Archive of Our Own ^beta

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Hello, my lovely readers!

It's finally here! This one-shot book is dedicated to one-shots from Criminal Case!

In this book, you can request and read one-shots about characters from Criminal Case. Feel free to submit a request at any time for a story you would like to see me write. However, there are some things I will and will not write about, so please see the lists below.

Things I WILL write:

• Fluff
• Romance
  • Canon ships from my story. But I'm not entirely opposed to writing some non-canon ships... Within reason!
• Angst
• Hurt/comfort
• Death (canon/non-canon characters)
  • Murder, suicide, accidental, etc.
• Alternative Universes
• "What if?" Scenarios
• Smut/NSFW
  • Only consensual sex. I've never written smut before, so if you give me this request, don't be surprised if it takes a while for me to write. Also, if I try to write it and I don't like it, I reserve the right to move this down to the "do not write" section
• Abuse
  • I will write about implying it, but I might not write about it happening. Depends on the situation

Things I will NOT write about:

• Rape/sexual assault
  • I will write about implying it but not write about it happening
• Incest
• Pedophilia
• Self-inserts (aka stories that use the y/n thing in the palace of the main character's name; I hate those types of stories; the cringe drives me insane!)
• Age regression, especially sexual age play!
• Daddy/Mommy kink or fetish...Please don't ask me to write this; the CC characters have enough parental issues!

Things I will CONSIDER writing about but may choose not to:

• Genderbend AUs (it's not really my thing; I only like it in rare instances)
• Other people's OCs unless they appear in my story (I'm uncomfortable writing about other people's OCs as I'm nervous I won't be able to do the characters justice)

As the writer, I reserve the right to change these lists at anytime. If I come across a suggestion for something I'm uncomfortable writing, I will tell you and add it to the list. Likewise, I will do the same for things I will write about.

There are also some other rules that I need to outline before we start:

Other Rules:

• Respect the one-shots people request; if you don't like it, move on! There's enough hatred in this world, and I strive to make my stories a safe space for my readers. That means hate comments will NOT be tolerated! If you are being disrespectful to someone in the comments, I will delete your comment!
• Do not harass me to update this book! My mainstream series will ALWAYS be my priority; as such, do not be surprised if the updates for this book are very spread out!
• Please don't repetitively ask me for the same one-shot. I plan to add suggestions to a list and cross them off as I post to keep track of what I have or have not written. So if you're not seeing your request (and it doesn't fall into the will not write category), do not worry; I haven't forgotten about it!
• Some suggestions might not be written if it is something I plan to have happen in my mainstream series
  • Likewise, I might wait to write a one-shot if it relates to a future event, even if it is not "shown" in a mainstream story
• I reserve the right to refuse a one-shot request, so please be respectful of my choices

I think that's everything I wanted to cover, but if I forgot something, I'll add it later! And if anyone has suggestions for other rules, let me know!

I'll see you all in the one-shots!

Astra-Galaxy✨

Chapter Text

The day's events finally hit Nathan, making him feel like he'd just gone another round against Jonah. After dealing with the formalities of resigning as Director of U.N.I.T., the paperwork needed to let Dean visit Fili in the hospital, and making a plan for searching the Bureau's plane with Rosarie, he was ready to go home and sleep. And this time, Avi and Oberon would be waiting for him.

He couldn't help but smile as he turned onto the street where Oberon's- or maybe he should say their house was. As the home got closer, he could see that the front porch light was on, and the lights in the front living room were still lit. He pulls into the driveway and stops beside Oberon's Jeep, putting his car in park and killing the engine.

With the keys in hand, he locks the car and walks to the front door. Oberon had given him the spare key earlier, so he inserted it into the lock, twisting it open before stepping inside. Once he stands in the entranceway, he closes and locks the door, then puts his coat and boots into their designated spots on the organizer against the wall.

He quietly rounds the corner of the short hall and smiles at the sight that greeted him. Oberon was lying on the couch asleep with one arm hanging off, his fingers brushing the floor. His feet hung just off the edge of the armrest while his head was on a plush pillow. Avi was lying on top of his father, sleeping soundly while holding his stuffed kangaroo and koala close to his chest. A blanket was pulled over the two, but it was starting to slide off. Looking at the TV, Nathan saw that the title screen for the Lion King was playing; the two must have fallen asleep during a movie marathon, and the film restarted.

Nathan approaches the sleeping pair and slowly slides his arms under Avi, lifting him off Oberon. The boy mumbled in his sleep, but once Nathan had settled him in his arms, Avi relaxed against his father. A noise from the couch alerts Nathan that Oberon has woken up, and he looks down to see hazy green eyes blinking at him.

"Don' take m'boy again…." Oberon mumbles, tiredly reaching out, not awake enough to process what is happening.

Nathan smiles bittersweet, "it's just me, Oberon, it's Naga."

"Aga?" he yawns, "you… You came back? S'asn't a dream?"

"No, this is real," he promises, "Avi and I came back… But he needs to go to bed, and you do too."

He rubs his eyes, yawing aging, "m'k… m'commin…."

Oberon fumbles around the coffee table for the remote to turn off the TV. He drops the remote on the couch and hauls himself to his feet, yawning while he trails after his husband. He flicks the light switch to turn off the lights, and Nathan guides him up the stairs.

"Which room is Avi's?" Nathan whispers once they reach the second-floor landing.

Oberon rubs his eyes, "this one…."

He brings his boys over to the left hallway and opens the second door, revealing the bedroom he had made for his son. The floors were light, laminated hardwood with a large, fluffy green rug in the center. The walls were painted white with a red accent wall, dark brown trim and matching closet doors. Poppy had helped him paint the opening line of sheet music for Avi's favourite lullaby, Somewhere Over the Rainbow, above the bed.

The furniture was dark brown like the trim and doors, with the bed and nightside tables against the red wall opposite the entrance. The closet was to the left of the bed, and to the right was a large window with a built-in bench. Along the wall where the entrance was, there was a set of green bean bag chairs, a bookcase with a small desk attached to the side of it, and a chest for toys. The room was filled with Avi's things from Concordia, plus some new items Oberon had bought.

Nathan walked over to the bed and strategically pulled the dark red comforter back. He lays Avi on the mattress and removes the blanket before pulling the sheets and comforter over his son. Avi cuddled into the sheets with Roo and Lala held tightly in his arms.

Nathan strokes the boy's hair before giving him a goodnight kiss. He quietly walks to the door where Oberon is waiting, closing it behind them. It looked like his husband had woken up while he put their son to bed, but he could still see the tiredness in those green eyes he missed looking into.

"So… Where's our bed?" Nathan inquiries.

Oberon smiles, "I'd thought you'd never ask…."

"Not tonight, please," he requested as Oberon led him to the other side of the house, "my arm still hurts, and I just want to sleep…."

"I wasn't even thinking about it," he promises.

"... I'm not sure if I believe you or not."

"I swear, it's the truth. That reunion can wait. Tonight, I just want to cuddle with my not-dead husband."

Nathan chuckles as Oberon opens the door to the master bedroom. The floors were the same as the ones in Avi's room, but the walls were painted white with a blue accent wall. The large bed was in the middle of the accent wall, with end tables on both sides. To the right of the bed was a large closet, while on the left was a wide window with a built-in bench. On the other end of the wall with the entrance was the door leading to the ensuite bathroom, and between the two doors was a dresser with shelves framing the rectangular mirror. The furniture was all in matching black-stained wood, and the bed had dark purple, almost black, sheets and pillows.

Nathan could see some of their things from Concordia around the room, like his jewelry box on the dresser, Oberon's guitar leaning against the window seat, and framed pictures of their family.

"I know you didn't have time to get your stuff from the hotel," Oberon says as he walks over to the dresser and opens the second drawer, "so you can borrow my clothes until we go tomorrow."

He produced a set of pyjamas, a purple long-sleeved shirt, and black pants. Nathan takes the offered clothes, and Oberon goes back into the drawer to find something for him to sleep in. Nathan peels off his dirty kevlar and winces as he moves his injured arm.

Oberon paused as he removed his shirt, "are you alright?"

"Yeah, just stretched my arm too far," Nathan says, biting his lip as he pulls the clean shirt over his head.

"Are you bleeding again?" he asks in concern, pulling on his pants.

He shakes his head, "no, it didn't even need stitches… It just hurts."

"If you're sure…" he replies, not entirely convinced. He puts on the tanktop he had found, "you promise it was just a graze?"

"I promise, and if you don't believe me, Angela will also tell you that there wasn't a bullet in my arm," he assures with a smile.

Oberon returns the smile before falling into the bed, moaning in relief into the pillows. Nathan chuckles at his husband's antics, climbing on to lie beside him. He runs his fingers through the layered blond hair, working out a couple of knots he finds.

"I missed you so much, Naga," Oberon mumbles into the pillow.

Nathan hums, "I did too… I thought I was hallucinating when I saw you on the plane…."

He turns his head to smirk at his husband, "then I guess it's a good thing Kavi banned you from making hallucinogenic drugs…."

He rolls his eyes, "he only found out because you took some of them!"

"I thought it was juice! Besides, you're the one who decided to leave it in the fridge!" he argues.

"Because it needed to be kept cold! And I had put a label on it!"

"Oh, that's what that funny emoji meant?"

"Unbelievable…"

“You love me! And you're stuck with me forever!" Oberon sang.

"Can I get a refund?" Nathan deadpanned.

"Nope!" he pops the p, "purchase was final sale! No refunds or exchanges!"

"Well, I suppose there were worse models I could have chosen…" he teased.

He gasps, "blasphemy! And here I thought it was love at first sight!"

"Try love at first saving my ass from a burning building," he rolls his eyes, "I'm so happy you're alive…."

"Me too…" he smiles, "cuddle time?"

Nathan smiled as he nodded. Oberon's face lit up, and he awkwardly maneuvered on the bed to get under the sheets. He pulls out his hearing aids and puts them on their chargers to be ready for the morning. Nathan follows his husband's lead and gets into the bed, putting his glasses on his bedside table. Oberon makes himself comfortable on the pillows and opens his arms. Nathan accepts the invention and burrows into the older man's warmth, laying his head on his husband's chest.

"I never thought I would get to hold you again," Oberon whispers into Nathan's hair, "not until the day I died and joined you two in the afterlife…."

"Well, looks like we cheated death," Nathan jokes, "I guess some higher power decided it wasn't time to break us apart…."

"Amen to that," he agrees, rubbing Nathan's back, "I'm sorry I tried to kill myself… I just wanted to be with you and Avi again…."

"You have nothing to apologize for," he said firmly, "if I had thought I lost you and Avi that night, I would have tried to kill myself too… Do I wish you hadn't tried? Yes, but I will never hate you for that decision, Oberon. You know better than anyone that I don't let people's past define them…."

Oberon held Nathan closer, taking one of his hands with his free one to softly run his thumb over a scar on his husband’s inner wrist. He'll never forget hearing the story behind the matching scars on Nathan’s wrists or how much he had cried, knowing there was a chance he might have never gotten to meet such a wonderful human being.

