Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

~ ~Madness or Misgivings ~ ~

It had been two weeks since they began their assault on her head, two weeks of a nearly constant hum of voices that never let her have a moment's peace, and she almost liked it that way, so much so that her work, the work that paid the bills and kept a roof over her head and food in her belly, was suffering for it, but, once again, she did not mind one little bit.

On Friday afternoon, she came home from work, patted one of her cats on the head when it meowed for attention, cussed at the pile of bills that were in the mailbox, then settled down at her computer to see how things were progressing on the site she had chosen to post her stories before getting down to what she called her true job: writing.

"The same as yesterday and the day before: no new reviews. Oh, wait, here's one," she murmured to herself as she read over what one of her readers had to say. It did not make her happy. Flames rarely made anyone joyful, but they were part and partial to the whole "writing for another's enjoyment" gig, so she accepted them and went on ... most of the time.

The review was particularly nasty, as it called into question whether or not she could even speak, much less write, the common language. It hurt her heart to read those words, but she also knew that one person's opinion did not make or break a story. It still weighed on her, however.

"Hello, Sweets. Whatcha readin'?" Seifer, one of her more vocal Muses, asked her from somewhere behind her. In the past week or so, the voices she had been hearing were becoming clearer and clearer, and, at times, she could almost see them pace her small room. Their number had also increased, as well; at last count, she had ten different people talking to her at any given time.

"It's just a flame, nothing to worry about," she said, her hand moving to close down the window before he could really get a good look at what it said, but a light touch to her hand surprised her into stopping the movement.

"Leave it, I want to see," Seifer instructed. She could almost feel a light-as-air kiss on her cheek, and she could smell him in her room. It was a spicy smell that was extremely man-like, and she found herself breathing deeply, filling her nostrils with the scent that reminded her of sex, sex, and ... sex. It made her half-heartedly wish that those who spoke to her in her mind were flesh and blood and not just what seemed to be figments of her overactive imagination.

The tension in her head began to rise, and it felt to her as if Seifer was getting angry, and, when she turned in her chair, she could actually see a faint outline of someone standing there, bent at the waist and reading over her shoulder. It was enough to make her shudder and question her sanity. The fact that she was alone in the house, now that her daughters were away for the summer, did nothing to ease her thoughts, either. If someone else had been there to tell her that she was or was not seeing things, it would have gone a long way toward easing her mind.

She looked at the face that was hovering beside her shoulder and knew without a shadow of a doubt that the Muse, or spirit, or whatever the hell it was, was getting angrier than a hornet's nest. Great, just what I need: a rampaging Behemoth , she thought sourly as she quickly turned back to the computer screen and took a couple of deep breaths.  She needed to calm herself before she ran out of the room like someone having a mental breakdown.  Someone else’s anger always made her feel like she had to get out of Dodge as fast as humanly possible before she got caught up in a situation she couldn’t get out of.

"I can read your thoughts, you know." Seifer's face bent down to her and kissed her on the cheek once more, the visage becoming clearer with every passing second. "Does this person just like to hear himself talk, or is he really this much of an asshole?"

"Well, you should know, as you are an asshole," said a petite brunette in a blue sequined dress that reached just past her backside. It was quite pretty, very becoming on her slight figure, and it made the owner of the home extremely grateful that the little spitfire's other half, whoever it was at the moment, was not in residence.

I bet if she were to bend over and pick something up she'd show everything she's got , she thought to herself with a sigh, never even thinking for a moment that actually seeing Selphie Tilmitt was something strange and unnatural. The last time she had worn something like that when she came for a visit, Irvine had covered her with his trench coat and made her sit in the rocking chair for the rest of the night while he stood guard - even though he was currently dating Paine. Or so she had been told. At that time, she was unable to actually see them in any way, shape, or form. It had been frustrating and a bit annoying.

"Hello, Selphie. What's up with the blue dress?" she asked the younger woman as she bounced over to the computer. The startled look that passed over the young woman's face did not escape her notice, however. Hmm, so maybe I'm not supposed to see them? She shook herself and continued to watch the two shadow people in her room with growing anxiety.

"We have a party tonight, remember? Or are you not there yet?" the little fighter said as she pushed Seifer aside so she could get to the computer. Seifer's form fell on the bed, and the writer's eyes became round with surprise behind her glasses when she noticed the bed dip beneath his weight and heard the springs complain. Then, she took a really good look at him and realized she could not see through him any longer. 

What the fuck is going on here? she asked herself as her eyes traveled from the tips of the man's boots to the top of his head, finally coming to rest on a mouth that was currently formed into a knowing smirk full of innuendo and promises.  Is he doing this, or am I just falling even further off the insanity cliff?

She turned to Selphie and her face smushed into a pair of very real, very firm breasts that were bouncing up and down as the slip of a woman danced from foot to foot. "Would you like me to get up so you can read this better?" The sarcasm all but dripped from her words, and apparently over Selphie's head.

"That would be wonderful! Thanks!" She smiled down at the woman who thought she was going insane and whooped for joy when she got up and let her have the chair.

What else could I do? What the bouncing one wants, the bouncing one gets , she thought as she settled onto the head of her bed and pulled her knees up to her chin, her back to the spindle headboard. Again, she did not have a choice in that, as Seifer was currently lounging on her bed, his boots on her favorite quilt.

"Hey, Sweets," Seifer said as he looked through her MP3 player. "What do you care what that prick thinks? Be more like me, just don't give a shit – it's easier that way." He never was one to use the manners she had been assured he had, or perhaps he just felt comfortable around her. Either way, it was taking every ounce of self-control she had not to try and flip him out of her bed before running for the hills herself.

"You do too give a shit," was her reply as she eyed his boots and wished she even dared to kick them off of her quilt. "If you didn't, you wouldn't badger me to change what you say or do when I'm writing you. I swear you're worse than every beta reader I’ve ever had." She sighed to herself and then started in on trying to get out of the self-pitying mood she was in. Seifer was right, of course, damn him. It was not like the reviewer was holding a gun to her head and making her feel that way.

Seifer chuckled and proceeded to pull the hair tie from her ponytail and muss her hair as one would do to a favorite child. "I know, but I'm supposed to be the bad-ass devil-may-care one, remember?" He knew the writer absolutely hated it when anyone messed with her hair, which was why he tried to do it as often as he could. He loved it when her hair hung around her shoulders and down her back. It made her look like she had just spent the entire weekend in bed being fucked into the mattress. He then realized with a start that he wished he could do that in reality.

~ ~ ~ ~

"How is our writer doing today?" Vincent Valentine asked his partner Squall Leonhart when he walked into the command room at Hub Castle.

"Thinking she's going insane," Squall responded, a worried look on his face. "Seifer and Selphie are there right now, and the cloaking device we've been using has started to break down. It won't be long before she realizes that someone is truly there and not a spirit or something of that nature."

"I've told you from the beginning that we needed to be truthful with her in all things, but your lot from Balamb decided that it would be better to ease her into it." Vincent's voice held a mildly reproachful tone as he took the seat next to Squall and started running a few scans of the realms.

"I still think that was the best course of action, but it's been two weeks, so maybe we can dispense with the cloaking device after all." Squall had been thinking along those lines for the past week anyway, and, seeing as the damned thing was on its last legs, why not?

"So, when are you going to go for a visit?" Vincent asked. He was a bit worried about how his partner was reacting to the woman. It was bordering on an obsession that he found strangely consuming. He was not worried about Squall leaving him, but, at the same time, he was worried about what would happen to his lover's heart when he realized that she had to stay in her own realm. He was steadfastly ignoring the fact that he himself was just as obsessed with her well-being as his partner.

Bringing Squall and friends to the island was one thing, but this woman's world was not connected to the Hub in any way other than the power highway she had somehow built. He was not even sure if her body would be able to function outside her world. Then there were her children to think of, as well. The more Vincent thought about things, the more guilt he felt at how she was being treated - in short, he felt the same as Squall.

"You can stop worrying about my heart, Vincent," Squall said as he watched the older man pull a few sheets of paper off of the printer. "You have my heart completely. I have no intention of bringing her here, and it's not an obsession – at least I don't think it is."

"Reading my mind again, pet?" Vincent's eyes never left the page he was reading, but his lips did curl a bit at the corners. He kept forgetting that the link between him and Squall was unique and very intimate. Listening to each other's thoughts was as normal as breathing unless they consciously shielded them from each other.

"Hmm, I don't see why I can’t rescue her from the blonde asshole," Squall muttered to himself in answer to Vincent’s previous question as he watched Cloud enter the woman's room and eject Selphie from the chair so he could get to the computer.

"Then why don't you? It looks like the cloaking device has given up the ghost, so to speak, and our writer is getting a bit bug-eyed." Vincent nodded at the monitor, and Squall focused in on her face, noting that, yes, her eyes were definitely in danger of falling out of her head.

Squall stood, kissed Vincent soundly, then winked out of sight. "I wonder when he learned that little trick? It took me almost four months to figure out how to travel without a portal." Vincent sighed and went back to work trying to figure out exactly how and why the woman was able to feed the Hub with power and bring things into being just with the power of the written word alone.

~ ~ ~ ~

"Cloud! I wasn't done reading what that piece of shit said, ya know!" Selphie stamped her foot in anger and threw a pillow at Cloud's head, which he caught and tossed back at her.

"No throwing things around the equipment, Selphie. You know better than that," Cloud said as he scanned the comment that was on the screen and minimized the window. To the writer, he added, "Did you finish that story about Rufus and that guy Murphy you were telling me about yet?"

"Yes, and I posted it a couple of days ago. Not that many people cared enough to comment on it." She shrugged her shoulders and leaned back against the headboard, pulling her knees up to her chest even tighter, trying to fight back tears of fear and frustration. "But that's okay, as I wrote it for you, anyway. The only reason I posted it was because you asked me to."

She had just seen a pillow fly across her room, stop in mid-air, then fly back the way it came. Granted, she could see an outline that looked a lot like Cloud Strife sitting in her chair, and the sound of his voice was coming from that direction, so – Damn it! Either I'm going crazy, I'm being haunted by some really interesting ghosts, or I have three Muses in my room farting around with my things.

Cloud grunted, then went looking for the story in her archives, found it, pulled it up, and got down to the business of reading what she had written. Once again, she watched as her mouse seemed to move on its own and the programs on her computer activated one by one. That's it. My mind has taken a walk off the map.

She had just taken off her glasses and laid her head on her knees to try and shut out some of the images that were giving her fits when she heard a small popping sound from the foot of her bed. Not trusting her eyes, the writer stayed how she was, but her other senses were on high alert. A smell of autumn leaves, burning wood, gunpowder, and musk hit her nose, making it twitch, and her ears heard other small pops – three, to be exact.

"All right folks, enough is enough. Time to move out." The voice was deep and rich and held a tone of command that was used to being obeyed immediately. It was also a voice that she had become very intimate with over the past two weeks, and it sent shivers up and down her spine.

"I'm almost done. Give me a second," came Cloud's muffled and mirth-filled reply off to her right. Then she felt something or someone shift on the bed next to her, making her fingernails dig into the sides of her knees, her eyes squeeze shut, and her breath quicken.

"I really don't feel like it," Seifer said from beside her, his voice no longer a whisper but right next to her and definitely in the room. "Besides, I just got comfortable."

"And I said it was time for you three to go home," the newcomer said with a definite note of threat in his voice. "I need to talk to our writer here, and I would like to do that in private, if you don't mind. This is going to be hard enough on her as it is without your loud mouth messing things up."

The bed dipped sharply before all of the weight was gone from it in an instant, almost throwing her off the damned thing. Not more than a second after she had shifted slightly on her backside, a loud metallic clang could be heard about a foot in front of her face. Startled into motion, her head lifted off of her knees and her eyes widened in shock when she saw three blurry swords crossed in front of her.

"If you two are going to go at it, at least take it outside," Cloud said as he withdrew his sword and put it against the wall. "How would you have lived with yourself if you had hit her, Seifer?"

"Damn it."

She heard his whispered curse, put her glasses back on her face,  and then turned her head to see the blonde man standing before her. He was clothed as he usually was in her mind's eye: long black trench coat with a red cross on the upper sleeve, black jeans, combat boots, and a blue and white vest – no shirt. Her eyes traveled up his body, coming to a rest on his face, his blue eyes shining with anger and an emotion she had seen on her ex’s face many a time.

"Okay, that's it." She scuttled across her bed and jumped to the floor so she had the piece of furniture between her and the now completely visible people in her home. "I don't know what the fuck is going on, but this is too much. OUT!"

She pointed at the door with a shaking finger and jabbed at the air for emphasis. "I mean it. Get the fuck out of my home."  She had just enough time to wish she had been able to change out of the dress she had worn to work that day. Running away from everyone really was not an option when she was wearing the damned thing.

"As you wish, my Lady," Seifer said as he walked over to her, grabbed her around the waist, and crushed her to him for a kiss.  Her stockinged feet dangled above the ground, and she had tried her damnedest to push him away before he set her down and walked through a black hole that had appeared where her closet door should have been.

"See you later!" Selphie called as she bounced through the portal, blowing the other woman a kiss and a wink.

"The story is good," Cloud said as he walked over to her, smoothed her hair down with both hands, and planted a kiss on her forehead. "I’ll make sure Seifer doesn’t do that shit again, okay?” he whispered to her before raising his voice again: “Maybe next time I can finish reading it?" He gave the authoritative man a look that the writer would have had issues putting to paper, and was gone, the portal closing behind them leaving the writer alone with a man who was the spitting image of Squall Leonhart, one of the two characters in her head that she would have done anything for, or given up almost anything for, just to be able to talk to them for a few moments.

"Just who the hell are you?" she asked as she sank to the floor; her legs, it seemed, had turned to jelly and were refusing to carry her weight, which wasn’t really all that surprising to her, as Seifer Almasy’s anger and jealousy had made her feel more frightened than she had in over a year.

"You know who I am. We've been talking for the past two weeks," he said as he walked over to her and squatted down so he was almost on her level. He was still trying to get the image of how Seifer had treated her out of his head, and came to the conclusion that he was going to have to beat the blonde fucker half to death the next time he caught up with him.

"You've told me that you are Squall Leonhart, a character from a video game I have loved for years and played and re-played until I can do so in my sleep. You have also told me that you are indeed one of two Universal Guardians, and that the story that's been knocking around in my head 24/7 is the history of what transpired in the Hub Realm approximately a month ago. In short, you are my dreams made flesh and blood, and I'm going completely insane. Do me a favor, would you?" She scuttled back from him, her feet slipping on her skirt, making her back hit the wall and her entire body shake violently. "Call the Looney Bin and have them come get me."

"Why would I want to do that? You're not insane, crazy, seeing things, or being lied to or tricked." He said it all in a low voice that one might use when talking to a scared animal or someone who was waking from a really bad nightmare.

"Then why in the hell did you hide yourselves from me for so long? Did you think it was funny making me wonder if someone was there? Do you know how hard it's been for me to even go to the bathroom lately? I can't shower without worrying that someone might be there, and changing clothes is a nightmare!" Her shaking had intensified, and the tears had started leaking out of her eyes.

"I did tell you that we would never come to you while you were in the bathroom. Everyone knows that room is off-limits. If I find out one of them broke that rule —" It was his turn to have anger seething in his eyes, and that, of all things, started to calm her down a bit.

"All right, say I believe you about the bathroom, that still doesn't help me sleep at night. And why in the hell are there so many of you?!" She had been wondering that quite a bit lately. At first, it was just Squall and Vincent talking to her every now and then, and nothing moved in her room, but, after a few days, more of them came, and things started to get really weird.

"Because you have been calling out to us," Squall said as he stood up and held out his hand to her in an invitation for some help getting to her feet. The writer eyed him warily, but finally took his offered hand, and was surprised at just how strong he was when she was whisked upwards and steadied by a strong arm around her waist.

"What do you mean I've been calling out to you?" she asked as she walked past him on legs that were returning to normal and opened her bedroom door. "Come with me, and let's have some coffee while we talk. I make it a habit not to have men in my room unless we are on more ... intimate terms."

Squall looked at her for a few beats, then chuckled as he walked out the door and down the stairs to the kitchen. He knew her home like the back of his hand, having watched its resident and her visitors for the past fortnight, and he found himself running his fingers over pictures hanging on the walls, a little table in the hall at the base of the stairs that was her catch-all for keys, purse, and mail, or just feeling the texture of the walls as he ambled into the kitchen and opened the freezer to hand her the bag of coffee he knew she kept there.

"Is there anything you don't know about my house?" she asked him when she took the offered bag and started to make a pot of coffee. She turned to ask him to hand her the salt shaker from the kitchen table, only to find him right behind her with it in his hand. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Squall handed over the shaker and knew she was going to put five shakes of salt into the coffee grounds. "Why do you do that? I've noticed you never make coffee without salting the grounds first, so I'm curious."

"It takes the bitterness away. Depending on the brand of coffee, you can use between a pinch and five or six shakes. This is a relatively cheap brand, so five shakes. The shit I have to deal with when I go into the office gets about eight."

"Yes, your job," Squall said with a shake of his head before sitting in one of the kitchen chairs. "I don't understand why you put up with those annoying co-workers, horrible hours, and never-ending data on a computer hour after hour with no thanks and no change. Unless you're working from home, I don't think I've ever seen you take a break unless it's to get coffee, smoke a cigarette, or go to what I'm assuming is the bathroom. You've never even taken lunch for longer than ten minutes."

The writer laughed before turning to look at him. "Because it's one of the best-paying jobs in these parts, and it lets me work from home unless there’s a meeting. Trust me, if I could find something else, or write for a living, I'd do it in a heartbeat, but what I write doesn't really bring in the money."

"And why is that?" Squall was flabbergasted at her admission. From what he had read, and from the reviews he had seen online about her work, she was good at what she did. Why she could not make a living at it was beyond him.

"For one thing, I mostly write using characters and places that someone else has already used, for another, erotica is not exactly polite literature, and the establishment frowns on it." She busied herself with filling two mugs with coffee, adding creamer and sugar in differing amounts before handing the stronger cup to Squall and sitting down across from him at the table.

Squall took an experimental sip from his mug and smiled into it before taking another bigger sip. "This is good. Just the right amount of cream and sugar, and no bitterness. How did you know how I take it?"

"I honestly couldn't tell you, but there are a lot of things that I just know . They pop up every now and then, so I just roll with it. Kind of like right now, I'm rolling with this whole situation before I seriously go batshit insane." She watched as one of her cats, Jake, came into the kitchen and started rubbing up against Squall's legs until the man patted his lap in invitation. It did not take the butterball of a feline long to hop up onto his lap and make himself at home, purring loudly and giving his mistress a look of pure contentment. "Well, there you have it. If Jake likes you, you're real and not a threat. Welcome to my home, Mr. Leonhart."

"Thank you, but you can call me Squall. Now, what to call you?" He was looking at her intently, and it made her feel naked. His eyes were glacial blue and swirled with power – it could be quite hypnotic, if she let it. "I can't call you by your given name. Only Vincent and I know that and we want to keep it that way. What would you like us to call you? 'The writer' or 'that woman' does you no justice and feels wrong in my mind."

She gave the matter quite a bit of thought and finally settled on a name that no one save her paternal grandmother had called her. It seemed fitting – in this case, at least. "How about Bea? It's close enough to the real thing, so it would be easy for me to remember that I need to answer to it, and I happen to like it quite a bit."

"Bea?" Squall rolled it around in his mouth, saying it a few times before nodding acceptance. "It fits you. Short, sweet, and to the point." He gifted her with another smile that did very vexing things to her insides. It made her think of his jeans-clad ass and what it would be like to just pat it as he walked by – not a thought she needed to be having around a man who could read her mind.

"Please stop doing that," she almost begged, a flush coming to her face as she tried to hide behind her mug, hoping he had not caught the gist of her thoughts.

"Do what?" He was smiling at her quizzically, one eyebrow cocked and a twinkle in his eyes.

Aw, shit, he knows . "Smile at me. It does ... interesting things to me, things I have no business feeling." Her cheeks were even redder than they had been before, her pale skin becoming ruddy and almost glowing with embarrassment.

"And why shouldn’t you feel?" Squall asked her. He was not trying to tease her, but he had grown to like her quite a lot over the past few weeks, and he had wondered at the sadness he had felt coming from her. She denied herself so much, and made so many sacrifices, so it made him wonder why she would even deny herself a little flirtation.

"Because every time I allow someone who makes me feel the way you do into my life, they try their damnedest to fuck it up, and I let them because —" She could not finish the thought out loud. Saying 'because I'm not worth being happy' was not something she wanted to say to anyone.

Squall had a vague idea as to what she was going to say, and immediately wanted to make damn sure she knew better. The only issue was how to do it.

"Well, I can promise you that I won't intentionally hurt you, and I won't let any of the others, either. Speaking of the others –" He set his mug down on the table and started petting Jake while he talked. "How many have been in contact with you?"

Bea, quite happy with the turn of topic, went through the mental checklist she had been keeping over the past few weeks, and came up with a few names for him. "If we're talking about those that have been talking to me up here –" She pointed to her forehead as she spoke, "– then there's ten of you: You, Vincent, Irvine, Paine, Selphie, Seifer, Cloud, Reno, Edea, and Yuna. If you're talking about those that have actually been in my room fucking around with my things and making me think I'm seeing ghosts and goblins, then it has been Seifer, Cloud, Selphie, and now you." She stopped and thought for a moment then snapped her fingers. "And I'm pretty damn sure Irvine has been to visit me as well, but I think he was a hell of a lot quieter and more gentlemanly than the others."

"Very perceptive of you." Squall was impressed with her ability to sense things that were not seen. He would not have thought that she would have been able to sense all of them, but there she was telling him everyone that had been through the portal to her home.

"It is my home and my head. I'm very particular about how things are arranged and how my home feels. I have to be –" She let the sentence fall off and buried her face in her mug again, but, this time, she was not hiding embarrassment, but something else entirely.

"Why do you have to be so particular?" Squall continued to pet the cat, but his eyes were drilling into her. Something was not quite right there, and he meant to get to the bottom of it before he got to the real reason he had come visiting. It bothered him quite a lot when he realized that she was just as adept at hiding her thoughts from him as he was from her – even if she didn’t know she was doing it.

"That is my business. Let's just say that I know where everything in my house is within a fraction of an inch, and my girls do, too. We've had ... issues in the past and tend to be extra careful now." Her tone was final and brooked no rebuttal, and Squall could tell that badgering her would get him nowhere. The woman was a study in contradictions: She was funny, smart, beautiful in a humble way, giving, bashful, sexual in nature, yet frightened of it at the same time,  hard as nails, and secretive – some characteristics that both Squall and Vncent had in abundance.

"I'm sure you'll tell me when you're ready," he said, picking up his mug and draining the last of his coffee. "Now, on to the reason I have come for a visit."

"I've been wondering about that." She stood up and took both mugs to the counter to pour fresh cups for them both. "I've also been wondering why I have been able to see those that have been visiting me today when, for the past couple of weeks, I haven't seen, felt, or smelled any of you."

Squall had the good grace to at least blush before confessing, "We were using a cloaking device, but it seems to have broken. Vincent was against it, but some of us felt it would be better to ease you into it."

"I see." She set his coffee down in front of him a bit harder than was necessary, and he realized with chagrin that Vincent was right, and she was angry. "So you thought it would be okay to invade my home, spy on me, watch me work, and do God knows what else? If the shoe was on the other foot, if someone was doing that to you, knowing full well it was an invasion of your privacy, how would you feel?"

"I was just as angry as you are now.  You forget that you were spying on us first, even if you didn’t mean to," Squall allowed, "but you have to understand something. We had no idea who you were, or how you could do what you've been doing. I still don't know if you're friend or foe, or if we can even trust each other."  He took a sip of his coffee for a bit of courage, then looked her in the eyes.  “I’m still angry that you could see what Vincent and I do when we’re alone."

"Just what is it that I'm supposed to be doing? I write stories, that's all. I have no magical powers, though I am a practicing Pagan." That little admission cost her dearly, but she would never let him know that. No one, save a choice few, knew of her religion and way of life. It may have been the twenty-first century, but some things still carried quite a stigma and the threat of a burning cross. "And up until about an hour ago, I thought all of y'all were fictional characters and not real people with lives of your own." She blushed brightly and turned her eyes down so she wasn’t looking at him.  “And I didn’t know I was being a mental peeping tom. I apologize for unintentionally watching something I thought my imagination had cooked up.”

Squall waved his hand in dismissal, letting her know that one instance of voyeurism really didn’t matter in the bigger scheme of things. "You have been changing my home." Squall placed Jake on the floor and stood up so he could pace around while talking. "It used to be that the Hub was a single island with a castle on it. Now, there are at least three islands, a coral reef, and a bridge between the two biggest islands, and we did not make any of it."

"So you're saying that what I write has changed the Hub?" She was honestly shaken at the news. It was a power she neither wanted nor needed. The power to change the topography of a place at a whim was something for the gods and not for some lowly mortal.

"Why do you look so shocked? It's not like you are doing anything wrong. You've actually been helping us out quite a bit. Why do you think Vincent and I have been asking you to write little things here and there? It was to test out your powers and try to figure out where they come from." Squall was very matter-of-fact in the way he was speaking to her, and his eyes were so earnest that she had to stop and wonder just how powerful he and Vincent were that something like changing an entire realm at a keystroke was commonplace to them.

"Can't you both do that, as well?" Bea asked as Jake hopped up in her lap and gave Squall a miffed look at being dumped.

"Yes," Squall said a bit hesitantly.

"But —"

Squall sighed and sat back down, grabbing his cup and taking a fortifying sip. "But it would take us months to reshape the Hub the way you have in just two weeks. Eventually, I'm sure we'll get to the point where it is not a huge tax on our powers or energy, but right now –" He waved his hand in such a way that let Bea know it was upsetting to him.

"So right now you're using me to do what needs to be done, correct?" Not that she really minded all that much, now that she thought about it. She would have been writing all of this at any rate, so, if it was helping them build a world where they can be happy, why not help them as much as she could?

Something of her internal thought process either showed on her face, or Squall Leonhart really could read her mind, because his body relaxed completely. Bea had not even noticed how keyed up he had been until he was not in that state anymore, which was a testament to how good he was at hiding his feelings and true thoughts.

"That is correct, and I take it you're okay with this?" Squall asked as his hand strayed closer to hers where it was resting on the table.  He had this small voice that was telling him that touching her would be okay, then in the next breath telling him he needed to touch her.  Hearing the voice didn’t bother him – he recognized it as an inner voice from his childhood that he had been ignoring for much of his adult life.

"Correct, for now." Bea could not see a downside to any of it. "As long as you all help me out when I have tough spots in the writing process, I will be more than happy to help you as much as I can. Not that I really believe it all that much." She sighed a bit wistfully, "I can't go to the Hub, can I?"

Squall shook his head sadly. "No, none of us think that would be safe for you, but we can come to see you as often as you wish. Calling us Muses probably is not that far from the truth." His fingers grazed hers, and he felt an electric shock travel up his arm, pulling his hand back quickly. What the ever-loving fuck was that?

"I prefer to think of you as such, to be honest. That way, I can continue to keep it to myself, and no one needs to know." She laughed a bit, then took both of their empty cups to the sink and rinsed them. "If anyone ever found out about this, I'd be put in the mental hospital, or burned at the stake as a witch."

"You can't tell me they still do that!" Squall was up in an instant and peeking out the curtains that hung over her sink at nothing but tall trees and a lake a short way down a steep hill. When he appeared behind her, his front became flush with her back and she could feel nothing but rock-hard muscles against her and a very large lump right at the cleft of her ass.  She wasn’t used to anyone invading her personal space, and it set all of her fears on a marathon around her body.

She went completely still, the water running and the cup slipping out of her hands. Squall caught it and placed it on the counter before putting his hands on her shoulders.

"Are you okay?" The concern was genuine and it made the giggles rise up through her belly and out her mouth before she could even stop it. It was a surefire sign that she was almost at her limit: She giggled like a schoolgirl about thirty seconds before her fight-or-flight response kicked in.

"I'm sorry, but it's hard to think, or function, when you're pressed up against me like this," Bea admitted as she wiggled about until she had inched from between him and the sink.

"Excuse me?" Squall's face was devoid of understanding, his mind not quite catching what she meant, but his body had caught on, and, judging by the way it had reacted to all of her wiggling around, liked it quite a bit.

