the new pair closer and seated them at the next table over, leaving Sara grunting quietly in frustration. Felicity really didn't need to get thrown into any sort of insane situation, what with the mood she was in.

"Hi," the new blonde smiled at Sara and Felicity as the hostess set down their menus and left the table. Felicity could see them realizing the location of Sara's hand in relation to her weapon, and groaned inwardly.

'Please don't let things get awkward,' Felicity begged silently. 'Or worse.'

"Hi!" Felicity returned the greeting, but not knowing where to take the conversation from there.

"I hear good things about this place," the new woman said, smiling innocently. "Like, best burgers in town, kinds of things."

"Oh, yes!" Felicity grinned. "It is! You'd never think it, what with it being out here in the Glades, but it totally is. Are you guys new in town? I only ask because that's kind of a 'totally new in town' kind of thing to say, and you don't really sound like you're from around here, so I just couldn't help but wondering..."

Sara laughed softly beside her, and the newcomer smiled wider.

"We are," she grinned, and leaned over holding out her hand for a handshake. "Ashley Magnus-Macrae. This is my husband, Declan Macrae."

The man, Declan, offered another nod and a charming smile that probably would have disarmed most women. Only, after years of taking down Starling's criminal element night after night, she and Sara weren't most women.

"Felicity Smoak," Felicity answered, taking the blonde's hand and giving it a shake in greeting before motioning to Sara. "And this is my friend, Sara Lance. So, what brings you to Starling City, other than our totally amazing Big Belly Burger, that is?"

Ashley gave a soft laugh.

"Business, actually," she answered as her husband pulled her chair out for her. The woman took her seat and looked adoringly up at Declan before thanking him. He dropped a kiss to the top of her head before taking his seat beside her. "We're starting up a new branch of my mother's organization in town, a foundation kind of thing, so we're here basically checking out the scenery, trying to get a feel for the neighborhood, things like that, before we're neck deep into everything that comes with the job."

That didn't seem to have settled Sara a bit.

"What sort of foundation work do you do?" Sara inquired as she reluctantly inched her hand away from her hidden sidearm and back toward the table, just not on top of it. "We pitch in a bit on the philanthropy front, here and there, ourselves."

'Well, that was one way of putting it,' Felicity smirked inwardly.

"We do a variety of things," Declan answered so that Ashley could flip open her menu and skim the items, and Felicity mentally (well, hopefully she kept it mental) gaped at the British accent that filtered out. "Most of what we do is to help those in need of a place of safety find it."

"Sanctuary," Ashley corrected, who was most definitely not British, but maybe...Canadian? She had a proud smile on her face, though, evidence of a deep love for her family's business. "We provide sanctuary for those who have none, defense for those who can't protect themselves, and rehabilitate even more who need that sort of help. Sanctuary for all, as my mom says."

"Okay, that's actually really cool," Felicity beamed. "And you're actually a Brit? That's too cool! Very Doctor Who. Or James Bond. You look more like a Bond, which is just as awesome!"

Ashley laughed and exchanged amused glances with Declan at the ramble.

"So, I guess that means this is an international thing that you do? Or is that assumption totally off base? God, sorry, you guys probably want to eat, and here I am just talking your ears off. I'm so sorry, I do this way too often. I swear I'll shut up in three, two, one..," Felicity pressed her lips together into a straight line, clamping down on them with her teeth so she wouldn't say another word.

Ashley just grinned at her, and Declan let out a chuckle.

"I'd take Bond," he grinned, leaning back in his chair and tossing one arm over the back.

"You totally are Bond, babe," Ashley beamed at him.

"I am," he smirked playfully, quirking an eyebrow at his wife. "Or at least, I used to be."

"Please," she laughed. "You still are. You've still got it, Soldier."

Felicity watched the duo as the light-hearted banter continued between them, and her heart twisted in her chest. She had wanted that for so long with Oliver, a man who didn't seem to think that you could have the life you wanted alongside the one you chose. And yet, here was the evidence before her that seemed as if it truly were a possibility. If only someone would have told Oliver that. Maybe it really was time to face the fact that he wasn't going to come around and just...move on.

Felicity must've made a noise, because Sara turned to look at her with concern in her eyes, only to find an expression of longing on her friend's face. Sara took Felicity's hand under the table and gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. Felicity’s attention came back to the present, and she offered Sara a small smile of encouragement to continue on with the conversation. Sara turned her eyes back to the new couple.

"Soldier?" Sara asked, her interest piqued now. "Are you SAS?"

"Former Royal Marine," Declan amended, his smile fading a bit around the corners. "From a long while back."

"I'm impressed," she answered, leaving Felicity smiling a little that her friend seemed to be relaxing. Being military didn't necessarily make him one of the good guys, just ask Digg, but Felicity knew that it gave Declan a good start toward that column in Sara's book. And in hers. "What brought you into the world of philanthropy?"

"Well, we are an international group as, Felicity, was it?" He asked, and Felicity nodded her confirmation, "as Felicity asked, and sometimes we take in some of the more...dangerous clients, so we keep an in-house security force on staff at all of our facilities. After I was discharged..."

Sara quirked a questioning eyebrow, and he smiled sadly.

"Injured in the line of duty," he clarified, easily knowing the question before she asked it. Sara nodded her appreciation for his answer, and he continued. "I was recruited for security at the London facility, and after a couple of decades, here we are, looking to set up our own facility, here in Starling City."

It was a boiled-down version, but it seemed to work well enough for Sara, as the last of the immediate tension was finally expelled from her body. Felicity watched, awed as her shoulders relaxed, and then Ashley and Declan's followed suit. It was funny, just a few years ago, she never would have noticed such a subtle shift. Now, after working so closely for so long with vigilantes who bristled at the mere thought of someone new moving in on their metaphorical (or maybe not-so-metaphorical) turf, noticing those subtle shifts of posture had become second nature to her. It still felt as though they were leaving something out, but it was a good starting point.

"Well," Felicity smiled sweetly, popping open her handbag and drawing out a business card. She gave it to Sara and made her lean across the aisle to hand it to them. "If you ever have the need of someone local who is good at I.T. work, setting up a network, or whatever other kinds of techy things, feel free to give me a call. I'm sort of...in between day jobs, for the time being."

Considering she didn't start work at Tech Village until after lunch, it wasn't much of a lie. It was just a tiny stretch of the truth, since she had mornings free and hadn't yet figured out how to sleep in since Oliver had lost QC.

"Oh, awesome!" Ashley grinned. "We've actually got a guy, but he's been swamped back home...we might could do with a little help to get things going. What d'you think, Dec?"

"It's not a bad idea," Declan nodded. "We can give Henry a ring when we get back and get an update on how he's progressing, then go from there."

"Sweet!" Felicity beamed. "You guys seem like a lot of fun. Seriously, feel free to call me if you need any help. Like, at all. I'm basically good for anything and everything," her eyes widened. "Tech-wise, I mean. Obviously."

"Sounds great," Ashley laughed again, looking up as the waitress headed for their table. "It was nice to meet you both. Hopefully we'll catch you around town, too. It would be great to have someone who could show us the ropes around here."

"I think that could be arranged," she grinned. "You let me know when you want to see the sights! Not that there's all that much to see, but still."

"Will do," Ashley grinned as their waitress sidled up to the table to take their drink orders.

Felicity looked at Sara, smiling. There was a hint of pride in Felicity's eyes, and a bit of smugness in her smile.

"What?" Sara asked, her brows knitting in confusion at the look on her friend's face.

"Oh, you know. Just solving problems without violence erupting. Something that I doubt Oliver could have managed, had he been the one here..."

Sara laughed. "Okay, you've got that one right. Way to get an in, Cutie. Now, we just need to find out who they really are, and what their business is in Starling City."

:x:

THE PLAYGROUND
NEW S.H.I.E.L.D HEADQUARTERS
LOCATION: CLASSIFIED; 2:50 PM

"Sir?" A brief knock on the door after the address meant only one person would be popping a head into his office: Skye.

Phillip Coulson looked up from the mountain of paperwork on his desk and smiled. She was like a daughter to him, no doubt the closest he'd come to having one, her newfound powers notwithstanding. They had been through hell together, he and his team, and he was never going to turn his back on them. Certainly not on Skye. He had made a promise to her father to save her, to protect her, before Cal had been sent through the T.A.H.I.T.I. protocol. Phil Coulson always kept his word.

"Skye," he greeted, still smiling. "Come in. Close the door, please."

The brunette gave him an odd look, but obliged. She pulled the office door closed behind her just as Coulson pushed away his paperwork and rose from his desk. It had been two weeks since they had retaken the ship from the Inhumans, two weeks since Jemma Simmons had disappeared while investigating the Kree monolith, and two weeks since Coulson had lost a part of his arm saving his team from the Terrigen crystal that the militant Inhuman, Gordon, had dropped upon his death.

Coulson still felt it, the arm, like it was still there. He'd heard that the sensation was odd, the ghost of a limb severed, the nerves of the body unaware that they no longer had their previous endings to relay feeling to. It was...disconcerting, to say the least. He was still looking into options to replace the limb, but he still wasn't sure of which way to go. He doubted that he would know what to do for a while, yet. Mack still felt awful about having to be the one to part him from his arm, but they both knew that if he hadn't, Coulson would be dead, and what remained of S.H.I.E.L.D. would have been left without a Director. With Fury in the wind, still tracking down rogue elements of HYDRA, it had been left to Coulson to lead. It wasn't a job that he had wanted, but it was one that he was coming to be good at. He had taken the job more out of necessity than anything else, at first, and should someone come along that had the ability to lead S.H.I.E.L.D. as it should be led, or certain traitorous organizations be completely toppled, well, he would certainly think of handing over the reins. As it stood, though, Coulson had lost too many good agents already, and had nearly lost even more. Coulson wasn't going to let their lives have been spent, or irrevocably altered, for nothing, so he remained in command. For now.

"You wanted to see me?" Skye asked, her dark eyes flitting over his form, pausing slightly as she took in the sling over his shoulder. He thought he caught a flicker of guilt there, still. It had been her mother's plan, after all, that had led them to where they were, but it had hardly been Skye's fault. She had been played as neatly as the rest of them by Jiaying.

"Yes," he nodded, coming forward to lay his right hand on her shoulder. "How are you doing, Skye?"

"I - I'm all right," she answered, a little bit caught off guard. Coulson hadn't asked her that once in the last two weeks, he knew. There hadn't been time at first, and once there was, he had wanted her to take some time to digest everything. "I think."

"I'm not," he confessed quietly, giving her a gentle smile. "It's normal, or so Dr. Garner tells me."

Skye gave a small, nervous laugh. "Yeah, I suppose it is. It's not every day that your dad turns into a rage monster just shy of the Hulk, and then your mom tries to kill you and all of your friends..."

"And maybe get your arm cut off," he added, a wry smile twisting his face, "But hey, who needs normal, right? We don't do 'normal.'"

"Did we ever?" Skye asked. She hesitated a moment and then added, quirking an eyebrow, "How are you, sir?"

"I'm...surviving," he sighed, looking over his shoulder for a way to divert the subject. If he didn't, things were going to get far too heavy. "I came across an anomaly yesterday, something that I thought you might want to take a look at."

"An anomaly," she repeated, stepping closer. Coulson went to reach behind himself with his missing hand, and sighed. He turned around to reach toward the desk, still not used to his one-handed conundrum, and retrieved a file and flash drive from the stack of assignments on his desk. When he turned back to speak again, he found Skye even closer, holding a hand out for the items. He gave her a small smile.

"We've been monitoring the HYDRA channels for months now, that much you know. You also know that there hasn't been so much as a hiccup of data transmitted over any of their formerly secure channels for weeks now. We were beginning to think that they had found a new way to communicate, since we have intelligence suggesting that they weren't entirely wiped out," he explained. He didn't add that he likely wouldn't currently be in the Director's chair if they had been. "And then, all of a sudden, there was this..."

Coulson reached behind him, pressed a button on his desk, and Fury's toolbox rose from the enclosure within the desk. The lights in the room dimmed, and the windows darkened before the box activated, bringing up a large, blue holographic display. Skye stepped closer to him, clutching the folder and flash storage to her chest.

"A communique?" She asked, and Coulson nodded. "Someone is using the channels again?"

"Just this once. Mistakenly, it seems," Coulson added, nodding to the holographic terminal.

Skye stepped up and commanded the interface to play the file. What she saw made her eyes narrow and her brows knit together in confusion. “What is this?”

A series of images and words, seemingly nonsensical, flashed by as they watched. Colors, numbers, letters, whole words, locations, all flicking by in the blink of an eye, but the one image that held her attention was one in the middle of the transmission that had been repeated at the end, the HYDRA emblem.

"It's really them? HYDRA?" Skye asked, turning to Coulson. There was no way she could possibly make sense of this at full, or even half speed; Coulson certainly hadn't been able to, and he had played it back dozens of times. There had to be a reason, a pattern to it, he knew, and Skye was the best at solving puzzles. Well, perhaps after Fitz, but Leo Fitz wasn't in the best state of mind, given Jemma Simmons' disappearance.

"It seems so," Coulson acknowledged, "I thought you could take it and try to work it out. Everything I have, notes, the coordinates and locations of some of those photographs, is in that folder, and the source file is on the flash drive.

Skye nodded. "I'm thinking that some of these things are red herrings, which means some would have to be discarded altogether. I can slow the images down, try to decipher what they are, and then maybe I can try to get Fitz involved with this?"

She raised her eyes to Coulson in question, and he nodded his encouragement.

"By all means, try. I haven't been able to get much of anything out of him since..." Since they had lost Simmons.

Skye's eyes registered a haunted look again as guilt flowed freely through her.

"Has anyone else turned up anything? About Jemma?" She asked quietly.

Coulson's eyes fell from hers and he shook his head. "Not yet. May is due back tomorrow afternoon with Agent Hill from Stark Industries HQ, so maybe they'll have some actionable intel for us."

"I hope so," Skye murmured, then held the folder and flash drive closer to her chest. "I should...go and see what I can do with this. Is there anything else, Coulson?"

"No," he shook his head. "Not at the moment. Let's just...try to get back into the swing of things for now. And...let's keep this between us for a few days. If Fitz wants in, great. If not, we don't need the whole base knowing that HYDRA may be on the move. At least, not just yet."

"Copy that," she nodded. "I'll see what I can do. And, Sir?”

“Yeah, Skye?” Coulson asked softly.

“It's Daisy now,” she smiled slightly. It wasn't the first time she'd had to remind him of this, and they both knew that it probably wouldn't be the last.

“Right,” Coulson sighed. “Daisy. Sorry.”

“It's okay, Sir,” she smiled, rapping her fingers against the file folder for a second. “I'll...get to work on these.”

Coulson nodded, then watched her turn and leave the office, but he remained leaning against his desk. Looking down at the sling that held the remainder of his arm, he frowned. He really needed to do something about that.

Maybe he'd look at his list of recommendations next, and put off a little bit of the Director's paperwork. If things were about to get complicated, Coulson wanted to be in top form. One never knew when they might be needed to step out of the shadows to confront the dark.

:x:

HYDRA SAFEHOUSE
SOMEWHERE IN NEW YORK CITY; 3:16 PM

Grant Ward smirked at the laptop screen as he read the report once more. This was a move that HYDRA had been planning for a long time, if the files that had been retrieved by the crew he had cobbled together were any indication. HYDRA leadership, by all accounts, had either been killed or had scattered to the winds to hide, and Ward had had no other choice than to assume the leadership position himself. If there was no one left to claim the mantle of HYDRA’s head and aid him in his next mission, then he would do it himself.

Reports were still coming in to the HYDRA central nexus that operatives were going dark, one by one, overseas. Ward had simply shrugged off the intel and kept moving forward. Their losses were acceptable, in the grand scheme of things, and he simply chalked them up to the movements of the Avengers and Nick Fury. He had been keeping close tabs on the Avengers' movements across the world for months, although, after the incident in Sokovia with Ultron, they had all but disappeared. With the Avengers being off the grid, his time was now.

He spread out various sheets of paper before him on the desktop, each one filled with scribbles of plans and proposed timelines. He needed to take one last look over everything and make a final determination on what his next move should be; Ward's first roll of the die had already been cast, and that was going to lead S.H.I.E.L.D. straight to his doorstep if he didn't make another move. His plan required action, but action required strategy.

The pages before him spelled out every piece of intel that he had found documenting locations and assets belonging to the shadow agency that operated under the alias of the Sanctuary Network. Like HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D., they were a covert network that was interested in powered individuals, though, their definition of "individuals" gave him the feeling that the whole truth wasn't being disclosed. S.H.I.E.L.D. had been interested in the Sanctuary Network in the past, but had passed on getting involved in lieu of both government interference and something bigger and badder showing up to threaten the world. After all, why would S.H.I.E.L.D. care to bother with an odd woman tucking powered humans into metaphorical holes in the ground, when there were alien invasions to deal with? At least, that's what Ward assumed was happening. It was time to get to know his quarry better.

What he did know was that the facilities in Old City, London, Cairo, and various other locations across the globe that had long been established, were in possession of too much security to infiltrate for his taste. He had too few men to begin with, and he wasn't going to risk moving in and losing the ones directly under his banner. It was time to move into Starling City and start observing the Sanctuary Network more closely, this time from the ground up.

:x:

HYDRA HEADQUARTERS
LOCATION: CLASSIFIED; 3:20 PM

"Well," a male voice spoke into the darkness. "This certainly is a most interesting turn of events."

"Grant Ward is taking charge of HYDRA?" A female voice answered, "Things are most definitely going to get interesting in the following weeks. I move that we should keep an eye on the situation."

"Agreed," a third voice floated out from across the room. "And Hail HYDRA."

"HAIL HYDRA," a chorus of twelve voices rose up into the darkness, all eyes on the communications terminals and video monitors before them.

to be continued...

chapter fic: [sga] only god; parts 5 & 6

linesfade — Tue, 28 Oct 2014 02:02:12 GMT

Author: linesfade
Rating: Somewhere between PG-13 and R
Chapter: 5-6/6
Summary: The pages of their lives were full, and there were pictures to prove it.
Spoilers: None, really. Quite AU; Elizabeth was never turned into a Replicator in this verse.
A/N: Originally, this fic started out to be a one-shot, inspired by anuna_81 and the amazing country band, Emerson Drive. It's gone from being an abandoned fic to being edited, edited, and then edited some more and finally finished, just in time for this year's sparktober entries! I truly hope you guys enjoy this!
Disclaimer: I do not own SGA, any of the Stargate universe, characters or places. I also do not own any rights to the songs mentioned within. Only the original characters/places/planets are mine. I'm just playing in the sandbox...don't mind me. :) The Emerson Drive song referenced throughout this fic is Only God (Could Stop Me Loving You). The song mentioned in part one, Dance With You, belongs to Live.

Previous Chapters

FIVE

John's eyes moved across the pages, chuckling under his breath at the memories each image conjured, until he made it to the photos of the group preparing for the wedding ceremony.

It had only taken Elizabeth two hours to purchase her dress, and have her hair set. Teyla had made an appearance at the chapel before Elizabeth was completely ready to ensure that the men were ready, and that they wouldn't see Elizabeth as she made her way to the chapel. The Athosian barked orders here and there to the rest of their team, directing and coaching in ways that could only have been handed down from Elizabeth herself. John had had to smirk at the amount of thought and detail that Elizabeth had put into this; obviously the old saying that women plan every step of their weddings from the time they're small held some truth, because he was living proof of it.

Lorne had had it the easiest of the lot of them. He merely had to learn the proper place to stand and provide the musical accompaniment to the ceremony, both before and after. Once he had been shown his place, he simply sat around plucking at John's guitar or his own fiddle, or laughing at the fool Rodney was making of himself as he tried to jockey for position as John's best man.

It took every ounce of patience John had left to keep refusing Rodney, and it wasn't until Ronon overheard the pleading and leveled a warning growl in McKay's direction that the scientist had finally backed off. A reminder from Teyla of the technology that Rodney had pocketed on Atlantis and brought with them to Ceteras finally had McKay lighting up as he set about tinkering with the devices to set them up. One had been the slim holographic projector that would later be inserted into the first page of the photo album, and the other had been a video recording device that would record the entire ceremony. With McKay and Lorne squared away, all that was left was to get both John and Ronon dressed and into place for the ceremony.

After a twenty minute tutorial for Ronon on how to assemble the tuxedo, the Satedan was attired appropriately, save for the bow tie. John had tried to coach him through it multiple times, but Ronon had only ended up balling the scrap of material in his fist and throwing it across the room in annoyance. John had just smirked silently at the display as he adhered the last of his service ribbons and rank insignia to his dress uniform. He had always hated the time it took to assemble the uniform to the Air Force's standards, but today he was glad for the extra attention to detail that was required to pin on all of his decorations and service medals; the focus it required was his sanity's saving grace as they waited for word that Elizabeth was ready.

When he was done, he turned to Ronon and shrugged.

"Ready?" Ronon asked him pointedly, and John just took a deep breath to steady himself as he took stock of his reflection in the mirror.

"Yeah. I'm ready," he answered finally, the. Turned to look at Ronon. "You scrapping the tie?"

"Couldn't figure it out," came the simple reply, complete with a shrug.

John smirked and nodded as he tugged uncomfortably at his own collar. "I hate 'em, too, buddy. The world would be better off without neckties in general, in my opinion."

Before Ronon could answer, Rodney burst into the room with what could hardly be considered a knock, as the door had already been swung wide open. A stream of technobabble dropped from Rodney's mouth as he entered the room and started snapping photos. Ronon and John shared a look, and then John simply shook his head. Elizabeth would love the photographic evidence of what they were embarking upon here, and even though it was McKay shooting the images, he would endure it for Elizabeth. He would endure anything for her, just as he always had.

~ x ~

Before John had even realized what had happened, he had taken his place at the head of the chapel, Ronon behind him in the space reserved for his best man. John tried to gain his bearings, only to be dumbstruck by the vision that walked through the sanctuary doors. His attention had been so completely stolen by the sight before him that he barely heard the soft, melodic strains of Evan's fiddle, so different to the energetic sounds it had made the previous night, that announced the entrance of Teyla and Elizabeth. John hadn't known at the time, of course, but Elizabeth had had her eye on a certain dress in one of the shops in the market for quite a while. She would later tell him that she had hoped that she would have an excuse to purchase the gown for some celebratory event on the planet, but never in a million years would she have guessed that event would be her own wedding ceremony.

As she stepped through the doors at the rear of the chapel, he had to admit that she had the perfect eye. The gown had been one that could have passed for a vintage wedding dress on earth, a champagne-hued piece that flowed elegantly to the ground. It was a satin sheath dress, with a lace layer over top of it that made a tender swishing sound as she moved. a short train trail behind her as she walked, and Teyla kept a watchful eye on the train to make sure it didn't snag on any foreign object as they walked. Around Elizabeth's waist had hung a matching satin belt with a bejeweled buckle that fell into a V-shape at her hips, a suggestive echo of the deep V neckline of the gown.

Needless to say, John Sheppard had felt instantly underdressed in his uniform dress blues as he saw her coming up the aisle. Her hair had been done up in a mass of ringlets atop her head that tapered off down to her shoulders, and the look was topped off by a thin, matching lace veil that curved over her right shoulder and flowed down to her waist.

She was stunning. There was no other word for it.

Ronon nudged him lightly from his position as best man and smirked, but never said a word. It was best that he didn't; John would never have been able to find the words to answer him.

Elizabeth's eyes met John's and she smiled brightly, undaunted by the look of awe that must have been on his face. He had finally managed to pull himself together by the time she was a scant few steps from him, and he beamed back at her. As she took her place beside him, the city's priest took their hands and placed them together, encouraging their fingers to intertwine. Evan drew out a final, soft note, and then stilled his bow, leaving the chapel so silent that John could hear their breaths and hear his own racing heartbeat as it echoed in his ears.

"My friends," the chapel priest began. "We gather here, this early morning, to begin the day with a blessed union of marriage. It is both heartwarming and an honor to be able to conduct this ceremony myself, here on Ceteras, instead of on your own home world, where no doubt there are countless people who would love to see this union for themselves and celebrate it with you. However, I do know that this Union must be kept in confidence, and we will do this for you with the utmost joy and respect. You have done so much for our people; this is the very least that we could do for you."

Elizabeth and John both looked to the priest and offered a quiet 'thank you.'

"I call this couple forth, and set them together, under the name of the most High Creator, who is known by many names amongst and throughout the unnumbered stars, and pray His blessings be over you, your hearts, your minds, and your souls," the priest continued, his hands raised in praise, and then falling back to rest upon their joined hands. "You shall be one, together, from this day forward, each of you providing one half of the whole that you will form for the rest of your lives. You work together, compliment one another, save one another. Do not let this change.

"Do not let your hearts diverge from one another or stray, for you are the picture, the very essence, of a forever union from this day forward. You have made this choice to come together, to be one, through wealth or poverty, infirmity or health, throughout this life and all others, until death. Your hearts and souls are woven together on this day, whether on the soils of this world, or on that of countless others. Remember that. You are one, together. Division will see your house fall, but together...together, it will always stand."

Their eyes met, and smiled at one another, and John found that he appreciated this world's wedding verbiage. It was honest, and meant to ensure that the couple understood what it was they were undertaking. They did not take marriage lightly on this world; it was one of the many reasons John had proposed here, and that he had wanted to be married to Elizabeth here. The priest spoke a truth that John hadn't realized until too late with Nancy; that divided hearts cannot stand together. Nancy had had her own battles that she waged, far apart from his own They had been battles that they had never shared with one another, and it had torn them apart.

He and Elizabeth, though, they had been tested through fire.

They had fought the Wraith; the Genii, on countless occasions; the Asurans, who were so hellbent on Atlantis' destruction that it had taken drastic measures to rid the Galaxy of the Asurans' deep-seeded anger. They had fought for Atlantis, for each other, too many times to count, and it had made them stronger in the end. That was what the priest spoke of, to fight together instead of alone. Now, they were taking on one more battle: a marriage made under the guise of a diplomatic mission to the world of one of Atlantis' closest allies, a deception that would surely see them ripped from their posts - and John court martialed - if the IOA ever found out. But then again, General O'Neill and Colonel Carter had done it. It was something that could certainly be done...they just had to remain careful and hope that the time would come for them, that the IOA and the military would relax their rules, or that they might retire from their current posts. That, however, was a conversation to be had at a much later date. Neither one was ready to hang up their swords, just yet.

"I believe," the priest continued, "that you both have brought with you a symbol of your devotion to one another?"

"We have," Elizabeth answered softly. She held his hand tightly as she turned to Teyla. Teyla placed the silver band in Elizabeth's hand, and she turned back to John. "On our world, we exchange rings as a symbol of our unending love and devotion to one another. The circle represents a commitment that cannot be broken, and goes onto the left hand to keep that promise near to our hearts. I make that commitment to you today, John. I commit to you, and you alone, to our future, to fighting our battles together. We have both been in relationships that have ended badly, both been hurt, but you have healed my heart, John. You have taught me that it's okay to love again; you've taught me...what it means to face my demons and emerge victorious. Nothing in this world, or any other, could separate me from you. I love you, and I give you this ring as a symbol of that love. Wear it proudly, knowing that my heart is yours, forever."

John beamed at her as she slid the band over his left ring finger, and raised her hand to his lips for a gentle kiss. He held her eyes for a long moment, and then looked up to the priest.

"John," the priest nodded, giving him the permission to turn to Ronon to collect the promise ring that he had bought for Elizabeth so long ago. He palmed it carefully, and then brought it to her finger.

"Elizabeth, you have rescued me. Time and again, you saved me. You trusted me, when no one else would; you fought for me before we even knew one another, when no one on Earth would look at me as anything more than a soldier to be written off. Everything that I have gained since leaving Earth, I owe to you. Every experience that I have had, including all of them that I once thought an impossibility, I owe to you. You opened my eyes, made me new. You, also, healed my heart. You gave me the reason to fight for my future again, when you asked me to come here with you. Against everyone's advice, you chose me, and I will never be able to thank you enough for that. That choice brought you into my life, brought our love into my life, and I have no idea where I would be today, without you. You and I...we make a damn good team," he winced, and looked to the priest with a pinched smile, "Uh, sorry, father."

The priest simply smiled and motioned for John to continue. When he looked back to Elizabeth, she was on the verge of laughter.

"We make an amazing team, Lisbeth, you and me. We have since day one, and I am never going to let that change. There will come a day when we don't have to hide what we mean to one another, or this commitment that we make here today, and I am looking forward to that day with everything that I am. Let's show the world - all the worlds - what a marriage that is meant to be looks like. I'm in this for forever, Lisbeth. Only a decree from God himself could stop me from loving you, and I want you to know that. There's nothing on any world that could keep me from you, and I would move every heaven, every earth to keep you safe, healthy, and happy. If I ever mess up, I want you to tell me. Our life together will be a battlefield, both metaphorically, and literally, and I don't want anything to come between us," he told her solemnly as he slipped the band onto her finger. She smiled at him then, her eyes full of unshed tears.

"I make this commitment to you, a commitment of forever, Elizabeth, that no man, no government, no military or IOA regulations will ever be able to break. That is why I wanted to marry you here; neither the IOA or our government has the authority to annul or otherwise discredit a wedding made on another world, and the Ceterans wedding vows are unbreakable. We, Elizabeth, are unbreakable, and I make that promise to you here and now. I love you, Lisbeth, and I give you this ring as a symbol of my love for you. Wear it with pride and in the knowledge that my heart is also yours, for all eternity."

A tear slipped down her cheek, and he reached up to wipe it away with a tender touch, before taking her hand again in his. They had to readjust their grip to accommodate for his new wedding band, and did so with a soft laugh. That would take some getting used to.

Their eyes went back to the priest and, at Elizabeth's cue, he led a quick prayer, and then looked down at the couple.

"If anyone sees fit to object to this union, please do so now," the priest offered to the nearly-empty chapel. His voice echoed off of the walls oddly, and he smiled when none spoke up. "Elizabeth, John, as none have voiced their objection, I now pronounce you husband and wife. John, you may kiss your bride."

His heart leapt nearly out of his chest at the priest's words. Wife. It was done. They were married.

John's eyes turned in what felt like slow motion to Elizabeth to find her beaming at him in the most brilliant smile she had ever given him.

"We did it," she whispered as another tear skipped down her cheek.

"Not quite yet," he whispered back as his free hand came up to cup her face and pull her closer. His lips pressed to hers tenderly, a kiss to seal their commitment to one another, and then her arms were around his neck and his were around her waist. He lifted her from the ground and held her tightly, pressing a longer kiss to her lips. When she broke the kiss, they both beamed at one another and he set her back into her feet.

"My friends," the priest spoke behind them, "I am honored to present to you, Mr. And Mrs. John Sheppard."

Evan took his cue and began to play again, a soft song that he and John had written together for this very moment. John had called it Only God, and it had been the inspiration for the vows he had just spoken to Elizabeth. He would tell her about it later, but for now, they were lost in each other, and had just enough time to retreat for an hour alone before heading back to Atlantis.

~ x ~

"John," she breathed as his hands worked their magic over the bare skin revealed by the back of her dress. "Don't tempt me."

"Who says I'm tempting?" He whispered as he stepped closer and pressed himself to her back. Her breath caught in her throat at the feel of his desire for her, though he wasn't sure how she had felt that through all of her many layers beneath the dress. "It's been too long, Lisbeth. We have some time, if you want..."

The room he had rented for them was small, but relaxing. It had a fireplace where a fire burned softly on the far wall, a small kitchen, a bathroom with a claw foot tub, and a bed. He hadn't cared much for the extra amenities, in all honesty. John had simply wanted a retreat, a place where they could be alone, together, and not weighed down by the impending deadline that they had telling them to rush back to Atlantis.

"Not enough of it," she whispered over her shoulder. "Time, I mean."

"There will never be enough in these stolen moments, Lisbeth. But soon. I promise, soon," he answered her, dropping a kiss to her bare shoulder as he subtly worked a button free from the back of her gown. God, why did it seem like there was a damned hundred of them?

She leaned back into him and sighed, and his arms folded around her waist.

"John," she breathed, stealing a sideways kiss from his lips before she turned in his arms. "Make love to me."

"I plan to," he smiled, cupping her face in his hands. "But first things first."

He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers softly, his fingers sliding into her hair as far as the pins would allow them to go. She met his kiss, tenderly at first, and then her arms wound around his shoulders and drew him closer. Her kiss grew more insistent, fueled by her need for him, and his hands slipped down to her waist to pull her hips even closer to his, skirts be damned. He encouraged her on, using his hands to guide her in rolling her hips into his. He growled deep in his throat out of frustration for the many layers between them and broke the kiss.

"Let's get you out of this," he told her huskily, and she nodded. His hands reached for the buttons, and he fumbled with them for a moment before giving up and sliding around behind her once again. His fingers blazed a trail around the neckline of the gown as he moved, tracing the lip of the lace until he found the buttons. He placed a kiss to her exposed skin as he slipped free one button, then another, followed by yet another. Each button, as it slipped free, earned her warming skin another kiss, and by the time he had worked the buttons loose halfway down her back, he had eased himself down to his knees to press barely-there kisses along her spine. His tongue flicked out gently to taste her skin, and he covered it with a soft kiss as two more buttons fell prey to his nimble fingers.

"Almost there," he breathed against her skin as the next-to-last buttons were undone. With one more flick of his thumb, every button had been freed from their bonds and the back of the dress gaped open before him, offering him a less obstructed glimpse of his wife's figure. It took his brain a moment to register that she wasn't wearing a bra, but once it did, he beamed. Of course she would forego the bra under such an elegant dress; she always had before, to every party and event they had attended on various trips back to Earth.

John placed a kiss just above the waistband of her flesh-hued panties and laid his hand over the small of her back. She jumped, just the slightest bit, under the caresses and sucked in a quiet breath as he moved his hand upward, his fingers taking the same path up along her spine as his kisses had on the way down. He got to his feet halfway up her back and added his other hand, tucking his fingers under the fabric of the gown to lift it from her body. His heart stuttered at the soft sounds she made as his hands traversed the canvas of her skin, higher and higher, until his hands cupped her shoulders.

"All done," he whispered against her earlobe, the elegant earring she wore dancing with the force of his breath.