"I'm glad we both failed at killing ourselves," Oberon says, kissing Nathan's forehead, "can we just stay like this forever?"

"What, like in bed?" Nathan chuckled.

"Yeah, no worries or danger or crazy criminals trying to kill us," he hums, "just you, me, and all the cuddles we could ever need… Avi can join us too."

"I don't think there's a force in the world strong enough to keep him away from us," he jokes, playing with Oberon's earrings, "do you remember, after he was born, how much he hated it when we weren't holding him?"

He groans, "he would cry until one of us picked him up… how something so tiny had so many tears and such strong lungs, I'll never know!"

"Tiny?! Clearly, you weren't the one who gave birth to him, or you would know he wasn't tiny!" he glares.

"I was still there when he was born; you nearly broke my hand!" he reminded him, "he wasn't that big!"

Nathan glares harder.

Oberon gulps, "but what do I know? I didn't carry him for nine months and go through 12 hours of labour like you did!"

Nathan smirks, "it was 18, actually, but good answer… I'm just thankful your family's curse of twins and triplets went to your brother!"

"Careful, if we ever try for another one, it might get us!" he warns, "if you want to try again, that is."

"Right now, I just want to enjoy my time with you and Avi…" he smiles, "but ask me again someday, and we'll see…"

"Yeah… That sounds like a great idea…" he agrees.

The couple went silent as they continued treasuring being together again. They might not know what the future has in store for them, but they defied the odds and found their way back to each other. Life could throw its worse at them, but as long as they were together, Nathan and Oberon would face every challenge that came their way.

Chapter Text

Jonah couldn't believe that Anders had convinced him to go clothes shopping! And the younger man actually thought he would be able to get him into a suit! Anders quickly gave up on that idea after the intense glare Jonah gave him…

But that didn't stop the Turk from scouring the racks of clothes in every store he dragged the African to. Jonah felt like they had been shopping for hours, but every time he checked his watch, only a few minutes had passed since the last check-in.

"If you keep checking your watch, I will confiscate it!" Anders vows when he sees Jonah checking it for the 30th time.

"We've been here forever!" Jonah groans, "we're never going to find anything! Why can I just wear my normal clothes?"

He rolls his eyes, "I don't know what planet you think this is, but on Earth, people don't normally wear bulletproof vests on a first date!"

He blushed, "I guess you're right… But will you hurry up, please? If we take any longer, I'll miss the date!"

"Relax, my gun-wielding friend!" he beams, holding a pile of clothes draped over his arm, "I have the perfect outfit for your date with Marina!"

"Great!" he made to go towards the cash registers, "let's go pay and-"

Anders grabs him by his collar, "not so fast, lover-boy! You need to try these on first!"

Jonah groans as Anders drags him further into the store to where the changing rooms are. The weapons expert was shoved into an empty room with the clothes and stood in the middle after the investigator had closed the door. Knowing Anders would sit outside the door and wait until Jonah came out wearing the clothes, the ex-hitman placed the clothes on a shelf before stripping off his uniform. Piece by piece, he puts on the outfit; he had to admit, it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be.

First was the pants; they were dark gray dress pants with loose cuffs and a fitted waist. Anders must have trusted that he owned a plain belt since he hadn't provided one for the fashion show. Then there was the black button-up shirt. It was borderline snug around his chest, but his movements weren't restricted, nor were the buttons threatening to pop, so he figured it was alright.

He'd convinced Anders not to give him a tie and to let him wear the plain black shoes he already owned, so he steps out of the dressing room, and Anders looks up from watching some children petting Hunter to take in Jonah's look.

Anders nods, "not bad… Tuck in the shirt for the date, and you'll be all set!"

"Is it too much?" Jonah worries, looking at himself in the mirror, "or is it not enough?"

"You're just going to dinner at a local restaurant, not a five-star bistro in Paris!" he teases.

He frowns, "how do you know that? Marina hasn't said where she wants to go yet!"

The agent holds up his phone, "who do you think helped her pick the place?"

"When did you even have the time?"

"I'm an excellent multitasker."

Jonah couldn't argue with that logic. He also couldn't argue that he didn't look good in the outfit Anders had picked. It was simple, but it was his style, and he was sure Marina would approve. He knew the Russian would look a million times better than him in anything she wore, and he looked forward to seeing her.

Jonah ducked back into the dressing room and changed into his regular clothes so that they could buy the new ones. After paying for the clothes, Anders and Jonah return to the plane to get the ex-soldier ready for his date.

Later…

Jonah waited nervously outside the plane for Marina to arrive for their date. He hopes it will go well and that she'll consider saying yes to a second date. Jonah couldn't remember the last time he had been so nervous, but Anders and Carmen's pep talks had helped calm him… A little bit.

He looks up when he hears the clicking of heels approaching. His jaw nearly drops when he sees the Russian walking down the plane's stairs. Marina was gorgeous; her red hair was pulled into a half-updo with a gold hair clip keeping it in place, and elegant make-up adorned her face. She wore a flowing, deep red dress that was longer in the back and had dropped sleeves, black heels with straps on her ankles, and a black shawl draped over her shoulders. She also wore gold earrings, a necklace, and a black and gold clutch strapped to her wrist.

Jonah felt like he had just won the lottery of life.

Marina stops before him, "are you ready to go?"

Jonah snaps out of his daze, "huh? Oh! Yes! I'm ready! Are you?"

She smiles, "I wouldn't be here if I weren't…."

"Oh, right…" he chuckles sheepishly, "here, let me get the door for you!"

Jonah opens the passenger door to the Jeep, and Marina climbs into the seat. Closing the door, Jonah hurried to the driver's side, got behind the wheel, and drove to the restaurant. It was a local Thai restaurant in the heart of Bangkok with plenty of great reviews and fantastic food.

The hostess greeted them at the door, and Marina gave them her name for the reservation. They were escorted to their table and left with the menus to review. They flip open the menus and look through the options.

"Everything looks so good," Jonah commented, "I don't get to eat Thai food often, but I never say no to a bowl of Thai boat noodles!"

"Their Khao Pad looks delicious," Marina remarks, admiring the picture, "would you like to share an order of steamed dumplings?"

"Sure!" he replies as their waiter arrives with some drinks and takes their order.

After the waiter left to give the kitchen their requests, Jonah and Marina lapsed into a comfortable silence as they listened to the chatter around the room.

"So… When did you join the Bureau?" Jonah asks, attempting to make conversation while they wait.

"Five years ago," Marina answers, taking a sip of water, "Chief Ripley was impressed by my work in political corruption and offered me a job."

"I've read some of your papers; they're impressive," he praised.

She looked surprised, "you have? Psychology doesn't seem like your kind of thing…."

"Well, most of the words went over my head," he admits embarrassedly, "but you really do know your psychology! Not that I ever thought you didn't, of course!"

"Thank you," she smiles, "and while your expertise in weaponry is more… Dangerous, it is impressive what you can determine about a person from simply their handgun!"

"Yeah, a person's choice of weapon says a lot about them! Like how Anders prefers a sword to a gun, it shows that he fights better face to face than from a distance! Unlike Jack, who sticks to his handgun," he rambles, "there's even Fili who, if he could, would choose his magic over a weapon; he likes fighting with something he can predict and rely on, something a gun lacks since they can jam or misfire!"

"Fascinating…" Marina leans forward in interest, "what about me? What does my weapon say about me?"

"Well, I've only ever seen you use a handgun, so you like the comfort of a weapon you're familiar with, which is why you avoid rifles or shotguns," Jonah explains, "but you still don't want to be too close to your target like Anders does. You want the safety distance provides but still be able to look your target in the eye!"

"And where you're a sniper, I imagine that would mean you prefer to be far away from your targets," she deduced.

"I can handle close combat, but you're right about me being more comfortable the further away I am," he confirms, "as sick as it might sound, I like being able to watch my targets and wait for the right moment before striking. Close combat leaves too much room for innocent casualties or unnecessary damage."

"I had never considered that," she confessed as their order of steamed dumplings arrived.

"Thank you," he says to the waiter, "yeah, in times of war, people just think of the bloodshed but don't realize that some soldiers try to do everything they can to minimize the damage…. So, what do you like to do besides psychology?"

"I enjoy reading, mostly classic literature, but fantasy novels are a weakness for me," Marina revealed, "my Uncle Vuk used to read me fairy tales when I was a child; their hidden meanings are intriguing."

"Aren't Russian fairy tales really dark?" Jonah questions, popping a dumpling into his mouth.

"Yes, but many classic stories are darker than people remember," she hums, reaching for a dumpling, "my favourite was Father Frost. And while not a traditional fairy tale story, I love reading The Nutcracker."

"Didn't I hear from Anders that you performed in that play once?" he recalled.

She nods, "I was the Sugar Plum Fairy. I used to perform every Christmas as a teenager, but I gave it up after going to University. I occasionally practice for fun, but I don't know if I'll ever perform again."

"Well, if you ever decide to put on your dancing shoes again, I'm sure everyone on the team would love to watch you on stage," he replies, "me included!"

"I'll be sure to get everyone tickets if that ever happens," she promised with a soft smile, "what about you? What hobbies do you have?"

"Well, besides cleaning weapons, I like learning about weapons history and ancient fighting styles," he answers as their food arrives, "it's cool to see how humans and their weapons have evolved over time!"

"I didn't take you for a history enthusiast," Marina remarked as her bowl was placed before her.

Jonah chuckles, picking up his chopsticks, "I'm no Dupont, but I know my way around a library!"

"What have you read about the Russian weapon sovnya?" she asks.

"A sovnya? Well, it's a traditional polearm, similar to the glaive, with a curved, single-edged blade mounted on the end of a long pole. It was used by late-medieval Muscovite cavalry and-"

Jonah continued his rambling as they ate their food. Marina listened with interest as he explained the history of the sovnya and even some of Russia's war history. She interjected a few times to correct or add to what he was saying. Soon, the conversation evolved into other topics, like comparing favourite foods, movies, and books; they even talked about their jobs before the Bureau. Of course, Jonah only mentioned his time in the military, and Marina avoided the topic of the Russian President's embezzlement.

Marina had to privately confess the date was better than she thought it would be. She had been apprehensive at first to pursue a relationship with Jonah because of the shooting, but after going out for tea together in Bhutan, she began to look past the man's hitman history. He was smart, corny, and very loyal. Carmen and Anders were right about her needing to give Jonah a chance to prove himself and let him try to earn her forgiveness.

She was already considering future date ideas, and though she didn't want to rush into a relationship with Jonah, she couldn't help but feel an excitement she hadn't felt since before university. Her Uncle Vuk would be angry when he found out she was dating her almost-assassin, but she was sure she could make him come around… After all, he had a boyfriend she could tease him about in retaliation. This new relationship was scary but exciting at the same time for Marina, and no matter the outcome, she knew she had her family and friends to support her.