"Look." Bea made some distance between them and kept her back to him so she would not have to look into his eyes when she made her confession, and he would not be able to see just how embarrassed she was. "You have to understand something – I have been playing Final Fantasy VIII off and on for at least nine years, and your characterization is the main reason why I keep coming back to it."

Bea hugged her elbows to her and tried to keep an ear out for any movement behind her, hoping that he would not try to come over to her side of the room for at least a little while. "I love all of you: You, Irvine, Seifer, Quistis, Zell, Selphie, and Edea. Then, there is Final Fantasy VII with Vincent, Cloud, Cid, Reno, and Rude," she said, finally stopping long enough to take a great shuddering breath. "And I've written about you all in one way or another. Some things I'm very proud of, others ... not so much, but I can say everything I've written was out of love."

She fell silent, and, for a moment, Squall thought she had said her piece until he realized she was crying softly and trying to find her voice again. "You all have become my family, the people I have wanted in my life. Besides my daughters, y'all were all I had and have, and, now that you're real, I don't want anyone to take you away." She laughed to herself and swayed a bit on her feet. "Selfish and petty of me, I know, but I also know that if anyone finds out —"

"They will try to take you away from us?" Squall asked as he leaned against the counter with his arms crossed. He was not doing that out of any kind of need to protect himself. It was to keep himself from pulling her into an embrace. The way he switched around Bea’s statement, making it about her instead of him, was completely intentional.  The more he talked with her, the more he realized that he needed her in his life – and it wasn’t just because she could change his home with the swipe of a pen, or how she made him feel.

Ever since he had met Vincent and taken on the Universal Guardian role, he found that he was not quite so hesitant to show his feelings as before. It was still new to him, but it was welcome, all the same. In the moment, however, he thought keeping his distance would be the right thing to do. He could feel the embarrassment, joy, fear, wanting, needing, love, sexual attraction, self-loathing, and shame coming off of her in waves. Going to her now would not help her at all.

"Right," she said, finally turning around so he could see the tear-stained cheeks and blotchy complexion pale-skinned people tend to get when they feel anything strongly. Even the freckles across her nose were standing out as if someone had splattered paint there. "If you were to leave and never come back, I would want it to be a mutual decision and not because someone forced the issue."

"I don't think you have to worry about that," Squall said as he lowered his arms and pushed away from the counter. "I think I would have a mutiny on my hands if I told the others they weren’t allowed to come back, and I don't want to stop, either – that is, if we have your permission."

Bea could not remember the last time anyone other than her daughters had asked for her permission to do anything, so it was a little off-putting to have a man that could easily kill her with the snap of his fingers asking her if it was okay if he did anything .

"All I ask is that you all give me some forewarning when you're coming over, and the option to say no, that's all." She sat in one of the chairs and let her fingers trace the grain of the wood tabletop. "And I want to make damn sure the bathroom and my girls' rooms are off-limits to everyone. Unless there's an emergency, and I don't see that happening, I don't want anyone to even know the color of their rooms."

"You're more protective of your daughters than I've seen a mother be in a very long time," he said as he took his seat again, "but at the same time, you allow them to be away from your sight for long periods of time. Why is that?"

"Because I know where they are going, and being cooped up in this house, in the middle of a forest with our closest neighbor two miles down the road, is no summer vacation for teenagers."

"I see your point." Squall smiled at her and took her hand in his. "Now that I've pried into your life and gotten your permission to visit, I can leave you for a while." He rose from his seat and started walking back to her room. "I'll make sure you have time tonight without any interruptions, and, if there is ever a time that you don't want company, just let me or Vincent know." He tapped his forehead and gave her another rare smile before popping out of sight before he even reached her bedroom door.

Bea shook herself and wondered at her disappointment. Had she thought that he might give her a parting kiss or was that just wishful thinking on her part? "Stop being such a fangirl," she said out loud as she entered her room and started picking things up from where the Muses had left them. Although, it is kind of nice thinking maybe he forgot or something .

"I didn't forget," Squall said from behind her, making her jump out of her skin. "I just got ahead of myself." He pulled her to him and gave her a gentle hug that made her legs weak and her nether regions sing. "I've felt the need to do this for the past two weeks, and I don't know why. Can you tell me?" he asked her as his face neared hers and his hand tipped her face up to his. "Because I can't figure it out."

The kiss was sweet and gentle, like a first kiss should be. Nothing demanding or expected, but questioning and seeking. Bea felt her arms wrap themselves around his neck, her body on auto-pilot, it seemed, and her fingers entwining themselves in his hair. He tasted of coffee and something she could not quite identify, and it was completely mind-blowing for her.  The fact that their bodies fit together in an entirely natural way didn’t help keep the butterflies out of her stomach either.

He broke the kiss, settling his forehead on hers, and smiled. "Are you going to be okay by yourself tonight?" He half hoped she would say no so he would have an excuse to stay and talk with her more.

"I think I'll manage," Bea replied, her fingers removing themselves from his hair and finding a new home on his shoulders. "I've been alone for over ten years now. I think I can handle one night."

His hands tightened on her waist and pulled her to him so their bodies were flush against each other. "I'm sure you can," he said before kissing her one more time. This time, it was not tentative and questioning, but something more passionate and demanding.

It surprised her and awoke something in her that she had thought had been dead long ago: sexual desire. She pulled back from him in a bit of a panic, her entire body shaking violently as she stumbled back and sat on the bed.

"Are you okay?" Squall's voice was filled with concern and not a small amount of need. His reaction to this woman had been along the lines of what he had felt when he first met Vincent, and that was not something he ever thought he would feel again.

"I'm sorry." Bea shook herself in an attempt to get her body back under control. "I don't know what happened." That had been a lie, a very bald and obvious falsehood that Squall had no problem seeing through. He realized that something had happened to her that still colored everything she did and said.

He sat on the bed next to her but did not touch her. "How long have you been alone?" He was beyond curious about what had made her into the woman that sat next to him, and, if it was what he thought, he might just have to kill someone.

"I'm not alone. I have my daughters." Bea blushed and looked away from him as she hugged her elbows. This was not something she wanted to talk to him, or anyone, about. It was her history that she wanted to keep hidden at all costs.

"You know what I mean," Squall coaxed. "How long has it been since you've had a lover?"

"That's a mighty personal question, Mr. Universal Guardian." Bea still wasn't looking at him, but at least her shaking had stopped. "At least ten years." She gave him that little snippet of information again and hoped that he would take it and not ask anything else.

"That's a long time," Squall added, the thought that going slow with this woman would be a good idea, but not too slow. He took her hand and kissed the back of it before standing, pulling her up into a gentle hug, and dropping a kiss on the top of her head. "If you change your mind, all you have to do is call." He let her go and handed her a little box with a red button on it. "Just push this, and either Vincent or I will connect so we can talk. We won't monitor you tonight, so maybe you can sleep soundly."

"Thank you," she said while putting the small box on her desk. "I think I'll be okay, though." She looked up at him and gave him a smile that was sunshine through the rain as she started to weep again. "And I’ll try my best not to be so much of a crybaby next time I see you. I don't have to work tomorrow, so any of y'all are welcome to come on in. I'll even make dinner."

"Now that sounds wonderful," Squall said, kissed her on the cheek, and then winked out of sight, suddenly appearing next to Vincent at the castle. "I take it you watched all of that?"

"Yes," Vincent admitted with no trace of shame or anger at what he had witnessed. "And I heard all of it too. Are you sure about not monitoring her tonight?"

Despite never having met her in person, he was worried about her reaction to Squall. If she did indeed love them all, and he had no reason not to believe that one hundred percent, her actions were out of character. Vincent had delved into Bea's mind quite a bit deeper than Squall and the others, and he had come up against several doors that even he could not breach. He had no qualms about his snooping, either. The woman could single-handedly destroy his home and everyone in it, so he felt he had the right to know everything he could about her.

"She needs some time to herself, and I can understand that. Not everyone is a people person." Squall bent down and kissed Vincent fully, pulling the taller man up out of his seat and into an almost desperate embrace.

Vincent chuckled into the kiss and deepened it, pulling his partner to him roughly, taking as much as the mercenary was willing to give him. He spared no thought to the others that were inhabiting his castle and chose to ignore the footfalls he heard coming down the stairs.

"Can't you two get a room?" Seifer asked as he came through the door to the control room. "It's almost sickening catching you two at it all over the place."

"It is our home, Seifer." Squall had pulled away reluctantly from Vincent and checked his desire and anger so they would not show when he turned to his one-time rival. "Is there something I can do for you, or are you just here to bug the shit out of me?"  Squall had decided that he would beat the shit out of him the next time he went to the training center.

"Actually, I was thinking about going back over to our writer's place and seeing what will happen." Seifer's eyes twinkled with mirth and his lips were quirked into a smile that all but screamed shenanigans.  He was doggedly ignoring his conscience: It kept bringing up Quistis and his newly minted relationship with her.  Maybe I need to go back home and talk to her?

"Not going to happen tonight, buddy." Squall went to the control center and entered a few commands, the entire system whirring down to a low hum. "The portals have been shut down, and there will be no Bea watching tonight per her request."

"Bea?" Seifer asked in such a way that it seemed his tongue was caressing each letter. "Is that her name?"

"That is what we will call her, yes." Vincent had stepped up to the keyboard and typed in a lock command. "And, unless you want to try and hack into my system, this is just how it is tonight."  Are you just as pissed off at the blonde buffoon as I am?

You have no idea how pissed off I am ... but we can deal with that later. Squall thought back and mentally cracked his knuckles.

"Okay, so how long are you going to keep her from us?" Seifer stalked around the room, his antsy movements giving away his anger.

"She's invited everyone over tomorrow for the day and said something about dinner, so you'll get your chance to see her again." Unless I kill you first. Squall brushed past Seifer and started the climb up to the first floor of the castle. "That is, if you want to play nice with everyone else."

"You know how nice I can play, don't you, Squall?" Seifer called up to him as Vincent stood at the foot of the stairs, waiting on Seifer to proceed. Seifer winked at Vincent and took the stairs two at a time to catch up to the brunette, and Vincent followed with a shake of his head and a smile on his face.

It's almost like Squall and I have a kid when Seifer's around , he mused to himself.

Chapter Text

Bea sighed heavily once Squall had gone and got to work figuring out how to feed ten or so people.  After going through all her recipes, she decided to go the easy route and finally came up with the old stand-by: a cookout.  She checked her cupboard, and it reminded her of that old nursery rhyme Old Mother Hubbard –  the old woman had nothing on her. I guess I need to start actually eating, she thought to herself as she grabbed her keys and headed out the door for the twenty-mile drive to the nearest grocery store.

By the time she got home and put all the groceries away, it was close to 7 PM, and her brain was knocking around in her skull like it had a rave to go to and couldn’t be bothered to get there in a normal way.  Bea sat in the middle of her bed and tried to meditate the pain away, but had no luck in finding the switch that would dim the pain. Giving it up as a bad deal, she cleaned through the pain and eventually had her house as clean as she could get it without a power washer.

“There,” she said to the empty house. “Now that you’re clean, I can clean myself up and get to bed. Tomorrow’s going to be interesting.” She chuckled to herself when she realized she was essentially talking to her Muses – and they weren’t even listening.

She spared one small thought to what Squall said about not monitoring her tonight and realized that she didn’t care if they did see her nude – she was that tired.  Her mind kept going back to the kisses she had received from Squall as she washed the day off her body and found that, against her better judgment, she wanted more than that little interaction.  I don’t know if it’s because I’ve adored him for so many years, or if I’m just lonely, but I won’t say no to the chance if it presents itself – as long as the lights are out, she mused as she rinsed out her hair, then turned off the water and stepped out of the shower to walk into her bedroom as she wrapped a towel around herself, once she had her nightly routine competed.

She loved the house her father had built for her: two stories, a basement, and two and a half bathrooms.  Having two teenage girls in the house made the last a necessity if everyone wanted to get out of the house on time.  She had lived in an apartment in Texas that only had two rooms and one bathroom, and they never got anywhere on time.

She crawled into bed after draping her towel over the back of her chair and took something to kill the little gnome currently trying to break her brain apart with a jackhammer, then fell into a fitful sleep around midnight.  The last thought on her mind was of Seifer, just how to get through to him, and that his attitude wasn’t endearing himself to her in any way.

She had always been prone to lucid dreams, but the dream she found herself in once she finally succumbed to the need for sleep was one she hadn’t had since moving into her house a year prior.  It was a nightmare she used to have almost every night, usually waking her up with a scream erupting from her mouth, waking everyone else in the place up.

Bea found herself walking through her house during her usual bedtime routine of making sure all the windows and doors were locked and everything was in its rightful place.  As she walked around, she found her belongings moved no more than a centimeter or two from where they should be. The more she looked, the more items she found out of place, and the more afraid she became until, finally, she noticed the nameless shadow figure that stalked her every move. It reminded her of what Seifer had looked like that afternoon, before the cloaking device had broken – at least, her subconscious had recognized how much the man had scared her.

The closer she got to her bedroom, the faster she went, and the clearer the shadow became, until she finally realized who it was. She dove for the gun she kept under her mattress, a scream of pure fright on her lips when the shadow caught her and threw her onto the bed.

It closed the door before finally morphing into her ex-husband, Eric, and pounced on her with a knife in his hand, ready to bury the blade into her heart.  The nightmare devolved into a long litany of abuse that Bea was helpless to wake up from.

~ ~ ~ ~

Squall and Vincent sat on the balcony outside of their rooms in the blue moonlight, enjoying the peace and quiet as their guests slept in their rooms on the floors below.  It was the calmest the atmosphere had been in two weeks, and the ruling duo was going to enjoy it as much as they could before they all went back to Bea’s the next day.

“Are you coming with us tomorrow?” Squall asked Vincent as they cuddled on the stone bench under their bedroom window.  “Bea's house has been closed up tighter than Seifer’s asshole, so we don’t have to worry about sunshine getting in.  I think she suffers from headaches. It’s the only reason I can come up with for all the light-blocking curtains.”

Vincent was thinking about how lovely it would be to go somewhere and not worry about the sun when he started to feel antsy.  It was the feeling he got when the ASSESSOR had come to visit, only this time, he couldn’t figure out where it was coming from, which made his anxiety greater than it should have been.

“Do you feel that?” he asked Squall, placing his arm around the smaller man's shoulders as his eyes searched the darkness.

“Yes,” Squall said in a faraway voice as he scanned the entirety of the Hub for the source of the disturbance and came up with a huge goose egg.  Snapping back to the here and now, he said, “It’s not here, so why are we feeling this at all?”

The pair looked at each other, the truth dawning on them as the castle started to shake: “Bea!” they said in unison before popping out of sight and reappearing in Bea’s living room.  Vincent took off at a run towards Bea’s room as her screams rent the air, his knowledge of the dwelling as extensive as Squall’s, having done quite a bit of Bea watching of his own, Squall hot on his heels.

Vincent threw open the door and slumped against the door frame in relief when he realized that Bea was having a nightmare and not being dismembered. Squall pushed past him to get to the woman thrashing about in the bed, her voice harsh from screaming. He couldn’t get his heart to depart from his throat, and he hadn’t been this scared since Rinoa’s apparent death.

“Bea, wake up,” he commanded her as he shook her by the shoulders.  She lashed out at his first touch, her fist making contact with his left eye.  He took the pain like he did any other battle wound and tried to capture her arms so she wouldn’t hurt herself with all the ruckus she was making.  She continued to fight Squall as if her life depended on it, finally pushing him away from her with a quick rabbit kick to the chest that sent him flying off the bed.

“We have to wake her up, Vince,” he gasped from the floor, one hand to his chest and the other to his eye as he scrambled up from the floor and warily approached the bed.  “Bea, wake up!” he yelled at her, feeling relieved when she finally stilled, her body going limp, then cursed under his breath when she took a giant breath and started fighting whatever demons she was dreaming about again.

“Damn it.” Vincent launched himself onto the bed, covering Bea with his body, Squall following suit, both of them struggling to keep her from bucking them off the bed.  “Bea!” Vincent shouted in her face, her eyes finally fluttering open at the sound.

“Where is he?!” she gasped as she took in her surroundings as she struggled to breathe with the weight of both men settling on top of her.

“Who?” Squall asked once he got off Vincent’s back and then sat on the bed, pulling Bea into his arms as soon as Vincent rolled off to the other side of her.

“Eric - where is he?” Her frightened eyes searched the room and found no one but the Universal Guardians. She watched as Vincent walked into her bathroom and returned a short time later with a cold, wet washcloth in his hands.

“Who is Eric, Bea?” Vincent asked when he handed the washcloth to Squall for his already bruising eye. “Here, put this on your eye,” he commanded.  “You’re going to have one hell of a shiner.”

Squall nodded his thanks, putting the cloth on the bedside table, ignoring, for the time being, the problem of his body showing any kind of injury, and hugged Bea tighter to him, dropping a kiss on the crown of her head.

Bea pulled back from his embrace and started to cry when she saw the state of Squall’s eye. “Dear God and Goddess!  I am so sorry.” Her hand reached up, and she cupped his cheek, the tears flowing down her face as she watched the bruise become darker and the swelling threaten to shut Squall’s eye completely.

“Don’t worry about it,” he whispered, pulling her back into his embrace. “I can throw a Cure at it, and it will be fine.”  He didn’t give a shit about his eye, or his chest, as long as she was okay.

“But Squall,” Bea sniffled against his shoulder, “there isn’t any curative magic in my world.”

“True,” Vincent smiled as he sat on the bed next to them, “but we aren’t from your world.  Try it Squall, see what happens.”

Squall closed his eyes, pulled a Cure spell from his junctioning and cast it, sighing when he felt the magic working on the worst of the swelling.  “There, see?” He smiled.  “It wasn’t as strong as it would have been in The Hub, but it did speed things up a bit.  No harm, no foul.”

Bea collapsed against the man sitting on her bed and let the floodgates open up, her sobs coming from the very core of her being.  Between the nightmare and having hit one of her favorite Muses hard enough to blacken his eye, she was unable to keep the tears at bay any longer.  The previous two weeks, not to mention the day before, had finally caught up with her, and she couldn’t stop.

Squall hugged her tighter and looked at Vincent over her head, at a complete loss as to what to do.  He was learning how to relate more to people, but a weeping woman was still a bit beyond him. It didn’t help matters much that he had finally realized her bare breasts were against his chest, her nipples poking him quite nicely through his tee shirt.

Vincent got up and turned on the bedside lamp so that he could see who he was talking to and stopped in his tracks.  Bea’s back was to him and he saw the crisscrossed scars covering the pale skin through her curly red hair.  His eyes followed one of the thicker scars down her back to where it ended just above a small dimple on the left side of her spine.

“Bea, what happened to your back?” Vincent asked as he moved her hair out of the way and cursed under his breath.  “And I ask again: Who is Eric?” He was having a problem keeping the anger out of his voice, or his hands from shaking.  Scars didn’t cross his eyes. Between Squall and himself, they had enough scar tissue to make a toddler, but Bea wasn’t a warrior, and her world was more socially advanced than some of the Realms attached to The Hub.  She shouldn’t have a back that looked like a whipping post.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered as she tried to burrow into Squall’s chest and hide, the skin of her back twitching at every touch of Vincent’s finger.

“Don't lie to us, if you please.  We can tell, and I think you’d be able to tell if we lied to you, too.  Now, what happened to your back?” Vincent’s tone of voice let her know he meant what he said, and she was loth to try him.

“Eric is my ex-husband, and he gave the scars to me,” she said in a small, meek voice as she pushed herself back from Squall, pulling the sheet up to her chin and scooting to the back of her bed, retreating again to get away from the two men.  She found that she could tell them who had hurt her, and it wasn’t a secret around those parts, anyway, but she would be damned if she told them how he had given them to her. Not only was it embarrassing, but she would have to admit to them that she had caused them by upsetting Eric.  In short, she was caught in the mindset of an abused woman who still couldn’t kick the ‘everything is my fault’ mentality, even after ten or so years.

Vincent’s eyes flashed red, his lips pulled back from his teeth, and lightning zinged up and down his arms.  “Is he the reason why you live in the middle of nowhere?” His voice held a deeper tone to it, an echo of power that frankly scared Squall more than he was willing to admit.

“Yes,” she admitted as she shrunk back even further from him.  “They’re over ten years old, so don’t worry about them, okay?”

“Vincent,” Squall ground out. “Calm down. There’s nothing we can do about it, so easy does it.”  He moved slightly so he was in between Bea and his partner, just in case he couldn't talk him down.

Vincent’s eyes stopped glowing, and he shook out his fingers, the last little bit of the lightning coursing over his arms dissipating into the atmosphere of her room.  “Sorry about that.  I hate cowards.”

“We all do.” Squall gave Vincent a resigned look before turning back to Bea.  “Are you okay?”

“Other than wondering if I’m going insane, yes, I’m fine.” Bea grabbed the sheet and stood up, wrapping herself in it for the walk to the bathroom.  “I’ll be right back.”

Squall watched her go and turned on Vincent as soon as the bathroom door had shut a bit harder than was necessary.  “What the hell, Vince?”

“Blame it on Hojo if you have to,” he said as he wiped his eyes with his hand. “I have a hard time keeping my temper when it comes to domestic abuse.”

“Yeah, I do, too, but you scared the shit out of us,” Squall walked over and hugged the other man. “You forget I’ve never seen you transform into any of your other forms, and Bea almost came out of her skin.  Do you think we can keep your other selves under wraps while we’re here?”

“Of course, but Squall: You know she thinks the scars are all her fault, don’t you?” He had heard that from Bea’s mind, and Cat ‘o Nine Tails came swimming up, as well.  If he found out that’s what did all that damage ....

“That’s what I gathered.” Squall hugged his partner to him even tighter than before, his own anger trying to swim up to meet Vincent’s.

Vincent smiled and kissed Squall deeply, his hands wandering over Squall’s body. His need for physical contact was at an all-time high. Why? He wouldn’t have been able to tell if he was asked, so he decided not to bother thinking about it.

“You know, you two look quite charming when you’re together.” Bea was back from the bathroom, dressed in a robe and threw her bed sheet onto her bed.  “And I thought you two were going to leave me alone for one night.”

“We would have,” Vincent told her as he stepped away from Squall and straightened her bed, tucking the sheet under her mattress and replacing the quilt that had fallen on the floor.  “But your nightmare shook the castle to its foundations, and we thought you were in trouble.”

Bea looked from Squall to Vincent with wide ‘I did what?’ eyes.  “What do you mean my nightmare shook the castle?  Is everyone okay?”

Squall winked out of sight without a word to either of them, leaving Bea alone with Vincent while he popped back to the castle to make sure everyone was indeed okay.  Bea watched Vincent as he walked around her room and picked up the Squall figurine from her desk to inspect it.

“I’m sorry I don’t have a figurine of you, but they are expensive, and the store I got the other ones from has since closed down.” She smiled at him in an embarrassed way. “You’re very popular, you know.  I can’t even find one on eBay.”

“What’s eBay?” he asked as he put the little statue down in the exact space it had previously occupied and gave Bea his full attention.

“It’s an online auction site where you can find just about everything your little heart could desire – as long as someone is willing to part with it, that is.”  Bea sat down on her bed and patted the mattress beside her.  “Will you come sit with me until Squall gets back?”

“You aren’t scared of me?” Vincent asked, sitting beside her and keeping his hands in his lap.  He was suddenly quite interested in what his fingers were doing and how they were doing it.  He was hoping he hadn’t just fucked himself over when he lost his temper, but, damn it all, he really couldn’t stand it when someone he had come to care about was hurt by someone who should have been there to protect them.

“Why should I be?  I know all about your transformations, and, besides, Mamakitty likes you.” She nodded at her little girl cat that had slunk out from under her bed and was rubbing up against Vincent’s jean-covered leg, mewing for attention.

Vincent patted his lap and started petting the happy little blubber butt, a small smile gracing his face. “Nothing like a cat to put someone at ease,” he said, looking up at her with a Squallesque smile that did the same thing to her insides that it did when Squall gave it to her.

“Shit.” She shook her head and told her libido to go back to sleep.  She didn’t need another man making her nether regions melt into a puddle of goo.  Ten years, not even a nibble at the old sexy meter, and there she had two in less than twenty-four hours.

“What? Did I say something wrong?” Much like Squall, Vincent could be quite blind when it came to his own sex appeal. For the most part, he ignored the looks he got from other people because he was too busy hiding to pay it any mind.

“Nah, you just smiled at her,” Squall laughed when he came back into the bedroom. “Everyone is still asleep, so we don’t have to worry about any lookie-loos tonight.” He squatted down to pet Jake as he slunk into the room.  “Hey, there, buddy,” he said as he scratched the cat under the chin and got a few drops of drool for his troubles.

“Lookie-loos?  What are you talking about?” Bea asked, pulling her robe about her body a bit tighter.  I think I’m in trouble here, she thought.  I did promise myself that I wouldn’t let the chance go if it presented itself, but, now that it might actually happen, I don’t know if I can go through with it.   She wasn’t expecting anything to happen, but if it did ....

“Neither of us wants to leave you tonight,” Vincent told her as he continued to pet Mamakitty. “And I don’t think we would be able to stay here if the others were awake.”

Squall’s smile wasn’t lost on Bea. She knew what Vincent had in mind. She just needed to figure out if she did indeed want the same thing.  She had felt Squall’s reaction to her when he had kissed her earlier in the day, so she knew he would be up for it, and, as it was Vincent’s suggestion, she knew he was, too.  The question was: Was she up for it?  Could she let go of the insecurities she had about her body, and the fear she had of sex, to let herself go and just feel , for once? And that was another thing: Did she even want to feel? Sex had always meant pain in the past. Was she willing to intentionally subject herself to that just to make her Muses happy? The answer was dangerously close to yes .

Some of what she was thinking must have shown on her face, as both of the men had twin looks of unease.  “Bea,” Vincent began as she stood back up and walked over to her desk for some much-needed space between them.  “Why are you so frightened? I promise we won’t hurt you.”

“Sex does not have to equal pain, Bea.” Squall leaned against the wall with his legs crossed at the ankles, arms firmly crossed over his chest.  Vincent knew the stance well: It was Squall’s ‘I need to keep my hands to myself’ way of standing.

“Reading my mind again?” she asked as she sat in her chair and pulled her legs up underneath her, quite a bit of pale thigh peeking through the gap in her robe.  She paid no attention to it at all, never thinking that how she was sitting could make things a bit uncomfortable later on.

“Not really, more like finally understanding the emotions coming off of you.” Vincent turned on the bed so he was facing her, an expression filled with more sadness than anything. “I’ve been trying to figure it out since I got here. Squall just beat me to it.”

“We really can’t read your mind unless you let us, no matter what Seifer says,” Squall added. He was warring with himself about what to do next.  His body was telling him all he wanted to do was make love to the woman until she forgot all about the pain. His mind, on the other hand, was telling him, if he did, that he could essentially write off any kind of relationship they might have with her. I have to remember that I don’t have a magical unicorn dick , he chuckled to himself.

“I know you won’t intentionally hurt me, I can feel that much, but, in the past, sex has always come after Eric had hurt me ... or he used it to hurt me even more.  I don’t think I can do that any more. It’s why I don’t date,” Bea said, each word getting quieter than the last until Vincent had to lean forward just to hear her. This not lying thing is harder than I thought it would be, she thought.

“Are you telling me that Eric was the only lover you’ve ever had?” Squall couldn’t quite believe his ears. How could someone as lovely as Bea not have had more than one lover in her lifetime?  “You can’t be more than thirty."  The thought that someone who wrote what she wrote was inexperienced threw his brain into neutral.

“Thank you for thinking so, but I’m 34,” she said with a small smile. “And yes: I am telling you that I’ve only had one lover. I’ve had sex with three men, but only one lover ... if you can even call him that.”  She kept the facts of what had happened with her sex life to herself, but, needless to say, the pain was always part of the mix. She didn’t even masturbate, afraid that even that would cause her some agony.

“Bea,” Vincent said as he knelt before her, grasping her hands in his.  “Sex isn’t supposed to hurt, even if the person you’re sharing your body with isn’t someone you love.  When you share your body with someone, the end result should be pleasure for both of you.”