"Thank you," she whispered back, turning her face toward him, over her shoulder. John took her lips in a kiss then, and held it for a moment as he lifted the gown from her shoulders and pushed it forward. It slipped from his fingers without a hitch and made a pool of satin and lace on the hardwood floor at her feet. His hands, once divest of the gown, instantly cupped her breasts, and brought her bare back against him as he pressed his lips to her throat.

"I'd almost forgotten you never wear a bra under your fancy dresses," he mumbled as he nibbled gently at her ear. "It really has been too long."

"Yes, it has," she answered, and moved so quickly it caught him off guard as she turned in his arms and took his face in her hands. "Now, soldier, I think it's time that you take your wife to that bed and make her an incredibly happy woman."

Her smirk and teasing glint in her eyes drove him to hoist her high and wrap her legs around his waist.

"Yes, ma'am," he answered, giving her a wicked smirk of his own. "I hope you're up for everything I have to offer, Lisbeth. I've been planning this for quite a while."

"Have you now?" She inquired, eyebrow quirked. "I couldn't tell at all."

"Let's see how you feel about that in, say, an hour or so, hmm?" He grinned down at her wickedly and pressed a searing kiss to her lips.

~ x ~

Their time was up far too soon, and John groaned as the alarm on his watch sounded, rousing them from their nap. He shut it off and kissed the back of her neck gently.

"Already?" She inquired softly, snuggling back into the hard warmth of his chest within the bedsheets.

"Sorry, Lisbeth," he murmured, resting his chin on her shoulder. "I was thinking earlier...we should have a place on Atlantis."

She eased herself backward, and he shifted so that she could roll gently onto her back to meet his gaze.

"John," she started and he hung his head slightly.

"I don't mean a 'place,' place. I mean, somewhere we can go to hide out, to get away from it all. We could have Rodney rig the sensors in a room on one of the far edges of the city to not show our presence there, whatever we have to do, so that we could get away and just have a few hours to ourselves, now and then," he explained. "I hate never getting to see you."

"I know how you feel," Elizabeth answered quietly, her fingers reaching upward to lightly trace his eyebrows, and then down to his jawline. "And, to be honest, I had already had that same thought. We need somewhere that we can escape to; somewhere that we can go to be together, now more than ever."

"I don't think I can go months without being alone again. Not after today," he whispered, and dipped his head to kiss her softly.

"Neither can I," she confessed softly, their eyes holding together for a long moment. After a while, she spoke again. "There is a housing unit at the end of Pier Three. When the Ancients came and tried to reclaim Atlantis from us, they had it cleaned out and completely repaired. It's been empty since we've come back, even though Rodney has been begging me to let him move his quarters out there... I don't know about you, but I am nowhere near done with what we've started here."

Elizabeth motioned to the room around them, and then laid her hand over John's chest.

"I'm certainly not finished here," he interjected. "Not in the least."

"Good. Then meet me there tonight, at midnight, and we can continue this," she beamed.

"I would love nothing more," he nodded, then groaned. "Do we have to get back? Can't we just...delay Woolsey for a day?"

"I wish," she laughed softly. "More than anything."

"Right, because we both want to stay on Atlantis," he nodded and kissed his wife once more, then pushed the covers back. John paused as he sat up, and then looked down at her once more. "I love you, Lisbeth. More than anything."

She sat up, clutching the sheets to her chest so that she wasn't exposed to the cold room. The fire had gone out some time before, and the fall air outside was dragging to down the interior temperature more quickly than they had imagined it would.

"I love you, too, John," she told him gently, taking his hand in hers. "More than I could tell you. Now go, get dressed. I'll clean up in here, and we will head home."

Another stolen kiss later, and he rose from the bed to putter about the room, putting on his black BDUs for their return, and to welcome Woolsey to Atlantis.

~ x ~

A short time after leaving the hotel room (at least, that's what John kept calling it), they were back at the Stargate, staring at the mountain of gear that had come with them just a day ago. They were trying to decide how best to divide up the mass of things to go through the gate when he caught Elizabeth just standing to one side, looking down at the rings on her left hand. He smiled.

"She looks happy," Teyla remarked beside him.

"I hope she is," he answered quietly, his eyes never leaving Elizabeth. "I hope it wasn't too fast..."

"Trust me, John," Teyla laughed. "It was not 'too fast.' If anything, it truly was too long in coming, as Elizabeth said."

John's head snapped down to look at Teyla. "You really think so?"

"John, I know it to be so," she grinned at him. "And so do you. You, also, have looked happier this morning."

"I am," he smiled, looking back to his bride. "Too bad we have to head back for Woolsey's arrival."

"Indeed," she nodded. "I almost believe that things in Atlantis were simpler before the rest of your military arrived."

"They were," John agreed, as Elizabeth's green eyes rose from her hand to meet his. She blushed slightly, and started toward them. "Too bad we never could have made it without them."

Elizabeth pulled up before them, and wrapped Teyla into a firm hug. "Thank you, Teyla, for everything."

"You are most welcome, Elizabeth," the Athosian smiled, returning the embrace. "It was my honor. I will leave you two to finish your preparations to return to Atlantis."

Teyla gave Elizabeth's hand a gentle squeeze and stepped away, heading off to stand at Ronon's side.

"You okay?" John asked softly, taking Elizabeth's hand in his.

"Very," she beamed. "I don't think I've felt this happy since we left for Atlantis for the first time."

"Wow, that's saying something," he smirked. "You were positively giddy that day."

"I was," she beamed. "Just as I am today. I only wish it didn't have to end."

"Same here," he agreed, pulling her close.

"And that I didn't have to take these off..." She held up her left hand to him and then laid it against his chest. His fingers played over the back of her hand tenderly, and then he took her hand in his.

"Maybe you don't," he told her softly. "Let me see them?"

Elizabeth looked at him quizzically, but let him toy with her rings anyway. He pulled the engagement ring free and held it up for a moment.

"Let me see your right hand," he asked of her softly. When she obliged and held it up to him, he slipped the engagement ring onto the ring finger of her right hand. "Look at that. Now it just looks like you thought it was pretty."

She laughed out loud. "No one is going to buy that, John."

"They will if you tell them so. It came from here, and all of Atlantis knows how you love the shops in the village...they'll just think you picked it up after months and months of staring at it longingly," he grinned. "And since we were just here, it will look like a new purchase. I mean, it practically is. It's been sitting in the box for two months..."

"Two months? John...two months?" She breathed.

"Yeah. I really have been planning this for a long time," he confessed. "You're not mad I didn't do it earlier, are you?"

"No," she beamed at him. "Of course not! How could I be? I just thought...maybe with was a spur-of-the-moment thing..."

"Never," he told her gently. "I've wanted to do this for a very long time, Lisbeth. I've always loved you. Always."

She beamed and leaned up to kiss him softly, just as Rodney began the dialing sequence.

"And I always will," John finished as they broke the kiss.

"I have loved you always, John. And I always will, too," she replied, beaming up at him.

"All right, newlyweds," Rodney called over to them as he pressed the center button on the DHD, "Time to head home."

John took a deep breath and held her hand all the way over to the Stargate, and then let go at the last possible moment.

"Here we go," he murmured as he shouldered a pair of backpacks. "See you on the other side."

As she already had so many times that morning, Elizabeth simply smiled.

~ x ~

SIX
- EPILOGUE -

He had gotten so lost in the images within the photo album that he had completely lost track of the time. The smell of food wafted in toward him from the kitchen: the heavenly scent of pasta and Elizabeth's homemade tomato and mushroom sauce that drove him wild every time she made it.

"John?" She called out from the kitchen, an urgent edge to her voice that made him snap to attention. She'd clearly been calling him for a while now. "Where are you?"

"In here!" He answered from the living room. "Sorry, Lisbeth. I was just..."

She stepped into the living room with their little girl on her hip, their two-year-old daughter, Eleanor. Ellie was the spitting image of her mother, all dark curls and porcelain skin that made him rue the day that she would be old enough to date.

"Oh," she smiled, seeing the book in his hands. "I see."

"I meant to just add these pictures of Ellie to it, but I kept turning the pages and all of the pictures..." he tried explaining, only to have Elizabeth and Ellie ease down onto the sofa beside him.

"They sucked you in?" Elizabeth finished for him.

"Yeah," he nodded. "I just...remember everything. Like it was yesterday."

"So do I," she replied softly, slipping her hand over his forearm gently to get a look at the page of photos he had stopped on. "That was one of the best days of my life, John. It truly was, and still is."

"Maybe I should have asked you sooner," he laughed quietly.

"Oh, you definitely should have," she laughed wholeheartedly. "But it was an amazing surprise, and to not have to plan a thing...you did wonderfully, John. You all did. I don't think I'll ever be able to thank you enough."

"You don't have to thank me, Lisbeth," he told her gently, tucking a stray curl behind Ellie's ear. "You gave me the most beautiful baby girl in all of the worlds, why would I need a 'thank you' after that?"

Ellie giggled and tucked her face into Elizabeth's shoulder to hide from her daddy's touch, but then peeked back out again and beamed the most beautiful, innocent grin at him, full of pearly white, gapped teeth. His heart melted, instantly. John leaned over and kissed his daughter's temple, and then looked up to Elizabeth.

"I love you, Lisbeth," he told her softly. "Just in case you don't feel it in the moments that you should, or I don't tell you enough...I love you, more than anything. You and Ellie are my world, and I don't know where I'd be without you."

Elizabeth smiled adoringly at him, and just laid a hand over his cheek.

"I love you, too, John," she replied. "And please don't feel like you haven't been doing a good enough job here; you are amazing. You are an amazing father and husband, and I wouldn't trade one moment of our life together for anything."

"Really?" He smirked, "Not even that whole debacle with the IOA to get them to declare our marriage legal...?"

Elizabeth punched his shoulder playfully.

"Well, that could have gone better," she scolded playfully.

"I really don't think that it could've," he shook his head thoughtfully, scrunching up his nose as her pretended to think on it.

"You really could have avoided that shouting match with the Russian representative," she tsked.

"He insulted my wife," he answered defensively. "There's no way I was going to let that slide. You know me better than that."

"He insulted both of us, but yes. Yes, I do," she laughed, rolling her eyes as she corrected him, "Unfortunately."

"You wound me, Lisbeth!" He gave her a mock hurt look, and pressed a hand to his heart, "Besides, the jerk was lucky I didn't punch him."

"You were lucky you and I weren't relieved of our duties immediately," she reminded him, laughing softly.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Good thing we weren't. I would have seriously missed seeing the Wraith getting what was coming to them."

"That was worth every ounce of the fight with the IOA," she smiled proudly. "I can honestly say that I am proud to have helped the people of the Pegasus Galaxy get to a place where they could lead longer, happier lives without being in the shadow of the Wraith."

"We did good, Lisbeth," he nodded as he looked back down to the book and flipped back another few pages to find an empty one. He slipped the photos of them at Ellie's second birthday party into the corner frames on the page and ran his fingers over them gently. "And we are getting too old, too fast."

"Not too fast, I hope," she replied, beaming as she slid a piece of square, glossy paper toward him across the page, face down.

"What's this...?" He started as he lifted the paper and felt his heart stutter as he saw through the thin sheet of paper, once he had picked it up. His eyes shot to hers, searching for any hint of a joke. She gave him none. "But...when?"

"I went to see Carson yesterday," she beamed at him. "It looks like Ellie is going to be having a little brother or sister before too long...so no getting old just yet."

"You're serious?" He asked, his mouth turning up into a huge smile. "When?"

"Carson thinks it will be May," she answered, knowing exactly what he was asking.

"So you're..."

"Two months along, or thereabout," she confessed. "I wanted to be sure, before I said anything."

"No, don't apologize..." He assured her quickly. John's mind was reeling, thinking up all of the things they would need to do to prepare for the new arrival. He barely noticed anything, until Ellie's tiny hand touched his face. He looked up to see his daughter's hazel eyes staring into his.

"Da-ddy," she sing-songed, beaming happily at him. She held out a hand, pointing to the picture. "See the baby, Daddy? It's a baby!"

"Yes, sweetheart," John beamed back at her, and pressed a long kiss to Ellie's forehead. "That is a baby. And it won't be long before you will get to hold her, or him. Will you help Mommy and Daddy with the new baby?"

Ellie nodded animatedly and then wormed out of Elizabeth's grasp to slip down onto the floor. She took off at a run down the hallway and giggled the whole way. John watched her go proudly, and then turned to Elizabeth.

"I love you," he told her gently, taking her hands in his and squeezing gently.

"I love you, too, John," she replied, beaming at him.

"Right, so...first things first," he started slowly, and Elizabeth looked at him quizzically. "We are going to need a new photo album."

Elizabeth laughed, and the sound filled his heart completely. He had everything he had ever wanted, and then some.

John Sheppard was a damned lucky man, and he knew it.

FIN.

Jump to:
Parts 1 & 2 | Parts 3 & 4 | ~~Parts 5 & 6~~

chapter fic: [sga] only god, parts 3 & 4

linesfade — Tue, 28 Oct 2014 01:41:49 GMT

Author: linesfade
Rating: Somewhere between PG-13 and R
Chapter: 3-4/6
Summary: The pages of their lives were full, and there were pictures to prove it.
Spoilers: None, really. Quite AU; Elizabeth was never turned into a Replicator in this verse.
A/N: Originally, this fic started out to be a one-shot, inspired by anuna_81 and the amazing country band, Emerson Drive. It's gone from being an abandoned fic to being edited, edited, and then edited some more and finally finished, just in time for this year's sparktober entries! I truly hope you guys enjoy this!
Disclaimer: I do not own SGA, any of the Stargate universe, characters or places. I also do not own any rights to the songs mentioned within. Only the original characters/places/planets are mine. I'm just playing in the sandbox...don't mind me. :) The Emerson Drive song referenced throughout this fic is Only God (Could Stop Me Loving You). The song mentioned in part one, Dance With You, belongs to Live

Previous Chapters | Next Chapters

THREE

He smiled and moved on to the next page. The pictures there had been taken during another leave from Atlantis, the beginning of which had seen him promoted to full-bird Colonel. While there were a couple of pictures of that ceremony in the photo album, he had only ever focused on those because Elizabeth had been the one pinning the insignia on his dress blues, a soft smile of pride on her face for him as General Landry spoke of his actions in combat, and how deserving he was of the promotion. John had no doubt that it was Elizabeth who had fought for that promotion for him, just as she had always fought for him. He would always owe her so much. He brushed a thumb over Elizabeth’s cheek in one of those photos, and then moved on to the others.

Later on in their leave, the two of them had flown to California. They had gone to Universal Studios in Hollywood (his choice, this time, since they had come back to Earth for his promotion and celebration), and John recalled thrusting the disposable camera at some poor employee in one of the theme park souvenir shops, begging him to snap a picture. The man had frowned at having to stop restocking shelves, but snapped a couple of pictures for them anyway. In the photo, Elizabeth was holding one of the Emmy replica figurines that said "World's Best Boss," laughing as John kissed her cheek. He'd bought the figure for her after the picture was taken, and Elizabeth had hidden it safely away in her belongings so that it would make the trip back to Atlantis with them. Since getting home, it had become a constant near her, a beautiful reminder of their time together, that she kept in her quarters on her bedside table. They'd had an amazing time there in Hollywood and had taken every excuse to spend time alone, in their hotel rooms, on the beaches, or even just lounging by the pool in the hotel.

He recalled one night that he'd brought a bottle of cheap champagne to her room, the only thing he could get on short notice, and couldn't find any glasses to drink out of. She'd laughed at the absurdity of drinking champagne straight from the bottle, and he had simply pouted as if she'd hurt his feelings. She took a long drink as he pouted and, after setting the bottle down, leaned across the bed they were sitting on to kiss his lips.

She tasted like champagne, and he took advantage of what she was offering in that moment to pull her down on top of him. He held her as close to him as he could manage from his position on the bed. She'd pulled away from his lips and laughed, and he had tickled her sides until she fell off of him. He'd seized the moment and rolled over on top of her, pressing his body the length of hers. Elizabeth had looked up at him as if he'd done some truly wicked thing, and he simply smiled down at her victoriously. A moment later, his expression turned serious, and he cupped her face in his hand.

"I love you, Lisbeth," he told her matter-of-factly, finally giving voice to the words he'd only hinted at up until now. The expression on her face changed from one of mock-admonishment to one of joy in an instant.

"I love you, too, John. I have for a long time, now," The look in her eyes caused a stirring of sheer anticipation within him.

"Same here," he'd whispered as he leaned down to kiss her once more. The rest of the night was filled with sweet promises of love, of life, of forever.

The next few pages were filled with pictures of the two of them on several off-world missions, all to the same planet, and his fingers brushed over each one with a loving caress. The first one, they had been able to pass off as sightseeing at the Grand Canyon. It had been a beautiful sight, the canyon that had been etched by eons of water rushing through the innermost part of the mainland on the world of Ceteras. It was a planet that had, somehow, survived the touch of the Wraith and had grown in technology and in population, until they had built a civilization that felt like an echo of the 1920's on Earth. Ceteras had become a main trading partner for Atlantis in the later years of the expedition, after several successful negotiations by Elizabeth, and John was glad. It was nearly like getting a small taste of being back on Earth every time they went to the planet, or a new shipment came through the Stargate. They had even come up with their own sodas, and while they didn't actually take like the Coke or Pepsi brands back home, it came close enough.

Elizabeth had loved every minute she spent there, and had gone wild going through the shops, finding various pieces to take back to Atlantis with her as souvenirs. John had yawned and nudged her playfully as she'd shuffled through the clothes and looked at the cases of jewelry the people of Ceteras had crafted. He followed her eye to a certain ring that looked as though the stones in it could've been diamonds. After she'd walked away, he had ensured that they were diamonds, then purchased it knowing that the time to move their relationship forward was just over the horizon.

~ x ~

John had to pause before moving on to the next page, his anticipation nearly as high as it was the night they had all gone back through the gate to Ceteras for a late picnic and camping trip, only two months after he had bought the ring.

They had all gathered around a campfire on the beach of Ceteras, the whole team, plus Evan Lorne, and John had played his guitar for everyone there at Elizabeth's request. Evan had played as well, giving John backup with his fiddle. John had seen the surprise on Elizabeth's face at hearing Evan play so flawlessly, and while it had surprised him as well, they probably should have expected it of him. None of them had pegged him for a painter at first, either, John recalled. John sang for her, a song he'd written himself, and afterwards, he'd gone down on one knee, pulled out the small box holding the ring she had clearly longed for.

John had put Teyla in charge of the camera that night, knowing she had taken to the instrument with great talent. She had the eye of an artist, and he knew that she would do them justice. He had been rewarded for it, too. Each photo was perfectly measured and composed, with just the right amount of dark to compliment the small amount of light that was left by the waning sun and the campfire.

Elizabeth's breath had stuttered, and then she'd sucked in a sharp inhale at the sight of the tiny box, her hand coming up to cover her mouth in surprise. His name fell from her lips in a whisper of disbelief as he'd opened the box, the arrangement of stones winking up at her in the firelight. There were seven round stones arranged in a flower-like shape in the center of the ring, taking the place of the more traditional solitaire, then three smaller accent stones down each side. On Earth, the stones probably would have amounted to another one-third carat, and her eyes had gone wide as she finally pulled them away from the ring to meet his.

"John," she'd whispered again, the shock evident on her face as everyone around them smiled. Evan continued to play softly in the background, giving their moment a beautiful soundtrack.

"I know this isn't exactly 'allowed,' and the IOA would probably have both of our heads if they knew, but I'm not going to let some stupid bureaucrat tell me who I can and can't love. And I'm certainly not letting them dictate who I can or can't marry," John started softly. "Marry me, Lisbeth. Even if those of us here tonight are the only ones on Atlantis that know, even if the IOA would refuse our request, and even if our marriage wouldn't exactly be valid on Earth...marry me anyway. You picked me to come to Atlantis with you, when you had every reason not to. I'm officially asking you to pick me again. Let's get married, first thing tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow?" She whispered, her eyebrow giving a quick quirk upward.

"The church is ready," he smiled up at her. "All you have to do is say yes."

"You're serious?" She laughed in disbelief as she turned to look at everyone around them. "And all of you were in on this, too?"

"Yes, ma'am," Lorne offered a wide smile as he drew out a long note on the fiddle. "Gladly."

Elizabeth shook her head in amusement, and then looked back to John. She measured him up for a moment, and then a beaming smile stretched across her face, lighting up her eyes.

"Yes," she answered finally. He leapt to his feet at her answer and lunged toward her, gathering her up into his arms in a great embrace.

"Yes to getting married, and yes to tomorrow morning!" Elizabeth finished into his shoulder, her words slightly muffled by the collar of his dark BDUs, then she spoke directly into his ear, "They won't tell me who to marry, either, John. They can't stop us here."

John pulled back slightly and cupped her face with both hands, the ring box sitting oddly between his fingers as he did so.

"Only God Himself could stop me from loving you, Lisbeth," he whispered. "I love you more than you know."

"I love you, too, John," she beamed at him. "More than I can tell you."

He had beamed back at her then, and pressed his lips to hers, unashamed and unafraid for the first time about showing his love for her in the Pegasus Galaxy. When he pulled away, he worked the ring from the box and slid it onto her finger, marrying it with the promise ring he had bought for her back on Earth, two years prior.

"It looks perfect," she breathed, staring down at the new adornment.

He'd known the rings didn't look quite right together, the stones were completely different shapes, the bands two different styles all together, the older ring white gold and the new one crafted of silver with far less luster on the band, but if she loved them and she wasn't complaining, then who was he to protest...or try to find a band that matched even better?

"I like seeing those there," he had whispered back. When he'd looked up and her eyes met his, he found a desire burning there that had him turning on the spot to thank everyone on the beach for their help as Elizabeth slipped her hand into his. They both bid the rest of the team goodnight, and moved quickly up the beach to their tent, not even hearing Rodney make a comment about how he really didn't need to see them race to their tent and zip up the door in such a hurry. Nor did they hear the smack that emanated from the back of Rodney's head as Ronon got in a good wallop, followed by Teyla’s laugh. Evan simply shook his head at the rest of Sheppard's team and traded his fiddle for John’s guitar, then started to play music once again, long into the night.

~ x ~

FOUR

0500 the next morning had come early, knowing that they had a wedding ceremony to get through before they had to be back on Atlantis at 10:00 AM. Richard Woolsey was due to be on Atlantis at noon to do an in-depth review of Atlantis and its protocols for the IOA, and they could not afford to be late for that.

John smiled as he remembered that early morning, because there were no pictures in the book to document it, save for one that he had taken as Elizabeth slept, snuggled in his bedroll. She’d groaned shortly after the flash had gone off, and blinked her eyes open sleepily at him. She’d fixed him with a playful glare and he had laughed as she begged him to tell her he hadn’t just snapped a photograph of her. John had laughed in reply, then crawled back into the bedroll with her just to soak in her company. They'd laid there together, curled up in the warmth of one another for only a few minutes longer, and then risen just before the sun at 0530. Teyla had already had a pot of Athosian tea brewing over the early morning campfire when John and Elizabeth had ventured out to join the rest of their team. Rodney was still asleep, but Ronon had taken a spot beside Teyla and was sipping slowly at a cup of tea as Evan Lorne emerged from his tent, as well.

“Morning, everyone,” Evan greeted, nodding his own, personal greeting to John. Evan pulled up and sat beside Ronon, then took the cup of tea Teyla offered him.

“Good morning, Major,” Teyla smiled, and then turned to John and Elizabeth with a beaming smile. “Good morning, John; Elizabeth. I trust you all slept well.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth grinned, slipping her fingers through John’s. “We did. I hope you all did, as well.”

John squeezed her hand gently and helped her to sit next to Teyla, before he folded himself down onto the sand beside his fiancee. A timely snore caused Ronon to smirk into his tea and Lorne to let out a small laugh.

“I’d say McKay is getting on just fine with his sleep,” Evan grinned as Teyla passed down two more cups of tea.

“Do you think he realizes how loudly he snores?” John smirked as he bent his head down to sip gently at the bitter brew.

“Nope,” Ronon piped up, not hiding his smirk anymore.

A loud snort from Rodney's tent caused them all to dissolve into fits of laughter, and as his eyes found her, John was struck by how beautiful Elizabeth looked, her head tilted back as the laughter flowed freely from her lips. He knew her well enough to know that she would feel badly for laughing at Rodney later, but in this moment, it was worth it. He leaned over and captured her lips in a soft kiss as she looked to him, smiling. The group went quiet as his hand slipped over her cheek, and Elizabeth broke the kiss carefully. She regarded him a moment, her eyes aglow with happiness, then reached up, kissed him again, and smiled. "I think we should head into the market. I need a dress."

“Yes you do,” John nodded, dipping his head down to steal another kiss. “Let’s go take care of that, before it gets too late."

"I believe, John," Teyla cut in, "that on your world, it is bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress before the ceremony. Perhaps you should leave this task with me, while you sort out your own attire?"

John gave Elizabeth a pout, to which she merely laughed and shook her head.

"Teyla has a point, John," Elizabeth told him, squeezing his hand gently. "Let us take care of this. It'll be worth it, I promise."

His mouth slanted off in an unsure expression as he weighed his options. He had planned on having her by his side for as long as possible that morning, but in the end, he gave in. He would hate sitting through her marathon dress shopping, anyway.

"Yeah," Ronon grunted. "And if I'm still wearing that penguin suit, you're gonna have to show me how to put it on. Again."

John tore his eyes from Elizabeth for a moment to meet Ronon's gaze.

"Yeah," he nodded finally. "Sure, I can do that. Now who is waking up McKay?"

"I think the better question is, 'Who is going to tell him he's not the best man?'" Evan smirked.

The men laughed as they all rose together. Elizabeth caught John's hand and he pulled her up to stand with him.

"You're okay with this, aren't you?" She asked him. "You can come with us, if you want..."

"No, it's all right. You go. I'll meet you at the chapel..." He answered quietly, then added a softer, "Unless you've changed your mind? Last chance for an out, right here. If it's too soon-"

"None of this is too soon, John. Not at all," she answered quickly, cutting him off. He was certain she had heard the nervous tremor in his voice as he'd asked her about it, but that wasn't part of the beauty of their relationship; finally, they each had someone else that they didn't have to hide anything from, that they didn't have to hide themselves from. It was a beautiful and incredibly freeing thing, to have that.

"If anything," she continued, "this was too long in coming. I'm not changing my mind. I chose you, John. I chose you a long time ago...it took almost losing Atlantis, losing you, to realize that this is my path. This is where I am meant to be; right here with you."

His nervous expression had been smoothed over by her words, as if they were a salve to the deepest wound, and in an instant the confident (or maybe cocky) flyboy smirk had come back across his features. She smiled at him and shook her head as he cupped her cheek.

"Glad to hear it, Lisbeth," he beamed. "Now get out of here; we'll meet you at the chapel in a couple of hours. We've got everything else taken care of, so you go and do what you need to. This is your day, too."

"I know," she whispered. "I just wish my mother was here for this."

He smiled softly, and then pressed a gentle kiss to her lips.

"Soon enough," he promised, "We'll go back home and have this on Earth, too. They can't keep us apart forever."

She smiled gratefully at him, then leaned up to kiss him wholeheartedly. A throat cleared softly behind Elizabeth and they parted to see Teyla waiting a few feet away, Elizabeth's sweater draped over one arm.

"Forgive the intrusion," she begged quietly, "but I thought you may need this, Elizabeth. There is quite the chill when you step away from the fire this early in the morning."

"Of course," she nodded. "Thank you, Teyla."

"I'll see you soon," John whispered as her eyes turned back to him. "Have fun."

Elizabeth beamed at him. "You, too. Just...don't torture Rodney too much, okay?"

"Who, me?" John protested, and barely caught a streak of brown coming from behind him before McKay's shriek pierced the air, followed by a string of unintelligible shouting. Ronon emerged from the tent and tossed a wet rag that had recently been wrung out onto the log beside the fire, smirking at no one in particular.

"He's up," Ronon announced as he strode past them, and sat back down to finish his cup of tea.

"It's always the quiet ones you have to worry about!" John remarked, feigning an innocent smile. Elizabeth smacked his chest and then turned to Teyla to retrieve her sweater, laughing quietly.

"Behave, the lot of you," Elizabeth scolded, and Ronon just dipped his head as John and Evan smirked.

"Always, ma'am," Evan replied as he set to work on re-stringing his fiddle and bow.

"We'll see you all after a while. And good morning, Rodney!" Elizabeth called out as she and Teyla entered the tree line to take the path to the village. Her comment elicited a quiet giggle from Teyla, and a chorus of chuckles from the men sitting around the campfire.

It was too bad she had left too soon to see the drowned rat impression Rodney made as he emerged from his tent in a huff, shivering from the frigid water, and clutching a dry blanket that was wrapped around him for dear life. It was one of the most hilarious things John had ever seen, and he'd had to hide his own smirk behind a cup of Athosian tea so that he wouldn't laugh aloud.

Jump to:
Parts 1 & 2 | ~~Parts 3 & 4~~ | Parts 5 & 6

chapter fic: [sga] only god, parts 1 & 2

linesfade — Tue, 28 Oct 2014 01:21:44 GMT

Author: linesfade
Rating: Somewhere between PG-13 and R
Chapter: 1-2/6
Summary: The pages of their lives were full, and there were pictures to prove it.
Spoilers: None, really. Quite AU; Elizabeth was never turned into a Replicator in this verse.
A/N: Originally, this fic started out to be a one-shot, inspired by anuna_81 and the amazing country band, Emerson Drive. It's gone from being an abandoned fic to being edited, edited, and then edited some more and finally finished, just in time for this year's sparktober entries! I truly hope you guys enjoy this!
Disclaimer: I do not own SGA, any of the Stargate universe, characters or places. I also do not own any rights to the songs mentioned within. Only the original characters/places/planets are mine. I'm just playing in the sandbox...don't mind me. :) The Emerson Drive song referenced throughout this fic is Only God (Could Stop Me Loving You). The song mentioned in part one, Dance With You, belongs to Live.

Next Chapters

ONE

Tattered and worn, he held the old photo album in his hands and ran his fingers over the leather-bound cover. It was softer than he remembered, a testament to its age and use. As he opened the book, he gazed lovingly down at the first page and the sort-of photograph it contained. It was held in a holographic memory device that his team had stumbled upon in one of the abandoned Ancient laboratories on Atlantis. The technology was well beyond its years on Earth and would have been restricted, but on Ceteras, where they had chosen to make their home, he hadn't thought twice about smuggling it along with them. While they missed living on Atlantis, the sound of the waves lapping against the piers to lull them to sleep at night, having actual privacy, and some semblance of a home as they would have on Earth, was worth the daily commute back and forth to Atlantis via the gate. The picture that the holographic device contained was a short, looping animation of he and Elizabeth, her in her white flowing wedding dress, he in his dress blues, the insignia of a full-bird Colonel on his shoulders. They had both been incredibly happy that day. Nothing could have wiped the smiles from their faces, and not many things had since then, for that matter.

He turned the page to find an old photograph in the center of the page, from when they were both in their mid-thirties, in the early days of the expedition, and had been called back to Earth for a consultation with the IOA. It had been a long, tiring three days, and John had been more than inclined to just fall into his bed in his old apartment and sleep for a month, but Elizabeth...Elizabeth had refused to let him. She had dressed herself up in a strappy black dress, pulled on a pair of black snakeskin cowboy boots, and put her hair up into one of the most complex-looking hairdos he'd ever seen on a woman. She had assured him that it had only taken a few moments, something about a half-braid, a flip and a few bobby pins...he hadn't paid attention at the time, and hadn't cared to. He just knew that on that night, she had been the most stunning woman that he had ever seen. The Colorado moon had given such a shine to her pale skin tone that he couldn't help but drink in the sight of her. She'd caught his eye as he watched her, and sauntered over to him, her hips swaying suggestively, before pulling him to his feet and making him dance with her to the sound of the rustling leaves and chirping crickets. He'd never before held her so closely; never before smelled the sweetness of the perfume that would haunt him for the rest of his life, tantalizing him as they passed in the hallways of Atlantis, and even in his dreams.

With a smile, he ran a pair of fingers over the photo and moved onto the next photograph just below it.

He held a guitar in this picture. It was an acoustic-electric Taylor, with a natural wood-finished dreadnought body and a black pick guard. He was in mid-song in the photograph, singing his heart out for the dark-haired beauty before him, who was leaning up against the outer wall of a house in a small town in Tennessee, hands clasped before her lips in pleasure. He remembered her reaction as if it were yesterday: she'd giggled as he began singing Dance With You, a song that he knew she loved and would sing with him. Instead of following his lead, she just sat back against the house and watched as his fingers danced over the strings, caressing, picking and bending with conviction, as each note found its way out of the sound hole and drifted through the air. As the sounds resonated in her ears she would bite her lip and release it, mouthing the words along with him as he sang in the moments where she thought he wasn't watching her. It was the night they'd shared their first real kiss; it wasn't one that had been tainted by an alien consciousness, or anything else of the like, that they had found themselves prone to in the Pegasus Galaxy.

She had crawled over to him, the knees of her jeans collecting the dust from the ground as she moved. Her movement had been awkward as she drew up to him, as it was bound to be around the large body of the guitar, and she placed a finger over his lips to silence his singing. His fingers had stilled over the frets, and the pick had gone still in his hand as he had fought the urge to smile behind her fingertips. She leaned forward, over the guitar, and brought her lips to his lightly. The kiss was quick, and he had found himself smiling against her lips as she'd pulled away, only letting an inch separate them as if it hurt too much to part any farther. He let the guitar fall into his lap as his gaze locked with hers. The desire that he'd found in her eyes had startled him momentarily, and he found himself wondering what his next move, what the right move, might be. He didn't have to wonder long, however, as she claimed his lips once again, drinking in everything he had to offer her.

It was the best kiss he'd ever had. The warring of teeth and tongues, her soft lips pressed against his own chapped ones, were almost enough to drive him over the edge of insanity. The kiss lasted as long as they could hold their breaths before they broke apart, gasping for air. She giggled and collapsed against him, her elbow banging against the hollow body of the guitar. He laid a soft kiss on the crown of her head as he held her against him, not caring that the guitar was pressing uncomfortably into his abdomen, because it was, in fact, the most comfortable he had ever been in his life.