Later, on the Bureau's plane…

Jonah slows down as he drives the Jeep up the garage ramp of the plane. He parks the vehicle and kills the engine before climbing out, Marina doing the same from the passenger side. Jonah presses the bottom on the wall, and the ramp lifts to seal the garage shut.

"So… The restaurant was really good; you have great taste!" Jonah complimented.

Marina smiles, "thank you. You can also thank Carmen; she told me you liked Thai food!"

He chuckled, "I guess Anders wasn't the only one helping you behind my back!"

"Well, I needed to make sure we both enjoyed our date," she hums, twirling a lock of hair, "and I really did, Jonah; it was lovely."

"It was?!" he exclaimed, blushing when he realized how that sounded, "I mean, yeah! Me too! I had a great time! Would you… Like to do it again sometime?"

"I would," she smiles, approaching the man, "I'll see you in the morning."

Marina channels her ballerina past and snaps her ankles to be on her tiptoes. She quickly kissed Jonah's cheek before walking away to her room for the night. Jonah stood frozen like a statue as his brain caught up to what had just happened and touched the spot she had kissed.

"YES!!" Jonah celebrates, pumping his fist.

He jumps when he hears a deep chuckle from the doorway. He spins around and finds Fili leaning against the door frame, arms crossed and smirking.

"So I take it your date was a success?" Fili presumes teasingly.

Jonah blushed, "how long have you been standing there?"

"Not long, but I don't need to be present when I have these," he replies, stroking the petals of the flower growing on the wall beside him, "a kiss on the cheek, eh?"

"You're almost as bad as Anders…" he moans, "speaking of, where is he?"

"Probably hounding Marina for details about the date," he chuckles, "I promised him I'd talk to you when you got back so he wouldn't overwhelm you. Anders can be… A lot, for some people!"

He shorts, "you're probably the expert on that one…."

Fili beams, "probably… So, how did it go?"

"It went great!" Jonah says dreamily, "we talked about all kinds of things! Did you know she did ballet for 16 years? She started when she was four! And she used to do piano recitals too! We shared steamed dumplings. Did you know she likes Thai food? And we found out we like some of the same actors and-"

Fili nods along as Jonah rambles about his date. He'd never seen the weapons expert so excited unless it involved a new weapon, of course! It was nice to see the older man so happy, and he hoped the future dates with Marina would go just as well.

"It sounds like we should be expecting a second date," Fili commented, interrupting Jonah after several minutes of the African talking.

"You think so?" Jonah asks.

The Irishman nods, "aye! If Marina's opinion about your date is even just half as enthusiastic as yours, there'll be plenty of dates with her in your future!"

“I hope you’re right… Because I really like her!” he confessed giddily.

“I have a feeling you two will be joining Anders and me for double dates in no time!”

Meanwhile, in Marina’s bedroom…

“So… How was your date?” Anders asks.

The agent had been waiting for Marina to return in the profiler's bedroom. He was lying on Marina’s bed, stomach down and holding his jaw in his hands. He swung his feet back and forth while Loki was stretched across his lower back.

Marina throws her clutch at his face, “please, make yourself comfortable in my bed!”

Anders turns his head so the purse wouldn't hit his face, “don’t worry, I am! So, the date?”

“It went well; Jonah can be quite the gentleman!” she remarks, standing in front of her vanity to remove her jewelry and make-up, “he told me he’s read some of my psychology papers!”

“I think I caught him with one once,” he recalled, “and a gentleman, you say? He must have been watching me!”

She rolls her eyes, “so modest, Anders… But he was surprisingly lovely. We even went for a walk and found a bakery for dessert afterwards!”

“He has discovered the way to your heart!” he teased, watching her pull her red hair out of its do and brush it out, “if he keeps giving you sweets, he’ll put you into a sugar coma!”

“Thankfully, I know how to handle my sugar intake,” she smirks, kicking off her heels.

“So, did he earn a second date?” Anders inquired, Loki chirping in curiosity.

“I think he has,” Marina smiles, feeling her heart flutter, “now… Get out of my room so I can change!”

“Okay! Okay!” he stumbles off the bed, “I’ve got a Fili waiting for me in my room anyways!”

“Then go entertain him!” she teased.

He winks, “you don't have to tell me twice!”

Chapter Text

Vuk sat in the chair at Aslan’s bedside, reading a book while waiting for his friend to wake up. Why was he waiting for Aslan to wake up, you might ask? Well, his idiot of a friend had gone out on a mission, alone, might he add, and gotten shot when the criminal tried to escape. Sure, Aslan had still managed to catch the thief despite the bleeding hole in his leg, but that wasn't the point. The point was that Aslan had to have emergency surgery to remove the bullet after Vuk had responded to the distress signal and brought Aslan and the criminal back to G.I.A. HQ.

The surgery went perfectly, and the doctors removed the bullet without any complications. They predicted that Aslan would have no lasting damage if he took his recovery seriously and would be back on his feet in no time. Vuk was relieved to hear that, as Aslan was not capable of staying still for very long, as anyone will attest to. Aslan’s parents had been contacted and were on their way to visit after picking up Heimdall and Adalet from New Asgard, so until they arrived, it was Vuk’s job to watch over Aslan.

Among the sounds of the machines Aslan was connected to, Vuk heard a soft hitch in the sleeping man’s breathing. Years of experience told him that Aslan was slowly weakening from his slumber, so the Russian slid his bookmark between the pages he was reading and set it on the side table. As he turns to the bed, he sees Aslan’s face scrunch up as his head sluggishly moves from side to side. Vuk reaches out and pets the soft black hair on his friend's head.

“Easy, Aslan,” Vuk whispers, “take your time; the doctors said it would take a while for the sedation to wear off fully.”

Aslan groans as he pries his eyelids open. He immediately shuts them as the harsh lights above blind him. Vuk gets up from his seat and walks to the light switches, dimming them to a soft glow. As he returns to his chair, Aslan’s eyes flutter back open while they adjust to the more manageable lights. The hazy brown eyes soon turn to Vuk’s but are unable to maintain eye contact with his turquoise ones.

“How are you feeling?” Vuk asks.

“Like I was shot…” Aslan answers in a raspy voice.

Vuk reaches for a glass of ice water on the bedside table and holds the straw to Aslan’s lips.

“Suck,” Vuk ordered.

Aslan frowns his brows, “you know you're not my type, Vuk….”

His eye twitches, “the straw, Aslan, suck the straw.”

“Oh…” he closes his lips around the end of the straw and sucks. The cold liquid was refreshing on his dry throat and soothed the scratchy feeling. Once he had drunk enough to satisfy his thirst, Vuk put the cup back on the table. He turns around to find Aslan picking at his hospital gown with a confused frown on his face.

“Vuk… Why am I wearing this dress?” Aslan asks, playing with its sides.

“It's not a dress, As; it's a hospital gown,” Vuk corrects.

But only one-half of what he said must have been heard because the follow-up question was, “a gown? Am I getting married?”

‘God help me…’ he prays, hoping Aslan’s family won't take too long, “yes, but not for a few more months. You’re wearing a hospital gown because you are in a hospital!”

“Oooohhhh,” he draws out, dropping the fabric, “good, this dress is hideous! I would wear this to my wedding!”

“Trust me, I know,” he glares, “it took you forever to pick your dress! You dragged JP and me to so many stores… And don't even get me started on the shoes!”

“Do I look pretty in it?” he asks, unable to recall what the outfit looked like in his drug-high mind.

He gave a sincere smile, “yes, you look beautiful in it, l'venok, your fiance is a lucky man….”

Aslan giggles as he fiddles with his bed sheet, “hehehe... I’m getting married… Are you getting married, kurt?”

“No, Aslan, I am not getting married; I’m not even dating,” Vuk informed.

“Why not?” he whined, “you should find love, Vuky!”

He shrugged, “I’m busy raising my niece; I’ll look for love later. I’m in no rush!”

“I bet you’ll find the best husband! But not as great as mine!” he added quickly, “he’ll melt that frozen heart of yours, and then you’ll be all lovey-dovey and kiss him a lot! And then you’ll get married, have a baby-”

Vuk chuckled, “oh really? A baby? You have the rest of my life all planned out, don’t you?”

Aslan nods proudly, “uh-huh! My küçük yıldız needs a friend! You wouldn't deprive her of one, would you?”

“No, but I have no plans of getting married, least of all having a baby, anytime soon,” he says, resting his chin on his hand, “maybe one-day Adalet and Marina can be friends!”

He hums, mulling over the thought in his head, “I guess that’ll do… But you have to get married so we can do married couple things together!”

He raised an eyebrow, “that better not include a foursome….”

“A foursome? I never thought about that…”

If Aslan weren't in a hospital bed, Vuk would have smacked him… Oh, who was he kidding? Hospital bed be damned!

Vuk slaps Aslan upside the back of his head, “get your high mind out of the gutter, Aslan!”

Aslan pouts, rubbing his head, “ow!”

He rolls his eyes, “I didn’t hit you that hard! Besides, you deserved it!”

He huffs, “meanie… Just for that, I won't tell you about your future husband!”

“Is that so?” he hums knowingly, “let me guess, he’ll be an ugly troll?”

“What? No stupid!” he cried, falling for Vuk’s trick, “he’s going to be beautiful! Like a princess! Or a fairy! So pretty, you won't be able to keep your eyes off him!”

“Do tell,” Vuk encouraged, smirking victoriously.

“He’ll be smaller than you because you like protecting people, and you can cuddle him like a teddy bear! Or maybe a bunny…” he mumbled, “and he’ll LOVE the cold and snow! He’ll have to to tolerate Yakutsk! And he’ll be nice and sweet like those candies you like! But he’ll be funny, too, since you’re a stick in the mud!”

“I am not a stick in the mud, Aslan,” he rolls his eyes, “do you know what he’ll look like so I can find him?”

He knits his brows together in concentration, “I bet he’ll be blond since you have black hair… And pretty blue eyes like sapphires! Did I tell you he’ll be pretty?”

Vuk chuckled, “yes, l'venok, you did… Thank you for not giving me an ugly husband!”

Aslan beams, “I would never, kurt! Someone has to be the pretty one!”

“Are you calling me ugly?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

He gulps, “no…? I’m injured; you can't hurt me!”

“That won't last forever,” he glares.

“You’re not ugly! You're just too hairy for me! Like a wolf! Or a bear! Or maybe bigfoot…” he blabbed, “why are you so hairy, Vuk?”

“Genetics?” Vuk offered, praying harder for someone to come and save him from babysitting the Turk.

The answer seemed to satisfy Aslan, “ok! So you two can be Beauty and the Beast!”

“The whole point of that story is that the beast is ugly!” he exclaimed.

“But he’s really handsome on the inside! Just like you!” he argued, “people think you’re a grumpy lone wolf, but you’re really nice! And you protect me like when you punched my ex!”

“He deserved it,” he growls, feeling the urge to punch that bastard again just thinking about him, “it's impossible to argue when you’re like this….”