She looked into his eyes and could find no lie there, just the sadness from before.  His hands were warm on her skin, and the way his thumbs were massaging the back of her hands was having a calming effect, slowing her heart rate down to a manageable speed.  When she looked at Squall over Vincent’s head, her heart fell to her toes: The man was so angry she could see a red and blue aura around him, and just the mere suggestion that he could be angry at her sent her heart running for the woods looking for a place to hide.

“Thank you both for coming to my rescue, but I have calmed down now, and I think I can go back to sleep after I’ve had a cigarette.” She took her hands out of Vincent’s clasp and stood, her back straight and all traces of her tears gone from her cheeks.  “I’ll see y’all tomorrow, all of y’all.” She edged out of the room and trooped down to the kitchen to start the coffee pot, and then out to the back deck for the aforementioned smoke.  No matter what she had said, she didn’t think she would be able to sleep. She had too much to think about.

Vincent watched her leave before going to his partner and giving him a hug. “Now you’re the one who’s scaring us. You’re glowing, my love.” He kissed Squall quickly and left him in Bea’s room to calm the fuck down while he went after Bea.  If the two of them did anything for her, it would be to help her get over the traumas of the past… if they even could. He was afraid it might take a miracle.

He walked into the kitchen in time to see her salt the coffee grounds before putting the pot on. “Mind if I join you? Squall told me how good your coffee was, and I would like to try it for myself.”

“You are welcome in my kitchen any time, Vincent.  I don’t mind making you a cup of coffee before you go home. We can have it out on the deck. The night is nice, and we shouldn’t be bothered by any of the wildlife.” Bea busied herself getting three coffee cups out of the cupboard and added the sugar and creamer to each cup in varying amounts. Her dogged insistence that the two love birds go home was not lost on Vincent and, given enough time, they might just get to the bottom of it.

Vincent sat at the table and watched her go about her business, liking the way her robe outlined her backside when she bent to retrieve a spoon that had dropped to the floor.  He rested his chin on his hand and smiled absently when he realized what was happening among the three of them: The relationship had all the hallmarks of a polyamorous one, and he thought that would do all three of them a world of good, especially their writer.

“What makes you smile like the cat who caught the canary?” Bea asked as she put his cup in front of him with a slight smile.

“Hmm? Oh, sorry about that.  I was just thinking about us,” he admitted. No lies between us. That’s the rule . 

“What about us?” Bea asked after taking a satisfying sip of her brew.  “Last I looked, we’re strangers who happen to have a problem that needs to be solved.”

Squall came into the kitchen and sat at the table across from Vincent. “I wouldn’t call us strangers,” he said after taking a rather large sip from his cup.  “And what problem are you talking about?”  He had decided that he wasn’t going to call attention to his power leak upstairs unless someone pressed the issue, and appeared as if nothing was bothering him at the moment.

Bea gave him a look that spoke volumes.  Is he that dense? She asked herself, draining her cup and getting up for another before heading outside. She really needed that cigarette if the two men weren’t going to take a hint and go home.  

“Actually,” Vincent answered her, “yes, he can be, but, then again, so can I.” 

“I thought you said you couldn’t read my mind.” It wasn’t a question or a statement. It was more along the lines of a mild accusation.  She motioned to her guests to follow her outside and sat on the old rocker she had out there, leaving the porch swing for Squall and Vincent.

“Squall did say that, and, normally, that would be the case, but I have a feeling you wanted Squall to hear that little quip.  I heard it from him,” Vincent was laughing at the blush that colored Squall’s cheeks, and the sound was so joyous Bea couldn’t help but chuckle.

“If you two are done making fun of my shortcomings, I have a request for you, Bea.” Squall squared his shoulders and almost stopped the smile from happening.

Bea sobered, sat her fresh cup of coffee on the small table beside her rocker, and lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply and letting the smoke out with a sigh of contentment.  “What did you need?  I have a sneaking suspicion I won’t be able to tell either of you no with any conviction ... so shoot.”  Anything to get off of a certain topic.

“Can we start the night over?  I know we can’t just pretend that the last hour or so never happened, but I was hoping we could forget about my loss of temper.” So much for ignoring it, he thought as his feet set the swing to going.

She gave both of the men a searching look before nodding slowly.  “As long as you both are patient with me, I am willing to trust you both. I write relationships all the time, and, granted, what I write is a fairytale version of what they could be, but, after seeing the love you both have for each other –” There, she blushed at the memory of just how they had been loving each other and went on at a breakneck speed before she lost her courage. “– and how you treat those you call friends, I think having you two as friends would make me happier than I have been in a long time.”

Squall stood up, pulling Bea to her feet and into a gentle hug after plucking the cigarette out of her hand and snuffing it out in the ashtray. “All I want to do is keep you safe.  If you aren’t ready for anything other than a cuddle or two, I can wait.”

Bea felt Vincent’s arms as they engulfed both of them and sank into the warmth the two men gave her. “That’s all we both want,” Vincent said, his breath tickling her ear.  “I don’t think any of us knows what’s happening between us, but I know we have time to figure it out.”

They moved into the living room, sat on the large sectional sofa that had seen better days, and talked about all kinds of things for a while, Bea occasionally getting up to make another pot of coffee that she mostly drank herself, as neither of her guests had to drink or eat to survive, or out to the deck for a smoke break, the men following her to keep the conversation going.  

None of them really took stock of the time, as the more they talked, the more they found to discuss.  It seemed that no topic was truly off-limits, although it was an unspoken agreement between the three of them that Eric was a subject best left for another time.  

“Coffee is supposed to keep you up, but, right now, all I want is some sleep.”  She stiffened and jumped up from the couch, real fear filling her being when she looked at the clock above the mantelpiece.  “Shit fire and save the matches!  Vincent, the sun’s almost up!”

“Impossible,” Squall said.  “We got here at half past midnight.  There’s no way —” His voice trailed off when he realized that, somehow or other, they had been talking for well over five hours, and, when he turned to look at the small window in her door, he could see how the sky was turning pink with the dawn.

Bea quickly grabbed Vincent’s hand, pulling him as hard as she could, trying like mad to steer him up her stairs and to her bedroom where the windows were covered with more than blackout curtains.  She had fit plywood on the inside of the windows so no light leaked in at all.  No windows meant no one could see in.

Vincent pulled Bea onto his lap and snuggled her close, a warm smile on his lips when he realized that he had not felt the dawn approach, and he was not tired in the least. He was actually touched at how she had reacted when she realized he might have been in danger, and all of his misgivings had vanished.  I like visiting here, he thought at Squall, sending him calming waves as he did. The company is pretty sweet, and I don’t think I have anything to worry about.   To prove his point, he stood with Bea cradled in his arms and walked to the door, the door slamming open, and walked out onto her front porch.

“What the fuck are you doing, Vincent?  Get back inside!” Bea surprised him with her strength and agility when she was able to get out of his arms and start pushing him back through the door.  She kept getting visions of his melting face when the sun hit it, and that image filled her with so much dread that it gave both Vincent and Squall the collywobbles.

“Sweetheart,” Squall cajoled when he too realized that he was having no ill effects.  “I think Vincent is right. Look.” He walked out onto her lawn, right into the first beams from the hot summer sun as it filtered through the trees. “I usually have problems keeping awake when I’m in the sun, and I’m not having any issues right now.”

Vincent jumped off of her porch and grabbed Squall up in a bear hug, swinging the shorter man in circles, laughter pouring out of his mouth.  Bea couldn’t help but smile, thoroughly glad in the fact that she had no neighbors that could hear or see the lovers as they frolicked around her yard.

Vincent put Squall down and jumped back onto the porch to pull Bea into a bone-crunching hug, his laughter pouring over her in a wave that washed away a great deal of her need for sleep. Squall was a bit more sedate when he joined them on the porch, but his smile was just as sweet as Vincent’s laughter.

“Okay, back inside, you two,” he said as he held open the door and waited for the other two to go through it.  “I’ll be right back,” he said, sending Vincent a mental picture of what he had just seen.

“Okay, we’ll be inside having more coffee,” Vincent smiled down at Bea and pushed her inside, trusting Squall to keep himself out of trouble.

Squall headed straight for the tall bushes that lined the right side of her front lawn, the rustling giving anyone who was in there away.  He bent down to see what was there, then felt something push him hard enough to make him skid under the bushes. He was trying to catch who or whatever was hiding there, but ended up coming up with nothing more than a few thorns, a lot of dirt on his face, and a rifle scope.  Not what I expected to find, he thought as he backed out of the bushes on his hands and knees, right into Bea’s legs, an interested Vincent standing behind her.

“Whatcha got there, darlin’?” Bea asked, squatting down and grabbing the scope out of his hand.  “So that’s where it went,” she said as she placed the scope in her robe pocket and reached her hand out to help him up. 

Squall looked back over his shoulder and hit the dirt again.  He hadn’t expected to come face to face with the most intimate part of her body, especially not in the middle of the front yard, and it threw him for a loop.  

“Are you okay?” she asked him, a smile on her face, blissfully unaware of the peep show she was giving him.  “Did you get some thorns in your backside or something?  That line of bushes is full of them. Keeps unwanted guests out of my yard.”

He rolled over onto his back and took some deep breaths to get himself back under control.  He had been able to push his sex drive to the back of his mind while they had been talking, but just the sight of her was enough to bring it rushing back, tongue lolling and a wolf howl sounding in his head.

“Are you in the habit of losing a rifle scope under your bushes?” he asked, trying to give himself some much-needed time to recuperate.

“I am not, but the girls and I were hunting Prarie Rattlers this spring and we lost a couple of them.” It seemed like a plausible enough excuse to her.

“Rattlers?” Vincent asked through his laughter, “what’s a rattler?” He had visions of baby rattles bouncing across the yard, and had to shudder at the thought.  He had seen some really weird monsters in his time, but that image took the cake.

“They are venomous snakes native to Montana, and we have a Rattlesnake Round-Up every spring. The little buggers left their dens late this year, so we did some hunting.  I think I still have ten pounds of meat in the deep freeze if you want to try some old-fashioned chili, but you have to let me know now, or it won’t be done before dinner.”

Squall had turned over onto his back and then raised up on his elbows to tell her that the thought of eating a snake didn’t fill him with gastronomical joy, but he fell back when he realized she was still squatting at his side.  He threw his arm over his eyes and groaned loudly.  “Bea, can you do me a favor and stand back up, please?”

“Why?” she asked, staying where she was.  

“Because I can see up your robe, and it’s … distracting.”

“Oh!” She blushed and stood up so fast she overbalanced and fell onto her ass, right into a mostly hidden cactus.  “Shit, that hurts!” she cried out, scrambling to her feet. She didn’t know what hurt worse: her pride, the shockwave that traveled up her spine and rattled her teeth, or her companions’ laughter.

“What do you have sticking to your ass?” Vincent stopped laughing long enough to turn her around so he could see what had her hopping around.

“Something that shouldn’t be here,” Bea yelled over her shoulder as she broke a land-speed record back into the cool comfort of her house. It wasn’t the first time she had fallen into a cactus, having grown up in Texas, but it was the first time she had ever sat on one that should have been 1,700 miles to the south.

Vincent helped Squall up, and they both ran after their writer, intent on helping her out if they could.  They found her in her bathroom trying to gingerly pull the cactus from her bottom using her robe. It wasn’t working.

“I hate to ask this, but I need some help,” she muttered as she twisted in a vain attempt to dislodge the hundred or so needles piercing her skin.

“Hold on a second,” Squall threw over his shoulder as he took off down the stairs and into the kitchen in search of a few thick potholders.  “At least your cacti don’t run after you and shoot needles when you get too close.”

“Actually, we have several species that throw their needles,” Bea yelled back at him, an ‘ouch’ or two punctuating her words. “But they’re to the south by a thousand miles or so.  The only cacti we have up here are succulents.”

Vincent sat on the closed toilet and maneuvered Bea so he could get at the offensive plant, took a deep breath, and ripped the damn thing off, getting fifty or so punctures for his troubles.  “Now I’ve done it. Guess I should have waited for Squall to get back.” He dropped the offending orb of spines into the trashcan and stared at his hand, bemoaning the need to remove the needles before he could heal the wound.

“No worries, I can get those out relatively painlessly,” Bea told him as she inspected her butt in the mirror.  “I just don’t think I can do anything about these,” she said, motioning to her reflection.  “I think the cloth has been pushed into my skin in a few places - and these damned things are barbed so they won’t come out with the robe. You’re a little late to the party with those, Squall.”  She nodded at the pot holders he had finally found and grinned at him. “But you’re just in time to help me get the spines out of Vincent’s hand.”

“You just had to play the hero, didn’t you?” he asked, placing the potholders on the bathroom sink and rooting around in the medicine cabinet, on the hunt for some tweezers.  “Where do you keep your tweezers?” His voice echoed back as he put his head and shoulders under her sink and started moving cleaning supplies around, completely at home in her house.

“I have something that works better than that. Hold on a sec.” Bea hobbled to her room and came back a few minutes later with school glue, rubber cement, and gauze.  “The glue should be fine for Vincent, but we’re gonna have to use the rubber cement on my ass.”

“I never would have thought of that.” Squall took the school glue and smeared it over Vincent’s hand, careful not to push the little needles deeper into the skin.  “So, just put the gauze over the glue and let it dry, right?”

“Yup,” Bea absentmindedly groused while pulling her robe out inch by inch, a few choice swear words punctuating each tug of the fabric.  She gave Squall a death stare when he started giggling.

“Sorry.” He sobered up, then ruined it when Vincent caught his eye, both of them laughing fit to burst.

“I’m happy you find this so funny, gentlemen.”  Bea reached out and pulled the gauze from Vincent’s hand, earning her a scowl.  “Better to just rip the band-aid off, don’t you think?  I don’t know why you’re pouting. The needles are out, aren’t they?”

Vincent flexed his hand and decided that the one or two that were left could wait until he could dig them out, nodded to himself, and threw Bea over his shoulder.  “Your turn.” He stalked into Bea’s room and gently placed her on the bed.  “Now, be still, so we can get these out.” He whistled low when he picked the hem of her robe up and saw a bit of the damage.  Her backside didn’t so much resemble a pincushion as a dart board on all-you-can-drink night.  “Hey, Squall: Hand me the rubber cement, would ya?”

Squall handed it over and squatted down so he was on a level with Bea’s face as she lay on the bed.

“Just do it, please?” Bea turned her head trying to see what was going on.

“You’re bleeding,” Vincent told her. “I’m sorry, but I think we’re going to have to ruin your robe.”

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake!” Bea groaned. “Could you please hurry up?  This is starting to sting pretty damn bad.  I don’t give a rat’s ass about the robe.”  She pulled herself up to her knees so she could take her arms out of the robe and make sure she wasn’t laying on it.  She plopped back down as fast as she could and motioned for Vincent to get on with it.  “Slather that shit on my ass and pull once it’s dry.  Just use the robe instead of the gauze.”

“Um?” Squall’s eyes were about to fall out of their sockets.  It wasn’t easy to shock Squall, but when it happened, it happened spectacularly, and Bea had done it to him twice in less than thirty minutes.

“Yes?” Bea asked distractedly.  She had been injured so many times in her life, mostly from just being a klutz, that, when it came to someone healing her scrapes and breaks, nudity was given.  She was too interested in what her current savior was doing to her backside to feel any kind of embarrassment.

“I think you stole Squall’s ability to speak,” Vincent answered as he tried to clean the blood without pulling on the spines.  

“Never mind cleaning it now, we can do that after the spines are gone.  The rubber cement is gonna burn like hell, so get it over with, please.” Bea was burying her face in her pillow, her muscles tightening under Vincent’s hand when he upended the jar of the adhesive, pouring the whole thing over the patch of white needles.

Squall wondered how she could flex only one buttcheek as he watched her muscles start to twitch faster and faster.  “Are you okay?” he asked as he sat down on her bed and started rubbing her back.

“Oh, yes, I’m just fucking peachy,” she ground out between breaths.  “Why do you ask?”

“Well,  your buttcheek is dancing, and you’re naked.” 

“We’ll talk about it later, Vincent. Would you please rip it off now?”

He did as she asked and showed her what was left of her bloody robe full of cactus needles.  “There’s a few left, but I think we got most of them.”

“I’ll find the rest of them while I’m in the shower.” Bea scooted off her bed and sprinted for the bathroom, not even bothering to close the door.  She fully expected the men to follow her, getting more and more comfortable with them as time went on.  She started the water and turned her back to the mirror while the water heated up.

“Looks like you’re going to have a new scar.” Vincent appeared behind her with a towel in his hand and a frown on his face.  “Speaking of scars —"

“I’ve been wondering about that, too,” Squall joined in. “Have you ever been in the military?”  The scar on her upper left thigh looked like a gunshot wound, and there were a couple on her abdomen and back that looked suspiciously like stab wounds.

Bea rolled her eyes skyward and sent a silent prayer for patience before stepping into the shower and closing the glass door.  “No, I’ve never been in the military, but you could say I’ve been to war.”

“You’re going to have to explain that little snippet, pet.” Vincent sat on the closed toilet seat, crossing his legs and arms in a very good imitation of an alabaster statue.  Squall sidled in after Vincent was settled and leaned against the wall, keeping his head bowed, his eyes sneaking looks at Bea every now and then.

“You could say that my marriage was a series of battles that ended in a ceasefire that only one side honors,” Bea quipped while trying to keep her waist-length hair away from the few cactus needles sticking out of her still-bleeding buttcheek.

“I see,” Squall said, finally turning his head so he could see her better. “And does he still come around?”  The more he learned about her, the more he wanted to protect her from everything.  He was uncharacteristically angry with someone he had never met, and realized that, if he did ever meet the man, Eric wouldn’t survive.

“No,” Bea said as she tried to pick the few spines not dislodged by the washcloth with her fingers, putting all of her attention on her task and not on the two men in her bathroom.  She found that it was easier to keep her embarrassment under wraps if she didn’t even look at their blurry forms.  “He would have to know where I am to do that, and he doesn’t.  The girls know better than to even give our coordinates out to their friends, our official address is a PO box in a town sixty miles from here, and everyone I work with knows what he looks like, and to call the cops if he shows up. But, as he’s in Texas and I’m in Montana, it’s a maybe 5% chance he’ll find me.”

“So this house?” Vincent was of the same mind as Squall when it came to this Eric person: He was dead if he ever came around.

“It's my Dad’s way of keeping us safe. And don’t worry about the girls: They are safe where they are.  I may not get along with my mother on most issues, but this one we agree on, even if it is only to keep the girls safe.  Damn it all to hell!” Bea stomped her foot in irritation at not being able to get the last of the little buggers stuck in her ass.

“Here,” Vincent said as he opened the shower door and pulled Bea toward him by the hips.  “Let me take care of that for you.  I might as well finish the job I started.”  He gave Squall a wink and a smile as he leaned in and started picking the spines out with a pair of tweezers he called forth from nothing.

“Good to see we can create here, too,” Squall told the room at large before venturing back into Bea’s room.  He busied himself with re-making her bed and tidying the already clean space to give himself something to do that didn’t involve watching Vincent poke around Bea’s ass. He found the Ruger in its western-style holster she kept in between her mattress and boxspring and swiftly put it back exactly where he had found it, that little discovery going a long way in confirming just how precarious her situation really was.

Squall was almost done with his little tidying routine when Bea walked back into the room wrapped in a towel with a very wet Vincent behind her. Bea’s face was as red as a beet, and Vincent looked like he had decided to jump into the shower with her.  “What happened?” Squall deadpanned, bending down to pick up an imaginary speck of dust to hide his smile.

“I slipped and accidentally pulled Vincent into the shower with me,” Bea explained as she went to her closet and started pulling out a long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans, ignoring the chortles as she pulled some underwear out of her dresser.  “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen,” she said as she bowed them both out the door.  “I’ll meet you downstairs.”  She shut the door in their faces and leaned against it, trying to catch her breath. If I didn’t know better, I would swear Murphy is trying to fuck me over big time, she thought to herself as she donned her clothing after putting the biggest band-aid she had on her ass, finally pulling on her hiking boots, ready for the day ahead of her.

She found Squall in her kitchen, looking out at her lakefront with a pensive look on his face.  He hadn’t noticed her approach, and jerked awkwardly when she touched his shoulder to get his attention.  “You okay?” She seemed to be asking that a lot lately, and she realized with a start that she actually cared for the beings that had been visiting her, two of them a bit more than the others.  If she wasn’t careful, she’d fall for them big time. Humph!  I already have.

“Vincent went back to the castle for a change of clothes, and to get the rest of the gang ready to come over.” Squall turned around and pulled Bea into a hug, his hands caressing her back non-stop. “That is, if we’re still invited.”

“Of course you are. Who else am I gonna feed all this food to?” Bea gave up trying to hide from what was happening and wound her arms around Squall, pulling him into a tight hug and making the man catch his breath.

Squall put a little space between them, but kept his hands on her shoulders, not wanting to part with her just yet.  He felt calm when he had her in his arms, and, eventually, he would figure out why that was.  “So, what do you need me to do?”

Bea smiled at him and handed him a potato peeler from one of the drawers.  “How about peeling ten pounds of potatoes?”

“And here I thought I was done with KP for the rest of my life,” he groused, ruining it with a smirk.

Chapter Text

Vincent popped back to his room to get changed and gather the troops for their little sojourn to Bea’s house. He was eager for what promised to be a very interesting afternoon when he was interrupted by an insistent banging on his door. He strode over to the door, muttering to himself about peace and quiet and his current lack thereof.

“ What?” Vincent asked after throwing open the door ... before turning his back on one of his least favorite people.

He had been thinking about everything that had happened the night before, and had concluded that something – or someone – was having a go at all of them. Whenever something had happened to any of them, he got a feeling that tickled at the back of his mind, almost as if someone was pushing them in a certain direction, and he didn’t like it at all. It didn’t help his mood any that he was horny as a jackrabbit in springtime.

“ It’s about time,” Seifer said as he strode into the room and looked around for his favorite punching bag. “Where’s Leonhart?”

“ He’s with Bea,” Vincent said offhandedly as he walked into the closet and started looking for another pair of jeans and a button-up shirt to wear. The Montana weather had been stifling that morning, and he had no wish to steam his balls in his leathers.

“ Already? I thought we were all going together … or did that dream we all had last night actually happen?”

“ What do you want?” Vincent asked, steadfastly trying to ignore the mercenary’s question as he rooted around in his clothing and came up with nothing but leathers. Deciding that he would just have to make himself something after drying off, he walked back into his room and gave Seifer a long-suffering look of disdain. “Make yourself at home, why don’t you?”

Seifer was lounging on his and Squall’s bed as if he owned the joint, and Vincent was uncharacteristically miffed at his actions. The blonde ambition liked to lounge on other people’s beds, and he found that it was one of the rudest things the mercenary had done. The whole situation with Bea, her ex-husband, Squall, and what seemed to be an unknown force messing with all of them had him on edge. It had his patience taking a hike.

“ Good morning, Vincent,” Cloud said as he walked in, eating a piece of toast. “I hear we have a party to go to.” He had heard Vincent’s raised voice all the way in the kitchen, and had decided the man might need some backup.

“ Good morning, Cloud. That’s why I’m back,” Vincent said, completely ignoring Seifer for the time being. “Change clothes, get the rest of you, and get back to Squall and Bea.”

“ Why are you all wet?” Cloud had a little smile on his face that told Vincent he wouldn’t be hearing the end of this any time soon if the story was good enough.

“ Bea overbalanced in the shower and pulled me in with her,” Vincent responded, closing his eyes and changing his clothes with a thought. Cloud and Seifer were treated to a rare sight: a blinding white light encased Vincent, and, when it dimmed slightly, they could see his naked body, his hair whipping about him as if in a gale-force wind as it and his body dried. The light ratcheted up to full noon-day brightness again, and, when it left the man completely, he was dressed in tight black denim jeans and a blood-red button-up shirt.

“ Vincent’s wardrobe is a nice subject and all, but I was asking about that dream from last night,” Seifer said as he hopped up from the bed and blocked Vincent’s path to the door. He had lost what little restraint he had in his body after the second time the raven-haired vampire ignored him, and he was itching for a fight. “And why did you both think it was a good idea to go back over there? You did tell me that she had asked to be left alone for the night, so what gives?”

Vincent cocked an eyebrow at Cloud as if to say 'Can you believe this shit?' and pushed past Seifer, once again ignoring the man’s lack of manners. “All of you need a bathing suit and something fitting for hot weather,” Vincent told Cloud as he ushered him out of his room. Seifer halted his forward motion by grabbing him by the shoulder and swinging him around to face him.

“ Stop ignoring me, damn it! What the fuck happened last night?” Vincent had just succeeded where only Squall had before: He got under his skin to the bone. “I asked you a fucking question.”

“ Seifer,” Cloud began, instantly tackling the other man when he punched Vincent as hard as he could on the jaw. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Cloud hadn’t seen someone lose their mind as fast as the blonde had in a long time, and he had just enough time to realize that he wouldn’t try to stop Vincent if he decided to beat the life out of him.

“ He won’t answer my questions, that’s what’s wrong with me. Now let me up so I can beat the shit out of him!” Seifer had struggled to his feet with Cloud still hanging around his neck, and hadn’t noticed Vincent as he came up behind him.

“ I don’t think so,” Vincent said as he pulled Cloud off Seifer and lifted the gunblade wielder with one hand around his throat. “You’re going home until you can calm down and learn some patience. Go to the training center, spend some time with Quistis, think about how your shitty attitude affects others, or get your ass reamed by a T-rexaur. I don’t care what you do, but get the hell out of my home.” Vincent threw Seifer through the portal that had popped up behind him and shut it just as fast once he was sure Seifer had made it safe and sound to his room.

“ Okay.” Vincent took a deep breath and steadied himself. “Now that he’s taken care of, let’s see who else is going with us and get moving. I don’t want to leave those two alone for very long.”

“ Why? Afraid Squall will get lucky while you’re stuck here babysitting?” Cloud had not seen Vincent this out of sorts in years, and it all boiled down to Bea. He was just as curious about the dream as Seifer was. Still, he also knew Vincent well enough by now to know that the other man would tell them all in his own sweet time, usually with some cryptic bullshit thrown in for good measure.

“ I wish him luck, if that’s the case,” Vincent said as he went down the hall to the kitchens. “It would do them both some good.” He could feel the rest of his guests there, and he figured he might as well get it all out in the open once, instead of several times. “At any rate, let’s get this over with so we can get back to Bea’s.”

Vincent and Cloud walked into the kitchen and found a smaller group than was in residence when he and Squall had left the night before. “Good morning, everyone. It seems we have some additions, and some have left us.” Vincent noted that they had not only lost Seifer, but Reno, Rude, and Selphie had also gone, and Rikku had taken their place.

“ Reno and Rude got called back by Rufus,” Rikku said as she ate her breakfast, “and I came over because I missed you guys.”

“ No worries.” Vincent took roll call and came up with Irvine, Paine, Cloud, Rikku, and Axel. He nodded at Axel and smiled. “At least I know now how that happened. Good to see you again, Axel. Sora and company kick you out already?”

“ Nope, I just got tired of walking in on Sora and Riku doing the dirty, and Kairi was missing Selphie. I came to get her and got voluntold to get Reno and Rude back home.” Axel gave a salute and went back to demolishing his pancakes. “So what’s this I hear about a party?”

“ We’re going to visit our writer,” Cloud told him, grabbing a protein shake from the fridge and sitting beside Rikku. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he was actually excited about the trip ... and the ability to talk with Bea without having to hide behind a cloaking device.

“ Our writer?” Axel was confused. “What writer?”

“ Her name is Bea, and she’s a lovely woman who can change things in the Hub with a stroke of her pen,” Irvine finally spoke up. “You’ll like her.”

“ I’m game. When are we going?” Axel shoved the rest of his breakfast in his mouth and popped up from his chair, ready for whatever came his way that day. There were very few people Axel liked on sight, but, if both of his ‘besties’ liked the woman, he was willing to give her a chance. He had met so many people over the past month that he genuinely adored that he was willing to give someone else a chance. Might as well widen his stable of willing playdate partners if he could.

“ As soon as you all change. The weather is hot as hell, so dress accordingly … and bring a swimsuit.” Vincent pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge and downed it in one gulp, the thirst he had been battling since coming back from Bea’s realm a real issue. He thought it had something to do with Bea’s realm lacking in magic, but that was something he would have to think about on a different day.