~ x ~

TWO

On the next page were a pair of pictures of he and Elizabeth in Mexico. She had been called there on an emergency diplomatic meeting between warring countries who had decided to meet on neutral ground and deal only with her. He had gone along as her bodyguard...a job he had been more than happy to volunteer for. He couldn't remember what two countries they were, but, then again, he hadn't been the one spending hours upon hours at the negotiating table; he had only been there to keep her safe. This picture had been taken on their last day there, when all she had wanted to do was sleep and wipe away all of the stress of the negotiations before returning to the stress of running the Atlantis base. He had given her his trademark smirk and extended a hand to her, silently pleading for her to go along with him. She'd groaned and rolled off of her bed, taking his hand in hers.

He'd led her outside, so that she could hear the sound of the waves lapping against the rocks on the beach, feel the cool brush of the spray against her face, and the sand beneath her bare feet as she walked. She had closed her eyes as she faced the ocean and taken in the feel of the warm air, breathing deeply of the salty atmosphere. He'd watched her as she'd done so, taking in every splash of color, every line and freckle on her face. He smiled and moved around behind her, placing a small kiss on the nape of her neck before he wrapped his arms around her waist. She had let out a soft sigh and leaned in against him, taking full advantage of the moment. They both knew that this wouldn't happen again for a long time, as restrictions and their jobs on the base kept them apart more often than not. Their stolen kisses in the midnight hours were hardly enough to sustain them both. They had to make their time on Earth count, and count it would.

"This," she told him quietly, her voice mingling with the sound of the waves, "This is better than all of the gold of El Dorado, John. Thank you for making me come here."

He smiled at her words and held her even tighter until she'd pleaded with him to take her back to her hotel room. They'd walked back slowly, arm-in-arm, and when he placed a kiss on her cheek and turned to leave, a hand on his forearm stopped him in his tracks.

"Stay," she begged him, her green eyes pleading. She didn't need to add any other words to it, but she did. "I don't want to be alone tonight; there will be enough of that back on Atlantis."

As he thought back to that night, he recalled that something within him almost melted at the look she gave him, and he could almost see the desperation in her eyes. He'd nodded, taken her smaller hand in his, and led her into the hotel room. As he closed the door behind him, she fell into his embrace, placing kisses along his jawline and down the side of his neck. His knees weakened at the sensation, and his breath grew ragged. It took all that he had within him to take her by the shoulders, and pull her away enough to look her in the eyes.

"Lisbeth," he whispered, unsure of how his voice would come out. "This is only going to make things harder..."

The look she'd given him was almost enough to make him not care what it would mean for their future. "I know."

The smile that spread across his face was enough to make her crush her lips to his once again, drinking him in deeply as she pressed him up against the back of the door. It was the first night they'd made love, taking all that the other had to give and promising to repay it for the rest of their lives. Once back on Atlantis, they would recall this moment and smile lazily, wishing upon wish that they could retreat to each other's arms and let go of every worry and fear that the Pegasus Galaxy caused.

He turned the page again, and found that it held four photographs, each one a variation of the previous shot. The first one was of Elizabeth with her head thrown back and her eyes closed, laughing. The one to the right of it was of her sitting next to him on a wooden fence in an open field with his arm around her waist. Both of them were smiling pleasantly for the camera, and if one were to look past them, they would see the soft blur of a rust-colored steel pumpjack behind them, a small reminder of their trip to Oklahoma. The location had been her call; she'd said she wanted to see a part of the country she'd never had the chance to see before leaving for Atlantis, so he'd let her choose. They had been on leave, the second one since the settlement of Atlantis that had been granted, and John had beaten McKay at a game of Texas Hold-Em for his slot on the first round of people going back to Earth. His victory meant he would be going on leave with Elizabeth, instead of with too many members of the Science team. It was the best news he'd gotten in months.

The third photograph was an image of him reaching out toward her, in attempt to tickle the slight hint of skin that was exposed by the curling hem of Elizabeth's sweater. He could see a hint of a hip bone, and the slight dip in the musculature to either side of her abdomen. She'd always had an amazing body, and he'd not been shy to tell her so in that moment. She'd blushed profusely and nearly leapt into his arms, whispering things he had longed to hear for months. The fourth picture was of the two of them sharing that embrace, gazing deep into each other's eyes. Anyone who looked at the picture, he knew, would be able to tell that they were madly in love, but he didn't care. It had been that very picture that he had carried with him on away missions, that picture that had gotten him through all of the long nights without her, and that picture alone that told him how much he stood to lose. He always came back to Atlantis, no matter what he had been up against, for her. Always, always for her.

It had been an amazing trip to Oklahoma, and while the landscape really hadn't been all that spectacular when compared to the other places he'd been, he had been with Elizabeth. Being with her, by her side, had made everything shine in a different way that it never would have alone.

During that trip, he'd snuck out early one morning and gone to one of the malls. It had been a spur-of-the-moment thing, but he knew that nothing back in the Pegasus Galaxy that he could trade for, would represent well enough what he wanted her to believe. He'd bought her a ring with a row of small, but elegant, princess-cut diamonds in a channel setting and had it engraved with a promise. 'I'm always with you.' is what the inscription read, and when he had given it to her, she'd cried. She'd cried for what it meant, what it represented, and for the fact that she feared she couldn't wear it on Atlantis, that she'd have to leave it on Earth at her home with the rest of her most precious things. He told her that, whether she left it on Earth or not, he'd meant the words. The smile she gave him then was worth the price tag on the one-third carat diamond ring, and he pulled her into his arms, loving her thoroughly for the next few hours, until they had to catch their flight out. When she boarded the plane beside him, he couldn't help but notice that the ring was there on her left hand, glittering with the promise that had shone in his eyes for the three years they had been on the expedition.

Jump to:
~~Parts 1 & 2~~ | Parts 3 & 4 | Part 5 & 6

PROMO: Sleepy Hollow Land

linesfade — Wed, 18 Dec 2013 21:00:57 GMT

Everyone needs another landcomm in their life, RIGHT? ;)

Join us over at sleepyhollowlnd! Apply for Team Witnesses HERE, and tell them I sent you!

sleepyhollowlnd sleepyhollowlnd sleepyhollowlnd

fic: [Halo] Lessons in War, Faith, and Love

linesfade — Thu, 18 Jul 2013 22:53:40 GMT

Title: Lessons in War, Faith, and Love
Author: linesfade
Fandom: Halo
Chapter: 1/1
Words:
Pairing: Sarah Palmer/Tom Lasky
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: UST
Spoilers: Halo 4. Assumes there was downtime for the crew between the events of Halo 4 and Season 1 of Spartan Ops.
Summary: Shortly after the INFINITY's return to Earth orbit and the events of Halo 4, Palmer goes to congratulate Lasky on being officially named Captain and old feelings surface. Pure fluff in a moment of downtime.

...

She entered the ready room, trying not to let her steps falter. It never failed, even now, when seeing him upon entering a room, her heart rate increased. It was unbidden, an involuntary reaction to the things she remembered he could do, the things his hands...

'No. Stop,' she commanded herself. She was a Spartan, damn it, not a school girl with a crush! She took a deep breath and crossed the room with long, purposeful strides.

"Captain," she greeted curtly. "Commander Palmer, reporting for duty, sir."

He turned, looking up from the maps on the terminal before him, a half-smile already on his face at the sound of her voice.

"At ease, Commander," he answered quietly. He was almost always soft spoken...at least with her.

She obliged and relaxed as much as possible.

"Command looks good on you, Tom," she spoke quietly. "Congratulations."

"Thank you, Sarah," he smiled up at her, his first genuine smile since taking over command of the INFINITY. "Somehow I figured you would be the first to say something."

"You know me," she smiled, moving closer to him and to the terminal. "Never pass up the opportunity to give out some praise."

"Liar," he teased, a smirk crawling across his face.

"Guilty," she shrugged as a smirk found its way onto her face, too. "A girl has to compliment her new Captain, though, get in some brownie points where she can."

"Now, that, I believe," he laughed quietly as she pulled up beside him, her hand coming down only a short distance from his on the nearby desk. "But you don't need brownie points with me, you should know that by now."

She glanced at the maps for a moment, holding her tongue in case she said something that they both knew she shouldn't. But then it happened, either a twitch of his fingers or he had reached out, either way, the butterflies started all over again. Her gaze snapped back to him and she had spread her fingers out toward him before she'd realized what she was doing. His ring and pinkie fingers eased over hers slowly and stilled, his eyes seeking hers out. His eyes said more than his voice could ever again, at least while she was under his command.

He missed her.

Her expression went soft, for the first time since becoming a Spartan, and her fingers moved slowly beneath his in a brief, gentle caress.

She missed him, too.

He gave a soft smile and moved his hand away, motioning her over, nearer the other side of the terminal. She followed in silence as he opened a new window and pulled up the duty roster. His rota came up first, and he let it sit for a moment as he looked to her.

"I think you deserve a bit of leave while we're in orbit, Commander. Do you feel like one?" He asked quietly. His own leave was programmed into the calendar: seven days off, starting at the end of the week.

"I do like my work, Captain," she answered quietly, and his face fell just enough for her alone to tell. He made a movement to shut down the scheduling app on the terminal, and she moved her hand to hover over his.

"But-" she continued, "I could do with some R and R, sir. Do you think the ship would miss me this weekend?"

"Why not take the full seven, Commander? The new fire teams won't be inbound for a couple of weeks; take some time to clear your head before the noobs head our way." His eyes smiled at her.

"You know, when you put it that way, that sounds like a brilliant idea" she smirked.

"I thought it did."

"And you would be right, Tom," Sarah answered quietly. "Where do you suggest I visit while I'm down there?"

"Florida is pretty, I hear," he grinned. "Just to relax out on the beach and watch the sun set...it's supposed to give you a bit of perspective."

"Book me a ticket then, Captain. I guess I'll be going to see Florida."

"I don't book tickets for my Commanders," he retorted, a small smile crossing his face.

"Well then," she retorted, a smirk quirking up one side of her mouth as she took a step toward the door.

"I don't remember dismissing you, Commander," he warned playfully, following behind her.

"I do have to pack, sir," she grinned. "And if I'm going to be burning my ass on the sand, I'd like it to look good while I do."

He grinned, shifting his weight subtly. Point to her; now he was thinking about how she'd look in a bikini. Or maybe just her ass. Either way, it made her feel good about herself...and at least he wouldn't mind the augmentation scars.

"In that case, Commander, you are dismissed," he smirked, and she didn't miss the look in his eyes that said he couldn't wait to hit the ground.

"Before I go, do you have plans for dinner, Tom?" She asked quietly, not wanting anyone else near the ready room to hear.

"No, why?" He answered, canting his head curiously.

"Meet me in the officers' mess at 1930 hours?" Her voice was softer still. "We can talk more about Florida."

It was in that moment that she realized how his smiles, his genuine smiles, had never been on display since they had parted ways and she had chosen the life of a Spartan. Perhaps hers had taken a sabbatical, as well. Regardless, she returned the beaming smile and let her guard down for a few seconds.

"I've missed you, Tom," she whispered and touched his hand briefly. With a smile, she turned and put her commander's mask back into place, then strode from the room. A few seconds later, when she knew that he knew she would be the only one to hear, thanks to her augmented hearing, he whispered the sentiment back.

That whispered 'I've missed you, too,' was something she would hold onto for a very long time, even in the days to come when she would be absolutely livid with him. They drove each other, like two magnets pushing the other along where the poles were misaligned. Only, this time, there would be no pushing apart. This time, they would come together and be inseparable for seven days.

Seven days. One week. One hundred and sixty-eight hours. Multiple sunrises and sunsets. Days of relaxing together and being who they once had been to one another...maybe even who they still should or would be, had she listened to him and not agreed to the Spartan augmentations and training.

Sarah Palmer didn't do what-ifs, but that was one that still haunted her mind. She wouldn't admit it to it, certainly not aloud, but it was there: she and Tom. Tom and her. They could have made it, if she had given them the chance, but she hadn't, and now there was nothing to do for it now except to wait for the right timing.

As she moved along the corridors of the ship, the thought occurred to her that maybe one day soon they wouldn't have to keep pretending. Maybe one day soon they would be able to be the people that they could have and should have been, had she made different choices. Maybe, some day soon the UNSC wouldn't require a Spartan with her skill set, or a Captain with his, and they would get to retire somewhere together.

Somewhere where she could lay around all day in the sand.

Somewhere like Florida.

fic: [silent witness] it only hurts when you cry, part 2

linesfade — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 03:11:03 GMT

Title: It Only Hurts When You Cry
Author: linesfade
Fandom: Silent Witness
Chapter: 2/4
Words:
Pairing: Harry/Nikki
Rating: PG-13 for now.
Warnings:
Spoilers: Two months post-Bloodlines
Summary: Two months after Budapest, Harry is still a mess. He knows Nikki is miserable, but when he tells a fib so that she'll take a night off from looking after him, everything nearly falls apart in the worst way...

--
TWO
--

Harry ran his hands through his hair and sighed.

It had been two months since Anna, since Budapest, and here he was, still a wreck. He'd wanted to drink himself into oblivion every night for the past two months, but Nikki had always been there, keeping him back from it.

Nikki. Damn.

He'd lied to her tonight, just to try and get her to go on with her life. She had been watching over him, taking care of him, for so long now that he knew if he didn't come up with something to get her out, she would never leave. Not that he wanted her to leave, God, no! He just…he didn't know where his head was anymore. He desperately wanted to get inordinately pissed, but found he couldn't when Nikki was there…nor could he, even now that she was gone. He just couldn't bring himself to let her down.

Maybe it had to do with how much his flat smelled of her anymore, and how many of her clothes had found their way into the far side of his closet over the last couple of months. It would have been an awkward thing to have to explain to any woman he brought home…but, then again, it wasn't like he was worried about that anymore. That sort of thing, the one night stands, it just didn't sound like the man he wanted to be anymore, and that...that was something he did know.

From here on, Harry Cunningham would be serious when it came to relationships and try to settle down. Anna had taught him that much.

He sighed, picked up the bottle that had been staring at him for the past two hours, and slid it back into the liquor cabinet. He wouldn't be able to get drunk here. Harry dialed for a cab and when the driver announced his arrival ten minutes later with a quick honk of the horn, he headed downstairs and locked up. Harry gave the driver the name of the pub just up the road from the Lyell. He wasn't certain what had made him give the name of that pub, given it was certain to be packed with young girls that he wouldn't want and people that he knew from work. He probably didn't want to get pissed in front of potential future students, it might reflect poorly on the Lyell if he did.

Well, he supposed he could start there and move on after a while, assuming he still felt the need to get that drunk at that point. He sat back in the cab's backseat and looked out the window, watching the lights go past in a blur.

It made him think of that night in Budapest when everything had gone so horribly wrong. Suddenly, he was back there again, watching Janos dancing around and joining in, the lights blurring around him as they laughed, despite the situation they had found themselves in. And then Harry had stopped...and he remembered the way Janos' face had gone slack, his expression almost surprised as he slumped to the ground...

The driver knocked loudly against the Plexiglas divider that separated the front of the cab from the back seat.

"I said, 'we're here,' mate," the driver spoke a bit forcefully. Harry gave the man an apologetic smile.

"Sorry," he muttered quietly, passed the driver some money with a more than adequate tip, and exited the taxi. "Thanks..."

"Have a good night, mate," the driver nodded, taking off once Harry had stepped up onto the curb.

"Yeah, you too," he mumbled as the car sped away. Harry turned and entered the pub, not really paying attention to who was in the pub, until he saw her, Nikki, sitting at the bar and knocking back a shot of what looked like bourbon. The sight shocked him into standing still, just inside the door. This was the last place he expected her to be tonight. Of course, he had wanted her to get out and live a little bit, but she just looked even more miserable than she had in the last couple of months. Yes, he had noticed that about her; he hadn't known what to do about it, but he'd noticed. After a moment, Harry sank into a seat just inside the door and watched her. It had been a long while since he'd seen her like this, and she looked nearly as drunk as he wished he was. A server came up to his table and he just ordered a beer, content to just sit back and watch Nikki for a little while.

He couldn't pretend his blood didn't boil when a bunch of good-looking men came up to her, crowded around her, and each one distracted her with conversation whilst the others measured her up. As soon as they had crowded round, she'd pulled on her nothing's-wrong mask as if it were the easiest thing in the world, and in a sudden blast of revelation, he realized that was the look she had been wearing around him for the past two months. Suddenly, as he watched the exchanges, a thought dawned on him: he had always been protective of her. He hadn't had to put any thought or effort into it in the past seven years; every fibre of his being had just always screamed to be there for her when she needed him, even going so far as to call off dates that he knew would go nowhere when she showed up on his doorstep, her eyes red-rimmed. So why, all of a sudden, had he allowed himself to become so self-absorbed that he didn't notice her getting to this point? She had been at his side every night for the past two months, and he had done nothing but dwell on himself and his own sorrows. And he hadn't even loved Anna, not really. So, why? What had it all been for?

Harry took a long drink of his beer and lowered his head, looking up only when he saw her long, blonde hair swish out into the crowd. She took her purse in one hand and excused herself from the mass of men, then turned and headed for the restrooms. Anyone else watching would have seen just a stunning woman with a sway in her hips as she walked. He knew well that, to the untrained eye, Nikki never looked drunk when she was this far gone, but he knew that extra sway in her hips could all be chalked up to one too many glasses or shots of something. This time, he would pin it on the bourbon, though there was no telling what she'd had beforehand.

He watched her disappear into the hallway to the restrooms and then glanced down into his beer, swirling it around in the bottom of the pint glass before he took another drink. He shouldn't have let her go, and he realized that now. He should have gone with her, asked her to stay, anything but this. If anything happened to her tonight because he had been such a selfish git…

Harry frowned and stared intently at the hallway, waiting for her to re-emerge before he made his move.

Part 1 || ~~Part 3~~

fic: [silent witness] it only hurts when you cry, part 1

linesfade — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 02:06:37 GMT

Title: It Only Hurts When You Cry
Author: linesfade
Fandom: Silent Witness
Chapter: 1/4
Words:
Pairing: Harry/Nikki
Rating: PG-13 for now.
Warnings:
Spoilers: Two months post-Bloodlines
Summary: Two months after Budapest, Harry is still a mess. He knows Nikki is miserable, but when he tells a fib so that she'll take a night off from looking after him, everything nearly falls apart in the worst way...

'...And it only hurts when you cry
I'm only sad when there's tears in your eyes
I can't lie and say I'm fine
But it only hurts when you cry...'

-When You Cry, Vertical Horizon

--
ONE
--

It had been a hard day, to say the least. Nikki didn't normally drink hard liquor, but tonight she'd already downed two glasses of red wine, a beer, two shots of bourbon, and was motioning for a third. She had been chatting up men all evening, going through her mental checklist of who would be the most suitable to take her mind off of things for the night as she worked her way through them. She'd already been through two bars of men, because not one had measured up to her standards.

Yes, even Nikki Alexander, who indulged in one night stands to drown out the pain, had standards.

"'Ey, love," a voice behind her slurred. A voice she'd ruled out half an hour ago. She tried to ignore him, but he ran his fingers through her hair and she couldn't help but shudder in disgust. Any man that tried that hard was off of her list permanently...not that any of them really were on any list to begin with. He'd been moderately attractive to look at, and with just a glance she imagined that he would be one of those absolutely muscle-bound men with the chiseled abs she loved…but even that couldn't save him, not acting as he had been. He was large, an imposing bulk when she thought about it. Too tall for her tastes, even in her heels, and the features on his face were far too sharp; he looked every bit like a predator. Now that she really saw him, there was no way she'd be able to reconcile that away.

"I said 'no,'" she reminded him without turning around. The bartender set another shot in front of her, and Nikki knocked it back as if it was nothing. It took a couple of seconds for the burn of the liquor to register in her brain and she took a deep breath to allow the air to cool her throat. Not that it helped.

"I'd be good for you," the man behind her murmured as he inched closer to her ear. His hand started to brush the hair back from her ear and she shrugged away from him.

"No you wouldn't," she growled at him. "You wouldn't be good at all. Now let me alone."

"You don't know what you're missin', lovely," he warned, aiming to lay a drunk, sloppy kiss to her cheek before she leaned away from him and out of his reach with a disgusted twist of her lips.

"Believe me," she growled, now more angry than annoyed. "I don't care to know."

"Oh, you will," he smirked at her as she glowered up at him. "You'll know."

"If I wanted to know, I'd have already asked you to leave with me," she shot back. "Hence, the fact that I am still sitting here, trying to convince you to piss off? Means I don't - want - you. Now, take it elsewhere."

The man smirked and leaned in again, only to slur into her ear, "I'll come back when you've 'ad a few, lovely. You'll be comin' 'ome with me, a'right."

When he pulled away and was a few paces off, trying to get another girl into his bed, Nikki finally allowed the second shudder she was suppressing in his presence to come out.

"You all right?" the girl behind the bar asked as she came over to stand in front of Nikki.

"I'm all right," she nodded.

"Some of the men in here...they just can't take no for an answer."

"That's what happens when people let the dregs of society out in public places," Nikki grumbled, flashing the bartender a wry smile. "Thanks, though."

"Any time," she laughed softly at Nikki's reply, then set about getting back to her work and mopping up spills along the counter.

Nikki watched her movements, her drunken brain marveling at how purposeful they were. Nikki wondered if she, herself, had forgotten her purpose in life...or if she'd ever had one to begin with. Sure, she had her work, and she was purposeful with that, maybe even overly-purposeful. She knew that she could fall so far into a case that it would consume her, and she had let it happen far too often for it to be healthy, but she also knew that she had always had Harry to turn to when she found herself going there.

Harry.

Which brought her back to the reason she was here tonight: he had a date.

Not that she begrudged him for it; no, she was quite happy for him…wasn't she? He was moving on with his life after everything that had happened in Budapest, and he deserved to. Nikki wouldn't have wanted to hold him back from anything, it was just that…it hurt that he wasn't moving on with her. Nikki had been the one who had given up her social life to spend every night with Harry over the past month, month and a half (or had it been two months now?), waking him when his nightmares grew too intense to let him sleep through, and holding him against her when he started to toss and turn in his sleep. She had been the one who made sure he ate regular meals and didn't space out during post-mortems when he came back to work part-time. God, was she really that much of a selfish bitch that she couldn't allow him the chance to be happy again? Or was it just that she was upset because he was trying to find that happiness with someone other than her?

Nikki asked the girl behind the bar for another shot. She wasn't drunk enough for those sorts of thoughts yet.

~~Part 1~~ || Part 2 || ~~Part 3~~

fic: [Riese] My World For Yours

linesfade — Fri, 04 Mar 2011 05:48:00 GMT

Title: My World For Yours
Author: linesfade
Fandom: Riese
Chapter: 1/1
Words:
Pairing: Amara/Trennan
Rating: PG13 (for innuendos)
Warnings: Sexual Innuendo, Sparring.
Spoilers: Occurs after all ten webisodes.
Summary: Trennan and Amara sparring session. Prompted by krissie678 and xiratania007 LOVE YOU GIRLS! <3

She twirled the staff around her head once, then around her body twice in a figure-eight before she scrunched up her face in concentration, whirled and brought her staff down over Trennan’s. Hard. The crack of the wood echoed throughout the sparring room in the palace, along with the battle cry she’d let out as the bow staff vibrated within her hands from the impact.

“Don’t forget to breathe, Amara,” Trennan reminded quietly, and she sucked in a quick breath as she pulled away and redoubled her attack.

No one told Amara what to do, not even Trennan with his well-intentioned reminder for her to take a breath.

She spun again, striking out with the end of her staff. Her eyes widened in surprise as he parried her blow, then came back at her with a strength she had never seen in him. He was learning well. Possibly too well.

Amara set her jaw, countered his attack and struck back at him with a faster series of blows that he struggled to parry. Somehow, he managed to keep from being struck and Amara couldn’t help but frown at his persistence. She feinted a strike toward his left hand and then spun around, lowering her staff lightning-fast to take him hard across the back of his knees.

He groaned in surprise and fell backward as his legs flew out from under him. He landed on his back with a heavy thud and gasped for breath as the air left his lungs. She dropped to her knees over him gracefully, straddling his waist so that he was pinned in place, and pressed one knee into his abdomen to make him think twice about trying to shove her away. She knew he wouldn’t dare push her off, either way. She was his Empress.

She genuinely wasn’t concerned for him at all, and then she remembered that she needed him. Amara needed his connection to the Sect to keep one eye on their progress at all times (She had to inwardly smirk at that thought; the pun in it had been unintended, but amusing nonetheless). In the blink of an eye, her expression changed fluidly from triumphant to as concerned as an Empress should be for the well-being of her most trusted advisor. Beneath it, though, in her eyes she added a veneer of deeper concern, as if it were a highly-guarded secret.

Amara could be a brilliant actress when the situation required it of her.

She touched his arm, just barely, the slightest brush of her fingers so as to not alert the guards in the room.

“Trennan?” she inquired, her voice not wavering, but the concern for him in her eyes she let move even farther beyond what it ought to echo.

“I’m fine, Empress,” he breathed, emphasizing her title just enough to remind her not to take her level of concern much further. He remained beneath her, unmoving, one hand laid over his chest. His own bow staff lay on the ground, a few inches out of the reach of his other hand. He was no threat to her like this, so she turned to the guards.

“Leave us,” she commanded, and the men at the doorway exchanged looks. Amara was not pleased. “Did you not hear me? I said, leave us!”

The royal guards shuffled their feet and bumped elbows as they tussled, nudging and bumping to find out who would be the first out the door, but by then Amara had turned her attention back to Trennan. By the time the door had slammed shut behind them, she had laid her own staff aside and reached out to take his hands in hers. She shifted backwards slightly, removing the knee from his midsection, and pulled him up to an almost-sitting position, but still she knelt over his thighs.

“Empress,” he murmured quietly. “There will be talk of this.”

She gave him a plotting smile. “Then let there be talk.”

He opened his mouth and took a breath, then let a small smile curve up his lips slightly.

“You should know what the Sect are plotting -”

“Shh,” she whispers, laying a finger over his lips. “Not now. Not today.”

His brows knitted in confusion as he stared up at her, his eyepiece focusing out and back in with a gentle whir. It was the only part of him that did anything gently, he realized, as his heart pounded frantically within his chest.

“Amara?” he breathed shakily.

“Trennan,” she countered, a daring smirk on her face. She knew what it would take to secure his loyalty, and she’d do it. He longed to feel wanted, needed, instead of feeling the part of the frequent outsider even within the ranks of the Sect. They used him to gain important information on her as much as she used him to gain information about the doings of the Sect, but if she were to take it one step farther, give him reason for his loyalty to swing solely to her...

Amara leaned in slowly and left the lightest of kisses over his lips, so gentle, so quick that he didn’t even have the opportunity to kiss her back. She pulled back and lingered just beyond his lips, her eyes dancing back and forth over his face to gauge his reaction. Would it work, or backfire on her?

Trennan’s eyes widened in surprise as she pulled away, but still hovered within his reach.

“What..?” he whispered, everything within him desperate to reach up and taste her lips again.

She could see his hesitation, his uncertainty, in the way he licked his lips nervously, and she smiled gently to encourage him.

“Are you with me, Trennan?” she inquired lightly, her breath caressing lightly over his lips. His eyepiece whirred in contentment as his other slid closed, and he had to bite back the moan that edged into the back of his throat. She smelled of mint, accented with a hint of lavender, and he couldn’t help but sigh at the suggestive way she trailed her fingernails over his collarbone through his clothing. “I know that these are trying times, but...”

“I’m with you, Amara,” he blurted out, not even thinking to hold his tongue and let her finish for once. “I give my world for yours. Every second of it.”

She suppressed her urge to admonish him with a sharp tongue, opting to smile instead.

“I am glad to hear it,” she whispered as her fingers down his chest. “Because your loyalty could yield so many...rewards...”

Trennan swallowed hard and blinked up at her, mentally pleading for his senses to focus on her, instead of her touch.

“I am loyal to only you, Empress,” he breathed, his throat suddenly parched.

“Good,” she cooed, her finger trailing back up his collarbone to hook beneath his chin. “Then consider this...the first of your many rewards."

Amara leaned closer and pressed her lips to his, gentle but holding a silent promise in its barely-concealed intensity. Trennan’s heart beat erratically as she moved lower still, her body melding perfectly against his. And then, just as he was about to forget himself, his place within her court, and move to take control of the kiss, she pulled away.

Amara rolled to one side of him nimbly and picked up her staff, twirling it around her waist as she rose to her feet. She expertly tucked the staff against her hip and held out a hand that beckoned him to rise.

Trennan stood stiffly, trying to keep a large grin from spreading across his face.

“I am grateful for your generosity, Empress,” he murmured, then glanced about the sparring floor for his wayward staff. “Eternally. Grateful.”

His remark earned him a playful smirk from Amara.

“You still must prove your worth to me,” she challenged, twirling her staff once more as her eyes dared him to attack her once more.

“As my Empress desires.” he returned her smirk.

For another reward such as that, he thought, he’d trade everything he’d ever believed, and even give up on the Goddess altogether. For an even richer reward...Trennan wasn’t sure what he’d do, but he knew for certain that he would, if given the opportunity, worship his Empress with far greater attention and reverence than he had ever before worshipped the Goddess of the Sect. That alone spoke enough to him, and told him that he’d made the right choice.

He picked up the staff and tossed it from hand to hand, then centered it across his body as he took his defensive stance and waited for her first strike. He dared a small smile, and let it grow wider as she returned it just before she brought her staff toward him in her first offensive move.

His world for hers, indeed.

fic: [sanctuary] calm before the storm

linesfade — Tue, 26 Oct 2010 03:02:29 GMT

Title: Calm Before the Storm
Author: linesfade
Fandom: Sanctuary
Chapter: 1/1
Words: 753
Pairing: Magnus/Declan (AKA M&M)
Rating: PG (for underlying angst)
Warnings: None
Spoilers: Kali Part 3
Summary: A missing scene from Kali Part 3. Why wasn't Declan surprised to hear that Magnus wasn't dead...and why was he in Old City during Firewall? Just something to answer those couple of questions. And because I'VE SHIPPED IT FOR AGES. :D

Magnus dialed the long-familiar number on the satellite phone, the wind whipping her hair about in all directions. She sighed at the strain in his voice when he answered, knowing that it was on her account.

“Macrae,” the voice uttered, and she could almost imagine him leaning over some sort of work, something on a lab table, perhaps, rubbing at his eyes wearily.

"Declan,” she said softly into the receiver, more than relieved to hear his voice coming from the other side.

“Magnus?” he asked, and suddenly his voice perked up. She imagined his hand falling away from his face to rest on the steel table he and James always kept in the main lab of the UK Sanctuary. “Is that you?”

His voice cracked a bit, but he cleared his throat. It made her smile, that little bit of humanity seeping though his practical exterior.

“Yes, Declan, it’s me. I’m all right,” she replied, glancing down at her feet and adding mentally, ‘At least for now.’

“I thought...” his voice hitched again, and she caught the sound of him clearing his throat again - just barely. “Thank God you’re all right...”

She smiled again at the relief in his voice, and would have given anything to give him a reassuring touch in that moment.

“It’s good to hear your voice, Declan,” she said quietly, reaching out to scratch absently with one fingernail at the whitewashed handrail of the ship she had commandeered. Magnus took a deep breath and sighed. She hated to talk business now, but she knew it would help both of them stay on track; they still had a crisis to avert. “When I get home, I’ll fly you into Old City for tea, but right now, I need you to fill me in. Where are we? What have I missed?”

She could almost visualize him nodding on the other end of the line.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Tea sounds brilliant...I’d like that.”

“Good,” she smiled, patting the top of the railing gently with her palm. “So would I.”

“Right,” he replied, the sound of a smile seeping into his tone. “All right, here’s where we are...”

As he began to fill her in, his voice grew more confident and his tone more steady. She smiled genuinely as he talked, and nodded even though he couldn’t see her. The calm practicality and confidence he was once again exuding was a familiarity and, suddenly, she felt more secure within herself. There was a reason that James had chosen him above all of the other potential candidates to be his protege. As he concluded his recap, Magnus took a deep breath.

“Thank you, Declan,” she spoke softly. “And that tea appointment? I’m calling you in a flight, first thing when I get back.”

“You’d better,” he replied, and she could hear him smile on the other end of the line. “I’ve never known a Magnus to leave a bloke high and dry.”

She laughed at that, genuinely laughed, and looked out into the calm portion of the sea. It was hard to believe that these now-calm waters would soon threaten to engulf the coastlines of several different continents.

“Why you cheeky little...”

“Doctor Magnus! You need to come take a look at this!” Charles called out from behind her, and she whirled to face him. Her eyes narrowed, and she nodded at him, holding up a hand to pause him before he could continue.

“Declan, I have to...”

“It’s all right; go. Ring when you need me,” he replied quickly. “I’ll be here. And Magnus...?”

“Yes?” she smiled into the satellite phone.

“Be safe, yeah? Come back in one piece,” he murmured quietly.

“I will. I promise,” she told him, confident in her words. “I’ll speak with you soon, Declan.”

“Of course,” he replied, and then the line clicked off.

It was just like him not to say ‘goodbye’ when lives were on the line. She liked it that way.

Magnus folded the antenna of the phone back toward the body and then looked to Charles, moving with him as he began to walk back toward the bow of the ship.

“All right, Charles. What have we got?” she asks over the roar of the waves, trying - but not too hard - to get the sound of his voice out of her head. It was a voice she certainly wasn’t ready to lose...and so she’d fight, harder and longer, if need be, to make sure it stayed that way.

fic: [sanctuary] past as prologue

linesfade — Fri, 01 Oct 2010 03:17:39 GMT

Title: Past as Prologue
Author: linesfade
Fandom: Sanctuary
Chapter: 1-4/6
Words:
Pairing: 100% Ashley/Declan (AKA SOLDIERS!)
Rating: PG13 (for now)
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None. Pre-show and general timeline.
Summary: 'If she's out there somewhere, somewhere I would give everything to know. Just to hold and to finally have her take me to sunrise from indigo...' - Out There; Sister Hazel

PAST AS PROLOGUE

ONE
The first time that he met her, she had been a tiny little sprite of a thing, about the age of twelve. He had only been at the UK Sanctuary a few weeks and was still getting his bearings, so when he'd gotten turned around in one of the many corridors, looking to pull James from his lab for their 1500hrs. appointment, and ran into her, he'd had a hard time asking her for help finding his way. It wasn't until she didn't ask the same inane questions of him, an ex-Special Forces soldier, that every other twelve-year-old did: Where had he gotten the limp that was still plaguing him? Had he ever killed anyone? Was he really good at shooting a gun? that he noticed how different she was from every other girl her age. She only measured him up with a single look and nodded for him to follow.