Aslan laughs giddily as he falls back into his pillow. His meds were so potent he couldn’t feel the pain in his leg, but Vuk knew that eventually, the meds would wear off, and Aslan would snap back to reality. The Turk's barely-there filter always became non-existent when he got high… Drunk too, apparently; if the one time he drank with their friend JP Delacroix is any indication… And somehow, Vuk always seemed to be the first person who had to deal with Aslan in this state. The younger man's memory also became fuzzy, as evident by the next topic of choice.

"Vuky… Will you tell me about my future husband?" Aslan inquiries, rolling his head to the side facing Vuk.

"Aslan, you already met your future husband; you’re engaged to him," Vuk says slowly as if speaking to a small child. Which he felt he might as well be; he was sure Marina or Adalet would be easier to deal with than a high Aslan…

He pouts, "Dall's my fiance, not my future husband! It's not the same thing!"

"How isn't- never mind," he groans, rubbing his eyes, "why do you want to know about your future husband? And why do I have to tell you?"

"Becaaauuussseee…." he draws the word out, "I told you about yours; it's only fair you tell me about mine!"

He bits back a sigh, "fine! If it gets you shut up, I'll tell you about your future husband!"

"Yay!" Aslan cheered. He flips on his side (thankfully, the uninjured leg) and snuggles his pillow while waiting for Vuk to begin.

'How is he just two years younger than me again?' Vuk wondered. He inhales through his nose to relax, "well, your husband is going to be smart, way smarter than you! And unlike you, he’ll actually think before he acts!”

“I can think!” he cried in offence.

“Yeah… Let’s go with that… He’s going to be sweet and have the patience of a saint,” he continues, envisioning Heimdall as he describes the Asgardian, “his kindness will leave you speechless but don't let that fool you; cross him, and you’ll face a wrath unlike any other. But he’s in control of his emotions, almost too in control that he’ll struggle to express himself….”

“But he’ll still be able to smile, right?” he asks worriedly.

He chuckled, “yes, he’ll laugh and smile at all your horrible jokes, Aslan. He’ll even make jokes too sometimes… You’ll love to confuse him with Earth puns, and you’ll call him so many pet names that he’ll never be able to match you, but he’ll have some for you too….”

“Will he be pretty?” the Turk inquired, his eyes shining in awe as he imagined his future husband.

“Well, if you telling me he is over a thousand times is any indication…” the Russian mumbled, “yes, he’ll be pretty. He’s going to have gold eyes-”

“Gold?” he interrupts.

“Yes gold, now shh,” he orders, a finger to his lips, “where was I… Ah yes. He’ll have long black hair in dreadlocks that you’ll say look like worms to tease him, and somehow he’ll still love you… He’s going to be slightly shorter than you, but he’ll have more muscles.”

“So he’ll be really strong?” Aslan assumes.

“He’ll be able to pick you up with one arm, ego and all,” Vuk teased, poking the younger man’s forehead.

Aslan whines and rubs the spot.

“Now stop interrupting me,” Vuk ordered again, “your husband will make you so happy you’ll feel like a princess… Or maybe a queen given your personality… You will be loved and protected by him every day, and it’ll be his problem to worry about you instead of me! He’s going to listen to you ramble for hours like you love to do, but he’ll also tell you when it's time to stop and rest. He’ll take care of you and your daughter as you raise her into a wonderful person. You’ll tell him how great of a Dad he is, and he’ll remind you that you're a wonderful Dad too… You’re going to feel love like never before, l'venok, and I’m so happy for you….”

Vuk stops talking as he realizes that Aslan hasn't said anything for a while. (Which is a miracle because his record for being quiet is thirty seconds). He looks down, and his heart jumps as he sees tears running down Aslan’s cheeks. He had tipped his head down slightly and was biting his lip to stop himself from making a sound, but Vuk had always had good hearing, so the small whimpers couldn't hide from him.

‘Why is he crying? I described Heimdall perfectly; he should be happy!’ Vuk thought as he pushed his chair back and kneeled beside the bed. He reaches out to brush the black bangs out of Aslan’s face. The Turk tightens his hold on his bed sheets, reusing to look at the Russian.

“What’s wrong, l'venok?” Vuk whispers, playing with the soft black locks, “why are you crying?”

“‘m not cryin’,” Aslan sniffles.

“Coulda fooled me,” he countered, “come on, talk to me; you love talking! I can't help if I don't know what's wrong!”

“Nothing wrong, everything’s perfect!” he insisted, “but it can't be!”

“Why can't everything be perfect?” he asks, completely confused.

“Because you just described the best husband in the universe for me, but how can he be mine?!” he demands, sobbing, “how could someone so perfect want someone like me?!”

“How could he not?” he replied.

“Because I’m broken!” he wails, covering his face with his hands.

Uh-oh… They’d just unlocked a rarer-seen side of a high Aslan, the over-emotional side. Vuk didn’t have much experience dealing with Aslan in this state; his mother, father or both would usually step in and take care of him. But right now, neither would be here anytime soon, so Vuk would have to calm Aslan down alone to prevent the man from doing any more damage to his body.

“You’re not broken, Aslan,” Vuk insisted, “the doctors fixed the bullet wound! You’ll barely even scar!”

“Not my leg! Me!” he cried, pulling his hair, “I’m broken! And dirty! Why would someone love me after what he did?!”

His heart drops, realizing the implications, “oh, Aslan… That was not your fault; it will never be your fault! You are not broken or dirty, I promise… And your future husband will agree with me.”

“How do you know?!” Aslan sobs.

“Big brother intuition,” he bragged, climbing onto the bed.

Vuk carefully gathers Aslan into his arms, being mindful of the IV connected to the back of his hand. The Turk buries his face into the older man’s chest, soaking Vuk’s shirt with tears and snot. The Russian rubs his hand up and down Asaln’s back as he plays with his hair to comfort him. They hadn’t talked about that night in years; a part of Vuk had hoped Aslan had moved past it, especially after he got Heimdall and Adalet…

But it looked like that part of Aslan had just been buried deep down, and in his drugged state, it had bubbled to the surface. Vuk wishes he could castrate the bastard that hurt his little lion, but sadly he can't. However, that didn’t mean he couldn't fantasize about cutting the bastard’s dick off, fucking him with it and then killing him for hurting Aslan…

“I’ve got you, l'venok,” Vuk whispers, kissing the top of Aslan’s head, “you’re safe; he’s never going to hurt you again… He’s never going to touch you again. If he tries, I’ll drag him to the Russian wilderness and feed him to the wolves….”

“I hate him… I hate him so much!” Aslan cries, weakly pounding on Vuk’s chest.

“I’d expect nothing less,” he agrees, barely feeling the hits, “and do you want to know something?”

He sniffles, “wha’?”

“Your future husband is going to be nothing like him,” he stated with emphasis on the last words, “he is going to listen to you, he is going to do what you ask and most importantly, the second, and I mean the second, you say no to anything, even just kissing, he’ll respect your decision. Do you understand me, Aslan?”

“But-”

“I said, do you understand me?”

Aslan hiccups, nodding, “e-evet…”

“Хороший,” Vuk hugs his tighter, “I’m so sorry I didn’t save you from him sooner, l'venok….”

“Seni seviyorum, Vuk…” he mumbles, snuggling closer.

“Я тоже тебя люблю, Aslan.”

They fell into a comfortable silence for a while, with only the beeping of Aslan’s IV pump to fill the room. Vuk held his friend (and little brother, but he’d never admit it) in his arms as he slowly calmed down from his panic attack. The last thing Aslan needed was to go back under sedation. His mind needed to wean off the drugs, not absorb more.

Eventually, Aslan’s breathing returned to normal, and he pulled out of the embrace but stayed leaning against Vuk’s side. Vuk, in turn, reached over to the bedside table and grabbed the washcloth to clean Aslan’s face. Once the tear tracks were cleaned, Vuk returned the cloth to the bowl and relaxed against the bed, a leg hanging over the edge.

“Vuk… Did I remember to invite you to the wedding?” Aslan asked.

It took everything for Vuk not to facepalm, “yes, Aslan, I got your first invitation!”

“Oh, okay,” he responded, “will you be my best man?”

“You already asked me to be,” he reminded him, wondering if he should tell the doctors how the drugs affected Aslan’s mind.

Or maybe this was just normal by Aslan standards.

“And?” Aslan inquired.

“And what?” Vuk questions.

“Will you be my best man?” he clarified.

He shakes his head, smiling, “yes, As, I will be your best man.”

He grins, “great! Can I be your best man when you get married?”

“As if I could stop you,” he smirked, ruffling Aslan’s hair.

Aslan leans away from the attack, “paws off the hair! I need to look good for my wedding!”

“That's not for another five months,” Vuk says but moves his hand away, “you’ll have plenty of time to make yourself all pretty for Heimdall!”

“Why does Aslan need to look pretty for me?” Heimdall asks, walking through the doorway.

"Hallelujah, I'm saved!" Vuk celebrated, "what took you so long?"

"We got stuck waiting for a meteorite shower to end before leaving the Mythos System," he answers, approaching the foot of the bed, "Maria is talking to the doctor, and Deniz took Adalet to the cafeteria for a snack."

"Good, he can be their problem now," he said in relief, lightly shoving Aslan.

He chuckles, "you never answered my question; why does Aslan need to look pretty for me?"

"We were talking about the wedding," he replies, omitting the finer details, "you know Aslan, he always has to look his best!"

"So I've learned…" he hums, "how's he doing?"

"Good, high, but good," he reports, "have fun with your trial run of "in sickness and in health." But please don't change your mind about marrying him; I don't want him back!"

Heimdall laughs, "I promise not to call off the wedding! I've already had to take care of him and Adalet when they’re sick. Somehow they always get sick at the same time…"

"She may look like you, but Adalet is a mini-Aslan," Vuk jokingly shivers, "may god help her future spouse! Yes, Aslan?"

Aslan, who had been poking Vuk in the arm, gestures for him to come closer. Vuk gives Heimdall an eye roll before leaning his head down. Aslan cups a hand around his ear to whisper into it.

"Vuk! You never told me my future husband was Heimdall! Why didn't you say something?!" Aslan exclaims quietly, even though Heimdall can hear every word.

It took everything for Vuk not to strangle him, "because you said that Heimdall wasn't your future husband, he was your fiance!"

"That's the same thing!" he says, annoyed.

"It wasn't an hour ago, according to you, As!" he reminded him.

"I said no such thing!" he denies.

"Yes, you- Why did you say yes to marrying this man again, Heimdall?" Vuk demands, addressing the Assistant Ambassador.

Heimdall shrugged, "I love him. Besides, I proposed to him."

He turns back to the Turk, "Aslan, be nice to Heimdall. I don't want him to return you!"

Aslan grinned, "I'll be on my best behaviour! Pinky promise! Or else he'll punish me! Oh, but wait, his punishments are fun…."

"Aslan, please stop talking," Vuk begged, "I don't want to know!"

Aslan pouts but at the sound of Heimdall laughing, he perks up and looks at the end of his hospital bed. He made grabby hands at his fiance, and Heimdall obliged by walking to the empty side of the bed. Vuk climbed off so that the couple would have more room, and the second Heimdall was comfortable on the mattress, Aslan was pressed into his side, moving his injured leg so it wouldn't get squished.