"Just tell us about the dream, and we'll get changed," Cloud reminded him.

"Ah, yes, the dream. Did you all have it?" Vincent was curious to see if Rikku and Axel had it, too. Neither one was at the castle at the time, so it was possible they didn't have their sleep interrupted. He got his answer when Rikku shuddered and Axel just nodded.

"Bea had a nightmare last night that shook the foundations of the castle, so Squall and I headed over there because of the disturbance. What did you all dream about?"

"At first, I thought it was Seifer attacking this pretty redhead, but the dude that was doing the attacking was too old." Rikku said.

"And I don't think Seifer would have raped and stabbed her, so I chalked it up to a really weird dream," Axel supplied, disgust filling his voice at what he had seen. "I didn't know who the lady was, so I just thought my brain had gone haywire. "

"Well, that's that, then," Vincent said cryptically. "Okay, folks. Shake a leg, let's not keep our lady waiting. "

“ Let’s get going, then,” Rikku pulled Cloud out the door and the rest could hear his low voice saying something to her that had her giggling like mad.

Irvine looked around and asked the question the rest of them had been wondering: “So where’s Seifer? I thought he was looking for you.” I swear, if he’s fucked up again – Irvine had put out several fires that Seifer had started since taking over as Commander and Headmaster of Balamb Garden, and any goodwill he had for the man had all but evaporated.

“ I sent him home,” Vincent replied, a look of pure anger flashing across his face. “I don’t take kindly to my houseguests punching me in the face, he was getting a bit too big for his britches where Bea was concerned, and I thought I would save him from himself, just this once.”

“ Excuse me?” Irvine was beside himself at how Seifer had acted. “Why would he hit you, and what do you mean ‘too big for his britches’? What did he do to Bea?” He was busy figuring out if a court martial was in order.

“ He hit me because I didn’t feel like explaining to him about the dream from last night and then to all of you a second time. He has a real impulse control problem; I don’t know how you put up with it. As far as what he did to Bea, let’s just say that he needs to learn how to behave like a gentleman and not a rutting pig.” Vincent essentially dismissed all of them and went out on the veranda outside the dining room to bask in the moonlight as he waited, hoping that he could calm his sexual urges and his anger at the same time.

He sat there for the next couple of hours thinking about everything that had happened over the past 24 hours and came up with a few facts as he knew them: One, someone with incredible power was messing around with Bea. Two, he and Squall were drawn to Bea by a force that neither could ignore. And three: if they didn’t do something about it, it could mean that their way of life would change forever.

~ ~ ~ ~

The potato salad was made, the fish Squall and Bea caught at the dock had been filleted and fried, the hamburgers and sausages were ready to be put on the grill, and the sweet tea was chilling in the fridge. All that was left for Bea and Squall to do was sit, talk, and wait on the others to get there before fixing the rest of the food.

Squall had gone out to the deck to start the charcoal in the grill, and Bea was sitting on the couch, trying to braid her hair. The only problem was that her tresses had decided they weren’t going to untangle any time soon, and she was beyond frustrated. There were times she swore the hair on her head had a mind of its own.

“ Here, let me help you with that.” Squall took pity on her when he came back inside, and indicated that he wanted Bea to sit between his legs so he could get a good handle on her hair and not scalp her in the process. “I always loved playing with Sis’s hair, and I don’t feel close enough with anyone else to ask.”

“ What about Vincent? I’m sure he would love a little of this. You’re so gentle.” Bea sighed and tried her best to keep her back straight and not melt at his touch. I could get used to this , she thought. Her eyes closed, and she allowed herself to enjoy the feel of his callused hands against her scalp. Squall continued to braid her hair into twin tails with ease, dropping little kisses on her neck as he worked.

Why not? he thought to himself. She’s letting me, and I can’t seem to keep from doing it. I wonder why that is? Squall had come to the same conclusion as Vincent when it came to Bea: They were helpless when it came to controlling their more basic urges when she was around. Something was drawing them to her, and the more it happened, the less he wanted to fight the pull.

“ I wouldn’t mind it if Squall wanted to braid my hair,” Vincent said from the kitchen, a whole host of smiling people standing behind him.

Bea was happy that she knew all of them, and found that her heart filled with happiness when she looked at them – well, at least until she got to Axel. Everyone else was wearing clothing that at least matched. Axel was wearing board shorts and a Hawaiian shirt that clashed spectacularly with his hair and made her eyes hurt.

Squall patted Bea on the shoulder, telling her he had finished braiding her hair before getting up to meet everyone once she had walked into the kitchen. Every eye in the place watched her pass, and Axel gave off a wolf whistle at the sight of her jeans-clad backside that made Squall and Vincent smile slightly: It was important to them that their friends liked her, and, unlike with Seifer, they knew Axel didn’t mean anything by the catcall.

“ I heard that, Axel,” she said with a small smile. “Flattery will get you nowhere, but I appreciate it.” She busied herself putting the corn cobs on to boil and pulling every glass in the house out of the cabinets. Turning to her houseguests, she smiled and asked the one question she really needed an answer to: “So who wants to help me grill up the meat? Also, there’s iced sweet tea in the fridge and some beer in a cooler outside. Help yourselves, just make sure the cans end up in the trash can, not on the lawn.”

“ I’m pretty good with a spatula,” Irvine told her, grabbing the platter of patties and sausage links out of her hands. “Show me the way, pretty lady.” Paine smiled and winked at Bea, letting her know she didn’t think anything of the man’s flirting and thought that the lady could use some flirting that didn’t involve catcalling.

Bea strapped the gun belt she had hidden in one of the cabinets for varmint control around her waist, tied the leather thong around her jeans-encased thigh, and opened the door for everyone to troop out to the backyard. Vincent held Squall back from the pack so he could talk to him while they had relative privacy.

“ What’s up?” Squall asked, stationing himself at the window above the sink so he could keep an eye on Bea. He trusted everyone she was with to keep her safe, and she was wearing a sidearm, but he still felt better if he could keep her within sight. He had started getting antsy when he noticed she had openly armed herself before going outside, and he felt the need to keep her within sight, just in case.

“ So you’re feeling it, too?” Vincent asked, hugging Squall from behind and making sure everyone was within his field of view as well. “Something has been at work around here, and I don’t think it’s human. Did you know that everyone that’s linked to Bea in some way shared her dream last night? If we hadn’t been awake, I don’t think we would have woken up, either.”

“ Yeah, I’ve been feeling it, all right, but that’s not the only thing.” Squall pulled Vincent back into the living room and pointed to a potted plant hanging from the ceiling. “There’s a camera in that plant, and there are listening devices all over the place. I found them after we went fishing, while she was gutting the fish. I’ve made them all transmit nothing but static, but I can’t trace where the signal is going. I was going to talk to you about it all tonight, but now’s as good a time as any.”

“ Not that I think she would do it, but have you asked Bea about them?” Vincent took the hanging plant down, picked the camera out of the dirt, and investigated it thoroughly. The thing was small, almost nothing more than a lens and housing, but he could feel the feed coming off of it, and, just like Squall, couldn’t trace where it was going.

“ No, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t know about them, and I didn’t want to worry her. I found so many cameras in her room – whoever put them in there wanted to make damn sure she couldn’t hide even a fart. There are two under her bed, for Hyne’s sake.” Squall paced the area in front of her fireplace nervously, his old habit of pinching the bridge of his nose when he was stressed showing itself for the first time in over a month. “I’m afraid to remove them. We may have to make sure she’s never alone.”

“ So you think Eric is behind this? But she said he had no idea where he was.” Vincent pulled his lover into his arms to stop his back-and-forth motion. “Or do you think it’s someone else?”

“ I don’t know, but I will find out,” Squall said, his eyes showing some of the determination that had made enemies quake in their boots in the past. “Now, about this other ... thing. I know something pushed me under the bush this morning, and I could have sworn I saw a boot on the other side of the damned thing, but it faded out of existence, and I couldn’t feel the presence any more. No portal, either. Another thing: That isn’t Bea’s scope. She lied about that.”

“ Of course she did. She doesn’t want us involved. I think she doesn’t want us hurt.” Vincent thought that was a fool’s errand, though: They were already involved, and happy to be so.

“ You’re right,” Bea said from the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest and her hip cocked in such a way as to bring her Ruger into the most accessible position. Vincent knew the stance and could tell, just from that little thing, that the woman knew how to use the firearm. “I don’t want you hurt, and what the hell do you mean there are cameras all over my house?” Bea’s face was ruddy, with small beads of sweat on her forehead leading both men to think that either she was overheated or her fear was trying to flood the house.

Vincent walked over to her and handed her the camera from her plant. “Apparently, your house is wired for sight and sound.” She looked at the camera for a split second before crushing it under her boot heel and taking off for the second floor, both men right behind her. It surprised both of them that she ran to one of the rooms opposite hers and threw open the door to one of her daughter’s rooms and started tearing it apart like a woman on a mission. She looked everywhere she could: under the bed, in the bookcases, through the closet, and in the drawers, finally coming up with a grand total of sixteen cameras and bugs.

“ Can you tell if there are any more in here?” she asked her Muses where they had stopped at the door. She was huffing and puffing in fury, and Vincent, at least, could feel the fear coming off of her. He had a vision in his mind of a lioness protecting her cubs, and almost grinned at the thought that she and Squall were very much alike.

Squall walked to the middle of the room and turned slowly, his eyes squinting as he concentrated on the electronic signals that filled the room. He finally came up with four more, most of which were found in the lights of the room. “Here,” he said as he handed them over to her. “If I had to guess, I would say that they belong to the same person who left the scope I found under the bush. Do you know who put them here?”

“ I don’t think it’s Eric,” she said after collapsing on one of the beds. “He’s never done something like this before, and I don’t think it was y’all, so I’m not worried about that.” She waved her hand in a dismissive manner; the very thought of her Muses having to use spyware was laughable.

“ Why?” Vincent asked as he squatted before her, grabbing her hands in his and trying to calm her down by rubbing his thumbs over her skin.

“ Because neither of you would do something like this. You don’t have to.” She closed her eyes and calmed her breathing, wiping the tears from her eyes before standing up, offering a hand to Vincent as she did so. “We’ll check the other bedroom later on, when we’re alone. We have guests that need tending. Care to join me on the deck?”

They walked out to the backyard, all traces of what they had been discussing pushed to the back burner until after they had sent everyone home for the night. Both of the men knew that they would be living in Bea’s back pocket as much as possible for the foreseeable future, no matter what the lady had to say about it.

Nothing was said about what had been found in the house, and Axel had pulled out the pool floats and diving rings he had found in Bea’s toolshed, an old, filled-in outhouse. For the next several hours, the party had a blast playing in the glacier-fed lake, a pick-up game of football, target practice with Bea’s handgun and rifle, or just sitting in a few lawn chairs and gossiping. Vincent, for his part, was laid out on a chaise lounge in the middle of the dock catching some rays, and Squall was manning the grill, keeping everyone supplied with anything they wanted that would fit on the grill.

“ Hey, Punkin! Are you back here?” A man called as he walked around the house and into the backyard.

“ Hello, Mr, Babbage. What can I do for you?” Bea called out as she placed her plate on the picnic table, her eyes rolling in exasperation. The last thing she needed was her busybody neighbor asking questions about her guests. He insisted on calling her by the nickname her father had used for her, and it didn’t matter how often she told him to knock it off, he still did it.

“ Mr. Babbage?! What happened to Jeff?” He shook his head and replaced the disappointed look on his face with a smile. “I came by on my way to town and thought I would check in on you, see if you need anything while I’m out that way.” The man was dressed like an old-fashioned cowboy, complete with a ten-gallon hat and spurs. His excuse was laughable: Her driveway was four miles long, and a person actually had to know where it started to get to her house, so there was no way he happened by her house just because.

“ I don’t need anything. Thank you for asking,” she said as she tried to steer him back to the front yard and away from the group without actually touching the man. Jeff was nice enough on the surface, but there was something about him that always set her teeth on edge.

“ Hello, friend.” Irvine came up behind Bea and stuck his hand out in greeting. “Who might you be?” He had seen Bea’s hand stray to her holster and thought it best to figure out what the hell was going on before shots were fired. He didn't like the guy at first sight, and he always trusted his gut feelings.

“ I’m her neighbor. Who are you?” Jeff gave the man with the impossibly long auburn hair a distrustful look as he shook his hand.

“ These are a few of my co-workers,” Bea supplied with a smile. “We were just celebrating getting through a tough week. Here, let me walk you to your truck.” She waved to the gathering after letting Irvine know everything would be okay with a patient hand to his chest, then herded Jeff back to her driveway. “Thank you for stopping by, Mr. Babbage, but I really need to get back to the party.”

“ I don’t like the looks of some of those guys,” he said, a suspicious look on his face. “You want me to stay and make sure everything is okay? That guy with the spiky red hair looks like he’s into drugs or somethin’.”

“ Who? Axel?” Bea laughed and all but pushed Jeff towards his open truck door. “He doesn’t even drink. I’m perfectly safe with all of them, and I’ve known them for years.” She gave him a look that plainly said ‘you really aren’t wanted, get lost’ and waited for him to get back in his truck, her hand sitting loosely on the butt of her gun; she was wearing the gun just in case a bear showed up, or if she needed to take out a snake or two, not her neighbor, but the feeling she got from Jeff was akin to how she felt around her ex, and she was taking no chances.

“ Well, if you need me, don’t hesitate to give me a call. Madeline told me the girls are gone to your mother’s place, so, if you need anything, let me know. I’m just a hop, skip, and a jump down the road.”

“ I’m fine, Mr. Babbage. I’ve told you before that your worry is completely misplaced and not needed.” Bea had decided a long time ago that a verbal blow to the head was needed most of the time with her neighbor before he got the hint, but this was the first time she had used a club.

“ Are you okay, sweetheart?” Squall asked as he put his arms around her and pulled her back against him. Everyone was gathered on the deck, asking him to go check on her even as he was walking in that direction. They all had feelings of anger and worry they couldn’t place, and it was starting to weird them out in a big way. Vincent and Squall knew exactly where the feeling of doom was coming from, so he came around to the front of the house to gather his writer and bring her back to those who care about her while Vincent calmed down the others.

Jeff had watched him come through the gate and make a beeline for his neighbor, and was filled with distrust and fear as he watched how the man moved. If that man wasn’t military in some way, he’d eat his hat.

“ I’m fine, darlin’. Jeff Babbage was just leaving.” Bea kissed Squall on the cheek and settled back in his arms as if she had nowhere else she’d rather be, her hand never moving from the butt of her gun. Jeff was a few years older than Bea, but he still liked her a lot and didn’t think she should be hanging around with people that her father obviously would not have agreed to.

“ I see. Well, if you’re okay, I’ll leave you be then. Have fun.” He nodded and got back into his truck, peeling out like his ass was on fire and he had to find a bucket of water to sit in.

“ Does your neighbor make it a habit of just showing up whenever the wind changes?” Squall wasn’t letting her go, and Bea didn’t seem like she hated the idea, if the way she was leaning into him was any indication.

“ All the time,” she said thoughtfully. “As a matter of fact, he was in the house for a while a couple of weeks ago doing some work for me.” The more she let her mind focus on Jeff, the more she needed to calm down. I’m starting to panic here. I thought I had put shut to that business when I left Texas .

“ That makes sense, then,” Squall said as he turned her around in his arms and kissed her, his arms holding her tightly so they fit together nicely. He was trying to calm her down a little before they went back to the others. He wouldn’t have needed their connection to tell she was losing it.

“ You don’t think he set those devices, do you?” she asked once Squall released her lips. I could really get used to this - I mean really get used to this. His kisses are better than any anti-anxiety medicine they could ever give me.

“ The timing of his visit makes me think that he might have had something to do with it, yeah.” Squall put his arm around Bea’s shoulders and walked with her back to the rest of the gang, a plan forming in his mind that would probably take both Vincent and himself to talk Bea into.

~ ~ ~ ~

The rest of the afternoon was spent eating, playing, and talking. Bea had almost been able to push Jeff’s visit and the spy devices they had found to the back of her mind, but not completely. The sun had set around 9 PM, and, a couple of hours later, Vincent sent everyone back to the castle with Axel’s promise to make sure they all got back to their respective realms from there. Axel would stay at the castle and keep everything going on an even keel until Vincent could get back.

“ Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, young lady,” he told Bea as he kissed the back of her hand and leapt backward through the portal.

“ Something tells me that’s not very much,” Bea said under her breath before turning back to Vincent and Squall sitting at her kitchen table. “Okay boys, what are we gonna do about our little problem? I gotta tell ya that the longer I’ve thought about it, the more I have Jeff halfway to hung.”

Vincent chuckled and pulled Bea down so she was sitting on his lap, wrapping his arms around her. “Did you know your accent gets very thick if you’re tired or angry? Squall did have an idea about that, if you’re up for it.” His breath ghosted across the nape of her neck and made the hair on her arms stand up at attention.

“ What’s that?” Bea threw her arm around Vincent’s neck and leaned into him, comfortable for the first time in ages. The day of fun in the sun had made her realize that, regardless of where they came from, she was pretty much in love with all of her Muses in differing degrees, Squall and Vincent most of all, and she didn’t want to lose any of them. Even if it meant a little pain on her part, she was willing to try it.

“ We put all of the cameras and bugs back where we found them, and, if we aren’t in the room, let them transmit, but, if we are, whoever’s watching gets nothing but snow. It would mean that either Vince or myself will have to stay with you, and we would make sure that the ones in the bathroom are permanently on the blink.” Squall smiled at the couple across from him and started to hope that maybe the yearning he had been fighting for the past two days was finally going to get an outlet.

He meant what he had told her that morning: He was willing to have cuddles and hugs for as long as it took for her to feel comfortable around them, but he would be just as happy if Bea had decided on her own that they weren’t going to hurt her.

Bea watched him as her fingers played with Vincent’s hair and thought that the plan had merit. She wouldn’t mind sharing her house with the two men as long as they allowed her to work and do what she needed to do.

“ As long as we can permanently disable the ones in the bathrooms, I’m all for it. Y’all can’t really come in there when I have to go; I’d rather burst my bladder.” That quip got a chuckle out of both of them, and the sound made her smile.

“ Those, we would definitely disable,” Squall told her. The tension he had been under since the night before evaporated when he realized she would give the go-ahead for the only plan he could come up with.

“ Then I see no reason why we can’t go forward with it,” she told them with a yawn. “When did you want to put the ones I took out of my oldest's room back? I don’t know if I have enough energy for that tonight.”

Vincent stood up, placed Bea on Squall’s lap, and left the room, coming back a few minutes later. “All done,” he said with a smile. “I just made everything look the way it did when you first opened the door. Not even your girls will be able to tell anything was amiss.”

“ That’s a nifty trick.” She snuggled even deeper against Squall, her eyes drifting closed. “I sure could have used you last night when I cleaned this dump up.”

“ We’ll help out around here while we’re staying with you,” Squall told her, wrapping his arms around her tighter. “I’m pretty good at fixing things, and Vince is great at decorating.”

“ I bet you are,” Bea’s voice came on a breath that turned into a soft snore.

Squall looked at Vincent and grinned before standing with Bea in his arms and started for the stairs, intent on putting her to bed for the night. I think we can wait until the morning to see what will happen among the three of us, he thought to his partner.

I’m sure we can, at that, Vincent thought back as he went about the kitchen and put away everything the group had missed when they all pitched in to clean up the mess they had all made. None of them had wanted to leave it for Bea to do, no matter how much she bitched that she was the host and therefore it was her job to clean up what amounted to a hoarder’s nightmare.

Squall came back down a little while later, dressed in some sleep pants, and sat at the table for some late-night talk with Vincent before they both went back upstairs to snuggle their writer while she slept. Bea had let him know, sleepily, that her bed was big enough for all three of them, if that was what they wanted, and Squall was all for it.

“ You look good in those,” Vincent told him as he made a matching pair to put on once they went upstairs to bed. “I take it we’re staying?”

“ I think Bea would have our hides if we didn’t,” Squall told him, replaying his memory of his conversation with her from a few moments ago, letting Vincent see the whole thing.

“ You’re better at that than I am. Now, about this Jeff character: What do we know about him?”

“ He lives two miles down the road, and, from what I could gather, has been an overly friendly thorn in Bea’s side, something about not taking no for an answer.” Squall started playing with the little bear-and-beehive salt-and-pepper shaker set on the table. “I got a bad feeling off him, like a piece of hard candy with a rotten center. I can do some digging into him once I get a computer set up in the morning. Bea said that she doesn’t have to work until Monday, so that gives us one day to come up with some kind of game plan.”

“ Well, at least we have a direction. Now, what do you say we lock everything up tight and go to bed?” Vincent walked the circuit he’d seen Bea walk so many times before and met Squall in the kitchen for a little more small talk, neither of them willing to call it a night just then. “You seem a bit jumpy. Care to share?”

Squall gave him a look that held guilt and frustration, his tone of voice confirming Vincent’s assessment. “You can tell, huh?”

“ If you’re feeling like I am, then, yeah, I can tell.” Vincent pulled out a couple of beers from the fridge, and the two men moved to the couch to talk through a few things, most notably what to do about Bea.

“ I wish I knew what was going on,” Squall said after taking a swig of his beer. He kept saying he didn’t understand, and it was annoying him to no end. “I can’t get her out of my head, and I have this urge to make love to her every time I see her. I’ve been walking around since last night with a hard-on that pops up whenever it isn’t wanted, and I’m damn sure Irvine and Cloud were having the same issue today. That’s why I kept jumping in that cold-ass lake. It didn’t help.” Squall loved Vincent, there was no question about that, but he also felt like he could tell the man anything, and he would know exactly what he meant, which was exceedingly rare.

“ Axel and I were, too, and who knows about Paine and Rikku? Women have it easy when it comes to hiding their arousal.” Vincent shook his head and drained the can of beer in one gulp. “I wish this stuff still did something for me.”

“ Yeah, I know the feeling.” Squall chuckled. “You ready for a torture session?”

“ You mean go cuddle our writer until the sun comes up and have nothing but blue balls to show for it? Sure, let’s go.”

They didn’t get very far: Bea was waiting for them at the foot of the stairs, a pained look on her face. “You heard that, didn’t you?” Squall asked, a sheepish look on his face as he looked everywhere but at Bea. She was wearing an oversized tee shirt that reached to her knees, and she couldn’t have been sexier to him if she was wearing nothing at all.

“ Why didn’t you tell me?” Bea asked, feeling deep in her gut that she had hurt both men. She had heard the ‘blue balls’ comment many times before, but, for some reason, this time, she couldn’t ignore it as she had before.

“ Because, my dear, it isn’t a condition that has to be taken care of immediately,” Vincent explained patiently, with a slight smile. He was thinking that, even though she was a mother of two, had been married, and could write a sex scene that was so descriptive it could give him an erection within three sentences, Bea was a bit naive.

“ Give me a break,” she said. “I’m not so innocent that I actually thought a guy could die from not getting his rocks off. What I meant was why didn’t you two sit down and just talk to me about how you were feeling? I mean, if someone who hasn’t even thought about sex for over ten years is feeling the same way, and is actively thinking that all she wants is to love you into the mattress, no matter how much it might hurt, that maybe, just maybe, things might turn out all right?”

Vincent and Squall looked at each other, a bit nonplussed, which was starting to become a way of life around the writer. Bea, for her part, was toying with the hem of her shirt and wishing she had a hole to climb into. Speaking her mind was never something one who had been told to shut up and be a good girl her whole life got used to.

I don’t know about you, Squall thought to his partner, but I can’t let this chance go, can you?

Together, then, was Vincent’s reply.

Vincent took one hand, Squall the other, and they led her over to the couch which was big enough for all three of them to lay on head to foot and still have room to spare. Vincent sat down and pulled Bea down next to him, Squall sitting on her other side and each man chose a spot to attack with their lips. Vincent had latched onto her neck, giving her love bites where her neck met her collarbone. Squall had decided that a sweet and slow kiss on the mouth was called for as his hands roamed everywhere they could reach.

Vincent grabbed Bea’s hands in his when she tried to touch the men currently loving her. “No, Bea. Let us love you. There will be time enough for you to take control, if that is what you want.”

“ Trust us,” Squall said, looking into her eyes. “We won’t hurt you. If anything we do feels bad, tell us. We can always stop.” He bent down and kissed her again. This time, the kiss was deep and overpowering in such a delicious way that Bea was able to force her fears to the back of her mind.

She did trust them, and, for the first time in her life, thought that maybe she should just let go and let things happen. While Squall was kissing her senseless, Vincent had moved to the floor, kneeling at her feet. His hands massaged her calves and knees, moving slowly to her thighs before gently pulling them apart. Bea broke from the kiss and looked at Vincent in terror.

“ What are you doing?” she asked, her voice cracking in fear.

“ What’s the matter?” Vincent was confused. He had read enough of what she had written and knew she had exquisite knowledge of the art of cunnilingus. Some of the ways she had come up with doing the enjoyable task —

Bea moved to the corner of the couch and wrapped her arms around her legs, making herself as small as possible. How to tell the two men she was rapidly coming to love with all her heart that she had been informed in the past that she was nasty, smelly, disgusting, and just not worth the pleasure other women had told her the act gave them?

She started to shake as her memories flooded her brain against her will, reliving every cruel remark, helpless to stop them. She found herself wishing they would just know what the problem was so she wouldn’t have to tell them, and then it happened. Vincent and Squall both stilled, their pupils contracting to mere pinpoints as her memories, all of her memories, came through to them.

It was as if something had forced open the connection they had that allowed them to talk to each other all the way and then sent everything that had ever happened to her in the game of love, no matter how much she tried to stop it. They saw Eric torturing her, saw every beating she took at his hands, every time she had to hide from her family until a broken bone had healed, every nasty, demeaning thing he made her do, and every word he had ever said to her in an effort to control her.

They watched as he tied her to a bed and went down on her only to come back up coughing and sputtering, telling her that she tasted of garbage. They watched as he took a knife and cut her from one thigh to the other “to make room” for his admittedly tiny prick. They saw the birth of her two daughters, and the birth of a boy child that had been killed by his father while still in the womb, and saw Eric physically abuse her every time a nurse left the room. They watched as her mother told her to stay married to him because she should be grateful that even one man found her attractive enough to marry.

They saw her entire marriage at high speed as the images sped through their minds, the visions slowing down when she had finally had enough and left the man after he had turned his ire on their children. Squall got the feeling, once his mind was his again, that Bea would have stayed with the sadistic bastard if he had never touched her daughters.

“ How could he have done that?” Vincent asked, the pain he was in evident on his face. “How can a man do any of that to a person he professes to love? That wasn’t love, Bea. That was pure evil.”

Squall moved over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist, shaking with anger and a desire to take all the pain away from her. He buried his face into her neck and tried like mad to still his thoughts of rage and need for revenge. He swore to himself that, if he ever had the misfortune of meeting him, Eric would not survive.

Bea wrapped her arms around Squall and held him, petting his hair as she tried to quiet his upset. “I don’t know what that was, but I have a feeling y’all didn’t make that happen, did you?”

Squall shook his head and burrowed in for more comfort. His anger was slowly leaving him, and all that was left was sadness.

“ I felt you trying to stop it, but we couldn’t stop it, either,” Vincent admitted as he sat on the floor and tried to get an image of her mother telling her that she would be beautiful if she only lost some weight out of his head. He thought she looked wonderful as she was: not stick thin, but not overweight, either. She was healthy, muscular, and soft, with an hourglass figure that fit her perfectly. If the image was to be believed, she was actually underweight when her mother said those things. “I only saw your mother and Eric in those memories. What about your father?”

“ He bought this house for us when he found out what Eric was still trying to do, and moved me and the girls up here from Texas,” she told him as she continued to try and calm Squall down. She was seriously beginning to worry about the man. “My father’s a good man who never had a cross word for me.”

“ Why didn’t he help you before that?” Squall asked as he held her tighter than before.

“ Because I never told him. He read a news article about the court case a year and a half ago. I had to promise not to keep things from him ever again, and then he died six months after that. Now, I have no one but my girls.”

“ Wrong,” Vincent insisted as he stood up and sat on the couch next to her. “You have us.” He kissed her gently, then asked, “What court case?”