He could tell that she was curious about him, he’d already heard enough times that it wasn't every day James Watson hand-picked a new operative for his intake teams, but she stayed silent and led him to his destination. He gave her a grateful smile and thanked her as he extended a hand in greeting.

"Declan Macrae," he offered.

She smiled genuinely up at him and shook his hand respectfully. She had a strong grip for a girl, let alone a girl of twelve.

"Ashley," she returned, no last name. "It's a pleasure, Mr. Macrae."

He smiled, "Doctor, actually."

"I know," she smirked, then nodded to the laboratory. "Better get in there before you're late. Uncle James hates it when his appointments run behind."

Declan grinned, watching her curiously as she stalked back down the corridor and made a right at the first juncture. She was something else, all right. He entered the laboratory and took a seat next to James, who was staring into a microscope with great interest.

"I see you've met Ashley," he mused without looking up, a hint of a smile on his face. "...Helen's daughter."

Declan's jaw went slack for a very brief moment. That explained everything.

"She comes to stay every now and again for her studies," James continued. "She's a very bright girl, but then again, I would expect nothing less from a Magnus."

Declan nodded, as if processing the information and making connections, while James peered over at him.

"All right, this is likely as far as I will get today," he murmured, standing from his stool to put his experiment back into refrigeration. "Let's have a look at that knee in the infirmary."

"Of course," Declan agreed, standing from the stool and letting James take the lead out of the lab. No more getting turned around in hallways, he told himself. He would make it a point to learn every twist and turn of this place within the next week.

And he did.

TWO
The next time that he really saw her for longer than a brief 'hello,' she was fourteen, and he and James were visiting the Old City Sanctuary. It was Declan's first trip there, and he'd had to frown at the thought of all of the new hallways to get lost in. As they made to pass by the gym, James stopped just the other side of the doorway, reversed and stared for a moment, visibly bewildered. Wondering what had caught his eye, Declan peered in over his shoulder and caught sight of Ashley sparring with another woman. The other woman was a trainer of some sort, by the looks of her, and the aggressiveness the young Magnus showed as they went at one another made him smile; she’d be a bloody brilliant soldier one day.

"She isn't faring too terribly," Declan murmured to James in approval, watching as she ducked a kick and swept the woman's legs out from under her. The girl exuded a cat-like grace, and Declan had to smile in awe of her ability.

"She's far too young for this," James replied just as quietly, obviously unhappy, "but she's not my daughter."

"She's close enough to be your daughter, James," Declan told him, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "It's pretty clear that she thinks of you that way."

Ashley looked up as she pulled the woman back to her feet and, as she saw them standing in the doorway, a beaming smile stretched across her face. She waved excitedly and said something to the woman before bounding over and wrapping her arms around James' neck gently.

"James! It's so good to see you! Mom said you'd be coming in today," she grinned, then released him so that she could face Declan.

"Doctor Macrae," she smirked, continuing the game of names and titles they’d played ever since the second time that they’d met. "It's good to see you again, too."

"And you, Miss Magnus," he gave her a small grin and nodded back toward the mats. "It seems as though you've had a bit of training since we last spoke."

"Eh," she shrugged, taking a deep breath as she rested her hands on her hips and beaming back at him. "Some here and there. Nothin' big."

"Those were some fairly solid moves," he grinned, motioning to the other woman who stood waiting for her to return. "I'd say you've had some pretty decent instruction, love."

She just smiled back at him and cocked her head to one side, shrugging.

Declan laughed quietly and shook his head, glancing over to James as he gave a quiet scoff to find a displeased frown etched across his features.

Her eyes flicked back to James and she straightened up slightly.

"Uh, yeah, Mom said you weren't going to be too happy about this..," she murmured. "I’m sorry, James, I just - I wanted to be a part of this. Mom told me what really goes on here, and I just...I had to."

Declan had to fight not to smirk at the look on her face. It was the one she had always pulled with James, ever since the day he'd met her, whenever she was trying to get her way. God help James, but the man always gave in; he spoiled her rotten every time the opportunity arose. Declan leaned up against the door jamb and just let her fend for her own. Being a Magnus, she certainly could.

"I suppose," James sighed, motioning for her to follow him, "that if you must become involved, then decent training is the first step in ensuring your survival. Come..."

James beckoned for her to follow him into the middle of the mats and made her square her stance as if she would be fighting him. Declan, meanwhile, meandered off to one side of the room and took a seat in a vacant chair, watching with an amused expression as James showed her the proper way to move when dodging an incoming fist and how to throw a proper right hook, as if the woman being paid to teach Ashley these things hadn't done a decent enough job. It was a good supposition that James Watson was certainly a better - and more qualified - fighter than anyone that even Helen Magnus could find and hire, if only for the insight he could impart to his pupil on the telltale signs one's opponent's body language could give off...should one be watching closely enough.

They spent a number of hours in the gym that day with James teaching, Ashley soaking in the lessons and even with Declan stepping in, now and again, by James' command to spar with her to make certain she understood her lessons. He had found it all quite amusing, until he was the one laying on his back, fresh out of breath from the impact of the fall and Ashley's calf pressed against his throat as she pinned him. A triumphant grin drew across her face, an unrecognizable twinkle in her eye. Declan smirked up at her and it wasn't long before he had countered her hold, taken her in a firm arm bar and had her pinned with her cheek on the ground.

"Never grow cocky, Ashley! That will be your downfall every time!" James barked, obviously dismayed by her performance. "Again!"

Declan released her arm slowly and rose, then reached down to help her up as soon as he was back on his feet.

"You all right, love?" he asked quietly, and she shot him a disheartened frown as she rolled her shoulder around to loosen it up.

"Fine," she growled, giving him a despairing look that belied her tone.

"You're doing well, Ashley," he whispered, giving her a conspiratorial little wink. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Nah," she shook her head, her lips turning up into a small smile. "Mom always says I'm a tough cookie. I'll be fine."

He nodded and squared his stance to grapple with her again.

"Just bear in mind that there is a difference between ‘confident’ and ‘cocky.’ It's a fine line, but if you cross it, there will always be disastrous consequences," he said quietly as they circled each other, both sets of eyes searching for a decent place and moment to strike out at the other.

"Gotcha," she grinned, just before she lunged at his midsection. He countered her attack and used her own momentum to flip her over his hip and pin her once again.

"You sure about that, love?" he smirked as he released her arms and held out a hand to help her up from the mat. Her only reply in the moment was a hint of a smirk of her own before she hooked a leg over his, pulled just enough to get him off-kilter and used his height over her as the necessary leverage to flip him onto his back. She wound up, in what felt like a split-second, straddling his thigh, with one knee pressed into his abdomen to hold him down. Her hands pressed his wrists to the mat in a mirror image of the hold he'd just had her in, and she took in a long, deep breath.

"Yup. I think I got it," she winked.

Declan laughed and shook his head as she released him and stood, holding her hands down to help him to his feet. Have it, she most certainly did.

THREE

Declan was anxious; he didn't like this one sodding bit.

He risked a glance over to where Ashley crouched, her lithe form obscured from the building by the landscaping boulders and tall, waving grass and then looked back out over the empty parking lot, just waiting for the right moment to sweep into the building and secure the creature they had been seeking over the past week.

The day was hot, which was to be expected, given the region, and even the light-colored t-shirts they'd gone out in that day had been drenched with sweat by 1100 hours. At 1300, they'd gotten their leads sorted and had slipped into their tactical vests. They had both geared up with three clips apiece of Henry's new, but heavily-tested tranquilizer rounds, along with three clips of their usual .40 ammunition. By all accounts, they were ready for this mission: a simple bag and tag retrieval-turned-rescue when they'd found out that a Siberian pleskidara had been captured and transported to Africa for the purposes of some semblance of ‘research,’ but Declan still wasn't certain about how wise this operation was; things could most certainly get dangerous and out-of-hand around a pleski.

This was Ashley's first serious mission away from her mother's side, and it spoke volumes to him that Dr. Magnus trusted him enough to keep her daughter safe, but he wasn't at all positive what kind of eye he would be able to keep on her. She was daring. She was quick. She was sixteen and bloody reckless! But she'd promised to follow his lead, so he had been forced to take her at her word. After all, the word of a Magnus - either Ashley's or her mother's - was as good as gold.

Declan nodded for her to advance and take point. He would follow on her six, covering her from all other angles as he brought up the rear. This way, he could keep one eye on her, and one on any other threats that popped up along the way...he just hoped it would be sufficient.

The facility, little more than a warehouse with a glass front and various experimentation labs dotting it's interior, had emptied as much as it was going to for the evening, and their intel said that the only souls left inside would be those of overnight security and the abnormal they were after. There was a transport van in a holding pattern a block away, waiting for them to give the signal to swoop in, pick up them and the pleski and make a clean getaway. Declan prayed that it would go that simply.

Their entry into the building was surgical, using the tranquilizer rounds only on the few security guards that stalked the corridors as they proceeded from room to room in a timely fashion. They made it to the room where the pleski was being housed in no time at all and, with untarnished tactical precision, swept the room to make sure it was clear before lowering their weapons and trying to figure out the easiest way to go about securing him.

The abnormal on the opposite side of the glass grunted in fear, and Declan frowned. An upset and frightened pleskidara was not on the list of beings he had wanted to encounter in his lifetime.

"Ideas?" Ashley asked quietly, sidling up next to Declan slowly. "It's his hands, right? The dangerous bits?"

Declan shook himself out of his plans enough to register what she was asking.

"His claws, to be more precise," he corrected, then moved to the computer and began keying in the sequence Henry had given him to hack into the locking mechanism. The bloke had somehow managed to fit some kind of computer virus onto a CD that would affect a local locking mechanism, rendering the one they were looking to get through inert, while leaving the others engaged. The absolute last thing they needed was a facility full of rampaging abnormals while they tried to extricate a pleskidara, and Henry, it seemed, had made that possible.

At the prompt on the command line Henry had told him to look for, he inserted the disk into the drive and motioned to Ashley.

"I'm going to secure the pleski," he told her, his tone telling her not to question him. "I need you to come over here and, when I give the word, type 'EXECUTE' on that line and press 'ENTER.' That'll unlock the door, I'll sweep in and tranq him and then we move him out, back the way we came, yeah?"

Ashley looked nervous but nodded and moved closer to Declan's side next to the computer. Her eyes went unfocused as she stared into the containment cell at their target.

"Hey," he murmured. "No worries, love. It'll be simple. Just keep on your guard in case he knocks me for six, and we'll be fine. If he gets past me, don't hesitate; you shoot him. You get me, Magnus?"

At the sound of him using her last name, her mother's name, she looked back up to him and nodded. "Yeah. Just...be careful..."

He glanced down at her curiously, noting the sudden quietness in her voice and the wary unease in her eyes as they moved back and forth from him, to the pleski and then back to him.

He gave her a reassuring smile and reached out for the back of her neck, dropping a quick kiss to the top of her head, just as he and James had both done off and on for the last two years as they trained her on various weapons and techniques. She took a deep breath as he released her and he squeezed her shoulder gently, not understanding the tension he suddenly found in her body language. They'd practiced this time and again before coming out here, and she'd been out with her mum doing this very same thing not so long ago...

He shook the questions from his mind and gave her a nod. It was not the time to be dwelling on such things. "Are you ready?"

"Ready," she echoed, taking in a steadying breath as she flicked on the safety and gingerly slid her sidearm, a round still chambered, back into her hip holster.

"Don't hesitate, Ashley," he repeated as he checked his own handgun to make sure it wouldn’t jam, and then levelled the barrel at the door. "Now."

Ashley's fingers flew over the small number of keys with a light clicking as her short fingernails contacted the plastic. She pressed the 'enter' key and, a few short seconds later, the locking mechanism on the door to the cell clacked and disengaged, and then the airtight seal on the door broke, offering up a loud hiss in warning. Declan trained the business end of his weapon on the growing opening of the door and let out a muttered string of curses under his breath when the steel door didn't allow him the space to move into the cell without having to holster his sidearm. He left the safety off and slid the weapon back into his holster, watching out of the corner of his eye as Ashley drew hers and checked to make sure the safety was off as she slid it from the holster, then moved to cover him from behind.

The pleski cowered across the room and let out a series of short warning grunts and groans as Declan reached out to pull the door open a bit farther.

"We’re not gonna hurt you, mate," he said quietly. "We're only here to take you someplace safe. Somewhere we can help you..."

The pleski grunted again, and started to uncurl from the ball he'd hunched down into in the corner. Declan paused and held up his hands, showing the abnormal he had nothing to harm him with. Somewhere in between that gesture and the quick glance around the room that Declan took as he looked for objects to use for cover from the creature, should he have to, the pleski lunged, barreling straight for the door...and for Declan.

He reached for his weapon but was far too slow for the creature’s preternatural strength and speed, and only had the time to attempt to dodge the charging abnormal before the creature impacted him, its claws slicing through the air just wide of his abdomen. Declan staggered as the momentum of his weight, doubled by the force of the impact, carried him backward faster than his feet could control. The back of his head cracked against the steel door and his vision suddenly went black before returning. As it did, streamers of varying colors ran before his eyes, coupled with a sudden burst of white lights.

Despite the pain in his head and the sudden lack of air in his lungs, all he could think of was Ashley, and that the pleski would make quick work of him and then move onto her.

He'd be damned if that was going to happen.

He seized the creature by its wrists as it came at him again, the adrenaline that was pumping through his system keeping his reaction time high, even with the concussion he'd certainly sustained. He grappled with the pleski for what felt like ten minutes, but was probably something more along the lines of forty-five seconds, before he saw Ashley take up a firing position behind the creature.

"Hey, Jack!" she called out over the din of the scuffle. "Why don't you pick on someone more...my size?!"

The abnormal paused and glanced back at Ashley, then cocked its head in deliberation, pondering which of the two humans posed a greater threat. Ashley, meanwhile, leveled her gun at the pleski, seemingly prepared to fire if he bolted for her.

Declan wanted to call out for her to not draw the pleski's attention; to do anything but that. He glanced down at the holster on his hip, thinking he could draw his sidearm and tranq the abnormal before it could dig its claws into him, but his gun wasn't there. He groaned and cast his eyes over the floor, only to find his weapon lying on the floor against one wall of the cell. He cursed to himself and shoved the distracted pleski backward, trying to gain the upper hand, only to find himself being pressed farther back into the door.

"Ash," he managed to grind out. "Get out..."

Ashley didn't respond, instead she drew a bead on the writhing creature pinning Declan to the floor. With an angry frown on her face, she pulled the trigger three times. The pleski growled and staggered backward, releasing the pressure on Declan just enough for him to worm out from under the it's heightened strength. With another frightened moan of despair, the pleski gave in to the overdose of sedatives as they began to seep through its veins, and it crumpled to the floor just next to Declan. As soon as the abnormal hit the floor, Ashley flicked the safety back onto her gun and thrust it into her hip holster as she raced over to Declan's side. She fell to her knees just before she pulled up beside him, the momentum of the speed she used to cross the room sending her sliding a short way across the cold tile floor, her blonde hair fanning out behind her. She bumped into his hip as she came to a stop and Declan let out a hiss of pain. Apparently there was already a bruise forming under his skin that he didn't recall earning.

"Declan!" she breathed, her hands tugging at his tactical vest as she tried to make sure he wasn't scratched. He tried to follow her hands to shove them away, but he was too slow. The haze was beginning to set in from the crack his head had taken against the door, slowing his reaction time. "You okay? He didn't get you, right?"

Declan was pretty sure there were a few other questions in there, but she was firing them off too quickly for his brain to process. He finally gave up on trying to answer her and reached out as she started trying to unzip his vest to check beneath it, gently seizing her wrists to still her.

"I'm all right, love," he whispered, giving her a small smile that was meant to calm her, more than anything else. "My head, on the other hand...s'bloody pounding."

"Sit still," she commanded, taking him by the shoulders and leaning him forward gently so that she could get a look. Ashley reached back around and pulled the field dressing out of her tactical vest and pressed it against the back of his head with a practiced pressure that could have only been instilled by her mother. "You're bleeding..."

"'S just a concussion, I think," he said quietly, reaching back to take the compress from her. She jolted slightly when his fingers met hers, a small, nervous grin crossing her face. Declan watched her closely as her concerned eyes never left his form. She took a breath and nodded slowly, in acknowledgement of his diagnosis, before pulling her hand away.

Suddenly, in that moment, he recognized the expressions she had worn around him lately, the concern, the sudden tension in her body whenever he would draw near to her. It was there in her eyes, written on her face, and he knew that he couldn't let her hold onto that. It was wrong.

But how did one convince a sixteen-year-old girl that she shouldn't - that she didn’t - love you?

"A night in the infirmary and I'll be fine," he tried to reassure her again as he felt the first warmth of the blood seeping through the gauze four-by-four. "I need you to prep him for transport, Ashley. Can you do that?"

She nodded again and blinked, glancing back over at the unconscious abnormal.

"Uh, wrap his hands so that he can't slice us and then bind them, right?" she thought aloud, glancing back to Declan as she sought his knowledge in capturing abnormals.

"More to keep us from being infected with his spores, but yes," he nodded, going quiet as he watched her edge closer to the pleski and pull the binding supplies from her vest. After a short silence and a shift of his bandage, Declan thought back to her tactic of distraction and chuckled.

"Jack?" he asked, his voice still holding an edge of his laughter.

Ashley flinched at the sound of his voice, startling her from the concentration of trying to bind the pleski's hands inside of the specially-made plastic bags they'd brought with them.

"What?" she asked him, narrowing her eyes at him in confusion before she turned her attention back to the creature to finish up one hand and then set to work on the other.

Declan leaned forward, pulled the spent gauze from the back of his head and pocketed it as he moved. He reached out to help her slide the bag over the abnormal's oversized appendage and blinked several times as his vision swam with the movement.

"Hey," Ashley whispered quietly, pushing his hands away with a gentle touch. "Take it easy till we've gotta move. I got this."

"I know you do," Declan smiled and leant back against the door. He didn't have the strength to correct her verbiage this time, though by now he was wondering if she didn't do it simply to get a rise out of him, her mother and James. "You're doing well, Ashley."

She smiled as she looked back down to the job at hand and finished up her task, but didn't say a word. Declan pulled a pair of zip-cuffs from his vest and leaned forward slowly to make sure she knew how they worked. Once they had secured the pleski's hands in front of him, Ashley then stood and moved across the floor to wheel the transport gurney across the room.

Declan got to his feet unevenly, and Ashley quickly slipped herself under his arm to support him until his equilibrium evened out. The concussion was worse than he'd guessed initially...still, they had a job to finish. He blinked back the stars threatening to swarm his vision and reached out to press the buttons and pull the levers that would lower the gurney. He bent down and, on the count of three, he and Ashley hefted the creature's dead weight onto the gurney. He gave her an approving nod as he called for the van to come and pick them up.

They wheeled the pleski out of the building the same way they’d entered the facility, only this time Declan was leaning against the edge of the gurney heavily so that he wouldn’t lose his footing, or something worse, on the way out. He was counting on Ashley to lead the way through the building, and she did brilliantly. Declan couldn’t have been more proud of her.

The van was waiting, the back doors wide open for them, when they emerged from the building. Declan sighed in relief as their backup man leapt from the passenger seat and readied himself to help them as they raced toward the vehicle and began to load the gurney inside. Ashley took Declan’s arm again and helped him inside to sit on one of the padded benches next to the unconscious abnormal, before she set about checking him over again. Even at sixteen, she was most definitely a miniature version of her mother. Her eyes narrowed as she inspected the laceration on the back of his head, and gave him a sympathetic look when she went to clean it up with Betadine and he winced at the sting as it touched his wound.

“You okay, Dec?” she asked quietly, a worried look on her face and a concerned gentleness in her voice.

He gave her a curious look. No one had ever shortened his name before, so it was entirely new on him. He didn’t dare admit to himself that, were she older, he might have let himself like it.

“I’ll be fine, love,” he murmured, trying to keep his eyes open. “Just keep me awake, until we get back to the Sanctuary, yeah?”

She nodded and patted his knee.

“That I can do,” she smiled at him and started talking about some comic book Henry had gotten her hooked on. Declan grinned and humored her, even though he hadn’t the faintest clue what she was on about.

She had done her job brilliantly, and Declan was proud of her for it, but she had left the African Sanctuary to go home long before he was released from their infirmary. He never got the chance to tell her how well she’d done before he himself had headed home to London...he just hoped that she understood how much he appreciated what she’d done for him, and just how good at this job she was getting.

FOUR
a/n: The song that Declan sings in this chapter is a BRILLIANT one by the absolutely AMAZING Sister Hazel, called “Out There.”

Declan had seen Ashley briefly when she had turned seventeen, and then he’d had to go off to lead a long-term rescue mission in Germany for several rare abnormals in danger of being sold on the black market. It had taken almost a year and a half before they had finally managed to acquire all of the abnormals in question, and were in the midst of planning an operation to take the ring out for good, when the call had come in from Magnus. She and Ashley had been in Romania, looking to flush out a den of werewolves (and had just barely succeeded), when Ashley had been knocked aside by one of the wolves - not bitten, thankfully - but she had received a severe gash on her inner-thigh from one of the tracking party’s discarded knives when she’d landed.

Declan had had to swallow hard at the news. He had always felt a protectiveness for Ashley, ever since he’d begun training her, but for reasons he couldn’t explain, this news made his throat clench with worry...especially when Magnus had asked for him to meet them in Amsterdam to escort them back to the London Sanctuary. He’d agreed in an instant, and had begun making arrangements for their flight to London, just in case she hadn’t been able to make them herself. He then set about setting up a flight for himself to Amsterdam to meet them. Declan had pushed the current operation's plans off on another of his men, and had taken off as late as he could possibly stand to leave, which had still wound up being hours ahead of the flight that Ashley and Magnus were inbound on.

The first thing that had run through his mind when they touched down and emerged from the plane was how much older Ashley looked.

In just the year and a half he had been away, she had grown into a young woman, and was no longer the girl that he remembered. She wasn't laid out on a stretcher like he had imagined she would be, either. Instead, she was sitting in a wheelchair, her leg held aloft in a brace that kept her leg still and straight out in front of her as she was pushed across the Tarmac, and toward the hangar where he had been awaiting their arrival. She glowered up at her mother from the wheelchair and Declan had to smile out of amusement. Her expression was pure murder...up until he stepped out of the shadows of the hangar to greet them. She straightened instantly when she saw him, wincing as she shifted too quickly and the movement pulled at her stitches. Magnus glanced down and scolded her daughter, presumably for that movement, before she gave Declan grateful eyes and nodded a greeting.

"Magnus," he welcomed her with a curt nod as she strode ahead of Ashley's wheelchair, meeting him just out of earshot of her daughter. "How is she?"

"Stubborn and willful," she murmured, giving him a small smile.

The only signs of how tired she was lay in the circles beneath her eyes, well-hidden beneath meticulously and purposefully-applied makeup. Anyone not aiming to look closely at Helen Magnus in that moment wouldn’t have even noticed them. As it was, Declan was charged with being on the lookout for the health of both of the Magnus women; James would be furious with him, should he not pay close attention.

“And you?” he asked quietly, giving her a knowing smile. “How are you doing?”

She gave him a questioning look, then dipped her head as it melted into a grin. Her eyes lit up a bit as she looked back to him. “James, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” he laughed quietly. “D’you really think he wouldn’t be worried for you, Magnus? Especially now?”

She gave Declan a small, knowing smile.

“I’m well, Declan, thank you,” she said quietly, leaving no room for dispute as she laid a gentle hand on his arm. “I’m grateful that you could get away from your operation to meet us on such short notice."

“It’s not a problem, Magnus. We were almost finished there, anyway,” he murmured. "I'm actually expecting a call at any moment to inform me of how the take-down went."

She sighed in relief. "So, you were able to locate the culprits behind the ring, then?"

He nodded in affirmation, "It took us a good while, but yes. Finally."

She bobbed her head thoughtfully and then looked back to Ashley. "I'll expect a full report later on, then. Let's deal with one crisis at a time, shall we?"

Declan smiled slightly, "Of course. The plane is ready and waiting, whenever you'd care to leave. I've also arranged for a pilot, so that you can get some rest along the way."

She gave him a tired, grateful smile.

"Thank you, Declan," she whispered, then started to turn and retrieve Ashley.

"Please, Magnus," he said quietly, stopping her with a gentle hand to her elbow, "Allow me. You go ahead and board the airplane, get comfortable and we'll be right along behind you."

She smiled at him then, and her shoulders sank minutely under the weight of her exhaustion.

"Thank you...again," she murmured and gave his hand a light squeeze before she began walking toward the aircraft, leaving Ashley and Declan to themselves in the otherwise-empty hangar.

"’Allo, love," he smiled at her as he strode over, his words quiet. He knelt in front of her wheelchair. He dropped a relieved kiss to the top of her head on the way down, and she blushed just enough to redden her cheeks.

"Hey, Dec," she grinned, trying to shift in the seat. Declan reached out and squeezed her hand lightly, and she stilled in favor of gripping his hand tighter. "You look tired..."

"No time for sleep, when I've got you to worry about," he murmured, giving her a small smile. "You doing all right?"

She shrugged and tried to hide a wince. "Been better..."

"Morphine?"

"Codiene," she corrected, pulling a face as she named the drug. "It's all they had...and it always makes me nauseous."

He nodded knowingly, "It does the same to me. You ready to be somewhere more comfortable? I've at least got an infirmary bed waiting on you in London, along with a very anxious Doctor Watson."

He cracked a little smile and she instantly returned it, her hand squeezing his gently.

"Thanks for meeting us, Dec," she said, her words slurring lightly from the painkillers. "Mom won't show it, but she's exhausted..."

"So I noticed. You’ve given her quite the fright, love." He paused, and then added quietly, "And me, as well."

She cocked her head at him slightly, as if she were pondering him, and then reached up to lay a shaky hand over his cheek. A shiver ran up his spine at the contact, startling him, but he didn't move.

"Thank you, Doctor Macrae," she whispered, smiling at him softly. "And I'm really sorry for worrying you."

He gave her a small smile and took her hand from his face, pressing it between both of his in attempt to still her movements.

"There's no need to apologize, love. Injuries are a part of the job...it's how quickly you get up and back into the fight after you heal that matters,” he told her, his voice deep and quiet. “And Miss Magnus, I have no doubt that you'll be back into the fray in no time."

Declan gave her an encouraging smile and stood, releasing her hand so that he could move to the back of her wheelchair and push her toward the airplane.

Ashley sat quietly as he pushed her, presumably pondering what he’s just told her, and he took a moment to squeeze her shoulder gently, telling her without words that she would be fine, just before he pulled the chair up the ramp and onto the plane. Once he got her boarded and the wheelchair secured, Declan went in search of Magnus, who was already asleep against one of the aircraft’s windows. He draped a blanket over her lap gently, gave the pilot the go-ahead to take off and retreated back to the rear of the cabin to sit with Ashley.

They exchanged small talk on the way back to the London facility, and then she related to him what all she and her mother had encountered on their werewolf excursion, how they had come so close to capturing one, and then how she’d ended up getting wounded in the first place. Declan shifted uneasily throughout the conversation, but had nodded his head anyway, not saying a word again until the conversation switched back to television programs.

By the time they reached cruising altitude, Ashley had abandoned the wheelchair for the seat next to Declan and, shortly after that, she’d given in to the drugs and fallen asleep. Somewhere in between that, he had fallen asleep himself and when he woke, he found her head laying in his lap, the blanket he’d tossed over Magnus earlier, now draped over her shoulders. Declan just smiled and brushed the fringe back from her cheek before falling back to sleep himself, his arm tightening around her protectively. He didn't have the heart to protest the position she'd made for herself, knowing how close they'd come to losing her.

When the plane started it’s descent toward London, a bit of turbulence jolted him out of his slumber. Magnus leaned out from her seat and glanced back at them. She gave him a grateful smile and then faced forward again, before he could so much as acknowledge her look. Declan laid a hand over Ashley's shoulder and shook her gently in attempt to wake her.

"Ash, love, wake up," he murmured. "It's almost time to land."

She mumbled something incoherent and wrapped an arm around his waist as she snuggled tighter to his midsection. Declan stiffened slightly, his eyes darting up a few short feet to the back of Magnus' head. He tugged her arm away from his waist and rested a hand over her cheek, trying once again to rouse her.

"Ashley, it's time to land, love," he spoke, a bit louder the second time.

She raised her head from his lap groggily and blinked uncomprehendingly.

"Hmm? What?" she uttered, her eyes widening as soon as she realized the position she'd been caught in. "Oh! I...um, God, Dec, sorry!"

He smiled at her in amusement as she tried to scramble away. As soon as she pulled the stitches in her leg, she stopped and hissed in pain, letting out a string of curses he'd never heard her utter before.

"Hey, hey. Easy, love," he murmured, one hand instantly going to the small of her back to support her. "You all right?"

"No!" she hissed, still wincing.

He helped her sit slowly without a scolding word. He'd pulled stitches before; he knew how bad that could hurt. Declan got up from his seat to kneel beside her, bracing himself with the back of the seat in front of his and turned toward her.

"Let me see, Ash," he murmured, resting a gentle hand on her knee.

"I'll be fine," she ground out, her hands pressed over the bandage on her inner thigh.

"Ashley," he said, his tone carrying a stern warning.

She looked up at him and nodded a grudging compliance as she peeled her hand away from the gauze. "Fine."

He smiled at her sympathetically and peeled back a corner of the dressing, just enough to expose a good number of stitches.

"How many?" he asked quietly.

"Twenty-seven," she replied, her voice leveling back out. "I think."

His eyes flicked over the stitches that had appeared and gave a low whistle.

"Impressive, Ash. That'll be a nice conversation piece one day," he remarked, finding a pair of pulled stitches near the end of the trail.

"Evidence of my ability to be a klutz? Yeah, no thanks." she laughed quietly, a bit of pain still etched in her voice. "How's it look, Doc?"

"You've only pulled a couple," he replied gently, pressing the tape back to her tender skin. "We'll get you fixed up in no time, love. I promise."

She smiled at him as the pain began to recede and reached out for his hand to tug him back into the seat. He rose slowly and retook his seat, then hooked his arm around her shoulders, pulling her to him gently.

"You'll be fine, Ash. I'll make sure of it," he murmured as she lay her head down onto his shoulder.

Not too long after that, they landed.

:x:

Another check-up, a re-stitching, and several hours later, Ashley was laid up in one of London's infirmary beds, about to lose her mind from boredom. She'd already counted the tiny, spider web-like cracks in the walls - twice - and Declan had left her side to try and get some sleep himself, about an hour and a half ago.

She decided she couldn't take any more. Ashley looked either way through the infirmary and gingerly swung her legs off of the gurney, placing the toes of her good leg on the cold floor. She hissed at the cold, but wriggled herself down to stand solidly on that one foot. The crutches that had been leaned up against the wall by her bed, her mother had said, were for quick trips to the restroom and back, but with her mom having a late-night tea with James...Ashley felt confident she could take a nice little 'walk' without being detected.

It took her a few feet to figure out how to employ the crutches without feeling as if her leg were on fire, but she managed it before she even left the infirmary. She turned to the right, completely opposite the way she would always go when leaving the infirmary, for two reasons. One: if she went left she'd have to pass James' study, and would be busted for sure; two: she had no desire to see her quarters just yet. She knew those all too well, and it would only send her spiraling into a whole other kind of boredom. A right, she knew, would take her through mostly-empty corridors...and past Declan’s room.

She maneuvered quietly, paused as she neared his door and heard the sure rhythm and chords of a well-practiced song floating through the closed door, followed by the sounds of a deep baritone reverberating the last couple of lines of a sad chorus into the hall.

Ashley smiled, though, just at the thought of getting to hear him play again, settled herself on her good foot, reached out for the door knob and turned gently. She leaned against the door frame and prayed that the door wouldn’t squeak as she cracked it open a bit. Knowing James, though, and Declan, and the way they kept up her mom’s original Sanctuary, there was no way it would.

He sat on the opposite side of the bed, facing the wall opposite the door so he still had no idea that she was there. Ashley watched on in awed silence as he played the guitar for a moment, a scattering of chords cutting the air with precise timing and rhythm as he starts the next verse.

“...Spent most of my life without anyone near
Never cared what happened, I never saw clear
But I'm getting older now and I'm thinking of my end
And to leave without love, or without a friend
Well it's getting late
Maybe if I tried I could find the one before I die...”

She raised a hand to her mouth at the lyrics, once she understood the meaning, and gave a little gasp. Her heart was breaking at the emotion he put into each syllable, as if the song were a part of him, each word scripted in his soul.

“If she's out there somewhere, somewhere
I would give everything to know
Just to hold and to finally have her
Take me to sunrise from indigo

“It’s not over yet, I’m alive but alone
Denied, but I’m still standing
Well, it’s not over yet, I’m alive but alone
Denied, but I’m still standing...”

A tear skipped down her cheek at the lyrics, the emotion...and the way his voice cracked as he drew out the last word. She wiped it away quickly and knocked against the door gently. Declan startled and almost tossed the guitar aside as he whirled to face the door.

“Hey, easy, Dec,” she said quickly, holding up both hands as best she could until he relaxed. “It’s just me. I couldn’t sleep...”

“Me either,” he confessed as he gave her a quick once-over, and cast her a disapproving look. “Get yourself over here; you shouldn’t be up and about, love.”

Ashley gave him the look that she’d already used on her mother and James, but instead of relenting, he only quirked an eyebrow in challenge. She liked that about him. Hell, she liked almost everything about him. The only thing she wasn’t keen on was the age difference, but she had always been able to look past that. Declan was a good man: brilliant, respectable, honorable, bloody gorgeous, good with guns...

“All right, you win,” she smirked, giving in and pushing away from the door frame. She hobbled over to the bedside on her crutches and started to crawl up onto it gingerly as he leaned the guitar up against the wall. Seeing her struggle, Declan moved faster as he came around the foot of the bed to help her. His hands went to her waist to steady her and help her up onto the high mattress. When he realized that she was going to continue to struggle, he stopped her, scooped her up into his arms and placed her onto the bed before sitting down next to her himself.

“You all right, Ash?” he asked quietly.

She nodded, and smiled up at him as he settled himself beside her.

“How’re the stitches?”

“They’re there. So, I guess, they’re okay,” she shrugged, glancing over at him.