"Did you behave for Vuk?" Heimdall asks, already knowing the truth.

"I was an angel!" Aslan bragged.

"More like a demon…." Vuk grumbled.

Heimdall hums, "I'm sure he only thought about killing you twice…."

"Which is good because it's normally three times!" Aslan says proudly.

"Of all the people my father had to be friends with, it had to be the guy with a gremlin for a son!" Vuk complained.

"I'm not a gremlin; I'm Turkish-Brazilian," Aslan said, confused.

"... Someone put me out of my misery…"

"Sorry, Vuk, but I'm afraid Zavier wouldn't be pleased if we euthanized his son," Maria quips as she joins the group.

"Tell him it was to get away from Aslan; he'll understand," Vuk assures the Ambassador.

"Yes, we'll put that on your tombstone: He Was Escaping Aslan," she teased.

"Well, it would be the truth," he replies, "did the doctor say anything new about Aslan?"

"They just said he'll need to stay here for a week before he can be released," she answers, "so prepare for a week of listening to him begging us to smuggle him out!"

"I already was," he promised.

"Are they talking about me?" Aslan asks his fiance.

Heimdall pets his hair, "yes, you get to have a hospital sleepover all week!"

He frowns, "that doesn't sound very fun…."

"Don't worry; I'm sure we'll be able to find stuff to entertain you with," he smirks.

"Oh! Like-!" Aslan at least had the decency to whisper the rest of the request into the Asgardian's ear. Judging by the blush on Heimdall's face, it wasn't a G-rated idea.

"Maybe once you're discharged," Heimdall answers, earning a pout. He pets Aslan's hair again.

"We brought snacks!" Deniz announces, arriving with Adalet in his arms while the four-year-old holds a small bag of snacks from the cafeteria vending machines and her stuffed lion.

"My küçük yıldız!" Aslan beams, holding his arms out to his daughter, "come snuggle!"

Adalet giggles as Vuk takes her from Deniz while the grandfather keeps the bag of snacks. The Russian carries the Hybrid over to the bed and gently sets her down on the spot he vacated earlier.

"Now be careful, Letty," Vuk instructed, "your Baba's hurt, so you have to be gentle. Can you do that?"

Adalet nods, "uh-huh! I be gen-tail!"

He chuckles, "gen-tle, little one… And the doctors gave your Baba a lot of medicine for his boo-boo, so he's extra silly right now. So laugh at him a lot for me, please?"

"I will!" she promises, climbing up the bed to cuddle under Aslan's arm, laying her head on his chest.

Aslan wraps his arm around his daughter, "don't turn my küçük yıldız against me, Vuky!"

"I am doing no such thing," Vuk denies.

He pouts, making Adalet giggle as she plays with her father's fingers. Aslan smiles, kissing the top of her head.

"My mini-me…" Aslan says happily, "did you bring me a treat, Baba?"

Deniz chuckled, "you're always so hungry when you're high, Aslan… Yes, Adalet helped me pick out some snacks from the vending machines, so you'll have to share with her!"

"We can do that! Right, küçük yıldız?" he asks.

Adalet nods, holding her stuffed lion tight to her body.

Deniz and Maria approach their son’s bed as they search the bag for his and Adalet’s favourite snacks. Vuk steps back to give the family more room and watches as Aslan snatches a pack of toffee pieces while Adalet happily accepts the bag of gummies offered to her. The rest of the Sadiks and Heimdall each grab something too, and Deniz tosses Vuk a bag of Xandarian chips to enjoy. Soon, Deniz, Maria, and Heimdall fall into a conversation about the upcoming wedding, discussing plans for the big day. At the same time, Aslan and Adalet enjoy their snacks, occasionally giving the other person one of their treats to eat.

Vuk smiles as he watches the scene, leaning against the wall while crunching on his chips. As much as he teases the couple, he means it when he says he is happy that Aslan is marrying Heimdall. They deserved each other, Aslan especially after what he’d gone through with his last boyfriend before meeting Heimdall. When Vuk found out about Adalet and Heimdall, his worry for Aslan was through the roof. He never wanted to see his little brother hurt again, especially not in the way his bastard ex-boyfriend had hurt him. The memory of walking in on that is a nightmare he will never forget…

But he didn't have to worry about that happening with Heimdall. He didn't have to worry that the Asgardian might hurt Aslan or that he would try and take advantage of him. Vuk didn't have to worry about finding Aslan having a panic attack in the shower as he tried to scrub his skin off, crying about how he would never be clean again. He would never need to comfort Aslan through another nightmare as the younger feared his ex-boyfriend would try and take him away.

Vuk didn't have to worry about protecting Aslan alone anymore because the Turk now had Heimdall to protect him too. Aslan would be so happy with his husband once they were married, and Vuk couldn't wait to see him walk down the aisle in the beautiful dress he had picked out. He knew the day would be perfect, and the smile on Aslan’s face would be one of pure love. His only hope is that Heimdall and Adalet will be able to keep the smile on their lion’s face for the rest of his days.

But for now, they would all focus on Aslan’s recovery from the shooting. Vuk wouldn't tell anyone about what Aslan had said while high on pain meds, nor would Aslan even remember what had happened once the drugs wore off. He never remembers what he says while high. That conversation was private, and Vuk would never betray his l'venok’s trust unless it were for his own good. Besides, Aslan still sees his therapist regularly, so for now, Vuk has no reason to say anything.

After all, what’s said by a high Aslan, stays with a high Aslan.

Chapter Text

On the Bureau’s plane…

“Anders, report at once! Have you learned where the SOMBRA agent took Elliot?” Chief Ripley demands, the rest of the team standing around anxiously.

“We found Elliot's phone in the gardens,” Anders tosses the device onto the table, “Elliot seemed to be writing a message... something about the docks?”

“The docks!” Jonah shouts, “of course! The agent must be planning to escape by ship!”

“Then we should rush there because it's worse than you think! We've got proof that SOMBRA's experimenting on people!” Marina announces, “we don't know exactly what they're doing, but we need to find Elliot before he becomes their test subject!”

“Then we must move out NOW! Carmen and I will go to the docks with you, Anders!” he volunteers, “let's gear up!”

After putting on their bulletproof vest, the three agents speed through the streets of Singapore to the docks. They squealed to a stop at the gate and ran down the ramp toward the docked boats. Anders looks around and finds Anbu dragging Elliot toward a small motorized sailboat.

“Freeze, Anbu!” Anders orders, aiming his gun at the killer’s head.

“You again, Agent Anders! How did you find me? Don't come a step closer!” Anbu yells, tightening his hand around Elliot’s mouth.

“You've got nowhere to run! Freeze and drop your weapon, or I'll shoot!” Jonah vows.

“Before you do that, I'll pull the trigger, and your little tech genius will die!” he yelled, finger curling threateningly around the trigger.

“I don't have a clear shot!” he hissed, “if I try to shoot this psycho, I could hit Elliot!”

“I've got nothing either!” Anders growls.

“Let him go, Anbu!” Carmen demanded, “he's just a kid!”

“He's my ticket to freedom!” Anbu cackled, walking backwards towards the boat and dragging Elliot with him, “as long as he's with me, you have no choice but to let me go!”

“Damn it!” she cursed, “we can't let him get Elliot on that boat!”

But the agents couldn't get a clear shot to hit Anbu. He held Elliot perfectly in front of himself as a human shield, and they couldn't risk shooting the arm or hand in front of the teen, lest the bullet go clean through and hit Elliot. So they could only watch helplessly as Anbu succeeded in dragging Elliot onboard his getaway boat.

“Get us out of here, you idiot!” Anbu barks at the SOMBRA agent behind the ship’s wheel.

“ELLIOT!”

Anders, Carmen and Jonah run down the docks as the boat jets off across the water, carrying their youngest teammate with it. There was no way they would be able to reach him now; even if Anders used his powers, he wouldn't get to the boat in time before Anbu made good on his promise of killing Elliot. So all they could do was watch as the ship sailed out of sight, taking their teammate to SOMBRA only knew where.

“Son of a bitch!” Jonah yelled, holstering his gun with unnecessary force, “god damn it! We let that bastard get away with Elliot!”

“We’ll get him back, Jonah!” Anders vows.

“How!?” he demanded, “we have no idea where Anbu could have taken him!”

Carmen sighed, “I hate to say it, but Jonah’s right… They could go anywhere! And we already know SOMBRA has people almost everywhere; there’s no telling what’s waiting for Elliot!”

“We can't just give up on him!” Anders argued.

“And we’re not,” she promises, “but the only chance we have right now at finding him is following whatever leads we have! And we’ll start by looking deeper into Anbu’s life! There has to be something we missed during the investigation!”

“Let’s start with talking to Michelle Zuria,” he suggested, “she was Anbu’s lawyer; if anyone might know his secrets, it's her!”

“Then we better hurry and bring her in for questioning!” Jonah urged, “every minute we spend standing around is a minute too long that Elliot is spending in SOMBRA’s hands!”

“Then let’s go!” Carmen orders.

“We’ll find you, Elliot,” Anders pledges to the rippling waves, “just hold on for us, kid, we’re coming.”

Later, on SOMBRA Island…

Elliot groans as he wakes up, feeling groggier than before he fell asleep. What happened that made him feel like he hadn’t slept in a week? He hasn’t been pulling any all-nighters for work or losing track of time while hacking… What was he doing before he fell asleep?

His headache continued to pound as he tried to remember the last things he’d done. The team was in Singapore following a lead on SOMBRA… They found a dead woman and solved her murder… Then…

Elliot’s eyes snapped open, and he immediately slammed them shut as the harsh lights above him hit them. The memories came flooding back: Anders arresting Anbu for killing Constance, him bursting into the interrogation room to show them the secrets on the decrypted device, and then Anbu taking him hostage. The SOMBRA agent had dragged him away from Astra-plane and knocked him out before gagging and tying him up to prevent him from escaping. He remembered Anbu bringing him to the docks where Anders, Carmen and Jonah had found them, but they couldn't save him… And now, Elliot had no idea where he was or what SOMBRA planned to do to him.

“Ah, good, you’re finally awake!”

A groan of pain fell from Elliot’s mouth as he felt the stiff hospital-like bed he was strapped to moved to put him in a more upright position. It was a struggle, but Elliot managed to blink his eyes open, and they adjusted to the lights, allowing him to see the white room he was in. It reminded him of a hospital room, but it only had a single door and no windows. Along with the bed he was on the room also had monitoring equipment and a chair in the far corner of the room facing his bed. His clothes had also been changed to a hospital gown, and he could feel monitoring patches stuck to his head, chest and limbs.

He identified one of the two men who had entered his room (or maybe he should say cell). After all, it wasn’t hard to recognize a man with blue skin. Marshall Metcalf walked in first with a small rolling table beside him. On the table was a glass vial of a yellow liquid that was concerningly glowy, a syringe and a tablet. The scientist looked pleased to see that the teen was awake and moved to stand at the side of the bed.