“ Come on, let me have a cigarette, and I’ll tell you,” Bea stood up and grabbed her cigs before heading out to the back deck. Once they were all settled at the picnic table, and she had her cigarette burning just right, she said, “Two years ago, Eric decided he wanted his girls back, and the only way he could see how to do that was if I was dead. Never would have happened, though: My will stated they were to live with my father, and, if that wasn’t possible, they were to go to my sister. Anyway, Eric broke into our house, shot me in the leg, tried to beat my brain out of my skull. and stabbed me in the gut when I didn’t do him the courtesy of dying. He grabbed the girls and took off with them, thinking I was dead and gone. Just his bad luck that I survived.” She thought for a moment, then admitted, “I was one of the lucky ones. Most women who are attacked by a man don’t make it out alive if he has murder on his mind. I always wondered if I had a guardian angel on my shoulder that night.”

When it looked like she had stalled out, Squall gave her a little verbal poke: “And? How did you get the girls back?”

Bea laughed and smiled at the memory. “His new wife turned him in when the story hit the local news. Apparently, she finally realized that, if he could do that to the mother of his children, he could do that to her. That, and she loves the girls, so —”

“ Is she still his wife?” Vincent asked as his hand strayed to Squall’s thigh and gave it a comforting squeeze.

“ Nope, she started divorce proceedings before he was even arraigned. Eric was sentenced to ten years for attempted murder and five years for each kidnapping. Twenty years, and he only got that much because the judge couldn’t give him less without starting a riot. Eric was a law officer in the county we lived in, but even they couldn’t keep him out of jail on this one.”

“ So he’s incarcerated?” Squall asked, hoping that was the truth, but knew her father wouldn’t have moved her to the middle of nowhere if that was the case.

“ No,” Bea told him, a hard edge coming to her eyes. “He’s out on appeal. Apparently, his defense attorney found some evidence of jury tampering, so he’s got a new trial. The trial is set for February of next year, so I’ll have to go back to my hometown for however long the trial takes. I’m not looking forward to it.”

“ Wait a minute, are you telling me that you intentionally sent your daughters back to your mother with that madman on the loose?” Vincent looked like he was about to blow a gasket.

Bea gave him a look that plainly told him he had lost his ever-loving mind. “Mom moved to Florida to be near my sister, so the girls went there. Give me some credit here. I may have stayed with him out of some misguided sense of loyalty, but I would never do something that stupid.”

“ What I don’t understand is why you even have contact with your mother.” Squall was still trying to wrap his mind around that one. If he had been in her shoes, he would have cut off all contact.

“ Because she’s my mom, and she’s mellowed a lot since moving out of Texas. My sister’s helped her a lot on that front. Everyone deserves a second chance, even if they’ve had fifteen second chances.” And, with that one thought, Vincent and Squall knew, without a doubt, what Bea was all about.

“ Now,” Bea said as she put out her smoke and stood up, reaching out her hands to the men. “What do you say we pick up where we left off before my unfortunate sharing session?”

Vincent didn’t know if he could get any of what he had seen out of his head, and his libido was suffering for it. “Bea,” he stood and took her in his arms, hugging her tightly. “I would love to, but, after seeing what you went through, I ... need some time to unpack everything. I would be doing you a disservice if I tried to love you tonight. Can I come back tomorrow?” He kissed her softly, hoping that would take some of the sting out of his words. The last thing he wanted was to make her feel like any of this was her fault.

“ Of course,” Bea told him when he released her lips. “I would never expect you to do something you didn’t want to do.”

“ Oh, honey, you have it all wrong.” Vincent took a deep breath and let Bea ‘see’ how he saw her, how he felt about her, and just what he wanted to do with her when he had his head on straight. What she saw touched her enough to throw caution to the wind, and she rose up on her tiptoes, took his face in her hands, and kissed him with as much passion as she could, letting him know that she really didn’t take offense at his request.

“ I’m going to hold you to that,” she said with a smile. “You know, it would save couples a lot of fights if they could do what you just did.”

He chuckled and kissed her again before pulling Squall to his feet and kissing him. “Will you be okay if I leave you here?” He was just as worried as Bea for his partner: The obvious show of anger had been out of character for him.

“ Yeah.” Squall nodded and drew Bea to him. “I have someone to keep me company. Go let Axel know everything is okay on this side of things.”

Vincent smiled and then walked through a portal that had appeared behind him, leaving Squall and Bea to their own devices, and with the sincere hope that the two became better acquainted.

“ What kind of wild animals do we have around here?” Squall asked after grabbing Bea up into a hug. He was having difficulty keeping his hands to himself after everything that had happened, and he felt better when she was in his arms, more in control of himself and the situation.

“ Bears, wolves, mountain lions, bighorn sheep, skunks, deer, snakes, and other normal things like squirrels and eagles. Why? Do I need to go get my sidearm?” Bea started looking about her, trying to see the shine of a big cat’s eyes in the forest, or the grunting breath of a bear. For the most part, the wildlife stayed away from her house, but she did have a mountain lion that showed up in the winter.

“ No, nothing like that,” Squall kissed her and let his senses search the surrounding area, finding nothing bigger than a few smaller rodents scrounging in the undergrowth. “What do you say to a little midnight swim?”

“ Are you sure about that? There’s no sun outside to warm us up after a dip.” Bea knew how cold the water was in the summer, and usually had to put on sweats after her daily dip in the clear waters off her dock.

“ I think we can keep each other warm,” Squall told her, his hands running up her hips and under her tee shirt, finally settling around her waist. “That is, if you want to.” His old uncertainty was rearing its ugly head, but he thought he felt Bea’s hesitation was not due to the company, but rather the water temperature.

Bea grinned at him and kissed him before stepping back from the warmth he was providing. “Wanna go skinny dipping?” she asked with a wicked little gleam in her eye. She still had a problem with many things dealing with sex, and no amount of sharing would have cured her of that in one night, but she had already decided that Squall and Vincent were worth a little pain if it came to that, especially after how they both reacted to the movie she unintentionally showed them.

She giggled and took off for her dock, Squall almost catching her before she started down the switchback wood-lined path. She was faster than he thought, and he had a hard time keeping up with her in the dark. He kept his eyes on her white shirt as it shot ahead of him, finally coming to a halt in the middle of the metal floating dock they had fished off that morning. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist as she looked up at the full moon hanging in the sky.

“ It really is beautiful here,” he told her, resting his chin on her shoulder as he looked out over the water, a fish jumping about fifty yards off the shore. He felt at ease at her house, almost as content as he did at Hub Castle. He didn’t know if it was the place or the company, but it was probably a mixture of the two.

“ This is one of my favorite places. I’ve been coming to this lake since I was twelve, when my father married Madelyn.”

“ Who’s that?” There was so much he didn’t know about her, and he was eager to learn more.

“ My stepmother.” She pointed out over the water to a lone light shining on the other side of the lake. “That’s her house, over there. We don’t get together very often since dad passed away, but it’s nice to have her there in case of an emergency.”

“ But you said it was only you and your daughters, you can’t count on her?” Squall allowed his hands to wander as they talked, and Bea didn’t seem to mind the attention he was paying her. She actually sighed in pleasure when he lightly pinched her nipple.

“ No, not really. Madelyn never wanted children, and, when she married Dad, she let it be known we weren’t welcome. She’s mellowed out, too, but I think it reminds her of Dad when we come around. I don’t like making her sad, so I stay away. That, and she was pretty pissed off when he bought us this house.”

Squall turned Bea around and kissed her. His hands continued to travel over her body, and the temperature of her skin rose wherever his hands landed.

“ Well, you have us now, and I’m not going to leave you to fight things on your own. That’s a promise.” He pulled her shirt up and over her head so she was standing in nothing but her underwear in the chill night air, admiring how her skin seemed to glow in the moonlight. His head dipped down and captured one of her rosy nipples between his lips, and he pulled her by the hips so she was flush against his groin. The contact was almost electric, and, when he felt her hands work at the tie of his pajama bottoms, he felt like he was a teenager again. Where has that ability to control my cock gone? he thought to himself before realizing it really didn’t matter at all when it raised its head and looked around out the waistband of his boxers.

They parted long enough to shed the rest of their clothes and jump into water that had been colder in the afternoon sun than it was at that moment. Relief flooded both of them when they came up for air and realized shrinkage from the cold would not be an issue - at least, not that time.

Squall swam over to her, found his footing in the soft, sandy bottom, and pulled her to him. His mouth latched on to hers as he wrapped her legs around his waist. He wanted to take his time with her, but, with the way they were bobbing in the water, and how slippery the sand was, he didn’t think a leisurely romp in the moonlight was in the cards.

“ I don’t think I can hold back much longer, Bea.” He held her up with hands that were rock solid but still shaking slightly with need, and Bea knew exactly how he felt. She had shed her fear and left it on the dock with her clothes.

“ Then don’t. I trust you.” She grinned at him. “Besides, we can go slow when we get back to the house, if you want.” She hooked her ankles together just above the cleft of his ass, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him deeply. He positioned her as best he could, then entered her slowly, allowing her to slide onto his cock at her own pace, gasping into the kiss when she was fully settled around him. He had memories of watching her throughout her life, the images coming to him in what felt like the world’s biggest data dump. He came to a memory that he suspected was his, but, at the same time, it seemed like it belonged to someone else. When did he accept a being of light into his body, and why would he do such a thing?

What the hell is this? he thought as their bodies seemed to go on autopilot.

I don’t know, Squall, but it feels so nice, Bea’s voice sounded in his head, and that,in itself, was enough for his eyes to pop open in surprise. The only person he could speak with mind-to-mind before was Vincent. Before, when he spoke to Bea, he could hear her voice outside of his mind, but now it was making itself at home in his dura mater like a cat in a blanket on a cold winter’s morning.

Talking to me like this, or being loved? Squall shoved his misgivings away and, to use one of Bea’s turns of phrase, rolled with it.

Both, Bea shot back. This way we can talk and not have to waste our breath. To prove her point, or just because she couldn’t keep it in any more, Bea gasped when Squall hit the very end of her channel, sending pleasure running up her spine gleefully. I never knew —

Knew what? He was trying to concentrate on their conversation and try to figure out why he felt like an electric current was moving all over his body.

How good this could feel. She kissed him then with as much passion as she could and not topple them over and under the water. Do you feel like all of your nerves are firing off at the same time?

“Yes,” Squall told her as his thrusts sped up. He was unable to slow his hips, as they had decided he was going too slow for their liking, and he just couldn’t be trusted to get the job done. Bea’s hips seemed to be on the same wavelength as she sped up her bouncing to match his pace. She might not have had what the French call le petit mort , or the little death, but damn, it felt good.

So this is what it feels like when you make love, she thought to herself, trying to shield the thought from Squall. She didn’t want the embarrassment of admitting that she really didn’t know what sexual pleasure felt like. When she wrote about it, she really did use her imagination to fill in the blanks.

She opened her eyes to look at the man who was treating her like a human being and met his hooded gaze as he watched the pleasure shine from her face. The vortex in his irises was a slow roil, and they glowed like a lightning storm was going off in his head. She almost fell into their depths once she felt his seed flow into her ... and found that she could swim in his eyes forever.

~ ~ ~ ~

Murphy sat in his little pocket of the Heavens and watched as his chosen creator was loved for the first time in perhaps her entire life, thinking that maybe the other gods were right, and helping people out of the goodness of your heart was a good thing. Never mind the fact that he had a very specific reason for helping Bernadette Roberts in the first place. If everything went to plan, he would have a little pocket of the Universe that none of the other gods could get to, and they would leave him alone for eternity.

“I thought I would find you here,” a softly purring voice said from behind him. “They make a beautiful couple, don’t they? It is a shame that he won’t be able to stay with her.”

The demigod turned to his guest and smiled winningly at her. “Hello, Bastet. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“You are fucking around with one of my children, Murphy. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that you need to ask before you start playing with someone else’s property?” Bastet stood before him dressed in a simple frock of Egyptian cotton, her cat’s head set on a human woman’s body, her arms crossed and her fingers beating a tattoo on her upper arms.

“Are you telling me that you want Bernadette to suffer? I thought I was doing what the other gods told me to do: I’m helping.” Murphy’s visage shifted so that he was wearing what he considered his true reflection: tall, muscular, with ginger hair, green eyes, and naked as the day he was born.

“I do believe we told you that you were in control of the Muse division, not Cupid’s bosom buddy.” She came up next to him and watched as the two people in the viewing portal kissed and loved each other some more before exiting the lake, gathering their clothes, and starting up the slope to the house. “Although, I haven’t seen Bea this happy since she was a child.”

Bastet loved her child, and had always tried to steer her away from harm, but, as she was her own woman, she allowed her to make her own mistakes. She had only stepped in when it looked as if her charge would die if she didn’t, and she knew for a fact that Murphy had stepped in more than that to get her out of trouble, as well.

“Neither have I,” Murphy admitted. “I always liked her best out of everyone in her family. Her mother always blamed me for everything that went wrong, from a red light to not having enough money to buy food, and her father just liked quoting my laws to everyone. I will say her daughters are shaping up to be just like her: Throw something at them to make things a little hard, and they learn from the situation, just like their mother. Can you blame me if I wanted to help her out for once?”

Bastet gave him a distrustful look, then waved her hand, making the viewing portal disappear. “I will not allow you to hurt her. She is a faithful priestess of mine, and I have done everything in my power to help her heal. If you and your Muses screw this up, I will have your balls as chew toys.”

“Trust me, Bastet, you aren’t the only one that wants this to go off without a hitch.” He reached out and scratched her behind the ear, earning a swipe across his cheek for his troubles.

“Just do me a favor and keep that Seifer Almasy away from her. Do I need to tell you why?” Bastet licked the blood from her nails and purred as she watched the scratch she gave Murphy heal itself.

“I haven’t appeared to my Muses yet,” he said, then thought about it for a moment. “Actually, they don’t even know they are Muses, really. The Muses chose to merge with her characters and lost a lot of the knowledge they had to begin with. I might have to have a little meeting with them.”

“See that you do, and call me if you need any help,” Bastet said before walking out of his pocket through a portal.

“Oh, don’t worry, pussy cat, I’ll be calling on all of you.”

Chapter Text

Vincent appeared at the island dock and walked through the forest surrounding his home.  He needed time to think about how best to deal with Bea without any well-meaning house guests interrupting his train of thought.  He felt he could not leave her to her own devices, not after everything he had seen when her memories invaded his mind.  

Who am I kidding?  Our hearts already made the decision for us, he thought as he walked through the front doors of his home and down to the kitchen to get something to eat and drink. 

The portal he made to come home had drained him of almost all his energy, and the ambient magic was helping, but not fast enough for his liking. He chalked it up to spending too much time on that side of reality without a top-up.  

He walked in on Axel raiding his refrigerator and chuckled when he realized he knew who it was just by a bebopping ass. Other than Squall, and now Bea, Axel was the friend he loved best, and he was happy the man felt at home enough to raid the icebox.

“Anything good in there?” he asked as he sat at the butcher block table in the middle of the space.  The island served as a table for everyone to eat around, and as a prep station if someone got it into their heads to actually cook.

“There’s a ton in here,” Axel responded with his head still in the icebox.  “I swear, all you have to do is think to yourself: ‘I sure could go for a double cheeseburger’ and poof!  There it is on the counter.” He turned around and nodded at the requested meal.  “See?”  He picked it up and asked for some french fries, grinning at Vincent when they appeared on his plate.

“That’s a neat trick.” Vincent hadn’t realized that the castle granted wishes, but should have known better. He thought back on all the times he had wished for something and then found it later on in one of the rooms.  That, in itself, should have tipped him off.

“It is a neat trick,” a voice with a soft Irish brogue came from the shadows, making both men turn around in surprise.  “It’s a good thing your writer thinks of these things, isn’t it?” Murphy walked out of the shadows and sat at the table, his red hair shining in the light, and the freckles across his nose standing out. Vincent found himself thinking that he could have been Bea's cousin.  “Eat your dinner, Vincent.  The news I have for you will go down better with a meal.”

Murphy waved his hand, and a medium rare steak dinner appeared before Vincent with a glass of red wine to wash it down. Vincent gave it a distrustful look, but realized the castle never would have allowed poison on his table, so eating it wasn’t going to be a problem.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Vincent began.

“I sincerely doubt that,” Murphy interrupted him as he made himself the twin of Vincent’s dinner. “But you keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better.”

“Who are you?” Axel asked around another bite of his hamburger then took a swig of his soda.  “Because I get a god-tier feeling coming off you.”

“Demigod, actually.” Murphy took a bite of steak and rolled his eyes in pleasure.  “My name is Murphy, and I head up the Muse Department. One could say that I’m your boss.”

“I don’t have a boss.” Vincent tore into his steak and admitted that Murphy knew his beef when the morsel all but melted in his mouth.  “And, the last I looked, even a boss has to ask for entry into someone’s home.”

“Then you should have asked Bernadette if you could live here, enter her home, or, if you’re Squall, her body.”  Murphy raised an eyebrow, letting the men know he didn’t think too kindly of how they had conducted themselves as he continued to eat, his words not even muffled by the food.  Axel could have learned a thing or two from him.

“Who’s Bernadette?” Axel asked as he put his burger down and started to pay more attention to their interloper.  They had just gotten out of the whole mess with the ASSESSOR and Sephiroth, and he didn’t think they could handle another fuck-up so soon without some major overhaul of the troops.

“Bernadette Roberts. I believe you call her Bea.  She’s your writer, and she’s one of my favorite people.” Murphy took a sip of wine and leaned back in his chair, suddenly uninterested in his meal.

“Squall and I are the only ones who know her by that name, and we promised her we would keep it a secret,” Vincent said, the anger that was so close to the surface nowadays ringing true in his voice.  Chaos had been quiet since the whole Weiss situation, but even he was chomping at the bit to get at Murphy.

“You have other secrets you can keep, and I’m sure she will be okay with Axel knowing, as long as he calls her Bea when you are around others.  Although, I think you should rethink that little rule, especially since Eric is still out there somewhere.”  Murphy wouldn’t exactly tell the Muses under his control what to do, but he would strongly suggest a way forward.  He could always push them back on the right path with a few well-chosen obstacles if he had to.

“You know a lot about her. I wonder why that is,” Vincent pushed his empty plate away and realized he felt like he had just had a long sleep.  His body was full to the brim with energy and he felt a multitude of spells at his fingertips, ready to give the demigod at his table a hotbox.

“I have been with her since she was born.  Her mother introduced us.” He laughed and smiled blindingly.  “Actually, her mother blamed me for getting pregnant in the first place, but that’s neither here nor there, as I had nothing to do with it.  Suffice it to say, I have looked out for her as much as I could her whole life, and I’m looking out for her now.”

“If you were looking out for her, then Eric never would have gotten his hands on her in the first place, and she wouldn't have the body of a war veteran.  What were you doing when he was beating the shit out of her, raping her, or any of the thousands of things I witnessed tonight?” Vincent stopped suddenly when he realized he had Murphy by the throat and was about to cave in his face with his fist.  He let go of the man and sat back down, rubbing his face with his hand and thinking that the night could not get much worse.

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret, Mr. Valentine. We celestial beings will help out when we can, but our hands are tied when it comes to interfering with a person’s free will.  Well, not all of us: There are some gods out there that think fucking around with humans is the height of humor.  Now, on to why I am here.”

Vincent waved his hand, letting Murphy know he needed to get on with it before he kicked his ginger ass out of his home.  He still had Bea’s memories running through his head, occasionally stopping for a breather at a particularly nasty scene, all of which gave him a headache.
Axel just looked like someone had pissed in his Cheerios.

“I have come to give you some information about yourself and this realm, and some advice on what needs to be done moving forward.  Do you know what a Muse is?”  Muse 101 is about to begin. Ladies and Gentlemen, get your tickets at the front gate, please, Murphy thought, almost laughing at his own wit. 

“If you are talking historically: They are beings that bring inspiration to creative types, usually in the form of dreams,” Axel piped up from across the table, popping a french fry in his mouth.

“Hole in one, you get the Kewpie Doll!” Murphy snapped his fingers and gave Axel the little plastic doll that had appeared out of thin air.  “Now, my punishment for making mortals reap the consequences of their actions: The other gods put me in charge of the Muse Brigade to teach me how to play nice with others.  Although, I think it was really because the god who was in charge of it before was tired of it all.  So, I thought: Why not allow Muses to become corporeal when they help people out?  Then I thought: Who better than Bernadette to be my test subject? Because, I've gotta tell ya, I don't know of anyone who deserves it more.  That woman takes everything that’s thrown at her and keeps going. Always learning, that one.  Her daughters are the same, come to think about it.” Murphy shook his head and returned to his lecture.

“Now, normally, Muses are celestial in origin and beings of light: no gender, no features, and have a nondescript voice.  They inspire through dreams, but never get involved with their human on a more personal level.  I thought that was a waste. So, I gathered some of Bea’s Muses and allowed them to tell me which characters she wrote they most identified with, and they told me which characters they would want to be.  After talking to the shades of said characters, her Muses melded with them, became them, so to speak, and now, here you sit.”

“Excuse me?” Axel blurted out.  “What do you mean?  That some goofy ghost decided that they wanted to be me and poof!  They took over my body?!”

“No, that is not what I’m saying,” Murphy sighed. “What I’m saying is that the Muses sat down with the shades of Squall, Vincent, Axel, Cloud, and the rest and asked them if they wanted to be someone’s Muse, to be real and have lives of their own.  Whether you want to believe it or not, they wanted to be real – not just someone from a video game or a book, only existing in someone’s imagination.  So, when they chose to be real boys and girls, they welcomed the Muses in. The Muses took on their appearance, their memories, their powers, and their will.  Actually, the only thing left of the original Muse was the very real desire to inspire Bernadette, love her, and protect her.  Follow me so far?”

“Let me get this straight,” Vincent replied while pacing the floor, his anxiety creeping to an all-time high at the thought that someone else might have even a modicum of control over him.  “You’re telling me that all of the things I did prior to coming to the Hub were a fucking game, that Squall didn’t save his home world, or someone is controlling how I feel?  Bullshit!  I am my own man!”

“Yes and no. When the Hub popped into being, all of the attached realms came along with it.  So, in a real sense, you and Squall are both saviors of your respective worlds.  And no: Nothing is making you do anything you don’t want to. Well, there is the occasional urge to be near your writer, but you can still ignore that if you want to.  Squall already has an inkling of what he is, and I know you were listening when he and Bernadette spoke about it yesterday.  I don’t know why you’re having such a problem with this.”  Murphy never was one to stop and think about how someone would feel when hit between the eyes with some inconvenient truths.  He used their reactions to gauge how they were progressing along the path he thought they should take, and nothing more.

“I told you I should have come with you,” Bastet’s silky voice said from behind Axel, making him jump up from his chair and back away from the cat goddess. “You beat around the bush too much.” Her tail was switching back and forth in the universal feline sign of irritation.

“And I told you I could handle it.” Murphy was getting mighty miffed at the gods for interfering in his little experiment.  That, and he was actually beginning to like the Muses the way they were. They were so much more interesting, now that they had personalities.

“And we all decided you could use some backup,” a tall, golden-skinned god said from the doorway.  His body had a soft golden glow that radiated from within and the classic features of a beautiful Greco-Roman man.

“Apollo, so nice of you to join us. Anyone else coming to this little party?” Murphy shrugged and let everything else slide.  If he had all the creatives on his side, it would all be a lot easier.

Five more pops were heard, and Vincent’s kitchen was suddenly overcrowded.
“Let me make the introductions,” Murphy spoke as he pointed to each person in turn. “Let’s see here: The lady with the cat’s head is Bastet, the Egyptian goddess of pleasure, protection, cats, and, according to some, the bringer of good health. The beautiful one with the cow’s ears is Hathor, the Egyptian goddess of beauty, sensuality, music, dancing, and motherhood. The impossibly handsome and tanned blonde over there is Apollo, the Greco-Roman god of music, light, eloquence, poetry, and the actual fucking sun.  Who am I missing? Ah, yes, Cadmus is the kingly Greek god of writing. The old man with the beard that’s dragging the ground is Bragi, the Norse god of poetry, and the redheaded lady with the hawk on her shoulder, carrying the spear and shield is Brigantia, the Celtic goddess of the poetic arts, crafts, prophecy, and divination.”

“And the lady all the way at the back dressed in animal skins and carrying a battleaxe?” Axel asked as he sidled up to Vincent.  He wasn’t scared, but so many deities in one place was enough to make even him wish for a hole to climb into.

“Boudica?  She’s one of the ancestors that Bernadette venerates.”  Hathor smiled benignly at Axel, thinking that there was a man who needed a mother’s care.

“It’s just a shame she can’t do what I did and slaughter all the men that hurt her and her daughters.” Boudica leaned her battleaxe against the cabinets and sat regally at the table, then requested some mead and mutton, the dish popping into existence at her hands.  “I’m not a god, so I couldn’t take care of that son-of-a-bitch she was married to, but I wanted to.  You should have seen Cu Chulainn!  He tried to tear apart the fabric of time and space to get at his chosen, and he’s another demigod. He sent me in his stead, as he has other things to attend to.”

Vincent shook his head and planted his hands on the counter, lightning zipping up and down his arms like it did the night before.  I’m losing control here.   “Okay, that’s it. I’ve had enough.  I’m pulling a page out of Bea’s book, and I’m ordering all of you out of my home.”

“Sorry, no can do,” Cadmus told him, his voice so deep it literally shook the beams in the ceiling.  “We need you to understand your role in all of this, and we need your promise that you will be there when Bernadette needs you.”

Apollo, having had enough of the back and forth without getting anywhere, took the reins, stepped forward, and raised his hand, calling forth a being of light at his command.  “Who are you?” he asked the being.

“One of Bernadette’s Muses,” the being said, and, just like Murphy had explained, the voice was neither male nor female, just somewhere in between.  “And I am waiting for Dante to show up to see if he will allow me to merge with him.”

“And who is Dante?” Apollo had a lyrical voice, and Vincent had no trouble believing that he was the god of music.  It scared him just a bit at how drawn he was to the god, almost as if he was his true boss.

“The main character from Devil May Cry , a video game Bernadette loves to play.”

“No time like the present, then,” Murphy said, whispering a spell under his breath to bring the shade of a tall silver-haired man, dressed in red and black leather from head to toe, into being right in front of Vincent.  “Hello, Dante.  I have an offer for you.”
“Yeah?  And what’s that, Pops?” Dante was somewhat see-through, and he pulled his sword from the scabbard at his back, swinging it as hard as he could. The thing went through the table without so much as a scratch.  “Damn.  Okay, out with it.  I’ve got some demons that need slaying and pizza that needs eating.”

“Do you know what you are?” Murphy asked Dante, thinking that maybe the Muse should have picked another fictional character. The one before him looked pretty damned dangerous.

“I’m the main character in several video games, a whole mess of manga, books, and a season of an anime.  In other words, I’m not real.” Dante was using the knife he had pulled from his boot to clean his nails, and was about as insolent as a non-living being could be.

“How would you like to be real?” Murphy asked, thinking that Bernadette had some really strange tastes in men.  Although, now that I think about it, all of them, men and women alike, are good protectors.  Interesting…

Dante looked at him like he had lost all of his marbles in a game of for-keeps.  “Of course I would, but what’s the catch?”

“I would have to merge with you,” the muse said, turning its blank face to Dante.  “You will keep all of your quirks, and free will. I, on the other hand, will lose everything that I am. I am willing to give you my body.”

“Then what’s in it for you, baby?”  Dante was suspicious of anyone willing to pretty much die to give him something, so the answer should be interesting.

“I get to be near Bernadette.  I can love her, touch her, inspire her, and not have to visit her in her dreams.” The Muse’s color changed from white-blue to a pale blush, as if the admission was somehow embarrassing for it.

“Will you make me do anything against my will?”  It was a pretty good question, and something that was on Vincent’s mind.  If he was indeed a Muse, as Murphy said, were his feelings for Bea and Squall his own ... or the Muse’s?

“I cannot make you do anything.  The only urge you will have is to check in on her every now and again.  Although, I don’t think you’ll have any issues in liking Bernadette, which is why I asked to merge with you.”

Dante thought about it for a moment, and then grabbed the Muse’s hand. “It’s a deal.” The words were no sooner out his mouth than the Muse merged into his body, Dante becoming solid as soon as the Muse had completely melted into him.

He opened his eyes and smiled before sticking his hand out to Vincent.  “Hello, Mr. Vampire.”