He nodded and leaned back against the pillows, propping himself up on one elbow. She followed his lead and leaned back, making a mental note of how absolutely perfect his bed felt to her. Then again, it was probably on account of being stuck in that infirmary cot for so long. She smiled up at him and exhaled slowly. Yeah, this was far better than the infirmary.

"I should have come back when I couldn't sleep," he said quietly, his hand aching to reach out and brush the hair back from her face.

"No, really, it's okay. I just...I needed to get out of there. I don't even like being in the one back home," she reassured him. "Besides, I wouldn't have gotten to hear you play."

He looked down at her words and began picking at the comforter nervously.

"What is it?" she asked, reaching out to lay a gentle hand over his to still the manic movement. "Dec, hey..."

His stomach betrayed him and fluttered excitedly at the touch of her hand. Declan shook his head and stared at their hands in silence do a moment. He shouldn't care for her, he knew, not in that way...but what if he did? She was barely eighteen. Could he really allow himself to care for her like that? Magnus would fire him and then kill him. That is, if James didn't get to him first...

"You weren't supposed to hear that song, love," he says quietly, and her fingers curl around his hand. "No one was, really."

He didn't pull his hand away and, without thinking, he squeezed her hand gently. As uneasy as he was about their age difference and what was, or could be, between them, she could still comfort him with a gentle touch. A small smile curved up his lips.

"Sing for me?" she asked quietly, taking her hand from his and laying it over his forearm.

"Ash..."

"Please?" she murmured, awkwardly shifting closer to him.

He saw a hint of a wince on her face and rested a hand on her knee to stop her. He inched closer, stopping when her knee met his, and moved so that he could lie back and she could rest against his shoulder.

"What do you want me to sing, love?" he whispered as she settled in and he rested his cheek against the top of her head.

"What song were you just singing?" she asked quietly. Ashley shifted so that she could rest a hand on his bicep lightly and he had to fight the urge to turn a bit and lay his over her waist.

"Ah, it's an older one..."

She smiled and squeezed his arm gently. "Sing the end of it for me?"

"Oh, no, Ash. You don't want to hear that one..."

"Please?" she asked again, moving her head so that she could turn pleading eyes on him.

He gazed down at her, those brilliant blue eyes of hers melting away his resolve to sing any song for her, but that one.

"Oh, all right," he smiled and dropped a kiss to her forehead. "Guitar, or no?"

She shook her head. "Nope."

He smirked down at her and shook his head.

"Just so you know," he warned, "asking me to sing a capella is bloody evil."

She just grinned up at him expectantly and shrugged.

Declan smiled down at her and took a breath.

“If it’s to be that there’s just no one for me
I’ll try not to cry much so no one’ll see
I’ve got some time, so maybe if you’re free
I could use a friend, just to talk to me, oh yeah.

“If she’s out there, somewhere, somewhere
I would give everything to know
Just to hold and to finally have her
Take me to sunrise from indigo...”

Just then, Ashley turned in his arms, hesitated a moment, and then leaned up to kiss him.

It wasn’t just a tiny, meaningless kiss, either. It was one of those that made his heart leap up into his throat, and beat wildly like that of a scared rabbit. He could hear his pulse in his ears, and his stomach did an excited flip as his arm moved around her waist instinctively. He felt her shift next to him, trying to move without hurting herself, and the next thing he knew she was all but sitting in his lap, their lips moving against the other’s while his hand wound its way up into her hair.

His mind dared to envision shared moments with her, dates, late-night dinners, even joint ops...and then he realized something that made everything stop spinning.

Ashley was eighteen.

Oh, bollocks! She was barely eighteen!

Declan broke the kiss slowly, hesitantly, because even though he knew he had to do it, he didn’t want to. Oh, bloody hell. What had he done?

“Ash...” he said quietly, almost afraid to open his eyes and see the expression that was about to cloud up her lovely face.

“Dec...” she whispered back, and he could feel her breath swirling over his lips, as if she was coming in for another kiss.

“Ash, love, stop..,” he pleaded, removing the hand from her hair and bringing both of them to rest on her shoulders. When he opened his eyes, they were full of pain and regret. God, he did not want to do this...

“What is it?” she asked, shifting uncomfortably. She didn’t like the look in his eyes one bit, and he could tell she was confused, bordering on pissed off.

“Ash, we can’t...”

“What are you talking about? I’m fine!” she protested, her eyes narrowing.

“No, love, not on account of your leg...I just...you’re too young, Ashley...”

“Declan, don’t be stupid. I’m eighteen...”

“Barely,” he whispered, his head falling. “Ashley, your mum would kill us for this, hell, James would kill me...twice.”

Ashley pushed herself away from him, resuming her spot on the bed and her eyes narrowed into a venomous glare. She didn’t do hurt very well, she never had, and when she did...well, it was never pretty. She had just risked so much to kiss him, and the way he’d kissed her back, she had thought that he had wanted her as much as she wanted him. Ashley was not about to let him see her hurting and crying. Not like this. Not here.

“So, what? You’re seriously going to make this all about you?! And what gives you the right to decide for me, anyway?! Damn it, Declan, I’m an adult!” She spat at him, swallowing a lump of emotion, and praying that her voice wouldn’t crack.

He bit his tongue - hard - and had to fight to look up from the covers to meet her face.

“Ashley, please, just hear me out...”

“No,” she interrupted. “No way. I just put myself out there, and you shut me down. I’m not having a heart-to-heart right now, Macrae.”

The way she used his last name hurt him more than anything else she could have possibly called him, and he reached out for her, only to have her pull back quickly and wince as the movement pulled at her stitches. She held up her hands as if to ward him off.

“Ash, please...”

“Just don’t,” she whispered, her eyes welling up as she turned her back on him. “Just. Don’t.”

It hurt her to do it without his help, but she ignored the pain as she inched her way off of the bed and slid down to the floor. Besides, the pain gave her an excuse for the tears that began inching their way down her face; now she could tell him that they were from something other than rejection, if he asked.

She knew he wouldn’t ask; Declan wasn’t that guy who asked the obvious questions. The look in his eyes looked genuine, like he didn’t want to tell her that they couldn’t have this, but his words...damned if his words hadn’t ripped her heart out! She reached for the crutches that had been leaned against the wall and headboard and stuffed them under her arms angrily, wiping the tears away as she settled herself onto them.

“Ash..,” he tried again, and she turned back to glare at him. She was shocked by the pain on his face, and the fact that he was now standing behind her, having followed her off of the bed. “Don’t leave like this, please.”

“If I don’t,” she replied coolly, “My pride won’t be the only thing hurt.”

He blinked and leaned back against the mattress in shock, visibly wounded by her words.

“I’m sorry, Ash, I just...”

“Declan, I said...don’t,” she drawled out slowly, her eyes narrowing even further at him. Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper. “Don’t you dare apologize! And don’t you even give me that look, either; you’re not the one who gets to play hurt here!”

He opened his mouth, then closed it just as quickly, letting his eyes fall to the floor. He took a deep breath and looked back up to her, waiting for her to decide what she was going to do. Knowing Ashley, Declan would have bet anything on her walking over and punching him somewhere...rather painful.

But she didn’t.

“I’m leaving,” she told him flatly, avoiding his eyes partly out of hurt, and partly out of embarrassment. “Don’t follow me, don’t check up on me...just...don’t.”

Declan nodded and reached up to rub at the back of his neck. He understood. She’d taken a chance and he’d shot her down...after snogging her almost bloody senseless. He was a right fool. Even though his mind was convinced that it had been the right thing to do, his heart screamed at him otherwise. He supposed he’d just have to ignore it until it silenced itself.

He looked up as she sniffled, the crutches tick-ticking across the floor as she turned, and instantly he hated himself. God, he’d made her cry. She wouldn’t admit it, hell, she’d probably pass it off as being from something else entirely, but Declan wasn’t an idiot. He knew. Just as she’d asked, he stood there in silence, not offering an apology or daring to chase her down in that moment, even though everything in him told him that he should be.

Little did he know, she wanted him to as well. Even after all that she’d said, she still wanted him to come after her, tell her that she was being foolish, kiss her again, anything but leave her to herself. When he didn’t, she continued back to the uncomfortable cot in the infirmary and cried herself to sleep.

:x:

The next morning Declan had been awakened far earlier than usual and pulled aside by a rather irate James Watson. He had walked in to visit Ashley the previous evening, it had seemed, and had figured out that something had happened, if not what exactly had transpired between them. Declan, unable to offer any of the words that he knew James would want to hear - ones in which he would deny that anything had happened at all - simply sat in silence, his gaze averted.

Declan’s body language alone, secured the guilty verdict.

An hour-long lesson on propriety later, Declan was back in his quarters, packing. It took James no time at all to make the necessary changes to the duty roster and, instead of having the customary two weeks off to recuperate from his previous long mission, he was now being sent out again on a routine retrieval. The catch was that the mission would take him so long to accomplish, that Magnus and Ashley would already be back in Old City upon his return. He wouldn’t get the opportunity to apologize, or even to attempt to, beforehand; his plane departed in an hour and a half.

Bloody hell, he’d blown it this time!

Another twenty minutes later, he was heading off for the airport, staring out the window as the car pulled off down the drive, thinking of what he could do or say upon his return to straighten things out between them. He just hoped that whatever he came up with would work...

(to be continued...)

fic: [sanctuary] this is war

linesfade — Sun, 25 Jul 2010 04:42:06 GMT

Title: This is WAR
Author: linesfade
Fandom: Sanctuary
Chapter: 1/1
Words: 5533
Pairing: Hints of Ashley/Declan (aka: SOLDIERS), otherwise none.
Rating: R
Warnings: Violence, Character Death, Angst, TISSUES.
Spoilers: Pavor Nocturnus, Season 2
Summary: Pavor!Verse. Declan MacRae died a hero...
Notes: Immediately after Pavor aired, I was struck by the idea for this one. Unfortunately, real life got in the way of my finishing it...but now, here it is.

For sweetveritas...who has been awaiting this fic for AGES. ILU, DARLING!

Unbetaed. All mistakes/misspellings are the fault of my iPhone, on which at least 90% of the writing of this story was done.

This Is WAR

"a warning to the people, the good and the evil:
this is war!
to the soldier, the civilian; the martyr, the victim:
this is war!

it's the moment of truth, and the moment to lie
the moment to live, and the moment to die
the moment to fight, the moment to fight, to fight, to fight, to fight!"

- this is war, thirty seconds to mars

:x:

He sights in on the group of palefaces, left hand tightening underneath the barrel of his pulse rifle, index finger of his right hand steadying over the trigger as his right elbow hugs the stock tighter to his body. He gives the trigger just enough room to breathe, but is alert enough to be able to fire the weapon, should he have to.

Declan MacRae has no doubts he's going to die today.

Then again, he's been certain of that for the last five skirmishes. Ever since Kate... No matter how much he tries to deny it, he knows that this time, death is unavoidable. He's going to die, and he's going to take as many of the bloody bastards with him as he can before he goes.

He clears his thoughts and settles in on his stomach, knowing that this fight could be the turning point in the battle for Old City. Will has become someone else entirely, as if with Kate's death the last of his soul had gone into the abyss before him. It had broken Declan's heart to see the younger man like that. Will had been such a kind, gentle soul before all of this had started, but then Dr. Magnus had died and it had been as if Will no longer had any illusions about the world. All of his childlike mannerisms and naïveté had been stripped away.

He never dreamt it would end like this; alone, broken, feeling himself changing from within as the time crawls, his own body betraying him as he tries to hide it from the rest of the resistance. He has no more time; it ends today.

He wishes he'd known Will better. He wishes that he would have someone to miss him, but like Watson and Magnus before him, he had almost always been wed to the work he did at the Sanctuary. He hadn't known until this moment that it had been a fault.

Someone stretches out beside him in the dead grass, and tiny sprays of grass dust billow into the air. Flicking his eyes over, just for an instant, he recognizes the lithe figure. Will.

"Hey, mate," he greets quietly, letting his eyes scan over the palefaces' hunting ground yet again, still searching for any sign of weakness or entry.

Will sights in as well and takes a deep breath. "So, it's you."

Declan sighs and closes his eyes, feeling the hour-old wound on his shoulder throbbing violently. He should've known he couldn't fool Will, the bloke was just too sodding observant.

"Yeah," he says quietly, subconsciously gripping the rifle tighter.

"I'm sorry," Will murmurs, and Declan's face turns up into a small, wry smile.

"Me, too. Don't let it be for nothin', Will," he says, taking his eyes from the battlefield for the moment to look straight at Will.

The pink scar that runs across Will's face is disturbing enough without the blind eye to go with it, but this is who the once-bright and optimistic young man has become; a Rambo-esque leader who had reluctantly taken command of the scant few true soldiers left, only because he knows better than anyone else what they would be dealing with. Kate had been his second, until she had died, and then that post had passed to Declan.

'It's no wonder the lad's so cold,' Declan thinks as he watches Will, 'He's lost everything he's ever cared for...'

"It won't," Will answers quietly, a hint of a growl in his voice. "I will go to my grave making sure that everyone we've lost has counted. It's the least I can do."

Declan nods, knowing he means every word, and turns his eyes back to the scene before him. Silence descends over them as Will follows suit, his one good eye brushing over every corner of what used to be the northernmost section of New City.

"If we could somehow just plant that bomb at the base of Terra Corp's headquarters..," Will trails off, shaking his head.

Declan looks toward the skyscraper in question - or what remains of it - and frowns. It would be a hell of a trek, unless he could hot-wire a vehicle, and Declan wouldn't dream of asking Will to use their last truck to carry out a suicide mission. He sighs and lays his weapon aside, staring directly at Will.

"I'll do it," he says, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Let me take the C-4 and plant it in the supports of the parking garage, just like we've had planned. You and I both know there's no coming back from this, and that has always been a suicide mission."

Will looks at Declan and shakes his head. "No. Not a chance."

"Will," he hisses, pulling the ragged shirt and jacket back from his shoulder to show Will the gaping hole left there from the last battle. "This means I have no more time left! There's no cure, and there's no treatment! You know this better than anyone! I will not leave this life without a fight, and you can be bloody certain that I'll not go from a bullet to the brain!"

Will takes a breath beside him and lets it out slowly. Declan can see the wheels turning in his mind, measuring out every possible angle and every probable misstep the scenario has to offer. Declan knows what he's thinking.

"Will, there's nothing you can do, mate. I'm done for, and I've made peace with that. You have to let me go," he murmurs, placing a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Neither of us has a choice."

Will frowns and shakes his head. "I haven't made peace with any of this. I...I don't know if I can."

Declan gives Will an expectant look and holds out his hand.

"Then let me do it for you. The C-4, Will."

"Declan -"

"Now, Will," he says, probably a bit too forcefully, but Will reaches into the pack at his side and slowly pulls out a Saran-wrapped package of homemade plastique and a baggie of detonators. Will weighs them thoughtfully in his hand for a moment before handing it over hesitantly.

Declan nods to Will and tucks the explosive away into his own pack. Picking up his rifle, he glances around them and nods toward their base camp.

"Let's get home for a bit, get some supper and then I'll kick on," he tells Will, flashing a hint of a sad smile.

Will nods and pushes himself up slowly, careful not to make any noise that would alert the palefaces to their presence. The hike back to camp is short, but a silent one, and Declan knows that they both have more than enough to keep their minds occupied. He weighs his options, debating which route would be the quickest and most accommodating to complete his task.

"Go onto Verona, up through Fifth," Will says, breaking into Declan's thoughts as if he'd read them, making their way past the first of the hidden camp sentries. "That'll put you there the quickest, and keep you the furthest distance from most of the palefaces."

Declan nods, taking in the information and beginning to fabricate a plan that will get him there.

He doesn't know how Will does it, but the bloke can read him just like a book. Something to do with being a profiler, he's always assumed. Either way, it's something he's come to accept about the young man, and something that has grown to be an asset to them in their trying times. It's also come in handy in latter months, what with all that they've had to face and with several amongst their ranks in the camp trying to hide the contraction of the parasite. Sometimes he thinks, if none of this had ever happened, Will would have surely become every bit as good of a detective as James had been, quite possibly even better.

Sighing, Declan clears his thoughts and casts his eyes back over the trail to their camp, sweeping the scenery for any possible threats as they move. They arrive back at base camp just after nightfall, and Declan can't help but give a small smile to the group of people who greet them. He has cared for nearly every one of them here, at one point or another, whether it was on account of injury or illness, so he doesn't think twice about sharing stories, laughs and a meal with them. As the laughter starts to wind down into tiredness, Declan starts to feel the pang of the impending loss of his own life, and the roiling turmoil of the parasite within him gaining ground against his immune system. At best, he has several hours left...at worst...he has less than four. He's seen enough of their friends change to know when to grow concerned, so he waits.

After the meal, everyone heads for their beds, save for Declan and the camp sentries, others dousing the flames to hide their camp from prying eyes before they scurry away to their hiding places. Declan takes a seat in front of his own makeshift-shelter and pulls his pulse rifle across his lap, foregoing sleep as he watches the last vestiges of life lie down and surrender to the slumber that inevitably beckons them. He can't bring himself to sleep; he'll be sleeping soon enough, as it is. The roaring silence is deafening in the late hours, and it's almost a shock when he realizes that even the other forms of life - the birds, the crickets - had long-since ceased their songs, part of him wondering if it was because they could sense the quiet danger rife on the air, or if they were gone, as well. Suddenly the thought crosses his mind that he won't have a need anymore for the things he had considered precious, so Declan enters his tent and quickly packs up all of his things into a spare dingy rucksack, save for one: a worn, eleven-year-old photograph, that slides easily into his pocket. He then takes them over to Will's space, and sets the bag of belongings just inside the flap of the tent. Maybe he'll be able to find a use for them, somehow.

He walks slowly back to his previous position, breathing in some of the last few breaths of peaceful night air he'll ever be able to take as he moves. He sinks back onto the ground as he tries to reconcile the scant few things in his life that he had never dealt with: the conflict between himself and his father, an honestly possible relationship that he had never allowed to grow between himself and the woman in the photograph in his pocket...

Declan sighs and rubs at his face wearily. There's no sense in punishing himself now...not when he's so near the end of everything...

Half an hour later, Declan hears the cautious, quiet footfalls of Will heading in his direction, and he lowers his head. He had planned on spending his last few hours in silent solitude, reflecting on his choices and recalling better times. It looks as if Will isn't going to allow him that.

Will sits beside him, staying silent for a good while, just watching the scenery around them.

"We're all going to die fighting," he says quietly, even the hushed tone startling Declan from his thoughts. "I think I get that now..."

Declan lifts his head and nods slowly. Will doesn't need Declan's words to affirm what he already knows.

"Especially if they got you..." Will adds. Declan's head snaps up as he looks to Will.

"No, mate, even the best of us...eventually our luck simply runs out. It's only a matter of time."

"Maybe if we'd had Ashley..," Will begins, only to be forcibly cut off by Declan.

"No! Don't you dare wish this on her!" he hisses, his voice rising slightly in volume. The emotion is thick in his voice, making Will glance over at him curiously. "The way we lost her was difficult enough! If I were given the option of dying like she did, or like this...I would have gone with her in an instant!"

A tear slips from Declan's eye before he can catch it and he swipes at it with the back of his hand. It has been a long, long time since he's thought about Ashley. He'd had to put it behind him, put what could have been THEM behind him, if he wanted to survive. The choice had made him cold at first, but eventually he had managed to balance himself out.

"You and Ashley...?" Will asks, sounding incredibly bewildered.

"No," he sighs, reaching into his pocket and caressing the photograph for what had to have been the millionth time. "It was just something that might have been, if we'd both have let it...if I would have let it."

Will goes silent as he lets that sink in. Declan figures that probably would have been quite the scandal, had he and Ashley actually become a couple...James would have been likely to kill him, and there really was no telling what Magnus would have thought of the situation.

"So...you cared for her?" Will asks, his voice hardly above a whisper.

Declan nods, without hesitation. "I do, even now."

Will nods, takes a deep breath and then lets it out slowly. Apparently that was good enough for him.

They sit in silence, both of them lost in thought. Declan chooses that time to send up a final, silent prayer, asking God to see him through this one final mission. He watches the camp in silence until a new feeling starts to emerge within him, the pain beginning to run down his arm. As much as he would like to have seen one last dawn break from within the quiet of their campgrounds, Declan knows it isn't going to be possible. The first light of day will be his final battleground.

Declan stands silently and hands Will his rifle, giving him a small, sad smile.

"It's time, mate," he murmurs, reaching down to the ground to pick up his old .40 handgun, a full clip of ammunition and an old sonic stunner. Neither of them had seen much use recently, but he refuses to take their good weapons with him...Will and the rest of the resistance would need the more effective weaponry far more than he would. Declan slings the rucksack containing the things he would need on his mission over his shoulder, then turns to see Will holding out a set of keys to him.

"There's not much in the way of shielding, but we were able to get it running for you. It's quiet, so that will help," he says leading Declan over to the entrance to the camp. An old, beat-up black BMW motorcycle sits harmlessly by the makeshift gates of their camp and Declan gives Will an appreciative pat on the shoulder as a relieved look comes over his face. Speed and maneuverability, that was precisely what he needed.

"It'll be perfect, Will," he says quietly, glancing around the space that's usually so bustling with life. Now, in the still of the night, it's so entirely empty that Declan hardly recognizes it. "Don't tell them about this until morning. Let them sleep soundly tonight, yeah?"

Will nods, "Of course."

Declan looks back to Will and smiles, really smiles, and he can feel the muscles in his face stretch. It's surely been years, and almost a full head of gray hair ago, that he was able to give anyone a genuine smile. Even now, it feels bittersweet, but the things that he has done, the things that he has given up to keep them all safe, if only for a little while longer...that has made all of his sacrifices worth it, he thinks.

"It's been an honor, Will," he says, holding out his hand as the emotion of the moment grows thick in his throat.

"The honor's been mine, Declan," Will whispers back, shaking Declan's hand in gratitude and respect, "Thank you..."

Declan shakes his head, and has to force this smile. "Just make sure the little one grows up right, yeah?"

"I'll do my best."

Declan nods. "I know you will."

He walks over to the motorcycle and lays a hand over the flayed and haphazardly re-stitched leather seat.

"It doesn't have much gas, probably enough to get you there, or nearby before it hits empty," Will says quietly as he pulls open one portion of the gates and then doubles back to help Declan wheel the machine outside of the safety of the camp. Declan nods in understanding and straddles the bike before putting the key in the ignition.

"Take care of them, Will. They're all yours, now," he murmurs, giving Will one last encouraging smile as he tries to ignore the parasite warring within him. "If there's anyone who can beat this, it's you, mate."

Will ducks his head, but nods. He knows that the responsibility for everyone in their camp will be solely on his shoulders now. He'll have to make his own choices, his own calls, without having Declan or anyone else around to look to for advice. Will doesn't want the responsibility, but Declan knows that he'll take it, and he will succeed.

He turns the key and fires up the engine. It comes to life instantly, letting out a low, steady purr that stirs the shadows, and Declan steps on the clutch to shift the machine into gear. Will takes a step back and nods to him.

"God speed, Declan," Will says, his voice barely louder than the sound of the engine. Declan glances over to him and nods again, giving Will a reassuring smile.

"Same to you, Zimmerman," he calls back, just before he revs the engine and speeds off into the night.

Declan has no helmet and no leathers, since each had become quite the precious commodity, so he can't help feeling both nervous and oddly exhilarated as he accelerates slowly. He carefully traverses the wrecked streets, picking his route carefully and almost slowing to a complete stop as he comes up on various obstacles. He's just being extra cautious without the safety attire he had grown so accustomed to, because he knows that it wouldn't do for him to wreck on his way through town...this mission is far too important. The residential streets are the worst, so Declan takes them the slowest to avoid any possible collisions. A few side streets and far fewer instances of rubble later, he's regained the feel for the motorcycle and begins adding speed, pushing for another mile per hour every so often until he reaches forty-three.

Once he merges onto fifth avenue, just like Will had said, Declan shifts up again and accelerates to sixty miles per hour, weaving and dodging through the wrecked cars and various other obstacles in his path. For the most part, the main thoroughfares are barren, with only a smattering of carnage around. Verona comes up before he knows it, and Declan has to hit the drifts through a right turn, wincing as his back tire lets out a high-pitched squeal. He hopes the creatures hadn't heard that. Declan sets his jaw and accelerates again, pushing the bike harder, faster as his shoulder begins to throb mercilessly. He bites his lip, trying not to cry out as a hard spasm wracks his upper torso.

'Not now,' he pleads to the heavens, 'Just a little bit longer...'

He takes a breath to replace the one that the pain ripped from his lungs, and he steadies himself before pushing the engine harder. The gasoline gauge bobs just above empty, but as wary as that makes him, Declan wills the bike faster anyway. Just as another wave of pain washes over him, Terra Corp's main office looms up just ahead of him, and he smiles through the agony. He's almost there.

They had picked this building months ago, because the parking garage is directly beneath the building. Taking out several of the main, load-bearing columns will bring the skyscraper crashing down, hopefully wiping out a good population of palefaces in the process. Declan recalls the plans easily: which columns to place which amount of C-4 on, which ones would get the timers and which ones would get wired into the circuit. As he makes his way down the ramps into the garage, he quickly estimates where he will have to be standing to make sure that the first blast takes him, as well. The dim light of the moon fades as he descends, and it's only then that he realizes how much sharper his senses have gotten. Not a good sign. He pushes the bike faster around the corners and finally makes it to the appropriate landing of the parking garage. He silences the motorcycle, and the silence returns to greet his ears, the only thing that breaks into the sound of blood rushing through his veins at an inappropriate pace is when a mouse or rat shuffles over the ground nearby, leaving a series of squeaks in its wake. Despite the darkness, Declan can see all too well, and he hurriedly pulls the lump of plastique, wire, wire cutters and detonators from his bag and sets about wiring the place to blow. Thirty minutes, and four waves of nauseating pain later, Declan has the entire garage wired and ready to go. He makes one final round to set the timers and check the connections before he hears the first of the palefaces begin to stir.

They're headed his way.

He sets seven minutes on each timer, and then retreats to the column with the most C-4 strapped to it. That will be the last one to go, hopefully convincing the entire building to come crashing down afterward. Declan holds the remote detonator in one hand and draws his handgun with the other, aiming into the darkness. Squelches from the creatures slice through the darkness, and the parasite within him sends another surge of pain through his body, seemingly in answer to their cries. The agony brings him to his knees as the gun falls from his hand, clattering noisily as it skids across the floor. His vision is ripped into a mass of black ribbons as he fights to keep hold of himself, to not let the parasite win. Not yet.

When the pain recedes and his vision returns, he can see a bit better, but he isn't sure if it's on account of the continuing change, or if dawn is beginning to break overhead. A tiny shaft of light filtering down through the cracks overhead answers that question, and Declan gives a wry smile as he gets back to his feet stiffly. He retrieves his gun and then leans wearily against the column, finding it harder and harder to breathe as the time goes on.

The timers beep slightly out of sync, one after the other in a circular pattern. Six minutes left.

Anxiousness begins to build in the pit of his stomach at the thought of what's to come, and at the sound of the creatures continuing to slither toward him. Their cries and squelches morph into a near-deafening roar as they delve deeper into the parking garage, the sounds reverberating off of the walls and various other surfaces, as they seek the solitude of the darkness. His own watch beeps half a minute after the detonators do, a simple reminder of the time he's been infected. He's one of the few lucky ones, he thinks; nine hours infected, and still not a complete change. Another rat scurries past him on his right, and Declan frowns.

He's alert, more so than he thinks he ever has been before, and his eyes sweep the darkness for encroaching threats. As the roar grows louder, he knows his time is coming sooner and sooner. He can't stop it. Another series of beeps from the timers, and he shifts uneasily. The photo in his pocket moves with him and crackles slightly, one dog-eared corner pressing into his thigh, as if vying for his attention. This is the last chance he'll get to see her face, he knows, so he shifts the detonator to his gun hand and pulls out the photograph.

The photo is worn, parts of the emulsion rubbed away and faded over time, but still she smiles up at him, her blond hair billowing wildly in the cool afternoon breeze. It's almost impossible to tell anymore, but she had been in the Sanctuary gardens when this picture was taken, surrounded by roses and greenery. She hadn't been paying attention to him when he'd snapped it, but once she had noticed the camera, she'd swatted at him playfully. It was still his favorite photo of her, and he'd kept it close since her death...letting her be his guardian angel, after a fashion.

The detonators beep again, five minutes this time, and a lump forms in his throat. He'll be seeing her again soon.

As the first volley of palefaces pour down the ramp to his level, Declan doesn't have the time to shove the picture back into his pocket, so it crumples up in his palm as he shifts the remote detonator back to his left hand. He crosses his handgun over top of his left wrist as he falls back into his firing stance. His thumb hovers over the button on the detonator, knowing that if too many of them advanced on him, he would have no other option than to blow everything early.

He stands stalk still, a sharp corner of the photograph digging into his hand, almost as if she were willing him to fight and not give up. He will, if that's what it takes, but he still can't help wondering, being so long infected, if he stands still and tries not to attract their attention, would they just let him be? He takes shallow breaths as a few of them pass him by, staying still, quiet, and praying that they all move on.

That doesn't last long, however, as the detonators beep again. Four minutes.

One of the palefaces reach up curiously to touch one of the blinking, beeping curiosities, and Declan has no choice. He only has a fifteen-shot clip in his gun and, even though there are more than seventy abominations in the room with him, he knows he has to do it. He squeezes the trigger, and the creature goes down from a near-perfectly aimed shot to the head. Given the amount of pain searing through his body, Declan counts that a lucky shot.

It's the only one he'll get.

At the sound of the gunshot, the mass of bodies begin letting out wails of warning, of fear, of danger. He doesn't know how he knows that, he just knows that he can...feel the meanings inside of his mind. All eyes turn toward the sound, and to him. He swallows hard, and a few of the creatures nearest him begin to utter a low-throated growl. It spreads until every one of the abominations is echoing the sound and, just as he's trying his best to remain still, the wound on Declan's shoulder radiates another wave of nausea and agony. A cry of pain wrests itself from his throat, and he shudders at the thought that it sounds more like the wailing of one of the creatures surrounding him, than his own voice. They regard him curiously as he doubles over in pain, watching him intently to see what will happen next. He does all that he can to hold onto his sidearm this time, and to stay upright, knowing they'll probably rush him once the pain ebbs and he rights himself.

BEEP.

Three minutes until detonation, but he's afraid that he doesn't have any more than two before he changes.

The pain doesn't stop this time so he powers through it, struggling to push himself back upright and sees one form drawing closer, inching out from the crowd to investigate the pain-stricken form before them. Declan takes aim at it and fires, point blank, into the monster's face. The creature totters sideways for a moment and then goes down. In a split-second, the still mass of bodies becomes a churning sea of fury and chaos, numerous flailing bodies being tossed aside haphazardly and trampled as they lunge for him. Declan fires round after round as they advance, coupled with any and all means of defense and parrying strikes that he can muster, but he doesn't see the ones rush him from behind. One manages to take a bite out of his left shoulder, and Declan tightens his grip on the detonator and photograph as he cries out, determined not to drop them in the midst of the melee. He flips the gun around by the trigger guard and strikes the creature with the butt of his gun, the sickening crack it makes echoing faintly in the large room, but inevitably dying out under the roar of the monsters within. He's not sure how many more times he pulls the trigger, or how many he doesn't hit, before the chamber clicks empty. He doesn't hear the beep to signal two minutes, or the one that signals one minute left, but when he realizes that he has no time left and that he can't fight them off, it doesn't matter.

Declan presses the button.

The first detonation illuminates the room, causing the palefaces to shy away from the sudden blast of light and heat. Declan can smell singed hair and burning flesh, and he smiles as he fights back.

'It's almost over, now,' he tells himself as he tries to extricate himself from a group of the monsters and get back to the support column he'd picked out to blow last. It isn't easy, but somehow - with a few well-placed strikes from the butt of his handgun and a few from his fists - he manages to at least move his battle back into position. He drops the detonator and clings tighter to the photo as the explosions continue to make their way around the room. Four support columns to go, and this will all be over.

The pain drags him to his knees again as another one goes up, and he stumbles trying to get back to his feet. The creatures let out a pitiful shrieking sound as the floors above them start to groan from the lack of stability, and a few pieces of cracked concrete begin to fall from above them. The palefaces turn to flee, their movements turning erratic as if they can't seem to decide which direction to retreat, and Declan scrambles the rest of the way over to the column as fast as he can. The pain finally dissipates as the two columns before the grand finale explode, and he glances to the crumpled photo in his hand just as as small group of palefaces return. They pick him up with their collective strength, and slam him against the side of the column. His skull cracks against the pale concrete, and stars dance behind his eyes as he gasps for breath. One of the monsters puts its entire weight against Declan's ribcage, crushing him up against the column with superhuman strength as the sunlight begins raining down through the ever-expanding network of cracks.

The beeps from the detonator increase in frequency as they count down the moments remaining before the charge reaches it, but the tiny noises are masked by the sound of the scuffle. Declan manages to give one final right hook to one of the creatures, a rage-filled bellow the battle cry that falls from his lips before the charge is completely primed and the C-4 explodes, engulfing the entire room and network of the parking garage in a bright white burst of light and searing heat. The last of the building's supports give way, sending every inch of steel, drywall and concrete that had comprised the building plummeting toward the earth with finality, each impact another ground-quaking reminder that Declan MacRae had paid the ultimate sacrifice.

:x:

Will watches from his vantage point in silence as the skyscraper falls, sending an unending supply of dust and particulates into the air, and hangs his head. He sends up a silent prayer for Declan, not even sure that anyone was listening to them anymore. He then turns to face the camp that was beginning to wake from their slumber. A few were already questioning the explosion and the rubble, but Will didn't have an answer. He would find one, eventually, but for now silence was warranted. He would make sure that everyone knew Declan had given his life for theirs, and that he had died a hero...no matter the circumstances surrounding his sacrifice, that was what he had been, and always would remain.

fic: [lots] new beginnings

linesfade — Thu, 15 Jul 2010 15:38:10 GMT

Title: New Beginnings
Author: linesfade
Words: 243
Spoilers: UNBROKEN.
A/N: A little drabbly-thing, written for carpenyx at legendland.