The other man was a stranger to Elliot. The guy looked to be older than Marshall but equally as tall with a fit physique. He had blue eyes, short white hair, and tanned skin riddled with scars and wrinkles. He wore tactical gear: black pants and a matching t-shirt, a kevlar vest, combat boots, gloves and a utility belt. The unknown man sits in the chair in the corner, taking a gun from his belt and making sure Elliot can see it as he lazes in his seat. Elliot doesn’t doubt the man is not to be messed with.

“I should have known someone crazy enough to turn himself blue would be involved with SOMBRA!” Elliot glares.

“Ugh, teenagers…” Marshall rolls his eyes, “this is why I never wanted children, such annoying creatures! But they can grow up to be useful…”

“Like hell I would help SOMBRA!” he cursed, jerking his restraints.

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” he mocked, “oh wait, you haven’t spoken to her since the Bureau recruited you! A shame, Evangeline is such a lovely woman…”

“You don’t know anything about my family!” he yelled.

He smirked, “oh, but I do! Or should I say, SOMBRA does! After all, Clayton Technologies is one of our greatest allies!”

Elliot felt cold dread rush through his body, “what are you talking about? My parents would never help SOMBRA!”

“Of course, they would! With the right incentive, that is!” Marshall replies, “your father’s company has helped us expand SOMBRA and grow my research! And I'm this close to perfecting my serum!”

“Marshall,” the gravely, deep voice that rumbled from the unknown man surprised both Elliot and Marshall, “must you give an evil monologue with every new recruit? You’re wasting time!”

“Hush, Slade, I’m merely bringing little Clayton up to speed,” Marshall answers, “after all if he’s going to become SOMBRA’s newest asset, he needs to know the truth!”

“The truth is that SOMBRA is a crazy criminal organization trying to destroy the world!” Elliot spat.

The blue man glares, “we are trying to save it! We are going to bring about a better age of humanity! A stronger, smarter and faster version that will save this planet! And you are going to get a front-row seat to the show!”

“There won't be a show because the Bureau is going to take you all down!” he declares.

“Ugh, let me knock him out, Marsh; this brat’s annoying me!” Slade complained, flicking the safety on and off his gun.

Marshall rolled his eyes, “ignore the brut, Clayton; Slade is a man of fighting, not academics. He can't appreciate the informative benefits of a lecture.”

“At least gag him,” he requested.

“Fine,” he agrees, hands up in surrender.

“You stay away from me-mph!”

In a surprising show of speed from the older man, Slade crossed the room and secured a gag around Elliot’s mouth, silencing the teen’s cries. Elliot coughed around the gag, tasting the leather on his tongue as the straps dug into his cheeks and the clasp ripped pieces of his hair out the back of his head.

“There, much better,” Slade smirks, returning to his seat.

“If you are finished interrupting me,” Marshall glares at his companion before addressing the teen, “now where was I? Ah, yes! It's time to begin your initiation into SOMBRA! I’ve read your file; you’ll make a fine subject for my mind-enhancing serum!”

“Mph?!” Elliot cried, muffled by the gag.

“Right, you don’t know about that yet… Well, as you know, some of our recruits agreed to be a part of an experimental group to enhance their minds and bodies. These experiments have led to me recreating an old formula I used to work on during my days with New Age Labs…,” he smirks darkly, “something your teammate Savage is familiar with…”

Elliot’s eyes widened.

“Though I’m not sure he was ever told the truth behind his yellow eyes…” Marshall says more to himself than the others, “a shame we haven’t figured out how to fix that unfortunate side effect yet… But I digress. We’ll have him join us in due time; our agent on the inside will inform us when the time is right to take what is ours, so don't worry, you’ll see your friend soon!”

‘Agent on the inside?’ Elliot thinks, ‘what’s he talking about?! Is there a mole in the Bureau?! That's not possible! There’s no way a SOMBRA agent could infiltrate the team!’

“It's hard learning someone you thought you could trust has betrayed you,” Slade rumbles, playing with a switchblade, having swapped it with his gun at some point during Marshall’s rambling, “God knows the GIA was shocked to find out I was Deathstar… Vuk and Aslan were stunned stupid after I took the hybrid child… But the money is always worth it…”

While Anders didn’t talk about his kidnapping often, Elliot knew the basics of it. Enough to realize that Slade was the man who had kidnapped Anders when he was a child. And if he had managed to kidnap Anders, even if the man was a child at the time, there was no way he would be able to escape while Slade was watching him.

“Now, I think you should begin the brat’s transformation before revealing anything else, Marshall,” Slade recommends, “after all, we need to know his mind and body can handle the serum. It would be pointless to tell him everything if he’s not even going to survive the enchantment changes.”

“If it gets you to stop interrupting me…” Marshall grumbled, grabbing the syringe and vial.

He removed the vial’s protective cap and inserted the needle through the rubber seal, pulling back the plunger and filling the chamber with the yellow liquid. He sets the now empty vial back on the table and moves to stand beside Elliot’s arm. The teen struggled against his restraints as the scientist attempted to inject the serum into his arm.

“Quit moving!” Marshall orders, but that just makes Elliot struggle harder, “Slade! Make yourself useful and help me!”

“Why should I?” Slade asks, amused by the blue man’s dilemma.

“If you help me, I’ll let you test the newest batch of successful experiments,” he bargains.

He pretends to consider the idea, “... Alright. Those lab rats better be good ones, though!”

“I’m sure you won’t be disappointed,” he replies, watching Slade get up.

Elliot wished he could slip out of his restraints as Slade approached. The mercenary slid his blade back into the sheath as he approached the bed on the opposite side of Marshall. A hard hit to the head disoriented Elliot, making him swear he could see stars momentarily. He moans in pain as he feels Slade grab his left arm, pinning it to the bed.

“Don’t break him!” Marshall hissed, “I need him in one piece!”

Slade rolled his eyes, “it was one hit! Besides, if your serum works, he’ll be able to handle much more than a punch to the head!”

Marshall grumbled something, sounding like “Neanderthal,” as he guided the syringe to the space between Slade’s hands. The needle pierces Elliot’s skin with a slight prick, and Marshall injects the serum into the teen’s bloodstream. It felt like Elliot’s arm was on fire, and as the serum made its way through his bloodstream, the fire spread to the rest of his body.

“He seems to be responding well to the serum,” Marshall remarks as the machines monitoring Elliot’s vitals freak out around the room.

Slade cocked an eyebrow, “what’s your definition of well?”

“This is within the normal range for those receiving their first injection,” he responds, reading the results on the monitors, “I’ll give him a few hours for his body to absorb the serum and see if he survived… If his results are good, I will proceed with the next injection tomorrow!”

“So we’re done here?” he grunts.

“Yes,” he was a dismissive hand at the mercenary, “you can go torment the recruits in the name of training! Just don't kill anyone; I need my test subjects alive!”

“I’ll do whatever I please,” he replies, striding out of the room, “after all, SOMBRA’s mission is to weed out the weak.”

Marshall doesn’t acknowledge the statement as he grabs the tablet from the rolling table and inputs some information from the monitors. With everything he needed to record, Marshall left the room without a second glance at the wailing teenager. Elliot continued trashing against his restaurants as tears ran down his face as he experienced the worst pain he’d ever felt. The monitors continued to scream around him, doing nothing to help his headache, which was quickly developing into a migraine.

All he had to do was hold on and wait for his team to save him. And as far away as that future seemed, Elliot had to keep hope that the Bureau would find him. He hadn’t travelled halfway across the globe hunting SOMBRA just to die now.

Oh god, he could DIE!

Elliot had already found himself in more dangerous situations than the average teenager should ever see, but he’d never seen death staring him in the face until now. Is this how Anders and Carmen felt when the Sword held a poison grenade before them? When Lars caught the plague in India? If so, he now understood why Marina increased their therapy sessions following those events.

He just wanted the pain to stop! He wanted to go home! He wanted to be back in his room on Astra and play games with his friends online! He wanted to see his sisters again and find out what Marshall meant about his parents helping SOMBRA! He needed to discover the truth; if he died here, he would never find it!

And once he was back with the team, he could tell them about Marshall's strange claims about Fili. There was no way the sunshine-incarnated Irishman could have anything to do with SOMBRA, but there had to be a reason his eyes were yellow. As much as Elliot hated to consider it, the serum did turn people’s eyes yellow…

‘Just hold on…’ Elliot prays, ‘the team is coming… they’ll find you, they’ll bring you home and take care of you… Just hold on…’

The team had to be coming for him. They wouldn't abandon him. Sure, he might annoy them, but they all cared about each other. And even though they were missing his technical genius, they were all smart in their own ways. They wouldn't give up on him; they wouldn't give up hope that he was alive without a corpse to prove his death. The Bureau will save him; they were coming for him, he knows it. They won’t leave him in SOMBRA’s clutches… Right?

.

.

.

Right?

Chapter Text

‘So many lives lost… So many INNOCENT lives lost…’ Henrik thinks as he stands on the balcony of his bedroom in New Asgard’s palace, ‘so much death simply because our ancestors’ enemy sought to destroy the world they left behind… And they almost succeeded…’

Ragnarok II had been a vicious battle for the warriors of New Asgard. Even now, hours after the battle had ended, they were still counting the dead and tending to the injuries of the survivors. When the first sign of the Fire Demons’ attack had been spotted (on Tómus’s coronation day, nonetheless!) Henrik didn’t know how the night would end. While New Asgard had more allies to help them fight than their gods and goddesses had during the first Ragnarok, that didn’t ensure victory for the Asgardians.

So they fought; warriors from across the globe and even beyond fought to live another day. But the Fire Demons had learned from their past mistakes and did everything they could to prevent New Asgard’s allies from joining the battle. When the force field had encased New Asgard, Henrik feared it was a harbinger of his people’s end. However, his grandchildren surprised him and all of New Asgard when they wielded three of the gods’ weapons: Thor’s hammer, Heimdall’s sword and Loki’s sceptre.

Adalet managed to use Heimdall’s sword to activate the Bifrost Bridge, and for the first time in millennia, a direct gateway to New Argard was created. Allies poured in through the portal, and the fight quickly turned in the Asgardians’ favour. And then came the moment when the last Fire Demon fell, and from that fall, New Asgard rose victorious. But not without great sacrifice from its people. Too many died, and even more were forever scarred from the battle…

And as selfish as it may sound, the worst death of them all was his wife Sylvi’s. She was supposed to be safe in the palace, away from the battle raging outside. Her health had been growing worse with every passing day, and Henrik’s greatest regret was leaving her side… But his people needed someone to help lead, so he commanded his battalion while his most trusted Valkyrie, Kára Halvorsen, protected his wife. However, that decision would prove to be Sylvi’s downfall…

When Henrik returned to the palace after the battle was won, it was to find Sylvi’s dead body on the floor of their room. It had already grown cold and stiff as he cradled her. She had tried to fight her killers as a dagger had been clenched in her lifeless hand, but it wasn’t enough to save herself. Henrik cried as he held his wife’s body until healers arrived and convinced him to let them take her to the grand hall where many of the dead had been moved to wait for their burials.