Vincent shook his hand and sat in the chair, all thoughts of this whole thing being bullshit vanishing.  “Out of everyone that’s been to the castle, who is a Muse?”

“The only people that have accepted the Muse job are you, Squall, Axel, Cloud, Irvine, Paine, Auron, Rikku, and Reno.  Everyone else was given a body by Bea when she wrote Realms of Reality.”  Murphy looked at Vincent appraisingly and decided to go all in.  “You do know that she’s the real power behind all of this, right?  She made the Hub and brought all of the other realms into being.”

“What are you talking about?  I got this place from Old Keighven.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew they weren’t true.  “Hold on a second,” he muttered and snapped his fingers, bringing the first printouts from when they originally noticed Bea to him.  “This says here that she published the first three chapters before I even got here.”

“Exactly, which means that the first three chapters were solely hers. The last twenty-nine, you and the gang did on your own, and she put the history into words.  In short —”

“We are her Muses,” Vincent said with a resigned smile.  “So, is this affection I have for her mine?”

“One hundred percent.  The Muse you merged with liked her, but wasn’t in love with her. You decided to do that all on your own.” This time, it was Brigantia who spoke, and Vincent realized, with a start, that the word she used most closely described what he felt for his writer.  “It’s the same with Squall, and, before you ask, you and Squall fell in love with each other, not the Muses that melded with your shades.  As you said, you are your own man.”

“Wait a minute,” Axel said thoughtfully.  “What about Seifer and Selphie?  They’ve both been over to Bea’s place. They’d have to be a Muse to go over there … right?”

Murphy gave Bastet a look that plainly said ‘See?  I told you.’  “Seifer is, but–”

“But I don’t want him anywhere near Bea,” Vincent interrupted him before he got going. “He’s almost a spitting image of Eric, and he’s acting too possessive for my tastes.  I don’t trust him.”

“None of us trust him,” Bragi told him.  “The Muse merge happened without Murphy’s knowledge.  We don’t know who did it, either.  The best we can figure is that the merge happened when Sephiroth ran him through in Balamb.”

“That makes sense,” Vincent said.  “Seifer should have died from that wound.  I don’t know about Selphie; we’ll figure that out once we’re all together. Okay, folks, you’ve made your point, and I have some things that have to be done.  You can clear out now.  I promise to make sure all of the Muses are on the same page before the end of the night – tomorrow, at the latest.”

“Then I will leave this in your capable hands, Vincent, and let me know what Sephie has to say for herself.” Murphy stood and kissed the ruler of Hub Castle fully on the lips.  “Give that to Bea for me, would you?”

“No, I’ll give her one of those from me.  You can give her yours yourself.”  And, with that, Axel, Vincent, and Dante were left alone in the kitchen.

“Let me know when the rest of the Muses get here,” Dante said as he strode out of the kitchen to explore the castle.  “I still remember what I am and who I’m merged with, so I’ll help you explain.”

“That one’s going to be a real pain in the ass,” Vincent mumbled before downing his wine and opening a portal to interrupt whatever Squall and Bea were up to.

~ ~ ~ ~ 

Squall had a sinking feeling that something important was happening back home, but he would be damned if he knew what it was.  He gathered a sleeping Bea to him and closed his eyes to see if he could get some rest.  Bea wasn’t the only one that was running on less than an hour of sleep over the past two days, and, even though he technically didn’t need it, he was played out.

He thought back over what they had done in the lake earlier, and he found that, even though a fish had nibbled his toes, the whole encounter was worth a few hundred more run-throughs.  He was trying to figure out why the act of making love with Bea would have opened their connection even more, and what in the hell was with the electricity they both felt?

What he didn’t question was the fact that he kept calling it ‘making love’ instead of ‘fucking’ or just ‘having sex’.  What he felt for the woman sleeping beside him went far beyond a casual fling, and he knew it.  Even though he had just met her two weeks prior, he felt he had known her much longer than that: The vision he had when he entered her earlier in the evening was proof of that at least.  He kept stumbling upon memories of playing with a very young Bea, her small face smiling at him when he agreed to play dolls with her, or comforting her when her parents divorced and she felt completely lost.  Then came a memory that brought tears to his eyes: Bea slowly pulling away from him when she outgrew her ‘imaginary’ friend.

           The ones that hurt the most dealt with her marriage to Eric.  The happiness he felt when she finally found love and the sadness that went with it, then the terror when he couldn't stop the beatings, or the heartbreak when he couldn't stop the murder of her son.  The murderous rage he felt when Eric tried to kill her was still with him, and he was close to making it his life's work to make sure Eric paid for that for the rest of his miserable life. 

He wiped the tears from his eyes when he felt the portal open, and he watched as Vincent entered the room from the walk-in closet. “Feeling better?” he whispered, hoping Vincent wouldn’t hear any of the turmoil he battled in his voice.  He didn’t want to wake Bea just yet, either, as he was just as content as she was, and had a feeling of serenity that he had never felt despite all of the memories.

“In a manner of speaking,” Vincent hedged as he extended his senses outward and came up with nothing human within a ten-mile radius.  “We have a situation at home. Can you come back with me for a while?  We need to talk.”  Now that he knew no one would be interrupting Bea’s sleep for the next thirty minutes or so, he had no issues with taking Squall back to the castle.

Squall watched the face he loved so well and noticed that the worry lines on Vincent’s face were deeper than they had been before he left.  “What’s wrong?”

“I was just visited by six gods and goddesses, a demigod, and an ancestor ... and we have a devil’s spawn residing with us.”  Vincent wasn’t happy about discussing it while Bea was within hearing distance, but he knew Squall wouldn’t get out of bed for anything less than at least half an explanation.

“Give me a second.” Squall tried to move Bea without waking her.  She was curled up next to him with her head resting on his chest and her arm wrapped around his waist, as content as a kitten.  He finally managed to move her so she rested on her pillow, and got out of bed.  “Let me leave her a note in case she wakes up before we get back.”  He wrote the note and pulled on his pajama bottoms after placing it on the pillow he had just vacated, kissed Bea on the lips, and motioned for Vincent to lead the way.

He looked back at Bea one last time and left through the portal, hoping that she would sleep peacefully until they got back.  The last thing he wanted to do was upset her, and it would if he wasn’t there when she awoke – what person wouldn’t be pissed if they had just made love to someone and they ran as soon as the coast was clear?

He walked into the kitchen to Axel and Dante playing cards at the butcher-block, and he almost laughed when Dante threw down his hand after Axel won.  “Is this a god, demigod, or devil’s spawn sitting at our table?”

“Son of Sparda, actually, so devil’s spawn it is,” Dante answered as he shuffled the cards and started dealing a new hand.  He had realized that he was surrounded by men that he A: didn’t want to mess with, and B: were quite nice to look at, so why not give them all a chance ... at least until he got into a few pairs of slacks, that was.

“Gotcha,” Squall muttered, then sat at the table and was immediately dealt a hand, Vincent getting his hand as well when he sat down.

“Might as well do something productive while we talk,” Dante told them.  He sniggered to himself, letting the whole table know he probably had four aces.

“So: Tell me what’s going on so I can get back to Bea and some sleep.” The old feeling of abandonment was back, and he was keen to get back to Bea. Squall began to think he was traveling back in time, and he didn’t like it at all .

“Right.” Vincent asked for two cards, and then got down to business.  “We have a boss, his name is Murphy, and we are indeed Muses.  Dante is proof of that.”

“Figures,” Squall said under his breath as he motioned for three cards.  “I think I already knew that.  The Muse thing, not having a boss.  What makes Murphy our boss?”

“Because I head up the Muse Department, and, as you are a Muse, I am your boss.  I wouldn’t worry about me futzing around with the Hub or what you all do with your days once Bernadette is safe and Eric is where he can’t hurt her or her girls anymore.” Murphy watched Squall curiously as he played with the other Muses.  The man had a glow about him, and, unless he missed his guess, was more in tune with his inner Muse than any of the others.  So that’s what happens when one of them sleeps with her? Very interesting.  I’ll have to get him alone and talk to him about that little hiccup.

“That was already my plan, but what’s this I hear about gods and goddesses that we are beholden to?”  Squall lost the first hand, but the second one seemed promising.

“Would you like me to introduce you?” Murphy asked as he poured himself a glass of Vincent’s prized red wine without asking permission.

“Actually, yes, I would,” Squall told him as he won the second hand and then waved away the next deal.  He turned in his seat and faced Murphy with an expectant air about him.  Where Vincent had been predisposed to call the whole thing bullshit, Squall was at least willing to see what everything was about before making up his mind about the whole business. The memories he had been reliving went a long way in convincing him that he was something other than just plain old Squall. 

“Why have you called us back?” Apollo asked as the whole god squad started popping back into the kitchen. He looked at Squall and shook his head sadly. He knew what the two had been up to, knew the consequences,  and still allowed Murphy his little experiment.  He just hoped that this time it wouldn't end in tragedy.  If Bernadette’s situation hadn't been so dire, he never would have given up control of the Muses.

“Squall Leonhart would like to meet you all.” Murphy bowed out of the way and let the others have their say.

Apollo sighed heavily and started making the introductions, more grandiose than Murphy had been, but he got the job done, and Squall’s hand was about to fall off by the time he was done.  All of the gods and goddesses had tried to take him to his knees with a handshake, and all had failed ... until Boudica gave him a regal look down her nose.

“So you are the one my descendant fell in love with all those years ago.  She chose well.” She extended her hand, and was pleased when Squall kissed the back of it and bowed to her.  He had shown all of the others respect, but Boudica reminded him too much of Bea for him not to show her a bit more reverence.

“Thank you.” Squall smiled at her, and the woman blushed to the roots of her red hair.  “I see where Bea gets her looks from. You two are quite similar, you know.”

“There is a reason for that,” Boudica told him, getting herself under control.  “She’s a Celt through and through, so, of course, we look alike.”

Apollo tut-tutted to get their attention. “Are we done here? Can we go back to what we were doing when you summoned us again ?”

“I shall stay here and get to know the Muses better,” Boudica decided.  She had an idea forming in her head, and she might need the Universal Guardians as allies to get it done.

“As you wish.” Apollo shooed the rest of the gathering into the celestial beyond and popped out of the castle with a little smile to Murphy.

“Okay, that’s that, then,” he said as he turned to the people assembled around the table and bowed to them.  “I leave the rest to you. Might I suggest that you gather the rest of the Muses, minus Seifer and Selphie, and explain things to them?  It’s up to you what you tell them, as long as they understand that Bernadette’s safety is paramount.  You don’t want to know what will happen to the Hub and all who live here if she were to die.”

“Is that a threat?” Dante asked. “Are you going to wipe us all out if something happens to one little mortal?”

“That one little mortal is the reason for the Hub even being here.”  Murphy’s face turned from open and jovial to closed off and malicious in less than a nanosecond.  “She dies, you die.  She dies, and the entirety of the Hub disappears along with all of the realms and everyone residing in them.  I gave her the power that all authors wish for: that her creations, or, in this case, the characters she borrows from someone else, become real and not just a figment of her imagination.  Make no mistake: If Bea dies before her time, you are all dead and gone, and no one will even know you existed.”

“Then I guess we need to keep her safe then, don’t we?” Dante said with conviction.  It had just been brought home to them that it was in their best interests to do as they were bidden by the demigod, and at least two of them were willing to do it because they were starting to love their writer.

“Exactly,” Murphy said, then popped out of the kitchen and back to wherever he called home.

“Okay, Vincent: Would you be so kind as to go back to Bea’s? We can’t leave her alone anymore.  I hope she doesn’t mind, but we can’t take the chance until Eric is put away for life.”  Squall stood up and nodded at those around the table before dressing himself in his usual battle garb with a thought.  “I’ll go get the rest of the Muses and bring them back here.  I’ll try to think of something to waylay Seifer and Selphie.  I understand why Murphy doesn’t want him involved after what we saw tonight.  Did our ‘boss’ happen to admit that he was the one that set off the memory bomb in our heads?”

“Oh, that wasn’t Murphy,” Boudica stated.  Everyone had forgotten that she was still in the kitchen, and the secret little smile she had on her face let them all know she knew it too.  “Brigantia thought that at least the two of you should know exactly what she had been through, and sent you visions.”

“Remind me to thank her for raping our minds,” Squall said, his face a mask of pain.  “It would have been better if the gods had decided to let Bea tell us in her own time instead of forcing it down our throats.”  He had a sneaking little thought that he, and whomever else slept with her, would have figured it all out, given time, but who was he to judge?

“That was not her intention.  It scared the living shit out of Bea when Vincent made to go down on her for oral pleasure.  How would she have explained to you both that her ex-husband was always calling her fish market, garbage dump, or, my all-time favorite, putrid pussy?” Boudica was on a roll, and Squall had no trouble imagining her on a throne and laying into her enemies with relish.  “That woman is cleaner than anyone I have ever known; it’s become a bit of an obsession with her.  She only stopped showering 3 times a day two years ago – she’s down to two.  There’s no way she could have said anything that wouldn’t have hurt all three of you ... or caused her a large dose of embarrassment.”

“The visions hurt all three of us,” Vincent told her.  “And she can tell us anything. We won’t judge her for it.  I still can’t get what that bastard did out of my head.  Are all police personnel on her side of the cosmos that much of an asshole, or is it just him?”

Boudica snorted into the mug of ale that had appeared before her.  “She had no way of knowing that neither of you would dream of teasing her about what she had been through.  In the past, anyone she had told about Eric either didn’t believe her or removed themselves from her life.  Now, as far as the men: In general, they are a good sort on that side of reality, but there have always been those that look to subjugate women in any way possible – usually, the nastier, the better.  Look up my story if you want to see how Earth’s men can act.”  And, with that, she took her leave of them, going off into the castle to find a bed to nap on before she got down to the business of deciding if these Muses were worth all of the hope the others had put into them.

“I think we have a permanent house guest,” Squall said after watching the woman walking up the stairs.

“That’s fine with me.” Vincent had a lot to think about, and not much time to do it. “Can I see you in private before you go?”

Squall nodded and led the way out to the veranda.  “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“How to deal with Bea,” Vincent said.  “I don’t want to hurt her or embarrass her any more than I already have. Any ideas?”

Squall hugged the taller man tightly and wished there was something he could do to take away his guilt.  “You know it wasn’t your fault, right?  You didn’t know that trying to love her would have done any of that.”

“My head knows that, but my heart –” Vincent hugged Squall even tighter and tried to push his self-doubt to the bottom of his psyche. “I just wish she trusted us more.  I guess we’ll just have to work on it.”

“Might I suggest that you go back there, cuddle with Bea, and see where it goes? Take it slow, and don’t push.  Talk to her, and be truthful in everything.  If what Boudica said is true, there’s a lot of damage there, and we may not be able to fix it, but we’ll try our best.”  Squall knew what the Queen had said was true as he had sent it all first hand.  He was going to have to talk to Apollo about the memories.  As soon as he saw the god, he knew him to be more forthcoming than Murphy, and that his knowledge of their situation was greater.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Boudica said from the balcony of one of the plainer suites in the castle.  “Do you mind if I stay here? It suits me.”

“By all means, my Lady. If you’ll excuse us?  We both have a lot of work to do.” Vincent turned to Squall and kissed him.  “Be careful while you’re in the realms.”

“Always.” Squall kissed him again and walked through the portal to the front gates of Balamb Garden, hoping his security code still worked.

Squall rapped on the glass to get the security guard’s attention.  It was well past midnight, the man had fallen asleep on the job, and Squall wanted to throw a scare into him with the intention of teaching him a lesson.  Squall tamped down on his irritation and had to remind himself that he no longer had any say on how the Garden was run, but it still rankled a bit when he caught someone responsible for the safety of all the students sleeping on duty.

“Can I help you, sir?” the guard said with a yawn.  He was new to the gig, having replaced the security guard Sephiroth had killed, and had never had the pleasure of meeting Squall Leonhart.

“I need to speak with Irvine Kinneas, Paine, Selphie Tilmit, and Seifer Almasy immediately.  Tell them Squall Leonhart will be waiting for them in the Headmaster’s office.”  Squall had no trouble throwing his name out there if it would get the job done in a decent time frame, and, seeing as the guard’s eyes grew as round as saucers, it gave him a sense of satisfaction, as well.

The guard looked at a book of IDs in front of him and audibly gulped when he matched Squall’s face to the ID card.  “Right away sir.  I take it you know where to go?”

“It was my office up until a month ago, so, yes, I know the way.” He started walking to the center of the Garden and to the elevators, nodding at the odd staff member standing guard at the various areas of the place.  I don’t miss those guys, that’s for sure.

He walked into his old office after knocking, just in case Irvine was as much of a workaholic as he had been, and sat on the couch to wait for his replacement.  He didn’t have to wait more than fifteen minutes before the knob turned and Irvine, Paine, and Seifer entered the office, worry etched on all of their faces.

“Hey, Princess, what’s up?” Seifer asked as he propped his feet on the Headmaster’s desk and looked expectantly at his old rival.  Seifer was still pissed at Vincent, and, as Squall was Vincent’s lover, he figured Squall was just as guilty as the vampire in his mind.  He fingered his throat and smiled at the thought of taking his vengeance out of Squall’s hide.

“We have an issue that needs to be addressed, and I need Irvine and Paine to go over to the castle. Do you know where Selphie is?”  Squall was trying to ignore Seifer’s tone of voice, knowing that he had to get going as soon as possible.  “Can Quistis take over for a day or two?”

“I’m sure she can, but, Squall, unless it’s an emergency, I don’t know if I can keep dropping everything to come to the castle at the drop of a hat.”  What Irvine said was reasonable, and Squall knew it, but he also knew that the situation went beyond Balamb Garden.

“I understand, and I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t vitally important to all of our lives that we have a meeting of the Muses.  Think of it as a last favor from the previous Headmaster.”  Squall never asked for favors, so that little comment convinced Irvine that his presence was needed.

Irvine walked over to the phone and woke Quistis up to ask for her assistance.  Quistis, being Quistis, said yes even before the words were completely out of Irvine’s mouth.  “That’s taken care of, and I’ve left word that Selphie needs to contact you as soon as she’s found,” Irvine said, taking Paine by the hand to lead her through the portal to the castle.

Seifer sat and stewed for all of five minutes before turning in his chair to face Squall.  “And why was I dragged out of bed if you were just going to leave me here?”

Squall sighed and sent a thought to Murphy that he would owe him big time for this.  “It has been decided by the powers that be that you need to stay away from Bea until further notice.”

“And why is that?  Did I do something that smelled bad under Vincent’s hook nose?”

Squall pulled his phone out of his pocket and pulled up the court case against Eric, as well as his mug shot.  It’s a good thing I took the time to hook this phone up to Bea’s internet before leaving the Castle.   “Read this, then take a look at the pictures.”  He handed the phone over to Seifer and sat back to watch his reactions.

Squall had pulled up the section of the court case that dealt with what Eric had done to Bea, then the pictures of Bea’s wounds, and, finally, Eric’s mugshot. His eyes grew round with surprise when he saw an older version of himself.  “Is this the son-of-a-bitch that did all that to Bea?”

“Yes. See anything interesting about him?” Squall mentally crossed his fingers that Seifer would understand the situation without him having to spell it out for him.  Seifer was smart, and, under it all, had a good heart. He just had an impulse problem that none of them had been able to quell.

“It’s like looking in a mirror that shows the future,” Seifer murmured as his eyes traveled over the mug shot and then again to all the pictures of the injuries.  The whole thing made him sick to his stomach. He remembered how he had teased Bea, and felt ashamed of himself.

“Where is he?” Seifer had thoughts of retaliation on his mind, and wanted nothing more than to avenge Bea.  That wasn’t completely true, of course: His bloodlust was the true reason, but he cared enough about Bea to do it with a smile on his face and a song in his heart.

“Somewhere in Texas, about 1,700 miles away from Bea – at least, we hope so.  In light of how you act around Bea, we would like it if you stayed here until Eric is dealt with.”

“Like hell I will!  This monster needs to be taken out, now.”  Seifer was seeing red all over again, and Squall was in his sights.

“I don’t think so.  You look enough like Eric that it would be dangerous for you if you were seen anywhere near Bea.  We aren’t trying to keep you from her!” Squall yelled, his temper finally joining his patience in time-out.  “At least, not completely.  I’m trying to keep you from being arrested.  Think about it, Seifer!  You aren’t from her world. You’re not even entirely human. None of us Muses are.  If I have to get Murphy over here to knock some sense into you, I will, but I’m hoping you’ll stay here until we come for you.  Can you do that? For Bea?  Please?”  It felt like begging to Squall, but he had to do something to get through to the other man. 

“What do you mean by how I act around Bea?”  Seifer knew exactly what Squall was talking about, but wanted to hear what his former commander had to say.

“I’ve been watching you with her.  She asks you not to do something, but you do it anyway.  You know how she feels about being manhandled, and now you know why, and you have the gall to ask me how you acted?” Squall popped to his feet and pulled the taller man to his feet by his collar. “I’ve seen everything Eric did to her, thanks to an overly-sharing goddess, and I’ve got to tell you that what’s in that file is just the tip of the iceberg.” Squall was shaking in anger and went in for the killing blow: “I can’t even look at you without seeing my gunblade sticking out of your chest.  So, unless you want me to bring my full power to bear on your head, along with every other Muse in existence, you will stand down and shut the fuck up.”  

Seifer backed up from his former commander and decided he wanted nothing to do with him at that moment.  Squall had never lost it that badly with him before, and he wasn’t willing to throw his life away for something that would eventually work out in the end ... he hoped.

“Fine,” he said, his eyes narrowed to slits.  “As long as you Muses do your job and keep her safe.  If I find out my doppelganger did anything while I wasn’t there to protect her, I’ll kill you all.” He stalked out of the office without a backward look, leaving Squall shaking with anger.

He opened a portal to his next destination as soon as he was able to get himself under control and walked into the alley outside of Tifa’s 7th Heaven bar.  He didn’t want a repeat of last time, and he figured she wouldn’t try to take his head off with a well-timed kick if he walked in like a normal patron.

“Welcome to 7th Heaven,” Tifa said. “Oh, it’s you.  What can I do for you, Squall?” Tifa started wiping down the bar and wondered when she started half-ass liking the brunette.

“Well, I wouldn’t say no to a Cosmo Canyon.  I need to speak to Cloud and Rikku. Know where I can find them?” Squall watched Tifa expertly mix his drink, and he could tell she was trying to decide if she wanted to answer his question or not.  “Come on, Tifa,” he cajoled as she set the drink in front of him.  “I really need to talk to them.”  He sipped his drink, and was pleasantly surprised at how good it was.  “This is good,” he said, turning up the wattage of the smile he gave her, hoping it would help his case. He kept thinking about Bea's reaction to his smile, and he figured he would give it a try.

She sighed and motioned for him to follow her up the stairs.  The bar was dead, anyway, so she didn’t think she’d be missed.  She looked in on Marlene and Denzel to make sure they were asleep and wouldn’t hear anything they shouldn’t.  Squall peeked in the room as he passed and smiled when he saw twin pairs of eyes following his progress up the stairs. Those two don't miss much that goes on around here. 

Tifa closed the door to Cloud’s room as soon as Squall slipped past her.  “He and Rikku are on a delivery run.  Don’t you have Cloud’s cell phone number?”

“No, I don’t. Vincent might, though.” Squall pulled out his phone and dialed Vincent.  

“I’m almost ready to go back to Bea’s.  How goes the Muse hunt?” Vincent’s voice told Squall all he needed to know about his partner’s state of mind: He was stressing out.

“That’s good, Vince.  Do you happen to have Cloud’s number?  I can’t seem to talk a certain bartender into giving it to me.” Squall nodded, motioned for a pen and paper, and began jotting down directions once Tifa gave them to him.  “Okay, so I’ll start with Reno and come back for Cloud.  Thanks, and good luck with Bea.”

“I don’t think I’ll need luck so much as time,” Vincent told him as he packed his bag.  He had already talked Axel into looking after things at the castle, and had decided that he wanted to get back to Montana as soon as possible.  The Muse part of him was pacing back and forth in his mind, telling him he really needed to get the lead out, and he had to agree with it.

Ever since Murphy had dropped the bombshell of his muse-ness, he had started to notice the other consciousness inhabiting his mind, and the being was completely different from Chaos.  It was more of an urge or a feeling that things were not how they should be, and he was starting to get used to it.

“I think that’s all any of us need,” Squall said before telling him he loved him and hung up.  “Could you give Cloud and Rikku this when they get back?  All they have to do is call Axel, and he’ll get them to the castle.”  He handed a second paper to Tifa and walked out of Cloud’s office to the pub proper.  “Do you happen to have a bike I can borrow?”

“Mine is out back, and I don’t mind you using it as long as you bring it back fully gassed up.  What’s this about Reno?” Tifa was glad that she wasn’t the one giving Squall Cloud’s information, but she still felt bad about putting him to so much trouble.  She still didn’t like him all that much, but he had already saved their bacon once, and, from what Cloud said, he was a good guy that just didn’t feel the need to explain himself very often.

“I need his help with something,” Squall hedged.  Murphy never told him he couldn’t tell non-muses about Bea, but his own cautious nature made him keep his mouth shut.

“Gotcha.” Tifa knew when someone wasn’t willing to be more forthcoming and respected that.  “You’re going to want to head to Healin.  Why don’t you just pop on over there?  I know you can do it.”

“Because I still have a long way to go yet, and I want to conserve my energy as much as possible.  If your bike is as fast as Fenrir, I should be able to make it in a few hours.”  Squall accepted the keys from her and followed her to the backyard.

“It’s not, but only by a little bit.  You’ll still be there in a couple of hours.  I have to warn you that you’ll have to convince Rufus to let him go, and he’s been a real pain in the ass lately.  Reeve’s beside himself trying to keep him happy and still get Edge where it needs to be, now that everything is being rebuilt.”  If there was one person that Tifa would love to see bent over a barrel, it was Rufus Shinra.  The man was trying to be a good person, but you can’t undo a lifetime of being a spoiled brat in a few years’ time.

Squall knew exactly what she was talking about having touched that mind and felt like he needed to drink brain bleach to get back to normal.  “When do you think Cloud and Rikku will be back?”

“An hour, give or take.”  Tifa watched as Squall swung his leg over her bike’s seat and hooked his phone into the navigation port.

“Ask them if they would be willing to meet me at Healin.  I’ll make sure the bikes get back to 7th Heaven, but something tells me I might need Cloud’s help getting permission for Reno to take a little vacation.”

Squall peeled out of the yard and headed off to Healin with the feeling that it was going to be one of the hardest negotiations he’d ever had to deal with.

~ ~ ~ ~

Bea woke up early the next morning to an empty bed, and was on the verge of a seriously irate rant when her hand made contact with Squall’s note:

“Bea,

There’s something I have to take care of at home.  I will be back as soon as I can.

Please stay home,

Squall

(Thank you for last night, and remember – I always keep my promises.)”

“If that isn’t the Squall-est thing I have ever read, I don’t know what is,” she chuckled to herself as she rolled out of the bed and started her day.  She listened to the silence in her head and had to wonder if Squall was in a different realm, or if he had her blocked somehow or another – not that she would try and find him unless it was an absolute emergency.

She showered quickly and dressed in a comfy sun dress before taking her laptop out to the dock.  It took her a little while to get everything she needed for a day on the lake down the hill, but it was all worth it once she was seated at the water’s edge, her feet up on a stool, butt firmly ensconced in a slouchy chair, an ice chest full of soda and water, and her fingers flying across the keyboard.  

She loved to sit out on the deck on partly cloudy days: not too much in the way of blinding sun and a cool wind blowing down from the snow capped mountains made it a completely enjoyable writing atmosphere.  

She sat there typing away and sipping on a Dr. Pepper until the sun was high in the sky before deciding it was time to feed the growling bear that was her belly.  She trundled back up the path with her laptop to get some lunch and smiled when she noticed she had a visitor resting on her porch swing.

“Good afternoon, Vincent!” She waved at him as she ran up her steps two at a time to greet him before he was even out of the swing.  “To what do I owe the honor of your visit?  Care for some lunch?”  She bent down and gave him a hug, Vincent’s arms wrapping around her and placing her in his favorite place to have her: his lap.