New Beginnings

Cara had nearly died of fright when he had appeared out of nowhere, moving around her only horse in silence and sneaking up on her like that while she was drawing the day's water. With a traveling man looking for work, one never could tell their intentions, and the woman within her had shouted for her to send him away. Still...something about him had driven her to take the chance on him, and now she was glad that she had listened to that inner being. Perhaps it was the Creator giving her guidance.

"These are for you..," he'd said as he held out a handful of freshly-picked flowers, a shy grin on his face. "They match your dress."

Lines such as that were never spoken by a traveler...but, sure enough, the flowers had matched, right down to the stitching. He was something else entirely, this one. It wasn't every day that a man such as he would come around, work himself to exhaustion for but a single day's worth of meals, and befriend her children. Perhaps...perhaps she should keep him around, attempt to convince him to stay. He seemed to be a good man, and Cara had long ago given up hope of finding another with the qualities her husband had had. This could be the new beginning she had been praying for all this time.

Cara smiled up at him and nodded. This would be her new beginning; she would make it so.

fic: [sga] doctor's orders

linesfade — Thu, 15 Jul 2010 15:33:42 GMT

Title: Doctor's Orders
Author: linesfade
Chapter: 1/1
Summary: Post-Conversion; She woke slowly, even with the alarm clock blaring beside her head, stretching her legs at the prospect of a beautiful day. Within seconds, she felt as if time itself had ground to a halt. She remembered.
Pairing: Sparky!
Spoilers: Conversion
Rating: R
Warnings: Implied sex, sensual scenes.
A/N: Post-Conversion, Established relationship. Enjoy, loves! XD

Doctor's Orders
She woke slowly, even with the alarm clock blaring beside her head, stretching her legs at the prospect of a beautiful day. Within seconds, she felt as if time itself had ground to a halt.

She remembered.

She didn't want to - God knew - but she remembered how John had looked, how he had been, the day before. It had taken her hours to fall asleep without him sleeping there by her side, only able to think of him laying in the infirmary's isolation room in restraints, snarling against his bindings and the pain of what he was becoming, combined with the sudden halt and reversal of that process. Truth be told, she'd finally cried herself to sleep at about two AM and now, as she lay awake in her bed glaring at the alarm clock, six AM seemed like too much to ask. Despite her body's pleas otherwise, she pulled herself out of bed anyway.

For him.

For John.

She pulled on the same pants she'd worn the day before and a clean red shirt before moving into the bathroom to get a good look at her reddened, swollen eyes. She wasn't surprised by her haggard appearance, but she had hoped it would be better. She didn't usually reach for her makeup bag at all, especially not in a crisis, but this morning she was definitely contemplating using at least some foundation to mask how she truly felt. She paid no nevermind that all someone had to do was look into her eyes to see the truth of the situation. Today, at least, she wanted to deceive herself.

The earpiece buzzed on the counter in front of her where she'd laid it the night before and she all but lunged for it, bobbling the tiny device before succeeding in securing it to her ear. She tapped it once to answer the call.

"This is Doctor Weir," she spoke, her voice cracking a bit with its first use of the day and its lack of what would surely have to be black coffee.

"Aye, Elizabeth," Carson's tired voice greeted her. No doubt he'd gotten as much - or more likely even less - sleep than she had. "I hoped you'd be up."

"Just," she sighed, her eyes not leaving the mirror as she ran fingers through her hair and frowned at its greasy state. She was more than in need of a shower. "How is he?"

The pause between her question and Carson's answer served to make her anxiousness double. The knot that had rooted itself in her stomach grew with each hundredth of a second he remained silent. "Still sedated." Another pause. "Elizabeth, I think you should be here..."

"On my way, Carson," she replied, clicking the headset off with a second tap.

She spared a split-second to frown at her reflection before she took long, quick strides out the bathroom door to her quarters. She sank onto the bed, pulled on the pair of socks that lay rumpled on the floor next to her desk and chose her tennis shoes over her regulation combat-issue boots, deciding that she didn't have the time, or the desire, to lace up the black leather monstrosities.

The feeling of dread pulsed in the pit of her stomach as she pushed herself off of the bed. Once in the corridor outside her room, she broke into a swift run for the transporter which, thankfully, at 6:25 in the morning, was eerily quiet and empty. The last thing either of them needed was for someone on base to see Dr. Elizabeth Weir, base commander, pushing everything else, every sense of reality, to the wayside to spend the day by John Sheppard's bed like a distraught lover.

Nevermind the fact that it was true, and had been true since the Wraith siege on Atlantis had ended, but they didn't want, or need , it known. The IOA would put an end to all of Atlantis if they caught wind of such a relationship.

Even if that train of thought wasn't rational, it was still among her worst fears. Something inside of her always twisted when he went off on missions, but this? This was uncharted and new. There was no longer just the possibility of losing him to some unknown rival. Now there was a scenario where losing him to this alien transformation had become a real possibility.

She pushed the thought from her mind as she pulled up just shy of the infirmary doorway to catch her breath. She didn't want to have Carson worrying over her well-being as well as John's, he was already being stretched far too thin over the whole ordeal for her tastes.

She took a deep breath and fought for her trademark composure. She could break down in her quarters in private, but not now, not here, where everyone needed her to be the strong one.

"Elizabeth," Carson greeted her as she entered the room. His eyes belied how tired he was as well, and she knew instantly that he hadn't slept at all.

"Carson," she nodded, fighting for her professional mask to cover the worry she knew she must have been exerting. "You didn't sleep."

"Aye, you're right about that. He kept me up all night," he motioned toward the glass of the observation level above the isolation room. As they walked in, her stomach knotted again, but relaxed slightly as she saw him sleeping soundly on the lone gurney. "I had to up the sedatives. The retrovirus is proving to be quite resilient to all of our earthly medications, and he was thrashing about again by midnight. I didn't have the heart to call ye back here then...ye looked too worn out for it."

She sighed, knowing he was probably right. "Still, Carson, you should have..."

He silenced her with a look. "I was worried about your health as well, Elizabeth. It was a medical decision not to call ye. I waited a decent amount of hours before I called, and now here ye are."

She nodded, her eyes never leaving the glass pane in front of her. She would rather talk about anything than her well-being at the moment. She changed the subject, hoping Carson would follow her lead. "What's his condition?"

"Stable, but we're taking every precaution. His condition could very easily take a turn for the worse," he told her quietly, and she said a small prayer of thanks that he would give into her and change the subject...even if it wasn't a better conversation, or good news. She had always been better at worrying about anyone other than herself.

"Is he talking?"

"He's lucid for the most part, likely a combination of the inhibitor and the sedatives, but he's not saying much."

She nodded. "I want to see him."

Carson looked her over once and nodded. "I'd recommend staying as far away as possible...we still don't know..."

"Carson, it's John," she protested in a whisper, tears welling up in her eyes as she pulled her gaze from the figure below her.

He nodded stiffly, and she could see that he wanted to argue his case. She was, again, eternally grateful when he didn't.

"Be careful," he warned her before turning away from the glass.

Carson led her down the steps to the entrance to the isolation room. Once inside, she side-stepped the barricades of the area she knew she was meant to stay behind and made her way to his bedside, taking a good look at his physical state.

He was still covered in scales, but his hands were slightly more normal than they had been the day before. She would take a small improvement in his condition over none at all, she thought. His face was darker than it should have been, still grey-green underneath those alien patches, but all that she could see were the teasing smiles and tender looks in his green eyes, even when she looked at him in his current state.

Carson watched her from a safe distance as she pulled a chair over to the side of John's bed, and she could feel his concerned gaze following her around the room.

"Carson," she called softly. "Go get some sleep."

He started to protest, but she held up a hand to silence him. "That's an order, Carson. I'll be fine."

He nodded. "I'll have Teyla check up on ye in a bit, then. G'night, Elizabeth."

"Goodnight, Carson." she smiled, and watched his retreat out of the isolation room door. As soon as he was gone, her eyes flicked up to the window, and the security camera hanging from the wall behind her. She knew the angle of the frame too well to be ignorant as to what would appear on the tapes if she didn't turn her chair just so. As her chair scraped the ground, his eyes fluttered open momentarily before falling closed again.

"John?" she asked and leaned over his bed, her long fingers immediately finding their place in his unruly hair, her thumb stroking his cheekbone. "John, can you hear me?"

His eyes opened drowsily, and as soon as they met hers, a slow grin curved up the corners of his mouth.

"Lisbeth...," he whispered drowsily, pulling absently against the restraints that were keeping his hands tied to the bed.

"I'm here, John," she replied in a low voice, smiling as she moved her left hand from its place on his bed to clutch his hand tightly. "How're you feeling?"

"Hurts," he whispered and made a face as a wave of pain crashed over him. It didn't hurt before, she knew, and she was now attributing that to the heightened amount of adrenaline in his system. Now that the effects of the retrovirus were rescinding, the pain was intense.

"I know," she whispered, squeezing his hand. "Hang in there...I can't lose you, John. I don't know what I'd do without you."

He gave her an amused look through the pain that looked very much like his old self, even through the yellow eyes he still wore. "Miss me, Lisbeth?"

He toyed with her fingers as she held his hand and she couldn't help the smile that covered her face. Just the fact that it was him teasing her made her heart feel lighter.

She nodded and replied in a whisper, "Very much."

He offered her a tired smile and turned his head to kiss the palm of her hand. A shiver went down her spine at the contact and, if it weren't for the camera, she would have instantly kissed him back. Instead she blushed and gave him a smile, knowing that he would know what she wanted to do. She settled for laying her head on his shoulder, convincing herself that she could talk her way out an official misconduct lecture from the IOA, playing it off as a concerned supervisor falling asleep while visiting her military commander.

Yeah, right.

She sighed and felt his head loll to the side to touch the crown of hers.

"I couldn't sleep." Her whispered confession caused him to smile sleepily against her hair.

"Missed you too, Lisbeth," he whispered. As she fell asleep breathing in the almost-scent of him, he pressed a kiss to her head and she would have sworn she heard him whisper, 'I love you.'

:x:

"Lass? Wake up, Elizabeth," Carson's voice filtered through a dreamless haze and she fought against opening her eyes in the harsh light of the isolation room.

"Aw, Doc, don't wake her...," John's quiet voice protested as she felt a hand tuck an errant curl behind her ear with a touch that was all-too-familiar. For that touch alone, she opened her eyes groggily and lifted her head to find Carson's worried eyes on her, and John looking at her, once again, from behind the green eyes that knew how to pierce her very soul. She laughed abruptly and wrapped her arms around the military man on the gurney. His arms came around her slowly, likely for show, but the fact that he was now unbound made her heart soar. She pulled back to get a good look at him. She noticed that his skin was no longer covered in scales, and only a hint of the greenish-grey tint remained. He appeared almost back to his old self. She suddenly sat up straighter, realizing what she'd done.

"How long was I asleep?" She asked quietly, her eyes bouncing back and forth between John and Carson. Carson just looked at her with concern in his eyes, while John's just sparkled with amusement, as if he'd won some small victory.

"Since ye told me to get some sleep, evidently," Carson's Scottish brogue held a hint of disapproval, and his face belied more than just a hint of that same emotion. "Ye've been out
eight hours, Love."

She hung her head and felt John's reassuring hand come to rest on her lower back.

"The city..," she started, only to be cut off by Teyla walking into the isolation room.

"Has been in good hands, Elizabeth. I have taken care of things while you rested," the Athosian woman confessed with a bow.

"I told her not to wake you when she found ye," Carson continued, sharing a glance with Teyla. "If you were too tired to heed my warnings, Elizabeth, you were too tired to run the city. In fact, I'd like for ye to take the rest of the day off. Doctor's orders."

Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest but closed it just as quickly. "Thank you, Teyla. I owe you," she finally managed, giving Teyla a thankful look.

"Think nothing of it, Elizabeth. I am honored to help in any way that I can," she smiled brightly as her hand went up to her earpiece. "This is Teyla."

Something in Elizabeth jumped at the pause, but John's hand, still moving in small circles on her back, soothed her worries. Teyla could handle it, she'd done it before.

"I will be right there, Chuck. Thank you," Teyla spoke again before looking back to Elizabeth. "Major Lorne's team has returned with news of another ZPM. I will handle the briefing and inform you of his findings later. Rest well, Elizabeth."

Teyla gave her a knowing smile before she turned and walked out the door of the isolation room. Elizabeth sighed and looked to Carson.

"What about John?"

Carson's eyes held a hint of amusement. "Colonel, I'd like to keep you another couple of hours for observation, what with everything running through your system..."

Her head fell. She wanted him with her, otherwise no matter of time off in the world would result in any semblance of rest. And there would certainly be no sleep.

"But," Carson continued, I'm willing to let you go, so long as you come back in eight hours for a checkup."

Her ears perked up, and she turned her eyes to John who, oddly enough, looked even more like his old self. Carson's treatment was working! Something glittered in his green eyes as he returned her gaze, and her stomach did a flip-flop as a blush crawled up her neck. She pulled her gaze away from John and looked to Carson.

"Thank you," she whispered, and the doctor simply gave her a knowing smile.

"Ye're welcome, Love. Now get outta here, the both o'ye!" Carson laughed as he tossed John's BDU's at him from across the room. Elizabeth smiled at John one last time before she followed Carson out of the isolation room and retreated back to her quarters, knowing she wouldn't be alone for long.

:x:

The chime of the door jolted her from her tenth game of Solitaire, and a quick glance at the clock on her desk told her that she'd missed a whole hour. She was on her feet and opening the door before she'd had time to wonder if she should be angry at him for making her wait on him so long.

He swiped a hand against the locking mechanism and the door slid closed, acknowledging the request with a different tone. He crossed the couple of feet between them like they hadn't seen each other in years and pulled her into a fierce embrace.

His lips crushed themselves against hers and she slid as close to his warmth as she could, wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him even tighter to the line of her body. It succeeded in chasing the cold doubts and worries about his fate away as their tongues dueled and one of his hands wound itself into the hair a the nape of her neck, while the other moved slowly down the length of her spine and snuck under her red shirt to tickle the skin just above the waistline of her own BDU pants.

She pulled away from the kiss slowly, gasping for breath as he smiled at her, fighting for air himself. She laughed back the tears of joy that threatened to fall and laid a hand on his jawline, tracing a small expanse of it with the tip of her thumb.

"I thought I'd lost you," she whispered, afraid to speak any more than that, afraid to truly voice her thoughts to keep them from coming true. Superstitious, she knew, but her logic- centered mind still couldn't keep her from thinking it.

He laid a light kiss on her forehead and pulled her to him again. "I'm here, Lisbeth. I'm not going anywhere."

She knew that his words were as full as he could make them, but the uncertainty of the Pegasus Galaxy drained them completely of meaning. She just had to convince herself that he could take care of himself. Easier said than done when she knew what was out there awaiting him.

"Hey," he whispered, lifting her chin so that their eyes met. She instantly knew that he knew what she was thinking as his eyes bore into hers. "None of that. Don't over-analyze this. I'm here, I'm alive and I'm with you right now. Be here with me, Lisbeth, not in some random day in the future that may never come."

She sighed, knowing he was right. Still, she couldn't shed her doubts. As if he could read her mind, he released her chin and laid a trail of kisses down her cheek to the corner of her mouth. He skipped her lips and chose to move down and farther back, standing spread-eagled and a little awkwardly, to lay his lips over the curve created by her jaw and neck.

She could feel her pulse race under his lips as he tried to coax her worries away, and her breath hitched as he nipped at the pulse point, his teeth just grazing her skin. Her eyes slid closed as he slipped his hand under her shirt again, tracing slow patterns in the skin on her lower back. She shuddered as his touch tickled and a smile stretched across her face. She opened her eyes and caught his gaze.

His eyes were growing dark with a hunger she was almost certain was mirrored in her own gaze, and she took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Of their own accord, her hands reached for the black t-shirt he wore and she toyed with the hem of it before finally tugging it over his head.

He gazed at her quizzically, a laugh tumbling from his lips. "You sure about this? Bug cooties and all?"

She laughed and molded herself against him, pressing her hips into the most sensitive parts of his anatomy. "I don't care anymore, John. We've wasted too much time already...I'm not wasting any more time."

He beamed, his eyes glittering with intention. "Is that right?"

He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively and she laughed.

"Doctor's orders," she told him, tugging at the belt around his waist.

He rewarded her with his trademark smirk as he pulled her in for another kiss.

As he laid her back onto her bed, trailing kisses down her neck, she let her heart lead instead of her mind, and for the first time in a long time she felt at home.

fic: [sanctuary] history

linesfade — Thu, 15 Jul 2010 05:00:53 GMT

Title: History
Author: linesfade
Fandom: Sanctuary
Chapter: 1/1
Words:
Pairing: Past Helen/Watson, Slight John/Helen & Ashley/Declan (aka: SOLDIERS)
Rating: R
Warnings: Not quite smut, but close enough.
Spoilers: Through "Revelations Part 2," except Ashley was never captured by the Cabal.
Summary: Helen and the rest of the Sanctuary gang visit Watson's historic grave site in London after his death, where Helen reflects on the past she shared with Watson, and she and John begin to reconnect.
Notes: For violettavalery. This is our story, codenamed: Epic!Fic :) I hope you like it!
Also, SLIGHTLY edited from the original version to include Declan, because it just wouldn't be right without him. :D

History

"James..." her voice was smooth, perfect in its texture as it washed over his ears, but tinged with a hint of sadness, maybe even depression. He scrutinized her as she walked through his door, his heightened senses automatically telling him that something was wrong, as the heels of her shoes - the heels that usually kept perfect rhythm on the cobblestone walk - scraped and stuttered over to him. As she collapsed into his arms, sobs tearing themselves from her pale throat, his arms tightened about her instinctively.

"Helen?" he whispered, for the first time in years not knowing which was the right path to tread to unravel a mystery: the mystery of the great Helen Magnus. "Helen, what is it? What's happened?"

She raised her head and looked him straight in the eyes. Her makeup, what little she wore, was in streaks down her lovely face, and he pulled the handkerchief from his breast pocket to blot the tear tracks away.

The sorrow and disgust was unveiled on her face, and his stomach did a sudden drop in anticipation of the revelation to come. He knew he wouldn't like it, and he didn't need supernatural powers to know that to be the truth.

"It was John, James. It was him all along."

:x:

Helen took a deep breath and laid a red rose, without the thorns, over the old headstone. It's writing was being worn away by the rains, but she still knew its inscription by heart. She had been the one who had purchased it.

" 'Knowledge. Justice. Templum Pro Totus.'' "

She spoke the words aloud as she traced the weathered characters with her fingertips, a tear finding its way down her cheek.

There was a ripple in the atmosphere behind her that she knew all too well. Trying to ignore the disruption, Helen kept her eyes on the green lawn and headstone before her, speaking to him within her mind.

She should have known that she wouldn't be able to ignore him for long.

"I know that he was a good friend to you, Helen," he grunted. "But did you really need to come all the way out here to London to see his...?"

"Stop it, John," she interrupted, letting out a long sigh. "I know that you're eternally miserable, but do you really have to make the rest of us as miserable as you? We just lost a dear friend, and we are here to pay our respects. I would think that even you would have something to say to him."

He sighed and stepped up beside her, holding one wrist with the other hand and bowing his head. "He was a good friend, once upon a time. It is a shame that was never to be again."

She nodded. They had, indeed, been great friends once. Before...

A tear made its way down her cheek and John looked to her curiously.

"Helen?"

"I don't expect you to understand, John. You would likely rather not, in fact," she said cryptically, furiously wiping away the tears.

"What is that to mean?" He frowned at her, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

"We had a history, John," she told him flatly, raising her tear-filled eyes to her once-fiancee. She didn't have the patience necessary to play his mind games, and lying to him would only make him draw them out longer. She knew that whichever way she chose to tread would exhaust her both emotionally and mentally, but she also needed to get it over with as quickly as possible so they all could get back down to business of bringing the Cabal to its knees. Knowing that, she dove headlong into the argument, and waited for his counter attack.

His eyes narrowed at her, his gaze forging itself into something cold and hard.

"A...history," he repeated coolly.

"Yes, John. It was a long time ago. Right after I found out about...your after-hour activities." Her voice was as cool as his, but the pain in her eyes was raw, laid bare before him.

His steely gaze melted only the slightest touch at her words, yet he continued to glare at her. She wasn't fazed.

Helen Magnus knew John Druitt. She knew his faults, his strengths; she knew what drove him to the brink of madness and what kept him grounded in reality. She could wage a war against this man like none had ever seen, and she could win. Whatever piece of her soul it cost her, she could win.

She turned her eyes to James' headstone momentarily, perhaps seeking the peace and solace she had once found with him, and then looked back to John with a sad smile. She wasn't ready, even more than one hundred years later, to admit aloud that she still cared for him. Loved him, even. He was the father of her child and the man she had sworn to marry once upon a time, long before she had developed the blood serum and taken it into herself. Before they had all taken it.

Helen blamed herself for their problems, in all honesty. If only she hadn't pressed the issue of human evolution and created that damned drug, she and John would have led a happy life together, Jack the Ripper would never have existed, and Ashley would have been a child of a completely different era. Moreover, they each would have each perished a lifetime ago, their lives full and complete.

However much she wished to be able to go back in time and change what had happened, she knew that she couldn't. There was no sense in crying over spilt milk, as the adage said. What had been done was done, and all of them: she, John, Nikola, Nigel and James, had all been changed. Sometimes, she thought, all of them had been changed for the worst.

"A history," he said again, and Helen frowned, staring intently as she crouched before the blackened, weathered headstone.

She didn't answer him. She couldn't.

:x:

"What are you talking about, Helen? What was John all along?" James did his best to shush her tears, to try and get fact from her, instead of just a rush of sobs.

He led her over to the sofa where he sat and pulled her down beside him. As she sank into the cushions to the right of him, the shoe fell off of her left foot and clunked against the wooden slats of his floor. She peeled the right one off and let it fall beside its mate before drawing her legs up, skirts and all, to press herself tightly into his side.

She was a weight against his chest, but, oddly, a welcome one. He pulled her tighter and placed a kiss on the top of her head in attempt to quiet her. Helen clung to him, her arms entwined about his neck, and buried her face in the hollow of his throat. Her soft blonde ringlets caressed his cheek, and he swallowed hard in attempt to distract himself. He would not think of such things; she was his best mate's fiancee, for heaven's sake!

"Helen," he whispered, trying to calm her again. "Talk to me, my dear. Please, tell me what is wrong."

She attempted to rein in her tears and took a deep breath. Pulling away from him slightly, she looked into his eyes and her right hand came up to caress his face.

"You must promise me, James. Promise me that you will not go after him immediately. I...I am with child..." she pleaded with him, the last of her statement issuing forth in a whisper. Her face was drawn in lines of sadness, and he didn't know if he should respond with a smile or a frown. He settled for a straight face.

He removed her hand from his cheek and held it tightly within his own. She was shaking in apprehension, and it wounded his heart to see her in such a state.

"I give you my word, Helen. Please, tell me what is wrong," he whispered in return, instantly knowing that he would hate having made that promise to her. But this was Helen Magnus, and he had never been able to deny her.

"I saw him, James. I watched him slit her throat right before my eyes..."

She trailed off, but she did not have to say more. He knew.

"Dear God," he breathed as he felt the shock of the revelation envelop him. He took Helen by her shoulders and pulled her back to him slowly. She clung to his neck again, her tears beginning anew as she curled even tighter into his side.

"No," he murmured as he laid his cheek against the crown of her head "Not him...not John..."

:x:

"You will tell me, Helen! What do you mean when you speak of 'history' ?" John pressed her as she rose from the gravestone, resolving herself to purchase another for her dear friend. If not to replace it, then to stand beside it for another two hundred years. This headstone itself was a historical attraction for some.

Nevertheless, she would continue to buy new headstones and, as long as she lived, no one would forget the name of Doctor James Watson. She certainly never would.

"Do you really wish to know, John? Truly? Or are you just looking for a reason to revive your hatred for James?" she glared at him accusingly, and he stepped toward her slightly, raising one finger to point at her.

"HEY!" Ashley shouted, breaking the reverent silence in the old cemetery as she walked up to her father and shoved a gold-plated handgun into his chest. "You do not talk to my mother that way, ya get me?"

Her voice thrummed with barely-concealed anger, and Helen watched closely as John's gaze shifted from her to their daughter. His eyes lit with interest as he looked at her as if measuring her inner-spirit.

"Are you ready to admit, young one, that you are more like me than you care to be? Your lust for the kill...powerful, is it not?" he mused, the corners of his mouth screwing up into a lopsided smirk.

"I am nothing like you..." she ground out before Declan stepped out of the shadows, Henry close on his heels. Declan kept one hand on his own sidearm, and laid his free hand on her upper arm.

He whispered her name and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze in attempt to calm her as Helen interrupted.

"That is enough! Both of you!" she gave a stern look to her daughter and then turned to John as Ashley allowed Declan to take her gun and lead her away from the squabble. "All right, John. You want to know? We had one night, John. One. You had betrayed me, and James was there! I went to him because Nikola would have taken advantage of me, and Nigel was..."

She paused and took a breath before continuing, and caught the look of sympathy on Will's face out of the corner of one eye. His presence gave her the strength to speak the words that needed to be said. John would be, well, pissed, but that would be his personal issue to resolve. She set her jaw and gave him the full force of her eyes.

"James was my dearest friend after you, John. What you did...don't you understand that it broke my heart? That it broke me?" he winced as a tear stole down her face, but she continued. "I needed someone, and James was there. You cannot fault him for that!"

"Yes I can! He stole my wife from me!" he bellowed, his deep voice echoing off of the trees and headstones surrounding them.

"He did no such thing!" Helen shot back, too infuriated to keep her voice at a minimum. "You, John, were the reason I left! Not James, you!"

John was silent. Seething, but silent, and Helen couldn't help but expect the worst from him. Her hand fell near her hip, ready to whip the handgun from the inner-pants holster at the small of her back and take aim in an instant.

:x:

"You have no idea how much I wish it was someone else. I tried...not to believe that it was him. I prayed, James, harder than I've ever prayed before." her tears were staining his shirt but he didn't pay any mind to them.

He was too caught up in reliving the conversations he'd had with John, in which he'd divulged his conclusions about the masterful murderer, secrets he'd never told another soul for fear that his revelation would make it back to the scoundrel. And there he had been, the whole time, telling his conclusions, his clues, to the fiend himself!

In exasperation, he threw himself back against the sofa and raised one hand to rub the bridge of his nose. Helen pulled away from him and wiped her cheeks yet again with his handkerchief as he tried to come to terms with the news. James let his hand fall as he turned to look at the woman before him. She was broken. Her heart had been shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, and she had come to him. To him. Whyever she had come to him, he was glad. She should not be alone to suffer in the knowledge of her fiancee's indulgences, and especially not in her condition.

"Helen, I am so terribly sorry," he began, not even truly knowing what to say. "I can't even begin to understand..."

She gave him a sad smile and took his hand again, giving it a gentle squeeze of thanks.

"Is there...could I possibly...?" he stammered, and she placed her other hand over his cheek.

"Just be here," she whispered and kissed his cheek. "I'll have to accomplish so many things..."

"The child, Helen?" he asked quietly, not really wanting to hear the answer.

"Stasis. Father has been working on a procedure that can freeze an embryo without killing it for the specific purpose of re-insemination and bringing it to term at a later date. As much as I cannot bear to think of...him right now, if I were to look at this child and see him in its eyes...James, I fear it would very well kill me," she sniffled then, her right hand unconsciously moving down to lay over her abdomen, and he pulled her closer.

"Very well, my dear," he replied, laying a gentle kiss to her temple. It was certainly better than the alternative. Aborting the child, he knew, would kill her later on as well; her conscience would never allow her to move past it.

She turned her face up to his and the look in her tear-filled eyes made his heart beat faster.

He had always had an affinity for this woman, so when she'd asked him to join in their experiment with the Source Blood, he had accepted, only to be near her. Then he had found out that John was calling on her, and it had nearly broken his heart. He had been in too deep, at that point, to drop out of their experiment. If not for that, he might very well have done so to save himself the heartache.

But now here she was, looking at him like that, and it was shaking things in the very foundation of their relationship. At least, what he had perceived their relationship to be.

"Helen," his voice was little more than a whisper, and he felt her shudder against him. Perhaps there was desire in his voice, after all. He was fighting it, bloody hell, was he fighting it, but this was Helen.

Helen, the brilliant scientist. Helen, the great undying mystery. Helen, the woman who had become his dearest friend over the course of their experiments. Helen, the woman that he had to admit, at least to himself, had come to mean more to him than she ever should have.

Dear heaven, how was he supposed to control himself with her gazing up at him like that?! He closed his eyes and willed the urges away. He had to place them back in their own little box, where he could keep his feelings for her separate from everything else; it was necessary to ensure his survival. There was no knowing what John would do if they...

Before he could even think about what was happening, she went and did something that stopped all of his thought processes, and completely decimated that little box.

She kissed him.

:x:

Helen's free hand found it's way to her mouth as she traced her lips with her index and middle fingers.

Dear God, she could still feel his lips on hers, taste the tobacco and scotch on his lips.

A shiver worked it's way up her spine as she gazed down at the headstone. He had been a fine man, someone she felt most comfortable letting her guard down around. The closest she had to someone like him now was Will, but she would be damned if she ever took him to her bed. There had been many over the years to warm the space beside her: lovers and one-night-stands alike, but she just couldn't see Will fulfilling either of those roles. He was too good of a friend to her to even envision him in that other role. Once, she had thought that Will and Ashley might have made a decent pair of lovers, but upon seeing her daughter interacting with Declan, in the times he was able to be around, she had changed her mind. There were only two men who could disarm her daughter with only a touch and the use of a few words, one was Declan and the other was Henry, who was most certainly like a brother to Ashley.

John's snarl brought her back to reality and the pair of fingers fell away from her lips. His head fell, and he was glowering at the ground, but she knew that his full attention was on her.

"Did you love him?" he growled after a long stretch of silence, looking up at her with only his eyes.

"I cared for him a great deal John. Just as I did everyone we worked with," she replied matter-of-factly.

He raised his head to glower at her.

"You know what I meant!"

"Yes, I do. And that tone of voice was neither tactful or necessary. Moreover, that line of questioning is none of your concern!" she shot back, feeling her cheeks begin to flush with anger.

John stepped closer to her and placed a long-fingered hand on either side of her face. "I would say that it most certainly does fall under my realm of concern to find out whether the woman I intended to marry was out trouncing about with my best mate behind my back every night. And if, in fact, the child that you say is mine is indeed of my blood lineage!"

From the corner of her eye, Helen saw Will take a step forward toward the two of them at the same time Ashley lunged toward John, her second handgun drawn and locked on it's target in a matter of seconds. Declan wrapped his arms around her midsection and pulled her back to him, somehow managing to find the wherewithal to wrestle her second gun from her without firing a shot.

Helen refused to take any more. She drew her hand back and struck John across his face. Hard.

"Exactly what are you accusing me of, John Druitt?"

"I think you know, Helen," he snarled back, his left cheek turning an angry, burning red. Helen admired her work for but a moment, before shoving that darkness back into the pit that she kept it locked away within.

"And if I were to affirm your suspicions, what then? Would I become victim number nine out of sheer spite or anger?" Her glare, had it literally contained the daggers she sent his way, would have made mincemeat of him.

John's gaze broke and his jaw fell slack in disbelief. "Helen..."

'Good,' she thought. 'Maybe we've finally begun to contain the beast.'

:x:

Her lips crushed themselves to his in a manner that should never have been done outside of a marriage union, yet he was too startled to object. Moreover, he didn't think he had the ability to protest, now that the taste and feel of her was on his lips.

"James," she whispered against his smile, pulling away just enough for her to look into his eyes. "Stay with me if they come for you."

He moaned and lunged for her lips again.

"Helen, my love," he mumbled between kisses. "I could not part from you, even if they hauled me away in shackles."

She laughed then, and the sound reverberated within his entire being. He realized in that moment that this would prove to be a horrible, horrible mistake, but it would be one that he would gladly make a hundred thousand times, should she ask it of him.

"James, you are my dearest friend," she told him, her lovely face sobering. "I need a friend this night, and I can think of none I would rather be with right now than you."

She frowned and let him have the full force of her tearful eyes before continuing, "I cannot in good conscience give you more than this one night. Not now. But, perhaps, one day..."

He laid a finger over her lips and gave her a sad smile. "If one night is all that I get with you, Helen Magnus, then I will love you a thousand lifetimes' worth within it. And if, after time has passed, you should decide to allow me more, I will gladly be here waiting for you, and you alone."

A tear stole down her face at his words, and he kissed it away.

"Helen," he told her as he began a trail of kisses from the apple of her cheek to the neckline of her gown. "There will be no more tears after this night. Promise me that."

He searched her eyes for whether or not she meant it as she nodded and, finding it there, he smiled at her. His smile brought out the one he loved to see her wear, and he kissed her again before he pulled her to her feet.

"Dance with me, my lady. After that, I will give in to anything you ask of me," his eyes pleaded with her. She needed love, affection and to know that she was still desirable. He had resolved to himself to show her that much, at least. She might never love him, he knew, but if she were truly to allow him this opportunity to love her, what kind of fool would he be to turn it down?

:x:
John's face was an unreadable mask of emotion as he stumbled away from her. Something inside of her regretted saying what she had, while at the same time she enjoyed seeing him hurt. In some small way, it was almost cathartic to know that she could wound him with the same device he had used to murder her. Or, at least, the 'her' she used to be.

"Helen," he tried again, his jaw working up and down as he watched her with remorse-filled eyes. "What could ever possess you to think that of me?"

She heard Ashley give a short laugh from across the graveyard where she stood with Henry and Declan flanking her, but ignored her daughter. She cast John a pointed look in response, and his face fell further as he took a pair of steps toward her and sank down onto his knees at her feet.

"Helen, I could never harm you. I wish you to know that," he told her quietly before falling silent again.

She squatted down beside him and placed one tentative hand over his cheek, urging him to look up at her.

"John, you were the only one who could have ever hurt me. And the way that you did it..."

"Helen, please..."

"The way that you did it, John," she continued, a little louder, without pausing to acknowledge his plea. "Sneaking out to sate your needs...it was no better than keeping a mistress behind my back! You could have come to me! Father and I could have helped you! James could have helped you! But you ran out, slaying women, John! Women!"