And what did Kára have to say when Henrik confronted her about abandoning his wife? The Valkyrie showed no remorse for her actions, believing her skills were better suited on the frontlines than as a bodyguard. So, he’d stripped her of her Valkyrie title and ordered her to surrender her sword… But she chose to flee the planet instead… Should he ever cross paths with her again, Henrik knows the outcome would not be good for Kára…

“Oh, Sylvi, I wish you were still here…” Henrik whispers to the fading sun in the distance, “I don’t know how to live without you…”

Despite his claims, Henrik knows Sylvi wouldn't want him to give up simply because she was gone. She would want him to live for her and their family, to be there for those still alive until it was his time to join her in Valhalla. But how was he to live when his heart was gone? How do you continue living when you’ve lost so much?

“You live for what you still have…” Henrik recites one of Sylvi’s favourite sayings, “you may be gone, my love, but the family we made is still here, and I will protect them till my dying day…”

Henrik moves away from the balcony and into his and Syl- his bedroom. His wife’s blood still stained the floor and wall where she had died, and he quickly looked away as he left the room. He walks through the palace halls to the spare bedroom where cots had been set up to convert it into a makeshift healer’s room. In the bedroom was his family, who were sleeping peacefully thanks to the medications they’d been given to ease their pain and nightmares from the battle. And while he could have just stayed in the room and watched over his family, Henrik needed them closer than they were on the cots around the room.

So, Henrik picks up his daughter first and carries Runa to his bedroom. Runa was the light of his and Sylvi’s lives since the day she was born. When she took the throne, she ruled as a perfect Queen and guided New Asgard through difficult times. She was everything Henrik and Sylvi had hoped she would be and more. Henrik lays his daughter on the grand bed and then returns to the other bedroom to collect the rest of his family.

Next came Eir, his daughter-in-law, who loved Runa not for the crown she wore or the power she held but for who she was beyond the Queen of New Asgard. Eir had also helped bless him with his two grandsons and gave Runa happiness like the kind he shared with Sylvi. Henrik knew his daughter couldn't have found a better wife to rule and have a family with. Therefore, Henrik places Eir in her rightful place beside Runa on the bed.

Heimdall, his son in all but blood, was the third person to be moved to the King’s bedroom. His mothers had been Henrik and Sylvi’s friends for years, and Henrik was proud to be one of the first people to hold Heimdall when he was born. And when his son’s Omnisense had manifested, Henrik and Sylvi did everything they could to help him adapt to his new abilities. The young man had done many great things, and Henrik was proud to have been a part of many of them.

With Heimdall comfortable on the bed, Henrik leaves to grab his son’s husband, Aslan. Aslan, the first human to join Henrik’s family, was truly Heimdall’s other half. The man always put a smile on Heimdall’s face even when everyone else failed to do so. And while there are ghosts in Aslan’s past that haunt him, he never lets them prevent him from living a happy life. The human was a perfect match for Heimdall, and Henrik was proven correct when Aslan immediately cuddled his husband the moment after Henrik placed him beside Heimdall on the bed.

The last one of his children’s generation to join the others on the bed was Henrik’s other unofficial child, Brage. The geologist might have shared a womb with Kára, but they were as different as they could be from their twin. Brage never abandoned their friends or family, not even when they had an arrow in their knee. Henrik took extra care when he’d picked Brage up, not wanting to irritate their injuries further. When they were placed on the bed, Brage relaxed into the mattress just as the rest had.

With the first generation of his family comfortable on his bed, Henrik returned to the spare bedroom to collect his grandchildren. Magnus was the first. He was the oldest of Henrik’s grandchildren, and the day he came into Henrik and Sylvi’s lives was one they would never forget. While Magnus had chosen not to become King of New Asgard, he still serves his planet in other ways. Magnus is a wonderful man, and Henrik hopes one day he will get to see him marry Aurora and start the family they have dreamed of having.

Next of his grandchildren came Adalet, the hybrid who didn’t ask to be made but will always be loved unconditionally for who she was. She had been through a lot throughout her life, but she always stayed strong and on the side of good. She had the ability to be one of the strongest villains in the galaxy, but she refused to give in to the dark side. Henrik has no idea how she does it, but he will always be proud of her, just as he is proud of the rest of his children and grandchildren.

As Adalet makes herself comfortable on the bed beside her “twin” Magnus, Henrik fetches the last person he needs before he can relax, Tómus. While he might be the youngest, Tómus has proven himself time and time again that he is an intelligent, caring, and just future King. It was his idea to try and wield the gods’ weapons, and if he had not convinced his siblings to join him, Henrik is sure New Asgard would have lost the fight. Tómus deserves to wear the crown and create a new age for New Asgard. He might still have a ways to go before Runa fully steps away from the throne, but Henrik knows that when the time comes, Tómus will be ready to ascend to his rightful place as ruler of New Asgard.

With everyone comfortable on the bed, Henrik takes a moment to stretch his back and watch over them. He knows they will do so many great things in the coming years that Sylvi will never get to see… She’ll never watch their grandchildren get married or meet their great-grandchildren. She’ll never see Tómus as King of New Asgard or the day Earth joins the rest of the universe. Sylvi was robbed of seeing so many new things, and Henrik will never forgive Kára for playing a part in his wife’s death. Kára might not have shot the arrow that pierced Sylvi’s heart, but had she not abandoned her, perhaps his wife could have lived to see a brighter future…

As the sun begins to sink past the horizon line in the distance, Henrik moves a chair from the seating area in the corner of the room to face the bed. He doubts sleep will claim him for the night, so he chooses to do what he does best: watch over his people and keep them safe. Henrik makes himself comfortable in the chair and watches his family sleep as memories replay in his mind.

He recalls his children and grandchildren taking their first steps and speaking their first words. He remembers holding them for the first time and vowing to love and protect them as a father and grandfather should. He remembers giving Runa away at her wedding and watching her marry the love of her life. He reminisces on Hemidall’s wedding to Aslan and how happy his son had been as he watched his future husband walk down the aisle in his beautiful gown.

There were bad times as well, such as when Sylvi and Henrik had been told she would never be able to carry another baby to term following complications with Runa’s birth. And Henrik will never forget the devastation that nearly shattered the family when Adalet had been taken from them. They got her back, and while the light in her eyes had been gone, it slowly came back with the help of her family, friends, and medical professionals.

Henrik’s family had good times and bad times, but they stood beside each other through everything. They did not abandon their loved ones when things were at their darkest. At least, that’s what Henrik believed until Kára turned her back on her family because she sought a greater fight than to protect Sylvi.

“So this is where they went…”

Henrik turns his head as he hears the door of his bedroom softly creak open. At the door stood Soffía, with Birgitta, Deniz, and Maria close behind her. Soffía, the one who spoke, entered the room as quietly as possible, and the others followed her lead, Deniz closing the door behind them. The four approach Henrik, and Soffía gently places a hand on his shoulder.

“We’d gone to their room to check on them and were worried when we discovered the empty cots,” Soffía says, gazing at her children and grandchildren sleeping peacefully.

“Apologies, Soffía,” Henrik sighs, “I just needed to know they were safe…”

She squeezes his shoulder, “we understand, Henrik. But please, next time, let us know first.”

“I will,” he promises, tearing his eyes away from the bed to face his friends.

“Oh, Henrik…” Birgitta whispers when she sees the pained and haunted look in the King’s eyes, “talk to us, my old friend. What goes through your mind?”

“Sylvi will not get to see the great things our children and grandchildren have yet to do…” Henrik answers, fresh tears burning his eyes, “she’ll never see our grandchildren marry or have kids of their own… She’ll never see Tómus become King of New Asgard or see Earth become a part of the universe… She was taken too soon…”

“I know, Henrik,” Soffía sympathized, “I wish Sylvi were still here with us… But I know she is watching over us and will wait for us to join her in Valhalla. She may be gone from our lives, but she is not gone from our hearts.”

“I just wish I could tell her I love her one last time…” he sobs, “I feel like I didn’t say it to her enough…”

“Now I know you know that is far from true, Henrik,” Deniz states, “you told Sylvi you loved her every chance you had. I know she died knowing you loved her.”

“But she still died alone,” Henrik argued.

“Sadly, we cannot change the past,” Maria says, taking her husband’s hand, “but we can work to move forward from it. Sylvi would never hate you for not being with her in her final moments. You were with her in her heart just as she is still in yours.”

“We might not be able to see, speak to, or touch Sylvi anymore, but her spirit still surrounds us in her love,” Soffía smiles bittersweetly, “so please, look to the future you will have with us and the rest of the family. Do not torment yourself thinking of what you could have done to change the past.”

“But I do not know how to live without Sylvi,” Henrik lets his tears flow freely, “how can I be strong without her to remind me I am allowed to be weak?”

“You can be weak with us,” Birgitta offers, kneeling beside Henrik’s chair and placing a hand on his knee, “you do not have to be strong all the time. You are allowed to break, and we will be here to put you back together.”

“You will learn to live without Sylvi, Henrik,” Deniz assures, sitting on the arm of the chair opposite Soffía and Brigitta. Maria stands beside her husband and grasps Henrik’s hand, “it will not be easy, but we will help you. You are not alone in your grief.”

“Deniz is right,” Maria squeezes the King’s hand to help ground him, “we shall be your strength when you can no longer be strong. We will guide you back into the light when you are trapped in the darkness. You are never alone, and we will never abandon you.”

That was the key to unlocking the floodgates. Henrik hunches forward as he covers his face and sobs into his hands. He knows his cries will not awaken those who are sleeping due to the heavy drugs in their system, but he still tries to muffle them. He feels a hand cradle the side of his head and gently guide it so Henrik is leaning against Deniz’s chest. Soffía somewhat awkwardly sits on the other arm of the chair and leans in to hug Henrik. Despite what had to be an uncomfortable position for her to be in, Soffía voiced no complaints. Brigitta and Maria each keep their hands on Henrik’s hand and leg to further ground their friend.

Henrik’s life wouldn't be the same without Sylvi by his side, but that doesn't mean it was over. He still had their family and friends to love and cherish. The grief may never leave him, but it served as a reminder of what he’d lost, and above all else, he never wants to forget Sylvi. One day, they will be reunited in Odin’s halls to spend eternity together. But for now, in the arms of his friends, as his children and grandchildren sleep peacefully before him, Henrik will let his grief consume him. And as the last rays of sunlight disappear past the horizon and the stars come out to light up the sky, Henrik knows that all is not lost. New Asgard had a brighter future ahead of itself, one of which future generations will bring forth.

Chapter Text

“Yo, Lars!” Jack pokes his head into his friend's room aboard the Bureau’s plane, “you forget to grab your guitar! Where do you want me to put it?”

Lars looks up from unpacking his suitcase, “that's not my guitar, bro! Mine's on the bed, see!”