“I was worried when I got here and I couldn’t find you.  Lucky I saw you at the dock before I tore the neighborhood apart looking for you.”  He kissed her on the cheek and hugged her tightly.  Even with her sitting in his lap, he couldn’t feel her presence, which was troubling.  He had her presence in his head ever since they found her two weeks ago, and now ... there was nothing.

“Where else would I be?  Squall ordered me to stay here until someone came back, so, here I stayed.” She kissed him on the cheek and laid her head on his shoulder.   “Although, I’ve run out of cigarettes.  Would you like to go with me into town?  We can get some lunch while we’re at it. There’s this really cool diner downtown that has the best bison burgers and huckleberry shakes.”  She almost started drooling at the thought and found herself hoping Vincent would take her up on the offer.

Vincent thought that taking the lay of the land would be a good idea, and spending some one-on-one time with Bea sounded like a wonderful afternoon.  “That sounds like a great idea, but, Bea, I don’t have any US currency.”  He was going to have to come up with a way to procure some soon, or they would end up bankrupting their writer.

“That’s not a problem,” she told him as she slipped off his lap and motioned for him to follow her into the house.  “I just got paid on Friday, and I’m not hurting for money.” She didn’t tell him about the inheritance she had gotten from her father and grandfather, nor did she tell him that was the real reason her stepmother was so angry with her.

Vincent gave her a calculating look, then sighed in defeat.  “If that is your wish, then I would be happy to accompany you into town.”  He was curious as to how different civilization was on her side of reality, and he hoped what he had seen on the news was not the norm, but the exception.  Reminding himself that he needed to ask Bea about it over lunch, he followed her through a door he hadn’t noticed on the opposite wall of the kitchen and into the two-car garage.

“Forgive me if this sounds a bit arrogant, but do you have decals of Squall and myself on your vehicle?” He ran his finger over the white silhouette of his lover and had to chuckle.

“Actually, yes, they are.  We’ll be taking the Muse-mobile into town.  Everyone knows my car around here, and I want them to.  If they see someone other than me driving it, they’ll know I’m in trouble and come looking for me.” She got in and smiled at Vincent once he was settled in the passenger seat.  “Don’t worry, my father made sure to teach me evasive driving techniques when I moved up here.  I don’t think there’s anyone besides the police that could run me off the road, and even they would have a problem doing it.”

“Why would your father know evasive driving maneuvers? Was he in law enforcement, too?” Vincent settled back in the bucket seat and watched the scenery go by his window.  He had to really pay attention, as her driveway wasn’t paved, and the tree canopy covered everything within sight.

“Daddy was an accountant by trade and a cowboy by choice.  He was the one that was in the military, the Navy, and he taught my sister, brother, and I how to drive.  He told me that it was easier to drive defensively as a matter of course than to try and remember how to do it when a potential accident was headed straight for you.  I just wish he was here to teach my girls how to drive. I suck at teaching.”  He watched as her eyes roved over the street, and was impressed despite himself at how she seemed to know exactly where other cars were.

“Damn it,” she whispered while looking in the rearview mirror.  “Looks like Mr. Babbage has decided we need an escort.”

Vincent looked in the side view mirror and noticed the older man who had interrupted their cookout and smiled evilly.  “He thinks you and Squall are dating, right?”

“I suppose he does, seeing as how Squall hugged me and I kissed him on the cheek.  That would be a good assumption to make.  Let’s see if he’s following us, or if he’s just going to town.” Her smile matched Vincent’s as she whipped into a gas station’s parking lot and parked.  

They both watched as Jeff slowed down slightly, looked into her vehicle, then sped off on his way into town.  “Want to turn the tables on him?” Vincent asked her as she put the mini-SUV into gear and pulled out.

“We’re going this way at any rate, so why not?  Although, if he turns in somewhere we aren’t going, I’ll just drive on by.  No use letting him know we’re following him, right?”  She flipped on the radio and started tapping her fingers on the wheel to a catchy tune that Vincent had definitely heard before.

“I know this song,” he said, slightly surprised.

“Oh?  I wasn’t aware that 80s hair metal was a genre in your world.”  She should have known, though: If he was indeed her Muse, it would stand to reason that he would know her favorite style of music.

“It’s not something I’ve actually listened to, or, at least, I don’t think I have.” Vincent thought it was probably a memory the Muse had before he merged with them.  “It’s catchy, don’t you think?”

“It’s why I listen to it,” she told him as she pulled into the Newsey’s parking lot and killed the engine.  “Let’s get some food.”

Vincent noticed that Jeff Babbage’s truck had made a U-turn and was currently headed back the way it came as they walked into the restaurant.  The sight gave him a bit of a pause, but he figured that if the man was up to something other than forgetting his wallet, they would know in due time.

Chapter Text

Squall settled more firmly into the seat of the bike once he was outside of city limits and decided that the scenery was actually quite pretty once he got out of the dirt track that surrounded the town of Edge.  There had been enough time since Meteorfall for the Lifestream to have finally spit out most of the Jenova Cells that had poisoned the planet, and nature was taking over, little by little.

It made him wonder if he and Vincent could do something about speeding up the healing that was going on. If they couldn’t, he was pretty sure Bea could.  He wanted to help Vincent’s home realm as much as he could – renewing the planet’s life-force, so to speak.

Once he reached the newly paved road, Squall kicked in the afterburners and allowed the bike to run at its own pace, which, in turn, allowed his mind to wander to what had happened over the past few days.  He felt like he was back in his SeeD days with the confusion that was running rampant in his brain, and he hated it.

Murphy had told him that he was a Muse: Okay, a new job .  Vincent had accepted that he was a Muse as well: Something I can deal with. I get to work with my partner.   He had fallen head over heels for his writer: For once, that isn’t a problem .  He needed to talk Rufus Shinra into allowing Reno to come back to the Castle with him so they could figure out how to best protect said writer: Not so great . I don’t think Shinra will let this go very easily.  How can I get him to think that it’s his idea?

If there was ever a man who would expect to be a Muse, it was Rufus Shinra, not because he wanted to inspire someone out of the goodness of his heart, but because his narcissistic tendencies dictated that no one else would be better for the job, certainly not one of his Turks, and definitely not the spaz that was Reno.  I wonder what it is about that loudmouth that Bea loves so much?  He’s a fucking handful.  I just can’t figure out what the attraction is.

The trip was over before he knew it, and Squall parked Tifa’s bike in front of Rufus’s Healin bungalow , much like Cloud Strife had a few years earlier, and strode up the familiar stairs then knocked on the door.  He had to wipe the smile off his face when he heard Rude and Reno bitching about whose turn it was this time to answer the door.  The more things change, the more they stay the same, he thought as his hand ran over his mouth to dislodge the smile he couldn’t just will to the background.

Rude opened the door and gave him a huge smile.  “Hi, Squall!  What can we do for you?” He moved to the side and ushered the Universal Guardian into the front room of the suite before pulling the smaller man into a spine-realigning hug.  “Reno!  Look who’s here!”

“Well, if it ain’t the Dime Store Cloud Strife!  How ya doin’, Leonhart?” Reno popped up from the couch he had been lounging on and slapped Squall on the back as hard as he could. It didn’t move the shorter man an inch.

“Just the man I wanted to see,” Squall told him.  “I need you to come back with me to the Castle.  We have a bit of a problem that needs fixing, and you’re part of the solution.  Is Shinra around?  He’s going to want to be here for this.”  Squall figured that if Reno was on board before Rufus could say no, he might have an easier time with negotiations.

“Is Reno the only one you need, or do you need me to come , too?” Rude asked hopefully.

“At this time, we only need Reno, but something tells me it won’t be too much longer before you’re needed as well.” Squall gave him a sympathetic look, knowing full well that where one went, so did the other.  It just sucked big time that Rude hadn’t gone through the Muse merge and wouldn’t be of any use because he couldn’t go to the other side of reality.

“So what is it you need me to do?” Reno asked, sitting back on the couch.  The fact that Rude wasn’t included in this little mission made him not want to do it unless he had no other choice.

“We need to have a little meeting of the minds. You and I are Muses to a writer in another realm, and we need to protect her , or we’ll lose everything.  Simple.” Squall hadn’t really meant to tell Reno what he was needed for before they got back to the castle, but , like his boss, he needed as much information as possible before he would even take a step.

Reno gave him a distrustful look before slipping out to the back, returning five minutes later with Rufus in tow.  Squall and Rude had been sitting on the couch , catching up on a few things as they waited, and Reno saw green as he thought the two men were sitting too close together for his tastes.  Any good feelings he had for the mercenary took a nap , and he suddenly didn’t even want to hear what Squall had to say. Jealousy was a lousy partner, but Reno was good friends with him where Rude was concerned, even if he’d die before admitting it to anyone, including himself. 

“Mr. Leonhart.” Rufus nodded to him as he sat in the armchair by the window.  He sat regally , with his back straight and legs crossed.  The man had a way of appearing at ease , even if he was expecting trouble, but Squall could see his holster and sidearm outlined under his linen overcoat , and he smiled to himself at just how prepared the President was. Squall sighed and thought, So much for 'I owe you for my Turk, anything you need, just ask .'

“Good evening, Rufus.  I need to borrow Reno for a while.”  Squall didn’t bother with small talk and got right to the point.  He found that it was easier that way , at least when he was dealing with megalomaniacs.  “We have another unfortunate situation that Reno is perfectly suited to tackle.”

“Is that so?” Rufus responded, one sculpted blonde eyebrow cocked in a sarcastic fashion.  “And what do you need my Turk for?”

Hey, Murphy, Squall thought, hoping that the demigod would hear him.  What can I tell him?

“Tell him everything, that would be my suggestion.” Murphy said from the door as he walked in without so much as a by-your-leave.  “Mr. Shinra doesn’t strike me as a man who will accept anything less.”

“And who are you?” Rufus asked as Reno and Rude jumped up, EMRs in hand, ready to open a can of whup ass on what some of them assumed was just a regular joe. 

“I am Murphy, your friendly neighborhood demigod, at your service.  I am here to collect my employee from you – no need to worry, you’ll get Reno back in due time , once my job for him is completed.”  Murphy knew Rufus wouldn’t just hand Reno over, counted on it , as a matter of fact, and had a plan forming in his head.

“I refuse,” Rufus said without batting an eye.  Demigod my ass , he thought before nodding to Reno and Rude to take out the trash.  His eyes narrowed when he noticed that the interloper just stood there like he didn’t have a care in the world.  That would change in short order if he had anything to say about it.

Reno wanted nothing to do with Squall , having been on the receiving end of his personal brand of ire , no matter what the green-eyed monster was screaming in his head, so he went after Murphy.  He regretted it almost immediately , as Murphy disappeared , then reappeared behind Rufus, and Reno ended up colliding with the wall with a spectacular bang, the shelf falling from the wall and hitting him on the head , making him see stars.  Rude watched the tennis match as it unfolded before hurrying over to help Reno up.  He would attack if he had to, but he was hesitant.  Squall had given him back his life, and , much like Axel, he could feel that Murphy was what he said he was.

Murphy bent down and whispered in Rufus’s ear, “Are you sure about this?  I have to warn you that I can be very persuasive when I have to be, and Reno is needed elsewhere in the Hub for a while.”  Murphy sniggered internally as the couch collapsed when Rude set Reno on it, and scanned the room for more things he could trigger.  So many shelves!

Rufus’ hand had been creeping towards his gun since Murphy had popped in, and he pulled it quicker than Irvine at the shooting range.  His bullet missed Murphy’s head, but not because his aim was off : Murphy had just teleported to stand beside Squall at the door.

Murphy snapped his fingers , and the chair Rufus was sitting on fell apart , dumping the President on his firm ass.  Squall couldn’t help it: He snorted before he could stop the laughter , then gave Murphy a ‘this isn’t helping’ look.

“Have it your way, Rufus.  Just remember that I warned you.” Murphy grabbed Squall by the upper arm , and they appeared next to where Cloud and Rikku were standing outside 7th Heaven.  Oh, I am going to have fun with that sanctimonious prick! He giggled to himself as he wiped the non-existent dust from Squall’s backside , earning a disgruntled huff from the man.

“I thought we were supposed to meet you at Healin,” Cloud said, not sounding surprised in the least.  “And who’s your friend?”  He noticed the man’s eyes glowing with mirth, and eyed him distrustfully, pulling Rikku to his side. 

“Our boss,” Squall said, pulling his arm out of Murphy’s grasp and internally bitching up a storm.  First Seifer and Selphie, now Rufus.  Damn it!  And , if he touches my ass again, demigod or not, I’ll have his balls hanging from my gunblade.

“Um, I don’t have a boss.” Rikku hopped up on Fenrir and watched the other two men with interest.  She wasn’t scared, just a little put off.

“Actually, yes , we do.  This is Murphy , and he’s head of the Muse Brigade, and , like it or not, you two are Muses.  So is Reno, but Rufus is being an ass about the whole thing.”  Squall motioned for them to go into 7th Heaven . He needed a drink , and he hoped Tifa had some Wendigo Whiskey.  Maybe that shit would do something for him where all other booze had failed.  He wasn’t one to drink to forget, but there were times when it could be helpful, especially since he no longer had to junction his Guardian Forces to access them .

“You’re back a hell of a lot faster than you should be. Where’s my bike?” Tifa greeted them from behind the bar and gave Squall a half-hearted smile.  She was used to having her property blown up, destroyed, or just plain ruined, so she had expected something to happen to her bike as soon as she turned over the keys.  It would have surprised her if nothing had happened to it.

“Your bike is still in Healin.  Murphy and I had to get out of there in a hurry.” Squall sat at the bar, and it was a testament to how much his anger was leaking off him that Tifa just shrugged instead of lecturing the man about property logistics.

“Don’t worry about the bike, Tifa.  If they do something to it before we can get back up there, I’ll replace it.” Murphy gave her what he hoped was a winning smile before sitting next to Squall.  He looked around the bar and smiled in satisfaction when he noticed there were no other patrons at the moment.  “Would you mind closing up shop for the night?  I’ll pay you whatever sales you would have made tonight.  I need to talk to these three and don’t want some average citizen to hear what I have to say.”

“That will be 4,000 Gil,” she said as she strode over to the door , but not locking it until Murphy placed the requested funds on her bar.  She bounced back over to the gathering, pocketed the money , and smiled at the assembly.  “So what will it be , folks?  Murphy just bought your drinks for the night.”

“No need, Tifa,” Murphy told her as he waved his hand above the bar and produced each person’s beverage of choice: Wendigo Whiskey for Squall, a premixed bottle of Cosmo Canyon for Cloud, a bottle of bourbon from Earth for Tifa, and a blender full of peach margarita for Rikku.  “I think you’ll like that, Tifa.  It’s a bottle of bourbon from one of the other realms.  If you like it, I can always get more for you.”  He leaned over and whispered something in Squall’s ear that made him grimace before motioning to Tifa for a shot glass.

After handing out the glasses, Tifa downed a shot of bourbon and smacked her lips.  “It’s a deal, Murphy.”  She had seen some amazing things in her life, but a man making three bottles and one blender appear out of thin air was a new one on her.

He smiled at her, waited for everyone to get comfortable with a drink , then got down to business.  “I am assuming that you don’t mind sharing Cloud – do you , Rikku?”

“It depends,” she said after taking a sip of her frozen drink and sighing happily.  “If we’re among friends, no, I don’t mind sharing … but, if you’re talking about just anyone in Edge, yeah, I do mind.  Why?  What do you have cooking in that brain of yours?”

“Well,” Squall interrupted, giving the demigod a side-eyed glance. “I think Murphy wants to use us as bargaining chips with Rufus.  I can’t say I agree, but I leave that up to y’all.”

“Bernadette is rubbing off on you, Squall.” Murphy patted the younger man on the back when he choked on his drink and laughed jovially.  “But you’re actually spot on.  Although, I think Cloud will enjoy what I have planned.”

“Wait a second,” Cloud’s brain had finally caught up with everything that had happened, and it all clicked into place.  “Are you the Murphy from the story Bea wrote for me?”

“You’re smarter than I had been led to believe.  Well done, Cloud.”  Murphy was just being a shit.  He knew full well that Cloud was smarter than a tack, now that he had all his brain cells filed under the right headings, but he couldn’t help but tease the former Soldier.

“Great,” Cloud grumped into his glass then ruined it with a small smile.  “Are you thinking about making Oh, What a Day into reality?  Because, if you are, I’m in.”

“Explain what that is, please.” Squall’s cheeks were getting ruddy, and he had a slight slur to his voice, which made him smile and take another shot of the whiskey.  I’ll have to tell Vincent about this shit – it still works wonders! Although, we might need a babysitter.

“Bernadette came up with this lovely little story involving Rufus, me, a certain Demigod, and a whole day of fuck-ups that made Rufus the butt of every cosmic joke in the universe.”  

Squall gave Cloud a swift look of concern when he had used Bea’s real name, then the whiskey kicked back in, and he figured he really didn’t give a shit at that very moment.  It had been so long since the last time he had even had something other than champagne that he decided letting go and having a little fun in a bottle couldn’t hurt anything. And that, right there, should have had him corking the bottle and slumping off to bed.

Cloud was grinning like he had just gotten a decade’s worth of birthday presents, and the way he was tenting his pants made Rikku wonder what prank could possibly be that good.  

“I take it our writer came up with a way to get Reno back to the Hub?” She kept sipping on her drink, sparing a small thought for Tifa.  She was wondering just what she should and shouldn’t be hearing, then decided that, if Squall and Cloud didn’t care, neither did she … even if the woman had stopped drinking and was paying closer attention to everything that was being said.

“It would work,” Murphy told her, “and, if it doesn’t, I’ll just keep putting obstacles in his way until it does.”  He sipped on his mead and thanked Odin for supplying the bottle, even if he didn’t know he had.

Squall pulled out his phone, found the story they were talking about, grabbed his bottle, and headed for a booth to the left of the bar.  He settled down with his back against the wall and his legs stretched out on the bench before he started to read, taking bigger and bigger swigs from the bottle as he went along, laughing out loud when he got to all of the many pranks Murphy had played.

Tifa picked up his forgotten glass and sniffed at the contents before Murphy grabbed it away from her.  “That’s not for mortals,” he said as he drained the glass and pulled a face.  “I don’t know how he can drink this shit, but it is the only thing he can get drunk on now that he’s a Guardian.”  And he can blame Bernadette for that, but he doesn’t need to know that little bit of information.

“Is it the Wendigo Whiskey Vincent told me about after the party?” Cloud admitted to himself that he had wanted to try the drink after Vincent had told him just how low Squall’s inhibitions fell after drinking it, and wondered if his giggling friend, currently getting more and more shitfaced as he read, would let him take a sip.  He kept watching Squall take a sip then place the bottle protectively between his legs, only to pick the bottle back up a few seconds later.  He’s going to poison himself if he doesn’t stop soon.

“Ah!  So you know about that shit, do ye?” Murphy was slurring his words, too, and realized that stuff was pretty potent if it had him feeling like he had drunk half of Odin’s mead stores in one night.  The last time he had felt that drunk off half a shot, he had been doing shots of ambrosia with Loki.  Now that was a night to remember!

“Yeah,” Cloud hedged before deciding he didn’t want to try it after all … especially after watching a stumbling, giggling, and red-faced Squall make his way back over to them.  Cloud held a small measure of pride that he could at least keep himself upright and mostly functioning while drunk. That crap would make that feat impossible.

“Thish is good shit,” Squall told them as he tried to sit on his stool and almost ended up on his ass.  “And I don’t just mean the drink.”  He turned blurry eyes to Murphy and winked at him. “Can you do all that?  ‘Cause, if you can, I want in on it.”  He slapped Murphy on the back then hit his head on the bar and was sound asleep before forehead met wood.

“At least we know what to give him if he ever has insomnia,” Rikku said as she lifted Squall’s head from the bar and repositioned it so he could breathe through a nose that wasn’t smushed into the mahogany.

~ ~ ~ ~

The man drove by the Newsey’s parking lot and saw the tall, raven-haired man with Bernadette watch the car in front of him as it went by. He smirked to himself in satisfaction.  He had pulled out behind Jeff Babbage when he had passed, figuring that the duo currently eating at Newsey’s would think it was Jeff that was responsible for what he was on his way to do.  It was a stroke of luck that he wasn’t going to sneeze at.

A whole year living at the lake, and she had never had another male to her house other than her father and Jeff. Now, it seemed that she had a whole stable of good-looking guys at her beck and call.  It threw a major wrench in his plans, that was for sure. He already had a hard enough time setting up the cameras with just Bernadette in the house, and now he had to deal with at least two men, possibly more if the party she had yesterday was any indication.  He had intentionally omitted the women, as he was one of those men that immediately thought all women were the weaker sex.

Once he was out of town, he put the pedal to the metal and raced to Bernadette’s.  He had seen enough from the live feed, before it went to shit, to know she was in a relationship with both Squall and Vincent, and he wasn’t happy about it.  And what kind of cockamamie name is Squall anyway? he thought as he pulled around her house, parked in the trees that surrounded her place so he was out of sight of the driveway and the garage, grabbed his tool bag, and ran up the steps to her front door.

He opened the door with the key his client had given him, and he cursed under his breath when Bernadette’s male tabby cat slipped past him and ran like its tail was on fire through the woods.  If he didn’t know better, he would swear the cat was hightailing it to the Sheriff’s house next door, but that would mean that the animal was intelligent, and cats were not.  He chastised himself for thinking that the animal could be any danger to him, and he thought that it would have been for the best if the cat had gone the other way and brought Jeff to the door.

He dismissed the cat and set about fixing the cameras they had destroyed yesterday, deciding that he needed to add a few to the outside of the house while he was at it.  He also had a few surprises for the lovebirds he wanted to sprinkle around the place.  He didn’t want to kill anyone, just make whoever found his little traps hurt and wish they were dead.  

His client didn’t want her dead, at least not yet, and he wanted to play with her a whole lot more.  If he had his way, she would have been in his cabin, chained to a wall in the basement by now, but he kept to the plan and satisfied himself with hurting her a little.  He would just have to satiate his need for violence against Vincent and Squall.  Maybe I should take them out?  Might make things a whole lot easier.

He was being paid a lot of money to keep tabs on Bernadette and make her life unbearable, so that’s what he was going to do.  Damn uppity bitch.  She’s the same as every other woman out there: a stuck-up cunt who doesn’t know her place, he thought as he placed a camera at the top of the framed mirror hanging above the fireplace to replace the one from the hanging plant, then went about checking on the ones in her bathrooms.  They had gone haywire yesterday, and he wanted that feed, especially that feed, back.  There were some sick puppies out there that paid top dollar for the privilege of watching someone take a shit or a shower.  It wasn’t his cup of tea. He preferred watching women get their just deserts.

Once he was done with the cameras, he set about laying his traps, and, with any luck, he wouldn’t have to wait too long for Bernadette to come home.  He chuckled to himself as he cleaned up what little mess he made and found an out-of-the-way place to hide.  

He pulled the ski mask out of his back pocket and pulled it on.  This is going to be fun, he thought as he patted the gun he had in his waistband.  Waiting to ambush someone always gave him a bad case of impatience, and he found himself wondering if he could catch her other cat to combat some of his boredom while he waited for his prey to come home.

~ ~ ~ ~

Vincent took a bite of his buffalo burger and had to admit that Bea was right: It tasted better than the steak Murphy had made for him last night.  “This is good,” he told her with a smile.  His smile grew when she took a sip of her milkshake and looked like she was having the best orgasm ever.  His smile deepened with a blush when his mind started coming up with ways to see if the milkshake did indeed give her as much pleasure as an orgasm.  He stopped his daydreaming in its tracks, reminding himself that Bea wasn’t like the others, and that sex wasn’t just a way to show affection to those around her.  It saddened him, but he still thought that a polyamorous relationship could work. They would just have to go slow, as Squall suggested. 

“I don’t come here very often, but, when I do, I always order buffalo nachos and sex in a cup, A.K.A. a huckleberry milkshake.  They call it the Bernie Special because I order it every time I come in.  The club sandwich is called the Harry Steamer, after my father.”  She smiled with a pretty little blush at the admission, then frowned when her phone went off in her pocket.  She pulled it out, and her face turned stormy as she read whatever text had come through.  “Well, isn’t that just a bag of kittens?” She typed a few commands, then put her phone back in her pocket and tried to wipe the look from her face before anyone other than Vincent saw it.

“What’s going on?” Vincent put his burger down, cursing again at the loss of his ability to feel her presence.  Having to figure out what was wrong without the little insights he gleaned from her emotions was turning out to be a royal pain in the ass.

“My silent alarm went off at home.” She shook her head then tore into her nachos as if nothing had happened.  “We’ll figure it out when we get back.  Something tells me someone took advantage of us being gone and probably tried to fix the cameras.”

“You seem awfully blasé about this. Why?”  Vincent didn’t need an empathetic link with her to figure out she was putting on airs because she was in public.  Getting her to open up in private wasn’t that much of an issue … but in public?

“Too many eyes and ears around town for anything other than a smile and a nod.  Besides, I have you with me.  We’ll be okay.”  She caressed his hand where it lay on the table, blushed, and finished half of her nachos before flagging down the waitress.  “Excuse me?  Can I have a to-go box, please?”

“Sure thing, Bernie.  Do you need one too, mister?” The woman’s name tag let Vincent know she was called Jennifer, and he wondered at the feelings he was getting off her.  He could feel that she genuinely liked Bea and found him handsome.  So why can I feel her thoughts, but not Bea’s?

“That would be wonderful, Jennifer.  Thank you.”  He winked at Bea when she started giggling.  Vincent watched Jennifer as she sashayed away and had to chuckle himself.  “You know, hips like that should come with a warning.”

“I’ve often thought the same thing,” Bea whispered.  “She’s pretty infamous around town for how many men and women she’s slept with.  The town council calls her the tourist trap.” Bea’s tone of voice let Vincent know she thought the comments were not true, and that she felt for the woman.  He knew Bea was accepting and open with the Muses, but he just hadn’t realized she was like that with everyone.  He thought that could be a source of problems for her.  The thought that it already had never entered his mind.

The pair paid their tab after putting their doggie bags together and headed out to do a little bit of shopping.  Bea wanted to pick up the carton of peach-flavored cigarettes the local tobacco shop had started ordering for her, plus something for dinner.  Maybe I can talk Vincent into going into some of the other shops around here?  I’ve been wanting to pick up a new welcome statue for the front porch.   They parked along an out of the way street in downtown and started walking around the tourist shops that lined Main Street.  Vincent spotted a gun shop and talked Bea into going in for a look around.

“Hey, Bernie!  I have some new pistols and holsters you might like if you want to take a gander. Who’s your friend?”  The man behind the counter was giving Vincent the once-over, and he noticed the triple-barreled firearm in the holster slung at his hip, which made his protective feelings come out to play. 

Montana was an open carry state that didn’t require a license to walk around with a firearm, as long as it was holstered, so that didn’t really cause him any problems.  His unease had more to do with the fact that he was with Bernie, and everyone in town tended to protect her as much as was possible.

Vincent extended his hand with a smile.  “Name’s Vincent.  I was just walking by and thought I’d come in for some ammo, and to take a look around.”  Vincent was never one to put others at ease as a matter of course.  He knew he was imposing, and used it to his advantage more times than not, but the town was Bea’s home, and he wanted to keep her safe, so he put on the charm and hoped it worked.

Bea sighed heavily and shook her head.  “He’s staying with me for a while, Steve.  He’s a good guy, I promise.”  To prove her point, Bea snuggled up next to Vincent and kissed him on the cheek when his arm wound around her shoulders.  Just as calming as Squall, she thought as Vincent squeezed her and dropped a kiss on her head, sniffing her hair with a sigh.

“Okay, okay.  I meant no offense.  It’s just, since your Dad died, we’ve all been a bit worried about you.  The wife’s always on me to make sure you’re fully armed.  When I saw his sidearm, I thought you were in trouble again.”  The people in town loved her family as much as anyone could have been loved by an entire town, and her father and stepmother were pretty prominent, so the curiosity Steve showed Vincent didn’t seem out of the norm to Bea … just really annoying.

“No worries!  So, show me the newest arrivals.” Bea followed Steve to the back of the shop, leaving Vincent on his own to pursue the racks of rifles, compound bows, ammunition, and pistols behind glass.  Vincent snorted at the large sign hanging on the wall: You break it, I break you and your wallet.