His always-upright shoulders slouched at her words and began to shake with the silent sobs he fought to hold tight within himself. The mantra of pleases that issued forth from his lips would not save him, because she had always been able to see right through him. He knew that. He was on his knees, his soul laying bare and naked before her. Helen had a moment to wonder if she was already too late to save him. It would break what little was left of the old Helen Magnus, if that was the case. She would be fighting her hardest battle not tell this broken shell of John Druitt what she felt whenever she was near him, but she knew that her resolve was crumbling with every second he remained on his knees before her. Much as she tried to deny it, even to herself, she did still care about him, and it was most certainly more than she should.

:x:

They danced slowly to whatever violin music had been recorded on his wax phonograph, her head on his shoulder, the both of them barefoot. She had been afraid that her stockings would snag on the wooden floor, so she had removed them. It, however, had been in a manner all too sensual for his preference. He could not fool himself, he had liked it...enjoyed it, even. Perhaps it was the reason she had done it. It had taken all of his self control to avert his eyes as she had unfastened them from somewhere up in the depths of her skirts and rolled them down her lovely, shapely legs. Truth be told, he had barely even survived just knowing that she was even minimally disrobing in his den.

She smiled against his shoulder and laid a series of kisses along his collarbone. He responded to her affections with a kiss atop the curve of her ear that sent a shiver down her spine.

"James, I want to thank you," she whispered as she pulled the tails of his white shirt from his trousers and laid her hands against the flesh on his back. Tiny electric currents shot through his body in each of the places where her skin met his, and he shuddered under her touch. Dear heaven, this woman could drive him not only to the brink of insanity, but reel him back as well! What he would do after this night was over he had no idea, so he would get out of it all that he could.

"For...for what, Helen?" he stammered as she released her hold on him and reached up to remove the tiny pins from her hair. It came down in a great wave, like a golden waterfall cascading over her pale shoulders, coming to rest over the bodice and hiding what bit of her bosom spilled out the top of her dress and corset.

"For being here, my dear Watson," she winked at him as a mock annoyed look crossed his face, the smile behind it threatening to overpower his facade. "For loving me, even though you know you should not."

He gave her a mischievous smile, and she smiled at him in return.

"Now, I think I will need help with these ghastly buttons," she spoke as she turned and swept her hair out of the way, piling every strand and curl over her right shoulder.

He took a deep breath before his fingers found the skin at the back of her neck, kneading gently before moving on to let the tips of his fingernails glide slowly down her skin until they met the neckline of the silk gown.

He placed a kiss on one shoulder or the other as he worked, and continued on down her back until all of the buttons were finally unfastened. His fingers slid underneath the shoulders of the gown and lifted it up as she undid the buttons at her wrist cuffs and slipped out of the sleeves.

She stepped back into the circle of his arms as she stepped out of the gown, and the skin of her bare shoulders instantly became a treasure for his lips to plunder. The gown was tossed haphazardly onto the sofa as she turned around to face him, and his eyes were instantly drawn to the pale expanse of skin below her shoulders. He swore to himself that at the first touch he would nearly come undone.

He wasn't wrong.

The sensation of her fingers on his flesh was like a thousand licks of flame over every inch of that they touched as she lifted the shirt over his head. She tossed the tunic away and looked up into his eyes, where he found a heat and a passion that he had only ever imagined seeing on her face before.

"I need you, James," she whispered. "Please."

A ragged sigh escaped his lips as he kissed her gently before shifting to whisper in her ear, "I am yours, Helen. As many times as you wish, and as often as you ask it of me."

He could tell that his breath had tickled her ear when she shuddered in his arms. He gave an impish grin and whisked her off of her feet, kissing her soundly as he navigated the short hall to his bedroom. He placed her back on her feet once on the other side of the threshold and latched the door behind him. Turning back to her, he began to slowly unlace her corset from behind, taking his time.

He would drive her mad, this night, if he had any control over it. And if the way she was watching their reflection in his dressing mirror in that moment was any indication, he was certainly well on his way.

:x:

She watched her hand move, reaching outward as if it were not of her own volition. Never in her last hundred years did she think that things would end up this way between John and herself. She had thought that she would hate him forever, that she could never bring herself to work with him again, to touch him again. How things had changed over these last few weeks...

"John," his name was little more than a whisper on her lips, but he turned to face her, a tortured look on his face, and her hand fell harmlessly back to her side.

"Could you not come to believe, after all that we have been through these last few months, that I am the man you once knew, Helen? The man you once loved?"

Her vision blurred and a single tear escaped her, rolling down her cheek before she could halt it or brush it away, unnoticed. John's hand came up and caught it, brushing it gently from her cheekbone.

Her breath caught at the contact. She wanted so much to believe that he had changed. Something inside her, she thought, might have begun to believe him...but in her mind she remained unsure. Was it really possible that whatever Tesla had done to him had realigned whatever the source blood had dislodged in the first place? Could he truly be the man she fell in love with over a hundred years ago?

'Dear God,' she prayed silently before she allowed him to take her hand. 'Let it be so.'

All of her inner walls were crumbling, their remnants gathering into little piles of dust at her feet, and it was scaring her.

:x:

He awoke to a quiet breathing, issuing forth from the glistening body next to him. He reveled at the feel of her body pressed against him, her legs tangled with his.

Dear God, what had he done?

Now he would never be rid of her. He would always be reminded of this night by the swish of her skirts, the flip of her hair, or the sheen of sweat on her forehead as she would concentrate on her work. The feel of her in his arms, her skin on his, would always be on his mind. The sight of her in the midst of their own personal rapture would always be there in his memory, as if it had been captured in a series of still photographs and set into motion.

Damn his heightened senses and memory! Even the lovely sound of her voice would be there to torture him for the foreseeable future.

Suddenly, he was struck with the thought that she would be alive much longer than he. That she would endure centuries of life while he would be relegated to mere decades. He wondered if, by chance, there could be some way of extending his own years. If he could delay death long enough, perhaps the two of them would have a chance. He knew that it would merely be delaying the inevitable, that he would surely die eventually, but if he could delay the process ever so slightly...

"I know that look," the voice of the angel rose from beside him, and he smiled down at her, meeting her blue eyes. "That, Doctor Watson, is the look you get when plotting something. Just what, pray tell, are you scheming?"

"I am merely attempting to come to a solution that will allow me to defy my own mortality, my dearest Helen," he replied with a mischievous grin as he rose to his elbow and laid a kiss over her bare collarbone.

She smiled brightly and giggled as he tugged her closer. He felt her sigh and settle back into his arms. He might love her, but if all that she needed was a friend, he would gladly be that for her. He would be anything she asked of him, and she had to know that. Why else would she have come to him?

"How exactly do you propose to do that, my dear Watson?" she inquired, but he did not roll his eyes this time. In fact, he was coming to realize that he quite liked the sound of that idiom when she used it.

"I am not entirely sure yet, to be honest," he replied thoughtfully. "Some kind of device, I imagine, to circulate the bodily fluids properly will have to be constructed. An artificial heart, of sorts. Heaven knows the one I possess will fail in a select few more years, and then you will be alone. I refuse to leave you on your own, my beautiful Helen, not when I could have the means to construct a device to extend my life."

"Very ambitious, James, I must say. Are you certain you can accomplish such a feat?"

She was amused, clearly, by the whimsical sound of her voice, so he dipped his head to murmur into her ear, "I can accomplish anything with you at my side, my dear. Would you be willing to offer your assistance and knowledge of human anatomy?"

She turned enough for him to see the beaming smile she had crafted just for him.

"I would be honored to help you, James. Would you...?" She took a measured breath and looked deep into his eyes.

"Helen?" His eyes narrowed at her as he encouraged her to continue.

"I wonder if you would help me with a project of my own. My father has an idea for a refuge for those like us, for Abnormals, where the world cannot harm them, nor they the world. I need someone to help me establish it and help it to grow."

"A sanctuary," he mused, and her eyes lit up.

"Precisely!" she beamed. If he had any reservations about accepting her offer before, the look of sheer joy on her face relieved them instantly. He was sold.

"Sanctuary...for all," he pondered aloud and, if possible, her smile grew wider.

"That's perfect! James, you are brilliant!"

The giddy look on her face overrode every other emotion and thought that he had in that instant. He laid a hand over her cheek and smiled before kissing her softly.

"I would give you the moon if you asked it, Helen. How could I tell you no to this? I assume you have a plan?"

She squealed in delight and threw her arms around his neck. As she pulled him close, something in the embrace changed and her lips sought his. His quandary was all but forgotten as passion flared between them yet again, and he found himself lost within her arms. He was sure that somewhere in the midst of their lovemaking an "I love you" slipped out from between his lips, but she either paid it no mind or failed to hear it.

Hours later, he felt her draw near to him again and then her breathing change as she fell back asleep against him. He laid a kiss on the back of her neck before he succumbed as well, leaving the candle at his bedside burning quietly.

:x:

"What the hell?! Seriously?! Dude, if you don't get the hell away from my Mom I swear to God..." Ashley raged, straining against Declan's vice-like grip and ignoring Henry's words as she tried to get to Druitt.

"Ashley, that will be quite enough! I am more than capable of caring for myself!" Helen turned steely eyes on her daughter, who stilled instantly, glowering at the exchange as Declan pulled her closer and began to whisper into her ear.

Henry opened his mouth to speak and, thinking better of it, closed it just as quickly.

John squeezed her hand reassuringly and she tightened her hold on him.

"John," she began, still uncertain about where to tread with him. "I am willing, albeit cautiously, to allow you in as a friend. Only time will tell if we can ever be to each other again what we once were. It is only prudent, given our..."

"History," he supplied, emotion making his voice low and gravelly.

"Indeed," she nodded as John rose from his knees and gently pulled her to her feet after him, releasing his hold on her after she was standing. "We have a history together...and our relationship did not end well the first time. I refuse to jump in and start where we left off before the Source Blood, as if none of the hundred years in between mattered."

He hung his head and his eyes fell to the grass at his feet.

"I have been attempting to deny this for years, but I would be completely amiss if I refused to acknowledge that I still care...a great deal for you, John." she sighed. Something in her stomach clenched tightly, wondering if she should have, indeed, kept that to herself.

His eyes rose to meet hers and she offered him a small smile, warm with acceptance and a promise, not to forget, but to try and leave the hard times and nightmares behind them. She knew he would not expect or ask for more than that.

He truly smiled at her then, and she felt her hardened heart crumble a little bit more. Up until a few months ago, the very look he had just given her had only existed in her memories of their pleasant times together. His eyes were full of love and thanks now, where, once upon a time, they had held a promise of forever. It had been that same smile he'd worn on the night he proposed to her.

"Thank you," he whispered.

She nodded to him and risked a glance toward Will, who just nodded his head in approval. She should have known that he'd stand behind her, no matter her decision. Ashley would be his polar opposite, asking what the hell she'd been thinking the moment the two of them were alone; Henry and Declan, as well, would be agitated, but would let her make her own decisions, and both Nikola and Bigfoot would berate her for her choosing upon her return to the Sanctuary. She took a mental inventory of the people around her and smiled, knowing that all of their reactions stemmed from their love for her. They were her family and, as much as she wished not to have to include Nikola in that small group, she had to. She had made the choice two lifetimes ago to bring him, along with James, Nigel and John into her life, her world, for better or for worse when they injected the Source Blood.

Her life was full of history: years and years of experience that often contradicted, or was just simply left out of children's schoolbooks. A glance down at James' headstone again brought a smile to her face. A good portion of that history had made her the woman she stood as today, some of it still brought her nightmares, but some of it...some of it she would always remember with a fond smile and even sometimes wish that it could be reproduced.

She kissed her fingertips and laid them atop Watson's memorial before righting herself.

"Here's to history, James. God speed, my dear Watson," she whispered as she took the arm John offered her, and allowed him to lead her away with only one last glance behind them.

:x:

The morning came too early for him, as the pre-dawn twilight began to wash over London. In a few short hours, he would hear the police shouting about in a frenzy as the horse-drawn cab skittered to a halt at his front door. The banging on his door would yield way to insanity and chaos as the latest victim of Jack the Ripper was surely going to be discovered any time now. It was a blessing that it hadn't occurred overnight. He turned his eyes back to the beauty who lay face down in his bed and, despite how much he wished to lay with her the entire day, bent down to rouse her with a soft kiss on her shoulder blade.

She stretched gingerly and rolled over, offering him a lazy, sleepy smile, as the tops of her breasts threatened to spill out from under the bed linens that kept them bound and obstructed. It was for the better that they stayed put away, for if they did not, it was highly unlikely that he could restrain himself.

"Morning, James," she greeted him, her voice soft as the light threatening to spill in through his window curtains, yet loud enough to rein his mind in from...elsewhere.

"Good morning, Helen," he smiled, brushing a few stray strands of golden curls from her cheek. He knew that she could tell how sorrowful he was that morning had indeed come, and she gave him a sad smile.

"I did not say 'good,'" she whispered, and the corner of his mouth tugged upward for but a moment.

"Indeed, you did not," he responded in kind as her hand rose to cup his cheek. "But having you here..."

She nodded and rose up to press her lips gently to his, silencing him instantly.

"I agree."

Of course she had known what he was thinking; she always did. It was certainly a better morning with her in his bed, held tight within his arms, than it ever would have been otherwise, but still...

He regarded her with such a look of reverence in his eyes that she blushed and attempted to look away, before being caught by the knuckle of his index finger.

"Helen, should I never get another chance to tell you, I wish you to know how very deep my affection for you runs."

"James," she managed a pleading whisper, but he ignored it.

"I care for you deeply. Should you ever need someone to run to, know that you can come to me. Know that my door, and my heart, will always be open to you," He looked squarely into her eyes as he spoke, making sure that she had understood him.

"I understand," she whispered as one hand came up to lay over his cheek. "Thank you, James. For...everything."

He nodded and turned his head just enough to kiss her palm. She rose from his bed and had him assist her in lacing up her corset and in donning her dress and skirts while he remained in only his knickers. After she had finished pulling on her stockings and heels, and he had dressed hastily, she placed a hand over his cheek again and kissed him gently, breaking the ringing silence in his bedchamber.

"Maybe one day, James..." she told him as she removed her hand and started toward the door. He knew that she was continuing their earlier conversation, so he smiled.

"I would wait a lifetime, Helen. All you have to do is ask it of me," he told her quietly, the deepest thrum of his voice echoing in the small entry corridor space.

He regarded her for a moment as the emotions warred on her face. He knew she could not give him an answer this day, nor did he expect one. He simply wanted, needed, to lay himself before her. He would take any role in her life that she offered, be it friend or lover.

She finally decided something inside herself and looked up at him with a small smile on her face.

"I cannot here and now give myself over to you James, but in the future...perhaps we could have something. Until then..."

"Until then, dear Helen, I will remember our history and our present. I have a plan to walk with you into the future, my dear. One such as you should not be alone," he grinned and lifted her knuckles to his lips in a parting gesture.

"I would do just fine on my own, James, thank you. But out of curiosity, what plan do you speak of?" The light in her eyes at his admission belied her words. She would have no one to turn to in a future century, and to have him by her side...that would more than relieve her mind of worry.

He smiled a private, knowing smile for her, letting her know that he had seen through her bravado and that he probably always would.

"I would tell you of it later this evening, if you would be so kind as to return for evening meal, my lady," he spoke in a humorous, lilting tone as he pulled the door open for her.

She nodded and gave him a brilliant smile. "Then I shall see you this evening, James."

He smiled at her, gave her a kiss on the cheek and then she was gone. As he watched her go, he noticed that her step had regained its rhythm and that there was a genuine smile on her face. Perhaps, he thought, she would be all right after all. He was about to turn and go back inside his home when the police cab pulled up in front of his door.

"Doctor Watson! Doctor Watson! There's been another, sir!" A young officer shouted to him as he leapt from the cab, scattering the pebbles along the walk as he dashed to the door.

James nodded and sighed," I will be right along, my dear boy. Allow me a moment to gather my things."

The officer nodded and James reached back inside for his hat and overcoat. This day would be difficult, feigning not knowing the identity of the killer, but James would do it. John would have to be brought to atone for his sins in a tribunal of their own making; there would not be a prison anywhere in the world that could hold the likes of him. It only made sense to him, as he strode out the front door of his home to the waiting cab, for Helen's sanctuary to be more than just a haven for the misfits of nature. As he watched her walk away, disappearing into the distance in the early morning light, he made a vow to himself that he would not let her promise of sanctuary for all become an empty motto.

fin.

series fic: [sga] life after atlantis, part 6

linesfade — Thu, 15 Jul 2010 03:51:51 GMT

Title: Life After Atlantis (Or Five Times John Writes a Song for Elizabeth, Plus One She Hasn't Heard)
Author: linesfade
Chapter: 6/6
Summary: Music is the sweetest therapy. John POV.
Pairing: Sparky! XD
Spoilers: A good bit after Adrift. After that, all AU.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Mild sexual innuendos. Nothing too major.
A/N: Musician!John again! I just can't resist...he looks so good with a guitar. ;)
DISCLAIMER: NOT MINE. I'm just playing in the sandbox! :) The songs are not mine, either. I Still Miss You is Keith Anderson, and the rest are all Emerson Drive. <3

For anuna_81 , who wanted more Musician!John. ;) Hope you like it!

Life After Atlantis
(Or Five Times John Writes a Song for Elizabeth, Plus One She Hasn't Heard)

VI. Everyday Woman

The snow begins to fall outside, adding to the inch of snow already on the ground from two days earlier. He cracks his knuckles nervously as she pulls into the driveway, the item in the rear pocket of his jeans almost burning a hole into his backside. He takes a deep breath and opens the front door of their home, letting a wide smile blossom across his face as their son and daughter race up to him. He kneels a little awkwardly, but he pulls them into a huge hug around their winter coats, planting a series of kisses on the tops of their heads.

"Daddy! Daddy! Look what I made today!" Kate beams proudly from behind her fluffy pink scarf she holds up a drawing of a great city. A city that looks remarkably like Atlantis. One hand covers his mouth as he tries to hide a chuckle, and he glances at Aiden who is staring open-mouthed at the drawing. The comprehension of what the city is to them is plain on his face as well. John glances to Elizabeth, who watches him with a mix of amusement and mild annoyance dancing in her eyes.

"Bedtime stories, John? Are we going to have to make our children sign non-disclosure agreements at ages six and four?" Elizabeth asks in a hushed tone as she balances the children's library books and backpacks on one arm and her own teaching materials in the other. John laughs and rises from his low position, shooing the children into the garage. They disappear through the door into the house, and the muffled sounds of squealing laughter can be heard as they rampage through the living room, Aiden pleading for a better look at Kate's masterpiece.

"Yes, well, at least they'll be...well-versed, Lisbeth," he winks at her, taking the armload of her teaching materials from her and straightening out the various padfolios, folders and presentation binders her students at Georgetown had turned in. He shivers against the snowflake that somehow finds its way down the back of his shirt and ushers Elizabeth on inside and out of the cold, more for his sake than hers, for his lack of a winter coat.

"Well-versed in what most only know as science fiction. Might I remind you, Colonel, I don't like that genre near as much as I used to," she chides with a laugh, giving him a small, flirting touch on the heel of his hand as she leads the way into the house through the garage. She drops the children's books and bags onto the table in the kitchen as she enters, and immediately moves into the living room, shedding her black down coat and sinking into the white leather armchair nearest the doorway. John knows the chair isn't her favorite, nor is it his, but they keep it around because it is easier to clean up after the kids constant snack smudges on leather than on regular upholstery. Despite it not being a favorite piece of furniture, the arm chair has, once again, served its secondary purpose: he always uses the chair she sinks into at the end of the day as a barometer for how exhausted she is. That and the day of the week.

He deposits the books onto the kitchen table next to the kids' belongings and moves into the living room. His fingers find what little of her shoulders they can reach and he kneads the knots on the tops of her shoulders in small, tight circles with his thumbs until she sits forward and allows him better access to her shoulders.

"Thank goodness it's Friday?" he smiles down at her and she cranes her neck slightly to see his face.

"Definitely." she sighs, and closes her eyes against his movements, leaning into his hands as they drain the tension from her muscles and the skin of her shoulders and upper arms. He leans down and plants a feather-light kiss on her temple as he withdraws his hands from her shoulders and walks around in front of her. "Aww, you don't have to stop."

He smiles. "Later," he promises, taking a knee in front of her on the eggshell-hued carpet. He pulls the wrapped package from his hind pocket, and gives it, in its silver paper and red ribbon, a measured glance as it lays in his hands.

"I was going to wait until Christmas," he started, shifting his eyes up to meet hers, "But I just can't wait two more weeks to give this to you."

"John," she breathes, one hand covering her mouth and her eyes looking his over for answers as to what lay under the wrapping paper.

He hands her the square object, and she turns it over in her hands slowly, searching for a seam in the wrap job. He watches as she finds the seam and slides one finger underneath the plastic paper, pulling the tape free. The ribbon and paper fall from the jewel case of the CD and land at her feet. She takes a breath and turns the case over.

"John," she whispers again, and he sees the tears forming in her eyes.

"I'm calling it Life After Atlantis," he tells her, taking one of her hands in his own and placing a kiss on the back of that hand. "It's the soundtrack to our life, to our love."

She turns the case over once more to read the track listing on the back:

01. I Still Miss You
02. You Still Own Me
03. Light of Day
04. Lucky Man
05. Sweet Natural Girl
06. Everyday Woman

She looks up at him, her eyes filled with questions, some of which are obvious to him, and others that are just hints of what she longs to ask.

"It's a demo," he tells her. "Lorne worked up the artwork since he's good at that kind of stuff. He helped me record it, and...I'm thinking of sending it out to the record companies. If you think it's a good idea."

A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. "I think it's a brilliant idea," she laughs, pulling him into her arms in a fierce embrace. He holds her tightly, taking in the slight scent of her perfume that's nearly disappeared over the course of the day, and the tiny hint of her orange citrus body wash that is lingering underneath that. He smiles, because that scent is her. Not so long ago, he realizes, he'd thought he'd have to live without her for the rest of his life. He'd thought that he would never get to see her again, never tell her how much he loved her despite all of the military and IOA protocols that forbade such an affair.

She releases him from the hug and he rolls backward so that he's squatting on the balls of his feet. She looks him directly in his eyes and smiles. "I haven't heard this one."

He looks down to find her pointing to the last track on the CD, and he smiles as he shifts his eyes back up to hers. "I know," He nods to the CD player. "Put it in."

He watches her stand from her place in the armchair and walk past him to the sound system she'd had him hide away inside the entertainment armoire, and slide the disc into the player.

As the song starts to play it's slow melody, he stands and holds a hand out to her in the large living room. She smiles wider at the outstretched hand.

"We haven't danced since..."

"Our honeymoon," he laughs. "We've been a little busy since then, I think."

Her eyes sparkle with laughter as she looks up the stairs towards the kids' rooms. "Yes, we have," she agrees and steps into his embrace. He wraps her into his arms and whirls her around the room, slowly at first, and then accelerates to something that is probably a little too fast for the music, but neither of them seem to care as she lets him lead her. The two-step takes on a life of its own, as John's voice comes over the speakers, and accelerates a touch faster into the chorus.

"You don’t put on a lot a make-up
You like to wear your hair pulled back.
When the kids’ll call you come a runnin’
You always put yourself last.
Most people would say...

"You’re an everyday woman,
But you’re everything to me.
You are so beautiful,
You’re an angel, I can see.
And I’m gonna love you, I'm gonna love you
Everyday, woman..."

He begins to sing to her himself as the chorus ends, and she just smiles as if she were having the time of her life. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Kate watching them from the top of the stairs, peering down from between the banister railings with a shine of excitement in her bright green eyes. He knows that after the song is over she will come barreling down the stairs to dance next. She always begs him to dance when he sings her to sleep, so he knows that it's only a matter of time before she comes down to plead with him.

"How do you juggle this busy life,
And still have something left for me?
I’ve asked God why I’m the lucky man
Who gets to live in your love's strength.
Maybe to this world...

"You’re an everyday woman,
But you’re everything to me.
You are so beautiful,
You’re an angel, I can see.
And I’m gonna love you, I'm gonna love you
Everyday, woman..."

She wipes a happy tear from her eyes as he slows down the dance, and pulls her tighter. She collapses into his arms and lets him hold her tightly as he sings softly, right against her earlobe.

"And I’m gonna love you, I'm gonna love you
Everyday, woman..."

She smiles and looks over his shoulder as he twirls her one last time.

"We have an audience," she whispers, nodding to the staircase. John turns to look, and now, sitting at the top landing, both Kate and Aiden are watching their parents with wide eyes, full of excitement and happiness.

"ME NEXT, DADDY!" Kate calls out, hopping down the stairs as fast as she can go. He laughs and places a kiss on Elizabeth's forehead.

"Do you think your mother would..."

"Keep the kids tonight?" she cuts in quietly, casting a glance back at John as he sweeps Kate up in his arms. Elizabeth pulls the cell phone from her pocket with a sniffle, willing the tears away, at least for the moment. She winks at him. "I'm already on it."

John smiles as he walks over to her and lays a kiss on her earlobe.

"Merry Christmas, Lisbeth," he whispers, and places another kiss in the same spot.

She smiles, and he can feel the muscles move in her cheek and jaw as she does so.

"Merry Christmas, John," She turns and gives him a lingering kiss as her mother answers the phone. Kate begins to squirm in his arms, making protesting noises as she does so.

"EWW!" the little girl cries out, clapping her hands over her eyes haphazardly. John laughs and swings her around the living room, eliciting a giggle from the six-year-old.

Aiden wanders up to him, tugging at the knee of his jeans, and John bends down to scoop his son up as well. He gives both of his children big, sloppy kisses, and they giggle so loudly that his ears hurt worse than the day he'd flown his first fighter jet, but he doesn't mind. Not one bit. He never thought that his life would end up being so perfect. He wouldn't trade the life he's made for himself, the life he and Elizabeth have made together, for anything. It's something so beautiful that no song in the world that he, or anyone else for that matter, could ever pen could rival it. He looks at his wife and his children and, as he dances around the living room with his children in his arms, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, this might be heaven. At no time in his past, before she'd come back to him, had life after Atlantis looked to be so promising, so perfect. But now, he thinks, now it was all worth it. Leaving Atlantis was the best decision he had ever made, and he thanks God every day, for bringing her back...for bringing her home to him, because within those green eyes, he's found everything he's ever needed.

He's found his heaven.

Fin.

series fic: [sga] life after atlantis, part 5

linesfade — Thu, 15 Jul 2010 03:47:20 GMT

Title: Life After Atlantis (Or Five Times John Writes a Song for Elizabeth, Plus One She Hasn't Heard)
Author: linesfade
Chapter: 5/6
Summary: Music is the sweetest therapy. John POV.
Pairing: Sparky! XD
Spoilers: A good bit after Adrift. After that, all AU.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Mild sexual innuendos. Nothing too major.
A/N: Musician!John again! I just can't resist...he looks so good with a guitar. ;)
DISCLAIMER: NOT MINE. I'm just playing in the sandbox! :) The songs are not mine, either. I Still Miss You is Keith Anderson, and the rest are all Emerson Drive. <3

For anuna_81 , who wanted more Musician!John. ;) Hope you like it!

Life After Atlantis
(Or Five Times John Writes a Song for Elizabeth, Plus One She Hasn't Heard)

V. Sweet Natural Girl

He casts a line into the lake from his perch on an old log, and Elizabeth laughs at his form.

"What's wrong with my form, Lisbeth?" he asks as he digs a hole in the sand for his fishing pole and wedges it in against the log with a large stone.

"Nothing, nothing..." she laughs, and the eighteen-month-old girl in her arms giggles loudly along with her. "See? Even Kate thinks you fish funny!"

Elizabeth laughs harder because of Kate's squealing laughter, and any sarcastic retort he was going to make back at her washes away in the sound of his daughter's laughter. A smile blossoms over his face at the two beauties before him.

The dark, unruly curls atop his baby girl's head, combined with her mother's shocking green eyes, make him gravitate straight toward the two of them. He kisses Kate's little nose and lifts the girl from her mother's arms, swinging her around high in the air. The little girl erupts in tiny giggles of excitement, and he can't help but think that it's the most beautiful sound in the world. He pulls her to him and steals a glance back at Elizabeth. She's smiling brightly at him, thoroughly enjoying watching him play with his daughter, and he takes a couple of steps toward her as he holds the baby girl tightly to his chest.

"How are you feeling, Lisbeth?" He asks, as Kate leans back toward her mother, arms outstretched. Elizabeth opens her arms with a smile and John places one hand on her enlarged stomach, saying a silent hello to baby number two as his thumb strokes softly just below her belly button.

"I'm okay. Just a little tired," she says, the honesty of the statement stealing into her eyes for a moment from behind the enthusiastic mask she wears for her daughter. John knows that Elizabeth hides how she really feels because she doesn't want to scare Kate, and he loves her even more for that. She never pushes the girl away, despite her level of exhaustion. One more month, he thinks, and he'll be able to meet his son. He smiles.

He can't wait.

He knows that it's years away yet, but he can't wait to teach his son how to hold a football, how to ride a bike and how to throw a baseball (even if he really has never been very interested in the sport). He just wants to be a father to his boy, his son. He wants, more than all of that, to be the father to his son that he never had. He wants to leave his legacy there and make an impression on his son of how to love a woman, and how to talk to God. Nothing would make him happier than to have his family know how much he loves them.

He smiles and kisses Elizabeth lightly on the lips. Kate makes a noise that sounds something like an 'EWW,' and she covers her face with her little arms and hands, writhing around in her mother's arms. John laughs at her antics and tickles her belly, doing anything in his power to make her laugh.

"Doww..," Kate says, tugging at the neckline of her mother's shirt, and Elizabeth smiles at her.

"You want down, Kate?" Elizabeth asks, trying to help the girl with forming her words, and Kate nods her head exaggeratedly.

"Doww," she repeats, and John has to stifle a laugh before Elizabeth chastises him for acknowledging her incorrect pronunciation.

Elizabeth places the girl on the blanket she'd earlier laid out in the coarse, white sand and Kate sits upright on it, staring at the motion of the lake in the slight breeze and burying her tiny hand into the sand.

Something in John is struck by the peacefulness of the scene, and he moves to open the guitar case in the back of their SUV. The instrument has been neglected as of late, and he runs his fingers over the strings lightly, lovingly. He takes a seat inside the rear of the SUV, pulling the guitar out of its case and pulls it to his chest. He brings it back into tune quickly and gives the neck a once-over to make sure all of the frets still line up. It could use a touch of an adjustment on the tension of the truss rod, he thinks, but it can wait. He doesn't have his tools anyway.

His fingers dance over the strings, remembering the familiar ground with a soft fondness, and the melody he picks blends with the scene before him. It has a very country feel, and Elizabeth looks up from checking on the fishing pole John had set into the sand, a smile on her face.

"It's been a while since I've heard that sound," she says, and John nods, still seeking out his melody and rhythm.

"It has," he affirms a moment later after he's found the notes he's looking for. The song is upbeat, very country now, and would even benefit well from the touch of a fiddle, he thinks. He makes a mental note to call Evan Lorne the next day to see if he could do something with him about it while he's back on Earth for his leave.

A pen and paper find their way in front of him, and Elizabeth smiles at him as he takes them from her outstretched hands.

"I've seen that look too many times to know what you're thinking," she says, an excited glint in her eyes. "Write it."

He smiles and he leans over from his perch inside the vehicle to kiss her. "Thank you, Lisbeth," he whispers, and puts his pen to the page to write as she walks off, picking Kate up from her spot on the ground. She sits onto the log he had been sitting on earlier and puts the little girl on one hip, talking to her sweetly and pointing out various mundane objects to try and teach their daughter even more of the world around them. The girl would be a genius by the time she turned ten, the way Elizabeth kept on, he thought. Not that there was anything wrong with that. He'd LOVE for his daughter to be smarter than Rodney McKay one day.

Before he knew it, his pen was flying over the paper and the words were forming themselves around the memories of his life with Elizabeth.

'Barefoot walkin’ on a white sand beach,
Fishin’ on a log in a backwoods creek.
A baby in a month and a baby on her hip,
And when I kiss her on her lips,
It’s all...

Flowers and sunshine;
Spring rain in the summertime;
I swear I get so high on that sweet natural girl of mine.
Sweet natural girl of mine...'

The memories bombard him as he writes. The first is the day she told him she was pregnant with Kate and then the birth of their daughter. Next came their wedding day and how incredibly stunning she looked as she walked up the aisle toward him, face hidden behind the thin veil her mother had made for her. He recalls how, even while she's pregnant, she always turns heads in town...though she never notices. And, of course, how she seduces him with fruit and wine, even when he thinks he's too tired to make love to her. He smiles at that last, and continues writing.

'No matter how much she dresses it down,
Turn every head, turn every head as she walks through town.
Slip off swimmin’ in a creek somewhere,
Cause all my baby ever wears
Are those

Flowers and sunshine.
Spring rain in the summertime.
I swear I get so high on that sweet natural girl of mine.
Sweet natural...'

:x:

"Breathe, Lisbeth," he says soothingly, his stomach twisting itself into knots over and over. A bead of sweat rolls down her cheek and he dabs at it with a now-damp cloth. She's been in labor for six hours, and his heart breaks for her with every contraction, with every look of pain on her face. She grits her teeth as another wave of pain passes, and she slumps back into the raised back of the hospital bed, gasping for breath.

"I'm here, Lisbeth. I'm not leaving you, baby," he reassures her, and the grip on his spare hand loosens slightly. Their hands are both coated in sweat, hers from exertion and his from near-panic, but he doesn't let go. She needs him there, needs him strong. He leans down and kisses her clammy forehead lightly. The obstetrician smiles up at them, her eyes glowing.

Things must be going right, John thinks. That's a good thing.

"Almost there, Elizabeth," she says, as she pulls on a fresh pair of latex gloves and massages Elizabeth's knee lightly. Elizabeth nods, looking up at John helplessly. "I need you to give me one more BIG PUSH when the next contraction comes, okay?"

A surge of emotion rushes through his gut at her words, almost panicking, almost passing out from excitement, but Elizabeth nods and winces as another contraction begins. The grip on his hand locks down again and she cries out, concentration on her face as she pushes with all her might.

When a baby's cry pierces the air, he lets out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, and Elizabeth falls back against the bed, exhausted.

"You did good, Lisbeth," he whispers, dabbing at her forehead again. He drops the towel to the bed beside her and he leans down to pepper her face with tiny kisses. She smiles weakly, and her green eyes meet his. She brings one hand to touch his face weakly, and he presses a kiss to her palm.