Looking over to the other side of the room, sure enough, Jack sees a different guitar on Lars and Angela’s bed. Its case was plastered with stickers, some of which Lars had put on and others added by the triplets. Jack frowns as he looks down at the guitar he is carrying.

“Then who’s guitar is this?” Jack wonders.

“Mine,” Elliot says shortly, snatching the case from the agent’s hand.

“Wha- Since when do you have hobbies?!” he exclaims.

“Since none of your business,” he glared, fully prepared to lock himself in his bedroom until Jack dropped the subject… Which Elliot doubted would happen any time soon!

“Dude! Why didn’t you say you play the guitar?!” Lars asks. But he didn’t sound demanding, just honestly curious. However, the bright smile on his face told Elliot that ideas were running through the Aussie’s head right now.

“Because it's not important?” Elliot grumbles.

“Not important?! Dude, we could have been rocking out together!” he exclaimed with growing excitement.

And there’s the punchline!

“That’s exactly why I didn’t say anything!” Elliot snapped, “I don’t want to “rock out”! Besides, I haven't played in a long time… I don't even know why I brought this stupid thing.”

“It's not stupid!” Lars argues, “it's awesome that you play! How about we take it out and see how much you remember? I can help you!”

“I’ll pass,” he answers, gripping the case tighter, “I’m going to my room, so just drop this!”

“Okay…” it didn’t sound like Lars was going to drop the topic permanently, but for now, he said nothing more about it.

Elliot storms off to his room before Jack can make another wisecrack comment. He reached the bedroom assigned to him and locked the door behind him. The guitar finds a place on the floor as Elliot drops it on his way to flop on his new bed. The fluffy pillow muffles a moan as Elliot lets his feelings out into it.

Why did he bring the stupid guitar with him?! He hadn’t played it in months- maybe even years! It's not like he kept track… The thing had been collecting dust in his bedroom back home for so long that it was nothing more than decor at this point. But when Elliot was packing his suitcases, something told him to grab the guitar… He has no clue why; it's not like he’ll have much free time… Hell, he doesn't even have a stand, let alone sheet music to play!

Before Elliot could get lost in his complaining, a knock sounded on his door, and he groaned. If that was Jack coming back to tease him more, he had another thing coming!

“Go away, Jack!” Elliot snapped.

“I’m not Jack,” came Lars’s voice from the hallway, “can we talk for a sec?”

“Will you leave if I say no?” he asks, already guessing the answer.

“Not a chance!” Elliot could almost hear the smirk in Lars’s voice.

Elliot grumbles as he rolls off his bed and shuffles to the door. He unlocks it and slides the door open to reveal Lars patiently waiting on the other side. The blond smiles brightly (seriously, was he a golden retriever personified?) and lifts his arm, drawing the teen’s attention to what he is holding. Elliot’s eyes settle on a beaten-up guitar case covered in stickers and a music folder under Lars’s arm. He raises his head to give Lars an unamused look.

“Hear me out,” Lars pleaded, “I know you didn’t want to talk about the guitar, but I can tell you could use a music session! We’re about to embark on a worldwide adventure that’s going to take us to God knows where, so I think it would do everyone some good to have a moment to relax before taking off.”

“I’m not performing for the team,” Elliot glares.

“I wasn’t going to suggest that,” he promises, “I was going to suggest that you and I have one. These rooms are soundproof, so no one should be able to hear you if you're worried you’ll sound bad.”

“I don't know…” he hesitates.

“Hey, we don’t have to if you really don’t want to,” he says, picking up on the nervousness in the teen’s voice, “honest, I won’t bug you again.”

“It's just… I haven’t played in a long time…” Elliot confesses, looking away.

“And that’s okay,” Lars assures, “would you like to try again? I’ll help you remember what you’ve forgotten.”

“... You tell no one.”

“It won't leave this room.”

Elliot lets Lars into the room and locks the door again. When he turns around, the Aussie is already opening his guitar case on the floor and pulling the instrument out. The polished wood is worn in places, showing that it was well-used but still in good shape. After tightening the strings, Lars plucked them to ensure they were in tune. Once satisfied, he leaned the instrument against the wall and faced Elliot before gesturing to the teen’s guitar case.

Following the silent request, Elliot takes his guitar from the case. Unlike Lars’s, it is still as shiny as the day Elliot got it, but the strings are horribly out of tune. As promised, Lars guides Elliot through how to tune them and listen for the right pitch or as close as they can get without using a tuner. The guitar will need new strings sooner rather than later, but for today, it will get the job done. With each of their instruments in hand, Lars props his music book up in the seat of Elliot’s desk chair as a makeshift stand and puts on some simple songs for them to practice.

“You ready?” Lars asked.

“I guess to…” Elliot mumbles.

“Okay, put your hands like mine, see?” he moves his left hand onto the fretboard while his right hovers over the strings.

“Like this?” he says, moving his hands into a somewhat familiar position.

“Close, just fix your wrist a little…” he gently guides the teen’s hand so his wrist is bent at a different angle, “perfect! Now, do you play with a pick or just your fingers?”

“I’ve done both, but picks are easier for me,” he answers.

Lars nods, grabs two picks from his guitar cases, and hands Elliot a purple one while he keeps the pink, “k, so hold it between your fingers- Yeah! Just like that! See, you haven’t forgotten everything!”

Elliot flushed under the praise, “it's just a pick…”

“It’s progress!” he beams, “do you want to try some scales before getting into the music?”

“Sure.”

Lars leads through the scales, and Elliot mimics the notes he plays, messing up a few of them. But whenever he misses a note, instead of scolding him, Lars simply moves Elliot’s fingers or hand slightly so he is pressing in the correct spot on the fretboard. Elliot had to admit it was nice to have such a patient teacher. His old music teacher had been an old hardass who would belittle him for the slightest mistake and only considered “perfect” acceptable. However, unlike them, Lars didn’t care if Elliot messed up a note and showed him how to fix it with a comforting smile.

Soon, Elliot was climbing through the scales as if he’d never stopped playing. He was no world-class player, but he still got the job done, and it sounded okay. Pleased with the progress, Lars drags the chair, holding his music closer and flips through the sheet music to find a song they could play. He lets Elliot pick the song, and the teen finds a simple piece that would work as a duet.

Music fills the bedroom as Lars helps Elliot with the notes, and the teen works his way through the song. He let Elliot take as much time as needed to get comfortable with the piece before joining in. As the two guitars sing the song, calm and happiness settle in Elliot’s chest, one that he hasn’t experienced in a long time. When the song reached its end, the feeling stayed, and Elliot couldn't help but smile.

“I knew you could do it, kid!” Lars praised.

“Thanks…” Elliot mumbles sheepishly.

“What to try another song?” he asked.

“Don't you have something more important to do?” he asks, cringing at how harsh he sounded.

He laughs, “since Angela banished me from organizing our room because I put the socks in the wrong drawer? I think we still have plenty of time to rock and roll! If you want to, of course.”

Elliot mumbles something under his breath, too quietly for Lars to hear.

“What was that?” Lars inquires. There was genuine curiosity in his voice instead of malice like Elliot was used to.

“You don’t have to hang out with me just because I play guitar,” Elliot repeats louder.

“And I’m not. I’m hanging out with you because you're my friend,” he smiles.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you consider me your friend?”

“Well, because I like you, and we have things in common,” Lars strums his guitar for emphasis, “do I need a groundbreaking reason to like you?”

“No…” Elliot looks down, “just not used to people liking me that much…”

“Hey, you’re a good kid, Elliot,” he states, “are you a little strange? Sure, but we all are! It's not impossible for people to want to be your friend; sometimes it’s just a challenge to find the ones who truly like you.”

He rolls his eyes, “let me know when you find them…”

“Kid, I’m sure you’ll have more friends than you can count one day,” he declared, “it might not be today, tomorrow, or the next day, but it's going to happen.”

“If it does, I’ll owe you a performance,” he smirked.

Lars laughed, “deal! The day you lose track of how many friends you have will be the day I drag you on stage to perform in my band!”

“Oi! Who said anything about that?!” Elliot demands.

“You said you would owe me a performance; you never said what kind!” he smirked.

“Damn loopholes…” he grumbled.

“You walked into it, kid!” he teased, “so, want to continue our jam session?”

“Sure,” he agrees, “you pick next.”

As Lars excitedly digs through his sheet music, Elliot couldn't help but feel secondhand excitement. Actually, he couldn't even call it secondhand because he was excited to continue playing. When he got the guitar, it was a birthday present from his parents years ago, after he’d been asking for one for months. At first, it had been so much fun learning how to play, and he even got to show his family some of the songs he’d learned. But then, his parents started spending more and more time on business trips, and whenever they were home, it felt like living with strangers.

As time passed and he drifted further apart from his parents, Elliot struggled to pick up his guitar again. For as much fun as he had playing it, every time he looked at it, he remembered that his parents weren’t there to see the progress he’d made… Maybe it was selfish to want his parents to praise him, but it wasn’t selfish to want their love! Still, one day, he packed up his guitar and never opened the case again…

But maybe now was the time to make new memories with it—happier ones to replace the sad, lonely ones of Elliot playing alone in an empty mansion. That sounded nice… Almost as nice as the music he was making with Lars. While Elliot was nowhere near as talented a musician as Lars was, the forensic expert had no issues slowing down and waiting for Elliot to catch up. And even if he would hate having a crowd of people listen to him play, Elliot couldn't help but wonder if he would enjoy it even a quarter of how much Lars loved performing on stage for his fans.

However, that’s a thought to consider another day. For now, Elliot would enjoy relearning how to love his guitar. Lars had finally selected the next song for them to play (a piece the Aussie wrote), and the sheet music rested on the chair, ready for them. Elliot adjusts how he is sitting and moves his hands into position while Lars copies his lead. Soon, music filled the room again as the two played in harmony, forgetting about the outside world and the dangers awaiting them in the future…

Chapter Text

Hello, everyone.

If you have already seen my updates in my S4 story or my post on Tumblr, you know I have decided to discontinue this book. I have been considering this for months, and my break gave me the final push I needed to implement my decision. I may occasionally write CC one-shots unrelated to my series, which will be posted as stand-alone stories, but I will no longer accept requests for one-shots.

If inspiration or a desire to write a story based on ideas friends and I talk about happens to hit me, that is different. However, I will no longer try to force myself to write ideas I do not want to write. That is not only unfair to me, but it is unfair to all of you for me to promise to write stories and not fulfill the requests.

I still have a few requests/ideas on my list that I could do as stand-alone stories or in my other one-shot book. The one-shot book related to my series will remain active, and you can still suggest ideas for extra stories you would like to see from my series. But again, I’m writing in my free time for fun, so if I don’t like an idea or am not ready to write it, it may not happen immediately or at all.

Thank you all for your wonderful requests for stories for this book. I wish I could keep it going, and maybe one day I might bring it back, but for now, I think it’s best to let it go.

I’ll see you guys in my main series once I have an update ready for it and, hopefully, some new stories for you all to enjoy one day.

Thank you,

Astra G.✨