"Mommy, Daddy..." the nurse interjects, carrying a little bundle in a blue blanket over to them with a beaming smile on her face. "meet your handsome baby boy."

"Ohh..." John murmurs, speechless as the nurse hands him the newborn. He drops down into the chair that had appeared next to Elizabeth's bed and pulls the blanket back just enough to see his son yawn, his grey eyes blinking against the light in the room. When his eyes are finally open wide, they're unfocused...until he sees his father for the first time. John smiles down at the baby and looks up at his wife.

"We did good, Lisbeth," he whispers, excitement tugging at his lips and beaming from his eyes as he stands and lays his son into her arms. She smiles as she sees him, and places a kiss onto the baby's forehead.

All John can think as he watches them is, 'I have a son!' The joy in his heart is almost overwhelming, and he marvels at how lucky he truly is as he watches his son yawn and move his tiny fingers to clutch at a corner of the blanket by his face.

"Mr. and Mrs. Sheppard? We're going to move you both to your room in about fifteen minutes, so you may want to go and find your family now to let them know," another nurse pops her head into the delivery room. Elizabeth nods, murmuring a thank you as she pats her new baby's back and holds him tightly to her chest. She looks up at John, whose eyes are glued to the baby in her arms.

"John," she says gently, and he starts. His eyes meet hers, and he has the biggest smile on his face as he registers the little miracle before him. "Will you go get Mom and Kate from the waiting area? Let them know we're going to the room soon?"

He nods, but doesn't want to leave his wife and son at the same time. She knows how he feels, he thinks, and a glance back to her eyes affirms his theory.

"We'll be okay," she says. "I think Kate will want to meet her brother, don't you?"

"Oh. OH! Of course!" He jumps, suddenly remembering that they're not alone at the hospital. He leans down and kisses Elizabeth deeply, pressing all of the emotions he's feeling into the kiss, and she smiles against his lips. He feels her tremble against him, feels her tiredness, and pulls away.

"I'll be right back," he tells her and, after casting one last, long look at his son, bounds off down the hall to find the waiting room where his mother-in-law and his daughter are awaiting the news.

"Daddy!" Kate squeals as he walks into the waiting room, her arms going out toward him in an instant, desperately wanting out of her grandmother's grasp.

"Hey, baby girl," he greets her with a bright, excited smile as he pulls her into his arms, hugging her tightly. "You ready to meet your baby brother?"

She nods animatedly and gives him her best smile: the one that lights up her face and scrunches her bluish-green eyes closed tight. He laughs, hugging the girl to him tightly and placing a goofy kiss on her forehead. She squeals with laughter and he looks down at his mother-in-law. "They're about to move her to our room, so I think we need to head that way."

She nods in agreement, and offers to take Kate from him. She responds by clutching his shirt collar tighter, and he shakes his head with a chuckle. "I think she wants to stay with me," he laughs as the trio begins their walk down the hall to the room Elizabeth had been assigned that morning. He makes faces at Kate as he walks, taking the hall faster than he realizes and, in no time, they are bursting through the doorway of Elizabeth's room. She looks up from the face of the new baby, a smile on her face, and Kate tries to wriggle out of his grasp to get to her mother.

"Katherine," he scolds her with his tone of voice, and the girl stills in his arms, looking longingly at her mother as he points at the bundle in Elizabeth's arms. "Kate, look. Mommy's holding your brother."

Elizabeth smiles, looking more at John than at her daughter as she holds the boy up so that their daughter can see him. "Kate," she says, using her teaching tone on their daughter once again. "This is Aiden."

John's vision goes inexplicably blurry, and he almost stumbles as he takes a step toward the bed where his wife and new son lay so that Kate can get a better look. "Aiden," he murmurs, and Elizabeth nods, smiling at him as a tear slips down his cheek.

It meant more to him than he would ever admit, to name their children after members of the Atlantis Expedition that had been lost, people that had meant so much to them so long ago. Kate and Aiden. He liked the sound of that.

:x:

The song he'd left unfinished at the lake that day hadn't been touched in two years. Life had just gotten in the way of his songwriting and, for once, he's okay with that. He looks at his nearly four-year-old daughter and his two-year-old son and smiles. They're growing up beautifully.

John opens his hands to his son for one last throw. Aiden picks up a football and, bringing it back over his shoulder in a wind-up, flings it wildly toward his father. John beams as the ball sails at him in a perfect spiral, strikes him squarely in the chest and, oddly enough, knocks a little of the wind out of him. "That's my boy!" he exclaims as he drops the football and picks Aiden up, swinging him around as he tickles his stomach. The boy cackles loudly as Elizabeth walks out the door into the backyard, carrying a tray of food. She sets it down onto the wooden picnic table in the backyard and smiles at her family.

"Dinner!" she calls out, and Kate runs toward the table at full speed. John carries Aiden over to the table and sets him onto his seat on the bench next to his sister before taking his seat next to Elizabeth. John leads his family in saying grace before they dive into the hamburgers, hot dogs and french fries and, after Elizabeth cleans up after them, she holds something out to him.

"What's this?" he asks, unfolding the pieces of paper. He sees his scribbles and chicken scratch and instantly recognizes the words.

"You never finished it," she says, her eyes begging him to write the ending.

He smiles and holds his hand out to her. "Pen?"

She claps, excitedly, and pulls a pen out of her back pocket, holding it out to him. He takes her arm at the wrist and kisses her knuckles lightly, sending a shiver up her spine. She smiles at him enticingly. "Not until you finish the song," she whispers in his ear, leaving him with a kiss on his earlobe.

He smiles and puts the pen to the piece of paper, gathering his thoughts. He reads over the old words thoughtfully and then looks to Elizabeth who is letting Kate help her water the flowers in the garden. His pen starts moving as the inspiration strikes him, and he doesn't stop until the song is finished.

'My, oh my,
Look at that girl standing right there all natural.
Walking through the garden, lettin’ down her hair,
Throwing down a blanket and layin’ right there.

Flowers and sunshine...
Flowers and sunshine...
Spring rain in the summertime,
I swear I get so high on that girl of mine.

Flowers and sunshine,
Spring rain in the summertime.
I swear I get so high on that sweet natural girl of mine.
Sweet natural girl of mine...
Sweet natural girl of mine....'

He reads over the lyrics one last time, and pushes himself away from the wooden bench. He hadn't even noticed the sun going down but, as he walks, he notices Elizabeth standing in the doorway watching him, arms crossed over her chest and holding her silk bath robe closed. He walks over to her and hands her the sheet of lyrics. She smiles and pushes it back toward him.

"I'm expecting to hear that on the guitar, Colonel Sheppard," she says, taking on the air of Doctor Elizabeth Weir, Atlantis Base Administrator.

He smiles, straightening up in front of her. "I think it may require some...negotiating, ma'am."

"This kind of negotiating?" she asks, opening her robe and showing off a new, black lace negligee.

He sputters a moment, taking in the beautiful lines and curves of her body that she'd worked so hard to get back, and finally remembers how to smile. "Yeah. I'd say that would do it."

She smirks and turns around, making a beeline for the stairs as she sways her hips.

"Flowers and sunshine...," he murmurs appreciatively and then hurries to catch up with her stride, wrapping his arms around her waist as they climb the stairs together.

01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05 - 06

series fic: [sga] life after atlantis, part 4

linesfade — Thu, 15 Jul 2010 03:01:13 GMT

Title: Life After Atlantis (Or Five Times John Writes a Song for Elizabeth, Plus One She Hasn't Heard)
Author: linesfade
Chapter: 4/6
Summary: Music is the sweetest therapy. John POV.
Pairing: Sparky! XD
Spoilers: A good bit after Adrift. After that, all AU.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Mild sexual innuendos. Nothing too major.
A/N: Musician!John again! I just can't resist...he looks so good with a guitar. ;)
DISCLAIMER: NOT MINE. I'm just playing in the sandbox! :) The songs are not mine, either. I Still Miss You is Keith Anderson, and the rest are all Emerson Drive. <3

For anuna_81 , who wanted more Musician!John. ;) Hope you like it!

Life After Atlantis
(Or Five Times John Writes a Song for Elizabeth, Plus One She Hasn't Heard)

IV. Lucky Man

She looks up at him with an evil glint in her eyes. He holds up a hand to warn her off but, before he can say a word, she pulls the water hose up from the potted plant in her backyard garden and aims it at him, placing a finger into the stream to amplify its reach.

"Lisabeth!" he laughs as he tries to duck and dodge the water fanning out toward him in, seemingly, every direction. Sedge wags her tail and bounces around under his feet, nipping at the millions of droplets of water, and he has to leap over the dog to avoid falling on top of her. Elizabeth gasps from across the yard, as he lands awkwardly on his ankle and falls to the ground in a heap. He lays still on the grass, even when Sedge comes up and licks his face voraciously, nudging him with her nose. He moans as Elizabeth kneels down over him, and Sedge yips excitedly beside them, bouncing from him, to Elizabeth and then back to him seeking attention.

"Sedge!" Elizabeth commands. "Away! Sit!"

The lab obeys, and takes a seat two feet away from her masters, looking on with intense longing and anticipation for the moment when they would call her back over for more attention. He feels Elizabeth's hands fall on his face, and he squints against the sunlight, moaning again for good measure.

"John? John? Are you all right?" she asks, the worry plain in her voice.

In one quick moment, he opens his eyes and smiles up at her wickedly, mirroring the one she'd just given him. In that same instant, he grabs her by her upper arms and rolls her over him, pinning her to the grass with his own weight. She squeals playfully as he rolls her, and slaps him on the shoulder the moment they come to a rest.

"John Sheppard!" she shouts, continuing to playfully slap him on the shoulder. "That is NOT fair!" Each word is punctuated by a slap and he laughs, leaning down to kiss her. Her slaps cease instantly as he claims her lips with his, and she pulls him closer, wrapping her arms around his neck to hold him in place.

The kiss ends slowly, and he places three small kisses on her lips as a punctuation to how he feels about her. She knows, and her lips curl in a lazy smile.

"And that," she says, beaming up at him and tugging at the neck of his shirt. "is really not fair! Come here."

He leans down to kiss her once more and is interrupted by Sedge bouncing over and licking his face from chin to forehead. Elizabeth laughs as he shoves the dog away and pulls her to a sitting position.

"You did that on purpose, Lisbeth," he states in a mock-accusatory tone, winking at her as he gets to his feet and pulls her up after him. She runs her hands over her red sundress as she stands, trying her best to smooth out the wrinkles that laying on the grass has just created. He smiles as he watches her and she bends down to pet Sedge as he picks up his guitar and takes a seat in one of the outdoor patio chairs on the solid stone back porch he'd built the summer before as a birthday present to Elizabeth. He scoots to the edge of the chair and reaches into his pocket, fumbling with not only a guitar pick, but the tiny velvet box he'd been carrying around for the past five days, waiting for the right moment to play his newest song for her.

"Lisbeth," he calls out, and she tosses a ball for Sedge across the large yard before looking over at him. "I've got something I want to play for you...to get your opinion."

She nods, walking across the yard to take a seat in the chair next to him. As she sits, he thinks of what all they've been through together: those years in the Pegasus Galaxy, that year she spent missing and the day she found him on an abandoned planet, the two months she spent cooped up in the SGC and, in those same two months, the times he'd spent fighting tooth-and-nail for her freedom. Finally, it had been granted, and he made the decision to turn in his wings. Not that it had been that hard of a decision. When the IOA had told Elizabeth that she wouldn't be allowed back on Atlantis, except in very extreme circumstances...circumstances like needing a diplomat with her skill set...John had refused to return without her. For his fervor, instead of another black mark on his service record, he'd been promoted to Colonel, and made the newest member of the IOA himself. Being able to sit behind a desk had actually been more than okay with him, because even though the IOA's decision meant that they would no longer be working together, it also meant the thing that had kept them apart for the better part of five years was suddenly absent. Which had led them to where they are now.

He looks her in her eyes and smiles as he pulls the pick out of his pocket, finds his starting chord and begins to play.

"As long as I got me a couple a trees
To hang my hammock underneath in a summer breeze,
I’m a lucky man.
As long as I got me a dream or two,
And a little bit of faith that one day they just might come true,
I’m a lucky man .
As long as I got this old guitar
I’ll be...

"Johnny Cash in my backyard, playing for my biggest fan,
You in your red sundress, hair all down and legs all tan.
As long as you put up with me,
I’ll put the whole world in your hands.
If you believe in me, then I believe,
I’m a lucky man."

She taps her foot along as he sings, and he notices how she blushes as she realizes the song is about her, not just some random song he'd picked up off of the radio or some cheesy thing he'd written to make her laugh. He realizes that he hasn't played a song he'd written for her since that last night on Atlantis, and he makes a promise to himself to write more for her in their life together. She loves it too much for him to neglect it like this.

"As long as they keep on makin’ parts
For two-door eyesore made in America cars,
I’m a lucky man.
As long as I got me just enough gas
To get me down to the fishin’ hole and back,
Yeah, I’m a lucky man.
As long as I got you by my side,
I’ll be...

"Ricky Rudd on Highway 9, drivin’ with my biggest fan,
You in your red sundress, hair all down and legs all tan.
As long as you put up with me,
I’ll put the whole world in your hands.
If you believe in me, then I believe
I’m a lucky man."

A nervousness rises in his throat as he realizes what verse he's about to sing, and he swallows it back. It's too late to turn back now, and he chokes back the bit of fear that threatens to ruin the moment.

"As long as there’s beer and barbecue,
Football games and me and you,
I’ll be..."

He puts the guitar down to one side of his chair and stands up. He reaches into his pocket as he continues singing without the music to back him up, and kneels in front of her, opening the little velvet box to reveal an antique-looking wedding ring set with a carat and a half of diamonds glittering up at the woman he can't live without.

"The man in that photograph, marrying my biggest fan,
You in your wedding dress, hair all up and legs all tan.
As long as you put up with me,
I’ll put the whole world in your hands.
If you believe in me, then I believe...
Yeah, if you believe in me then I believe
I’m a lucky man..."

He looks from the ring to her face and sees shock mixed with excitement there. She opens her mouth and closes it a couple of times before looking at him helplessly, tears of joy welling up in her eyes.

"I love you, Lisbeth," he says. "Marry me?"

She gasps for air, the tears falling freely as she launches out of her chair and wraps her arms around his neck.

"Yes! Yes! Of course!" she laughs as she places a layer of kisses over his face, and pulls away to pull the wedding ring set from the box and tries it on her finger. It's a perfect fit, and she rewards him with the biggest smile he's ever seen on her face.

It's worth it, he thinks as she beams up at him. Everything that he's given up for this moment. It's all been worth it.

01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05 - 06

series fic: [sga] life after atlantis, part 3

linesfade — Thu, 15 Jul 2010 02:33:52 GMT

Title: Life After Atlantis (Or Five Times John Writes a Song for Elizabeth, Plus One She Hasn't Heard)
Author: linesfade
Chapter: 3/6
Summary: Music is the sweetest therapy. John POV.
Pairing: Sparky! XD
Spoilers: A good bit after Adrift. After that, all AU.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Mild sexual innuendos. Nothing too major.
A/N: Musician!John again! I just can't resist...he looks so good with a guitar. ;)
DISCLAIMER: NOT MINE. I'm just playing in the sandbox! :) The songs are not mine, either. I Still Miss You is Keith Anderson, and the rest are all Emerson Drive. <3

For anuna_81 , who wanted more Musician!John. ;) Hope you like it!

Life After Atlantis
(Or Five Times John Writes a Song for Elizabeth, Plus One She Hasn't Heard)

III. Light of Day

He hasn't slept in two days; he won't allow himself to.

He's afraid that if he falls asleep she'll be gone when he wakes, and someone will tell him that all of this was just a dream; that she was never really there. He doesn't think he could handle that.

Woolsey has been on the line with the IOA for the last two days since her return to Atlantis, and John has been doing all that he can think of to keep her here with him. He knew it would be hard...he just hadn't realized how hard it was going to be. The IOA had already prepped a room for her at Area 51 the evening she arrived with him back on Atlantis, and he'd had to hold her continually, constantly reassuring her that he won't allow anything to harm her. He doesn't know how much longer he can keep her safe, and that thought alone breaks his heart.

He sighs and brushes a stray curl back from her face as she sleeps fitfully in his bed. She frowns in her dream and he leans down from being propped up on one elbow, hovering over her protectively, to lay a light kiss on her forehead. Her eyes flutter open, panic registering in the green orbs, and he shushes her, gathering her up in his arms. She takes a deep breath and releases it slowly as she clutches the arm encircling her to her chest, feeling the reassuring presence of the man before her.

"John?" she whispers. "I had The Dream again."

She says 'The Dream' like it should have capital letters, and he closes his eyes and a tear escapes from the corner of one of his eyes. It's been the same dream for months now, she'd told him, every night since her escape. Needles, solitary confinement, torture...he didn't know how she handled it. He didn't know how to handle just knowing about it, but the one thing that he knew helped was him singing to her.

"I'm so sorry, baby," he whispers. "I'm right here for you, Lisbeth. You know that, right?"

She nods against his chest and looks up at him. "I know, John. I know."

Her voice comes out in a whisper, and the tears that race down her cheeks are too much for him to handle. He pulls her to him, placing a series of slow kisses over her cheeks and eyes. He kisses the tears away as they fall, and then moves to her lips. He kisses her slowly, softly, tenderly, and she kisses him back. There are no teeth, no tongues in the kisses he gives her, just a hint of passion without the sense of urgency he desperately wants to impart. He wants her to feel loved, to feel safe in his arms. As soon as she relaxes, he places one hand to her cheek, stroking gently with his thumb before giving her one last, small kiss. He pulls back from her lips and she leans into the reassuring hand on her face, looking almost afraid to speak.

"You want me to sing for you?" he asks her softly, and she nods.

"Please?" she whispers, snuggling closer to his embrace. There's almost an eagerness on her face as he looks down at her to find that her eyes still look panicked.

"Guitar, or no?"

"No," she whispers again, almost as if she's afraid to hear her own voice. "Just sing for me."

He nods as he wraps his arms tighter around her in the bed, spooning against her from behind. He kisses the back of her neck and begins to sing softly into her ear the song he'd written on a napkin that Jennifer had had under her then-empty coffee mug while Elizabeth was being checked over in the infirmary the day he'd brought her home.

"I can't believe you're here with me,
Inside this dream come true.
I'm so far gone, so far lost,
In your arms, in you.

"Here we are again
Between the darkness and the light,
Hoping that this moment
Could be frozen in time."

She shifts against him and sighs, a smile playing over her lips. Her arms latch onto his forearm and she pulls it tighter to her chest again. This time she presses a kiss to his elbow, and he smiles.

"I don't want this night to slip away,
I just wanna lie in your embrace
And never see the sun come up,
Stay lost in your love.

"I want to feel you brush against my skin,
I don't want this feeling to end.
I want to see the moon dance on your face.
I could lie here forever, and never see the light of day."

He moves to press a kiss to her cheek, but she catches his lips with hers before his lips fall on their intended target. She smiles against his lips and he does the same.

"Continue, please?" she asks as a yawn suddenly takes her over, and he nods, laughing softly.

"Dawn is closing in, stars surrendering.
I'm still giving in to you.
As the light arrives, peeking through the blinds,
All that's on my mind is you.

"And I'll have to start the day
Like all my other days begin,
Waiting on the moment when
I can say again...

"I don't want this night to slip away,
I just wanna lie in your embrace
And never see the sun come up,
Stay lost in your love.

"I want to feel you brush against my skin,
I don't want this feeling to end.
I want to see the moon dance on your face.
I could lie here forever, and never see the light of day."

She's asleep by the time the second chorus is over, but he continues anyway, spreading tiny kisses over her temple. This may be the last time he'll have to comfort her like this before her sentence is handed down from the IOA. He'd already made up his mind to leave Atlantis, and the Air Force, if they insist on making her a pin cushion, even for a week. It would be hard on him to leave all of the friends behind he's made here, but for Elizabeth, he would do it without much of a second thought. He kisses her face as he snuggles down against her, feeling her breathing deep and even as she sleeps soundly against him.

"I don't want this night to slip away,
I just wanna lie in your embrace
And never see the sun come up,
Stay lost in your love.

"I want to feel you brush against my skin,
I don't want this feeling to end.
I want to see the moon dance on your face.
I could lie here forever, and never see the light of day."

He watches her sleep and realizes, as he sings the last words of the song, that he would be content to have only her for the rest of his life. He realizes that he loves her...more than Atlantis, and more than anything he's ever loved in his life. Things would be hard, but he would be there for her, no matter what. He would put in a request to be transferred back to the SGC in the morning. If that's where she was going to be, either there or Area 51, then he wanted to be there with her, protocols be damned.

01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05 - 06

series fic: [sga] life after atlantis, part 2

linesfade — Thu, 15 Jul 2010 02:30:51 GMT

Title: Life After Atlantis (Or Five Times John Writes a Song for Elizabeth, Plus One She Hasn't Heard)
Author: linesfade
Chapter: 2/6
Summary: Music is the sweetest therapy. John POV.
Pairing: Sparky! XD
Spoilers: A good bit after Adrift. After that, all AU.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Mild sexual innuendos. Nothing too major.
A/N: Musician!John again! I just can't resist...he looks so good with a guitar. ;)
DISCLAIMER: NOT MINE. I'm just playing in the sandbox! :) The songs are not mine, either. I Still Miss You is Keith Anderson, and the rest are all Emerson Drive. <3

For anuna_81 , who wanted more Musician!John. ;) Hope you like it!

Life After Atlantis
(Or Five Times John Writes a Song for Elizabeth, Plus One She Hasn't Heard)

II. You Still Own Me

He's back on Atlantis when the need to write strikes him again. He can't help but think that it almost feels as if his time back on earth had reawakened the musician in him. He's made time each day, at least two hours, to pick up his guitar and just...play, to recondition his fingers to the strings, the movements it takes to change chords. He hasn't forgotten how to play, but it almost feels like his fingers have. Songs that he used to be able to play without a hitch now frustrate him at how clumsy his fingers are, and there have been MULTIPLE occasions where he's made a comment about how badly he sucks at playing as a result. Teyla has tried to assure him otherwise, but he knows the difference between his ability to play now, and how he played five years ago. It's just not the same, and he knows that he is nowhere near as good.

A melody prickles the back of his mind, and he reaches across his desk for a blank legal pad and pen. His pen hovers over the sheet for a brief moment before the words start pouring out, pen making a light scratching sound as the ballpoint moves across the page. He disguises his lyrics, substituting elements of Earth for elements relating to the Pegasus Galaxy, but he knows what they mean to himself. He sings to himself as he writes, trying to lock in the perfect harmony.

"I put a for sale sign on the front of my truck,
Said call anytime cause I'm always up.
Make an offer,
One that I won't refuse.

"Bought a one-way ticket on a west bound plane,
Four hours later
I was wearing shades in California.
Just hanging loose.

"I didn't pack one memory
And even though I'm free...

"I can go where I wanna go,
Do what I wanna do,
Be who I wanna be,
But, baby, you still own me.

"Say what I wanna say,
Hear what I wanna hear,
Dream what I wanna dream,
But, baby, you still own me."

John gnaws on the end of his pen a moment, wondering if it's healthy to keep writing songs for a woman everyone keeps telling him is lost for good. He decides that he doesn't care and sings the first couple verses and the chorus over again to himself, trying to regain his train of thought. Almost as soon as his pen touches the page again, he's writing, his implement flying across the paper. He scratches out words that don't rhyme, or that otherwise don't fit as he goes along, and smiles to himself at the fact that this song is coming together faster than the last.

"I was up all night 'cause I couldn't sleep
Instead of staring at the ceiling,
I hit the beach, took a long walk.
It didn't help me much.

"Sat down in the sand
with a handful of shells,
Kicked off my shoes, while me, myself, and I
Watched the sun come up.

"Looking out across the sea,
It's finally dawned on me...

"I can go where I wanna go,
Do what I wanna do,
Be who I wanna be,
But, baby, you still own me.

"Say what I wanna say,
Hear what I wanna hear,
Dream what I wanna dream,
But, baby, you still own me.

"Baby I'm not in your arms,
But you still own my heart.

"I can go where I wanna go,
Do what I wanna do,
Be who I wanna be,
But, baby, you still own me.

"Say what I wanna say,
Hear what I wanna hear,
Dream what I wanna dream,
But, baby, you still own me."

The chime of the door startles him out of his zone of concentration as he finishes the lyrics to the song, and he frowns.

"Who is it?"

"John? It is I," Teyla's voice comes muffled through the door, and he sighs. "Rodney sent me to ask if you were ready to leave."

John grumbles to himself. He had completely forgotten about their "team building trip." They would be heading off to one of the seemingly-abandoned planets in the Pegasus Galaxy for he and his team to spend the night alone, without distraction. It was the latest on a list of ridiculous, time-wasting efforts put into place by the new commander of the Atlantis Expedition, Richard Woolsey. It was his goal to make sure every team was functioning well, and without animosity toward each other. John had tried his hardest not to laugh at the absurdity of the request, given how tight his SG team actually was.

Despite how stupid he felt the idea was, he had decided to go along with it, if only for the sake of a break and a day off. John recalled that he'd hated camping as a child, but somehow this felt different. This felt more like a vacation than any of his family's camping trips he'd ever been on.

As they step through the gate, his guitar and writing pad in hand, he looks around at their encampment and takes a deep breath of the clean air. 'Earth never smelled like this,' he thinks as they make the half-mile trek to the place that they had, a week back, marked as an approved campsite.

The evening wanes quickly as the team talks about everything and nothing. Eventually, Ronon and Teyla venture off to find suitable wood and kindling to build a fire, and John pulls his guitar case over to him. The guitar rests easily within his hands and he begins strumming, humming his new lyrics to himself as he plays. He starts over six times before he finds the perfect melody, and Ronon and Teyla have returned by the time his song is finished. As the fire dances into the sky, Ronon looks him over, wondering to himself where this sudden need for music has come from.

"What were you just playing, John?" Teyla asks, and Rodney wants to know as well.

"Yeah, come on, Sheppard play it for us," McKay chimes in, as he sets his PAD aside and looks at John expectantly.

He sighs, but nods. "Okay," he says and begins to play. He closes his eyes and sings from his heart, something his mother had taught him when he was little. The timbre of his voice echoes in the distance, bouncing back at him from the woods like an organic stage monitor, and he pours every last bit of himself into the song.

He's halfway through the song when he hears a twig snap in the distance. He knows Ronon hears it, too, when the former runner turns his head in the direction of the sound. John doesn't stop playing, though, figuring it's nothing more than a forest animal wandering around.

He closes his eyes for a moment as he segues back into the chorus, and when he opens them, he spots someone in the far distance. No one else has noticed yet, so he keeps singing and playing. He thinks she's only in his mind, a ghost haunting his heart and his memories just like she does his dreams...until Rodney sits up straight. He sees her, too.

The guitar falls to one side with a none-too-friendly twang of the strings as he leaps to his feet. His first few steps are awkward, his knees almost knocking together out of a mix of disbelief and excitement. She stumbles over to him, her appearance ragged and tired, and collapses to the ground at his feet. John all but rips the leather coat from his shoulders and sinks to the cold ground in front of her, wrapping the warm leather around her shoulders.

She looks up at him with green eyes filled with tears and shadows, and he doesn't know how much of her is left in there until she grips the hand that has come up to touch her cheek.

"Elizabeth?!" he whispers, and she launches herself into his arms, the jacket falling forgotten onto the ground. He clutches her tightly to him like there's nothing left in the world for him except her. He doesn't care that Teyla has already taken off for the gate to alert Atlantis to what has just occurred, and though something in the back of his mind is screaming for someone to call her back, he says nothing. He is content to hold the woman in his arms and feather light kisses over her hair. There will be a time to deal with what is to come later, for now, he's simply going to give her all of the love he can.

01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05 - 06

series fic: [sga] life after atlantis, part 1

linesfade — Thu, 15 Jul 2010 02:21:05 GMT

Title: Life After Atlantis (Or Five Times John Writes a Song for Elizabeth, Plus One She Hasn't Heard)
Author: linesfade
Chapter: 1/6
Summary: Music is the sweetest therapy. John POV.
Pairing: Sparky! XD
Spoilers: A good bit after Adrift. After that, all AU.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Mild sexual innuendos. Nothing too major.
A/N: Musician!John again! I just can't resist...he looks so good with a guitar. ;)
DISCLAIMER: NOT MINE. I'm just playing in the sandbox! :) The songs are not mine, either. I Still Miss You is Keith Anderson, and the rest are all Emerson Drive. <3

For anuna_81 , who wanted more Musician!John. ;) Hope you like it!

Life After Atlantis
(Or Five Times John Writes a Song for Elizabeth, Plus One She Hasn't Heard)

I. I Still Miss You

His pen dances over the paper of the legal pad in front of him, dozens of scribbles taking shape into common words as the ink flows from the tip of the pen.

It's been years since he's written a song. Of course, as with any writer, he has jotted down a few stray lines here and there, but nothing is ever likely to come of them. This time, though, the words just won't stop flowing. He knows that it's all because of his muse, the woman that to this day haunts him every night in his dreams. She is a constant comfort there in his place of refuge, telling him that she's all right, that she's still waiting for him to rescue her. And every morning when he wakes, he smells her perfume around him, hovering like another small reminder that her place is here. With him.

He'd returned to Earth two months ago after requesting a lengthy leave of absence. For his sanity, the Air Force had agreed. He had been growing more and more despondent over the last few months, and everyone on Atlantis knew that it had to do with Elizabeth. She had been his sanity, her balcony his only source of refuge in a maddening cycle of life, love and loss, and now...even she was gone.

He hums the tune to himself as he writes, picking up his pen only long enough to re-read what he's just jotted down before he's at it again. Before he knows it, the lyrics are finished and he's picking up his guitar, thumbing at the strings, the fingers on his left hand flying over the frets on the neck of the guitar as he tries to find the perfect melody. He frowns as he fails to find the right sound and looks up, a thought suddenly striking him.

Half a beer sits unfinished on the bar top in his kitchen, long since forgotten, as he puts the guitar away and moves over to the piano in the corner of his spare bedroom. Nothing he can coax out of the guitar seems to fit, but in his mind, he can hear the right notes emanating from the black-lacquered instrument.

The old baby grand was his mother's, the one thing he'd fought for out of all of her belongings after her death. Nothing else had mattered to him, but the piano, it was special. It was that bench he'd been sitting on the first time he heard Johnny Cash sing, those pieces of ivory that he had caressed when he realized that his first TRUE love was music, and underneath those black finished legs and its furniture cover was where he retreated to during his mother's funeral reception to cry, because men did NOT cry. Or so his father had told him. Right now, he wasn't so sure that his father had been right.

He places his fingers over the familiar, well-worn instrument for the first time in...years, and he lets his fingers slide over the polished material as if remembering the feel of the skin of a long-lost lover. As he settles his fingers over the keys, it dawns on him how truly right it is that he should write this song here, on this old hunk of ivory, wood and strings. Just as years ago, when this piano seemed to be the one source of relief when he had no constant in his life, here he was again, letting his emotions pour out onto the keys and create a soundtrack to this moment in his life. He allows himself a bittersweet smile and begins to play, finally finding the right notes, the right rhythm, and the perfect melody.

:x:

He hadn't played an open mic night since he was in his twenties, but he takes the stage like he's been doing this his whole life and hands his sheet music to the house pianist. The man nods and John pulls the guitar strap over his head, letting his fingers come to rest on the proper chord to begin.

The house musicians begin to play and he takes a deep breath, praying that he'll be strong enough to sing in front of all of these nameless people, strong enough to sing for her. After all, these lyrics were for her: the one woman in his life he'd thought he'd never lose, the one woman he'd sworn to protect through all kinds of hell, and the last person in his world that he thought he'd let slip through his fingers. He silences the thoughts that race through his mind and begins to sing.

"I changed the presets in my truck
So those old songs don't sneak up.
They still find me and remind me,
Yeah, you come back that easy.

"Tried restaurants I've never been to,
Ordered new things off the menu
That I never tried cause you didn't like,
But two drinks in and you're by my side..."

He felt a tremor of emotion run up his spine, and he shrugs it away. 'Not now,' he begs of himself. 'You can lose it later, Sheppard. But not here, not now.'

"I've talked to friends, talked to myself,
Talked to God,
I've prayed like hell.
But I still miss you.

"I've tried sober, I've tried drinking,
I've been strong
And I've been weak
And I still miss you.

"I've done everything to move on
Like I'm supposed to.
I'd give anything
For one more minute with you.
I still miss you.
I still miss you, baby."

John takes a deep breath and concentrates on playing his guitar, hoping that the memory of Elizabeth won't come in and take him over during his performance. Her memory haunts him in everything that he does, but right now, it seems, she's waiting. For what, he doesn't know, so he convinces himself to continue his song. Something inside him just wants to bolt right now and leave the song on the stage, but he can't. He has to finish what he's started...for her.

"I never knew till you were gone
How many pages you were on.
It never ends, I keep turning them,
Line after line you're there again.

"I don't know how to let you go,
You're so deep down in my soul.
I feel helpless, so hopeless.
It's a door that never closes.
No, I don't know how to do this.

"I've talked to friends, talked to myself,
Talked to God,
I've prayed like hell,
But I still miss you.

"I've tried sober, I've tried drinking,
I've been strong
And I've been weak
And I still miss you.

"I've done everything to move on
Like I'm supposed to.
I'd give anything
For one more minute with you.
I still miss you.
I still miss you, yeah.

"I've talked to friends, talked to myself,
Talked to God,
I've prayed like hell,
But I still miss you.

"I've tried sober, I've tried drinking,
I've been strong
And I've been weak
And I still miss you.

"I've done everything to move on
Like I'm supposed to.
I'd give anything
For one more minute with you.
I still miss you.
I still miss you.

"I still miss you, baby.
I still miss you, yeah."

As the song ends, the surge of emotion is enough to send a tear rolling down his cheek. He wipes it away quickly, trying his hardest to hide it from the throng of people sitting in the chairs on the front row.

The crowd is silent for only a split-second before they burst out in cheers and applause, but no matter how warm a reception the song receives, or how many slaps on the back he gets as he steps off of the stage and leaves the club, he still feels hollow, his soul still cold and empty, because no matter how well the day ends, Elizabeth still won't be there to hold him at night.

01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05 - 06