He had studied the ammunition on offer and found that 50-caliber bullets would be the best fit for Cerberus.  As each load was 18 shells, he figured a two-hundred-count box would do nicely.  He would find a way to pay Bea back, and an idea was forming in his mind on how to make some money on her side of reality.  He could conceivably just make some, but that would cause problems with the local law, and he wanted to keep as far away from them as he could.

“Find something that interests you?” Steve asked from behind him.  Vincent turned around and noticed Bea was still looking at an ornate compound bow that would make a gorgeous wall hanging if she chose not to actually use it for its intended purpose.  The quiver of arrows hanging next to it was beautiful, the fletching on the arrows shining in the light coming in the front window.  I’ll have to ask Bea who made the arrows and what kind of feathers they used.   He had to pull himself back from his musings and smiled at an expectant Steve.

“Actually, I was thinking that a box of BMG 50-cals would do for a start.” Vincent kept looking over Steve’s shoulder at Bea, and his eyes turned quickly to the door when another man entered the shop and headed straight for the back where Bea stood.  The way Vincent was acting wasn’t lost on Steve, and it went a long way towards easing his fears.

“So that’s what that monstrosity in your holster takes?” Steve asked, holding out his hand for the gun.  “Let me see it, and I’ll let you know if I have anything that will fit it.  I don’t want you to buy anything you can’t use.” He hiked his thumb at a sign on the wall that read: ‘All sales final – Caveat Emptor’.

“Let the buyer beware, huh?  That’s a good motto to have.” Vincent pulled Cerberus from his holster and hesitantly handed it over to Steve.  He never went anywhere in public without it, and he felt naked without it in his possession.

“Wow!  So someone finally figured out how to make a working Cerberus!  That’s fucking awesome!  Where did you get this?” Steve looked up at Vincent’s face and smiled.  “And I gotta tell you: You’re almost the spitting image of Vincent Valentine.  He was always my favorite in Final Fantasy VII .  I can do without Yuffie, but I insisted on going on his side quest as soon as possible when Bernie and I were playing a while back.”

That little admission took Vincent aback a step or two, and he had to wonder just how many people had played the game.  “Oh, really?  I’ve never played it, but Bernadette has told me the same thing on occasion.”  He blushed and looked back at Bea who was talking animatedly to the older blonde man who had come into the shop. “Who’s that talking to Bernadette?”  He was feeling some fear and anger coming off her, which made him wonder just how far gone she was if he was feeling it. It also let him know something was dampening their connection, and that was going to stop as soon as possible. 

“Hmm?” Steve turned and groaned.  “One of our local celebrities.  If I know him, he’s probably talking her up for a date and reminding her that he used to act on TV, never mind the fact that was almost forty years ago.”  He turned back to Vincent with an apologetic smile.  “I wouldn’t worry about him too much.  He’s all bark and no bite, way too old to do more than snuffle around a pretty lady.  She’s probably telling him to take a hike.”

He handed the gun back to Vincent and went looking for the 50-caliber rounds Vincent had originally requested as Vincent moved to the back of the shop and put his arm around Bea, noticing the other man’s anger as he did so.  Try me, old man.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but can I steal you for a few minutes, Bea?” He nodded at the man and steered his writer over to the counter.  “Do we have any 50-caliber shells at home?” he whispered before they got there.

“No, all my pistols take a 9-millimeter round.  Do you need some ammo for Cerberus?”  She nodded when she got an affirmative from Vincent and took out her wallet.  “Hey, Steve, can I have two 200-count boxes of BMG 50-cals?”  She handed over her bank card and ID to the man and sighed inwardly at the distrustful look Vincent was getting.  “Vincent and I are going down to Blackwell’s for some target practice at some point, and you know they don’t carry that caliber.”

Steve’s face lit up, and he ran the card for the 400 rounds, bagging them up and handing them to Bea.  “I sure wish I could fire that gun just one time!  It must have one hell of a kick to it.  Did they get it to fire all three bullets at once, or is it a single shot?”

“It can fire single, double, and triple shots,” Vincent supplied, his unease at this whole transaction starting to show on his face.  The fact that Steve knew the specifics of his weapon when not even Cloud knew that made him uncomfortable. 

“Wow.” Steve was fanboying over the gun, and Bea was getting a bit worried that he might figure out that Vincent was indeed the Vincent Valentine of the game she and he had played just four months ago.

“Tell you what, Steve,” Vincent pulled Bea to his side and kissed the top of her head in an effort to calm them both down.  “How about next weekend?  You bring your most interesting weapon, and I’ll bring Cerberus.”

“It’s a date!” Steve shook Vincent’s hand and excused himself to help out the only other customer in the place.  He had a feeling he was going to hear quite a bit of moaning and groaning from the actor, and had made up his mind to help Bea and Vincent out as much as he could.

The couple left the shop and headed to the tobacco store, Vincent deep in thought as Bea waved at several people who called out to her.  Maybe coming with her wasn’t the best idea I had ever had, but I can’t just leave her alone.

No, you really can’t, Apollo said in his mind.  Might I suggest that you braid your hair and borrow one of Bernadette’s firearms when going out and about? And see if Bernadette can help anyone who's going to be staying with her get a state-issued ID? Maybe borrow one of Irvine's hats?

Sounds like a plan to me, he thought back at the god.  Are you watching us? Vincent asked as he saw Bea stop a little distance from him to talk to a man in a khaki uniform and matching Stetson hat that had flagged her down.  The gold star on his shirt let Vincent know he was most likely law enforcement, and, judging by the way Bea was talking to him, was good at his job.  At least she seemed to trust him.

Of course I am, came the reply.  Murphy isn’t the only one with a stake in how this turns out.  Now, why don’t you two finish your shopping and get back to the house before that cop gets any ideas?  

Vincent heard a bit of worry creep into Apollo’s voice, and he had to wonder what could possibly worry a god.  What’s worrying you, Apollo?  Is it the break-in at Bea’s house?   Truth be told, it worried him, too.  He watched Bea point to him as she spoke with the officer, and curiosity got the better of him.  He started to walk slowly up to them, trying to pay attention to what Apollo was saying and what Bea was telling the man.

Know about that, do you?  Apollo sighed and decided that a little omission here and there would still get the point across.  Let’s just say that all of the cameras you two Muses have interrupted have been replaced, including the ones in the bathrooms. I’m not saying that it’s a good idea to let them run 24/7, but, unless you want the man back in short order, I’d let them run unless you’re doing something … interesting.

The god didn’t know what the man looked like or what he had been doing the rest of the time because something was blocking his view, but Vincent didn’t need to know that … yet.

Thank you for the heads-up, Vincent told him as he put his arm protectively around Bea and pulled her close to him when he reached her.  He felt the presence leave his mind and decided it wasn’t worth his time to try and talk to him again.  He would have to talk to the rest of the Muses when Squall got back with them.

“Hello,” he greeted the man, holding his hand out.

“Ah!  Bernie was just telling me about you and your friend.  Vincent and Leon, was it?” the man said as he shook Vincent’s hand, his eyes moving to the sidearm that was currently resting between him and Bea.  

“Yes,” Bea said with a sideways look at Vincent.  “They’re both staying with me for a while.  Good friends, a lake, and a lot of cookouts. What more could a girl want?”

“It’s good to meet you,” Vincent told him, keeping his shooting arm around Bea.  Best not give him any reason to take a closer look at Cerberus.

“Sheriff Ben Dunham, at your service.” The man tipped his hat at Vincent, then winked.  “Just let me know if y’all need anything, and keep an eye on our Bernie while you’re at it.”  He smiled again, then all but swaggered down the street, greeting people as he went.

“What was that all about?” Vincent asked Bea as they started walking again.  Vincent wasn’t letting her go, and he held her tightly to his side, almost carrying her down the street.

“The silent alarm sounded at the sheriff's office, and he wanted to know if I had heard about it.  I told him it was nothing to worry about, and that you and Squall were staying with me.”

“But he called him Leon – why?” Vincent knew that was the name he used while stuck in time compression, but hadn’t realized Bea knew it as well.

“Because Squall is not a name that’s used here, and Leon is.  People would recognize the name from the game, and we want to avoid that.  Remind me to tell Squall the next time I see him.”

“Will do, pet.” Vincent kissed her on the cheek as they went into the tobacco store.

~ ~ ~ ~

“Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey!” Rikku said as she pulled back one of Squall’s eyelids and got a grunt of disgust in reply.  “Come on, Squall, it’s time to get up!  Murphy and Cloud have already left for the Shinra Building.  It seems Rufus and the guys came back to Edge after you and Murphy left last night, so they’ve started the prank war.  We need to go get Tifa’s bike and get back here before your part starts if you want to be there for it.”

Squall didn’t know how the woman could be so perky after drinking three blenders full of margaritas last night, but his head was pounding fit to burst.  “Fine, Rikku.” He rolled out of the bed and pulled on his leather pants before taking advantage of Cloud’s bathroom to clean up and get some of the taste out of his mouth.

“You know, Squall, if you hadn’t drunk an entire bottle of Wendigo piss last night you wouldn’t feel like hell this morning.”  Rikku had done some stupid things in her life, but drinking urine, no matter what the source, wasn’t one of them.

“Who told you that?” he asked while washing his face.

“Murphy told all of us when Tifa asked about it.  Distilled Wendigo urine combined with whiskey and vermouth.  I guess it was the piss that got you so drunk, huh?”
He hated the giggling quality of her voice and tried to shrug it off.  So I drank some monster piss? So what?  It did the job where nothing else could.  At least I didn’t ask the cook to marry me like my father did.

He walked out of the bathroom and pulled on the rest of his clothes, not even bothering to do it the newfangled way.  Sometimes he just had to move his body to get it jumpstarted.

“Okay, let’s go get Tifa’s bike, and then get some breakfast.  I’m starving.”  He grabbed the thief, and they winked out of sight.

~ ~ ~ ~

Murphy sat on the roof of Rufus’ house and set about making the man rue the day he had treated his Muse as badly as he had Squall.  Speaking of Squall, Murphy was sharing his headache this morning, and was hoping to make Rufus as uncomfortable as he was.  What’s the point of being half-godly if I can’t stop a hangover? This really sucks.

Cloud was currently on a few deliveries, and he was waiting on Murphy’s call telling him everything was all set up.  All in all, Cloud and Squall were going to have an easier time of it than he was, and he just had to suck it up and get on with it.  He had to give it to Bernadette: She had come up with some really good pranks they could play, and Murphy knew that, once she had written something, it would happen in the Hub or the realms attached to it.

The very irate voice coming from the open window before him brought him back to the here and now and made him smile.  Irritating alarm one hour early: check!   Murphy giggled quietly before casting a viewing spell so he could keep track of Rufus and send a few more fuck-ups his way.

He watched the blonde mogul get out of bed and stub his toe on the bedpost, causing him  to stumble and fall into the bathroom door jamb face first.  Oh, yeah! He punched the air in victory, then made all of the man’s clothes disappear from his wardrobe and reappear in the furnace.  All he left him was a pair of old boxers with a hole in the crotch, a pair of striped board shorts that were two sizes too big, a white wife beater T-shirt, and a pair of black knee socks.

Good luck finding a belt and shoes, he thought before sending Rufus’s chauffeur the flu that was currently making everyone miserable.  Now, I need to make sure all of his Turks are out of pocket.  Better take care of his secretary while I’m at it.

Murphy snapped his fingers and disappeared after leaving Rufus an interesting letter of resignation from his butler.

~ ~ ~ ~

Bea was having a blast showing Vincent around town, and she even picked up a few of the things she had been meaning to get for the past year, but never gave herself the time to do so.  The couple had just walked out of a local wood-working shop with a statue of a black bear holding a lantern in one paw and a welcome sign in the other for her front porch, and the shop owner found himself wishing he and his wife could be just as happy as the laughing duo.  It’s about time Bernie found someone nice! He thought to himself as he flipped the sign from open to close and decided he’d knock off early so he could spend some time with his wife.

“So, we’ve had lunch, gotten your cigs, bought some ammo, grabbed a bear, and picked up dinner.  Do you think the two hours we’ve given the break-in artist is enough time to finish replacing the cameras?”  Vincent was itching to get back to Bea’s house: There were way too many people in her little town that knew her, and he was getting tired of being looked at like he had three heads.

“I think we have,” Bea said, wrapping her free arm around his waist and gave him a squeeze.  “I’m sure you’ve had enough of being the ‘Untrusted Stranger’.”  She chuckled and took off at a slight jog to where they had left her car, Vincent hot on her heels with a resigned – but accepting – smile on his face.

Once everything was stored in the back of the vehicle, Vincent held out his hand for the keys.  “Let me drive.  I need to get familiar with the area.”

“You know, I don’t let anyone drive my car.  It’s one of my rules,” she told him with a sly smile.  “Tell you what: Give me a kiss, and I’ll give you the keys.”  Bea was feeling frisky with all the looks they had been getting, and was tired of being ‘the good girl’.  Bea had noticed the old busybody watching them from across the street, and decided on a lark to give Mrs. Swanson something to set all the gossip’s tongues to wagging. 

Everyone in town would know that Bea trusted Vincent enough to kiss him in public in short order, probably before the evening news had ended.  They’re going to start calling me the second tourist trap if I’m not careful, she thought as she waited for Vincent to make up his mind.  She tutted at him and swung the key ring around her finger as incentive. 

Vincent chuckled and moved to her slowly, almost as if sneaking up on her.  He pulled her into a hug once he was close enough, and she all but melted against him.  “You don’t have to bribe me for a kiss, you know.”  His face was so close to hers that she could feel his breath caressing her check as he spoke.

He bent his head to hers and kissed her gently, mouth closed, and almost chaste.  Bea tutted again before winding her fingers through his silky hair and kissing him back, her tongue skimming his lips, requesting entry.  Her boldness was the result of her heart finally taking control, and she let it direct her actions.

Vincent sighed and deepened the kiss, his tongue wrapping around hers, his arms pulling her to him so every inch of her was against him.  His body was reacting to her, the blood flowing through his body deciding it had a few places it would rather be other than his brain, which ultimately gave up trying to remind him that they were currently in the middle of a residential street and being watched.

He pulled his lips away from hers and groaned at the loss of contact.  “What do you say we take this home?”  He was so close to taking her against the tree they were parked under that it made him think something or someone else was pulling his strings.  He had never had a problem controlling his desires, but —

“Here,” she said as she tossed him the keys and got into the passenger seat of her SUV for the first time ever.  I don’t like sitting here.  It’s so unnerving, but, if it will get us home in one piece, so be it. She was feeling nervous and hyped-up, like she used to in high school when her crush looked at her, and she found she loved the butterflies so much, she might even name them.

Vincent sat behind the wheel and they headed home.  It didn’t take him long to figure out all the switches and the give in the wheel.  It’s amazing how similar our vehicles are.  I’m assuming I could drive just about anything on this side of reality.

They were home in no time, and Vincent couldn’t tell if anything was missing or wrong with the place as they pulled up and he backed into the garage.  He killed the engine and took a quick look around the garage before opening the door.  “Stay here until I get back,” he told Bea.  “Shoot anyone you don’t know.”  He nodded at the varment pistol she had pulled from under her seat.

“You don’t need to tell me twice.” Bea held the pistol in her lap as she watched Vincent go through the door to her kitchen.  She hated allowing someone else to search for the reason behind the silent alarm, but, as she told Ben that the alarm had been triggered by a bear, she really couldn’t call in the calvary to do the dirty work for her. 

She didn’t even exactly lie to Ben either.  The bears around there were notorious for breaking into garages looking for trash.  Ben lived across the inlet from her, and he had more bear problems than most of the lake residents.  It was at least believable.

“I checked upstairs, the ground floor, and the basement.  I didn’t see anything out of place, and I can’t feel anyone other than the two of us,” Vincent told her as she got out of the vehicle.  “Looks like we gave them enough time to finish whatever it was they needed to do.”

They grabbed their shopping and headed into the kitchen to put everything up, that is, if they could keep their hands off each other.  He had almost caused an accident because he couldn’t stop his hand from straying to her thigh for a caress or a squeeze.

“There,” Bea said as she wiped her hands on a towel before throwing it in a small basket labeled ‘You Dirty Rags, You’.  “Now what?”  She hoped they could just pick up where they had left off, but, at the same time, she was feeling rather shy, now that they were alone.  

She had never been in a relationship with two men before, and she didn’t really know how things like that were done.  Did they need a schedule, or did they make appointments with each other?  She chuckled at the thought and stubbornly pushed the anxiety that raised its head to the back of her mind.  She knew, without a doubt, that Vincent and Squall would rather cut off their fingers than hurt her, but that didn’t mean that her endocrine system had caught up with her mind yet.  Fight-or-flight was still an issue she was battling, no matter how much she was telling her body to shut the fuck up and go back to sleep.

Vincent watched the emotions fly across her face and realized that he could feel her emotions properly again.  It was as if the blanket that had been covering their connection had finally been whisked off the bed, and he could feel the anxiety she was fighting.  He walked over to her and scooped her up to cuddle her bridal style.

“Would it be okay with you if we washed the dirt of the day off after we figure out what this is between us?  I don’t see a reason to waste water with a shower before and after … exercise.”  He smiled at her giggle and took that as a yes.  He moved swiftly up the stairs to her bedroom and set her feet on the floor once he kicked her door closed.

Bea left him standing in her bedroom and walked into the attached bath to at least swipe some of the sweat off her body. He soon heard her humming under her breath, the happiness she felt coming through to him.  He could still feel her anxiety, but he could also tell she had put a lid on it for the time being.  I’ll take whatever I can get, he thought as he toed out of his boots and started unbuttoning his shirt.  He took a sniff and grimaced.  He really did stink, but he knew he didn’t stink as bad as he did in the old days in the coffin.

“Do you happen to have a washer and dryer?  I only brought a few changes of clothes, and I’m afraid, if I leave this for too long, I’ll never get the smell out.”

“We’ll take care of it later.  I have some clothes I need to wash, too.”  She walked back into her bedroom and tossed her sun dress onto the pile of dirty clothes in the basket.  “Are you okay?”

Vincent was standing there with his shirt in his hands and a look of bewilderment on his face.  She had walked in wearing nothing but a peach colored lace bra and panty set that was nothing but set dressing.  Honestly, there was nothing left to the imagination, and the color matched her skin tone so well that Vincent had thought originally she had walked out of her bathroom stark naked.  Why did I never notice that she was a true redhead? He wondered when he noticed the bright auburn curls behind the lace at the apex of her thighs.

“Earth to Vincent.  Are you in there somewhere?” She waved her hand in front of his eyes and broke whatever spell he had been under.  “Ah!  There you are.  For a minute there, I thought I’d lost you.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, blushing.  “I just wasn’t expecting you to come out wearing that.  It caught me off guard.”

“What are you talking about?  You’ve seen me naked.  Granted, you were pulling cactus needles out of my ass at the time, but still.”  Bea went about pulling a T-shirt and boxers from her dresser, trying as hard as she could not to let her embarrassment show. 

“This is different,” he told her.  “I wasn’t paying attention to your body when I was pulling the thorns out.” His words dried up when her shoulders met her ears and she flinched.  She tried to hide her reaction, but, when something is so ingrained in a person’s psyche, it’s almost impossible, and Vincent could tell his toes were tickling his tonsils again.  Foot meet mouth, toes meet asshole.

He came up behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders and turning her to face him, and the look on her face made him feel like a first-class heel.  It seemed that he was always saying the wrong thing around her, and it made him wonder how many times in the past he had said something to someone that wasn’t as expressive in their reactions.

“I’m sorry if I don’t meet your expectations.” She made to grab her clothes, but Vincent grabbed her hand before she even got three steps away from him.

“Bernadette,” he breathed her name before kissing her, his fingers undoing the clasp of her bra and letting it fall to the ground, his hands replacing the cups to cradle her heavy breasts, enjoying how fevered her skin was against his cool palms.  “Beautiful.”

She stood there under his scrutiny and decided that perhaps she was taking things a bit harder than she should have.  Why can’t I just go with the flow? she asked herself as her hands moved to the waistband of his jeans and started unbuttoning it.  No matter how hard she tried, she could not ignore the pull she felt.

The touch of her fingers as they grazed his belly brought him back to his senses, not to mention waking up his cock.  If he wasn’t careful, he’d scare her again, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.  He rested his head against her forehead and took a couple of deep breaths to get himself under control.

“You make this so hard.”  He stepped out of his jeans and bent to kiss her neck as his hands wandered over her body.  The more skin he touched, the more he wanted, and he was hoping that they would both enjoy what was happening.  

“How so?” She was genuinely curious as to why he felt making love to her was “hard”.  Wasn’t he attracted to her, or did he feel like this was his duty?  She really couldn’t tell with the man.  Squall had been a different story altogether: He had been so earnest in his dealings with her and himself that she had no illusions on how he felt.

Vincent sighed and slipped her panties down her legs, allowing her to use his shoulders for support as she slipped out of them.  He stood and pulled her to him so their naked bodies melded together in an entirely different way than what happened between her and Squall.  With Squall, they were closer in height, and there was only a few inches difference between them, but, with Vincent, it was more like six inches, and the crown of her head reached just below his nose.  It felt weird for his cock to be poking her in the belly button and not the very core of her being.

“I’m afraid,” he told her as his arms encircled her shoulders tightly.  “I never know what I can and can’t say, or that I might do something to hurt you.“ He was rambling, and he knew it, but it seemed like he couldn’t keep his thoughts in his head at the moment.

Bea thought about that for a few minutes before coming to a conclusion.  “Okay, tell you what, Vincent, how about we just take this a step at a time, do what feels good, and go from there.”  She pulled his head down so they were eye to eye and kissed him, her eyes never leaving his.  “If there’s anything you’re unsure of, or if I’m feeling like my anxiety is taking control, we speak up and talk to each other.  Deal?”

He smiled and gave her his answer with a deep kiss that made her toes curl.

~ ~ ~ ~

He could hear them upstairs.  His imagination took over as he heard the dance they were performing, and then he heard the bed springs complain.  It shouldn’t have made him feel anything other than exasperation at having to wait to get his hands on Bernadette, but anger crept to the forefront to take the lead, and he cracked his gloved knuckles to relieve some of the emotions he always kept locked behind a door in his mind.

When the man had come downstairs to check things out, he had been able to hide behind the boxes that were stacked under the basement stairs.  The Assassin watched as the man stood in the middle of the gaming area and turned in a circle, his eyes narrowed, seeming almost to be trying to sniff him out.  It was unnerving, and had him itching to use the gun in his waistband, but that would have been bad news.

He melted into the shadows of her basement and closed his eyes to listen to the two upstairs making love.  With any luck, the man would leave soon, and Bernadette would make good on her promise to do some laundry. Then, he could finish what he had planned.

He looked at the foot of the stairs through the opening between two of the risers, and the corner of his lips lifted in a slight smile when he gazed upon the surprise he had left for Bernadette.  Both cats had led him a merry chase around the house, but he was able to catch up to the little girl cat before the male disappeared.  

The poor thing had stopped breathing as soon as he had grabbed her around the middle. Probably a heart attack , he thought.  He hadn’t meant to kill it, just tie it up. He hadn’t been paid to kill her animals, and he hated hurting them.  He was technically a serial killer, but he wasn’t a monster. However, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t use the corpse to his advantage.

The black-and-white feline lay at the bottom of the stairs right where the woman would see her as she came down the stairs, and he was ready for her.

Chapter Text

Murphy’s Law : Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong, most often in the most inopportune ways imaginable.

Murphy’s 4th Law : If there is a possibility of several things going wrong, the one that will cause the most damage will be the one to go wrong.  ( Corollary : If there is a worse time for something to go wrong, it will happen then.)

Murphy repeated two of the many laws attributed to him in his mind as he set about making Rufus Shinra’s day a load of horse shit with a smile on his lips.  He watched Rufus through the viewing window he had learned from Cú Chulainn and grinned like the cat who got the cream.  Okay, President Shinra, let’s see how you deal with this!

Rufus walked into his office on a sunny Sunday morning, ready to yell at anyone he could find, it didn’t matter who, for the horrible day he had already had, and found no one.  The biting comment he had on the tip of his tongue for his secretary died a silent death when he realized that she was one of the people he was missing.  A frown marred his handsome features as he swept past her desk and entered his office.

Someone had left the air conditioner on full blast the night before, which made his breath show in the air, and there was a thin layer of ice on his computer screen.  As a matter of fact, his whole office looked like a winter fairy’s domain, with all the sparkling frost covering every surface.

“Wonderful,” he muttered as he picked up his desk phone and listened to his messages, shivering in the only clothes he could find that morning: a pair of Bermuda shorts, a wife beater, and black socks with sandals.  He felt like his vacationing father in Costa del Sol.  The only thing he was missing was a pair of sunglasses and a fruity drink with an umbrella sticking out of the straw.

“Mr. Shinra? I’m really sorry about this, but I’ve come down with something and can’t come in today.  I know all days off are on hold until further notice, but I just can’t get out of bed without falling over.  I appreciate your understanding,” she said, her little speech punctuated with coughs and sneezes, the volume of her voice dwindling to almost nothing by the time she was done.

Rufus groaned.  His secretary, who, up until this point, had never missed a day of work in over five years, had called in sick.  Rufus heard another nail slam home in the lid of his tailor-made coffin.

He sat there looking at his phone like he wanted to throw it through the window, wishing that he could throw the whole stinking day out with it.  When he had gotten up that morning, he had stubbed his toe on the leg of his bed, tripped over a sock on his way to the bathroom, bloodied his nose when he hit the door jamb, and then slipped in the shower when he bent over to pick up his soap.  If that wasn’t enough, his butler, James, had left him his resignation on the dining room table, informing him that all of his clothes were now in the basement incinerator.  James had told him he could bill him for them if he could find him, and he hoped it would do some good to heal his cold heart.

His driver had the same illness his secretary had, and informed him in a wheezy, sniveling voice that he wasn’t paid enough to put up with his overbearing, rich kid, whiny, son of a bitch attitude that day, then slammed his door in his face.  If Rufus hadn’t been working so hard on his attitude lately, he would have fired the man on the spot.

Rufus had to drive himself into the office, and caused an accident in front of the new Shinra Tower.  When he got out of the car to discuss his displeasure with the person in the other car, he came face to face with a man he could only describe as a golem wearing clothing, and he wasn’t too pleased with the President of Shinra.  Rufus came out of that little meeting with a black eye, a rumpled bumper, and a new respect for the phrase ‘larger than life’ – the man came away with a check for a new vehicle.

The elevators were out of commission, and he had almost caused himself a heart attack climbing the forty flights of stairs to his offices, and now his secretary, the one person he knew he could count on to make his day brighter by letting him yell at her until he lost his voice, was out with the flu.

Damn it! He had no idea where everything was, and he could not figure out how to turn off the AC unit currently turning his inner office into the Arctic.  It angered him more than when he had been kidnapped after Meteorfall.  He was not supposed to be confused or helpless in any situation; he was the President of Shinra, after all, and he had a reputation to protect. 

Rufus picked up the phone once more and pushed the first speed dial, ringing Reno.  The man owed him for not sending him back with Leonhart, anyway.  Rufus knew that Reno would hate being separated from his partner.  It had always been that way, and was one of the constants in their lives: Reno and Rude were a team in everything.

“Yo Boss! What do ya need?” Reno asked without preamble.  Rufus could tell he was doing something physical and dangerous, but he couldn’t remember telling him to do anything other than stay nearby in case he was needed.

“Where are you?” Rufus used his best boss voice and hoped like hell the chattering of his teeth couldn’t be heard over the line.

“Where you sent me: Materia cave four.” Rufus felt like banging his head on the desk.  He had not given any orders, and couldn’t remember sending Reno out there to keep him away from Squall and Murphy.  “You okay?”

What the hell is going on? Rufus thought before he debated on telling Reno he was hopelessly lost, but settled on: “I’m fine.  Just making sure you weren’t slacking off again.”

“Erm, I’m doin’ what ya told me to. Listen, I gotta go man.  I’m about to fall off a cliff …   DAAAAAAMMMMMNNNN!!!” Rufus heard the line go dead and swore under his breath.  It didn’t take a genius to know what happened: Reno fell off the ledge ... again.

Rufus hit the next speed dial button and got a very polite – but winded –  Rude on the line.   “Rude, I need your assistance. Be in my office in fifteen minutes.”

“I would if I could, Boss, but Reno just fell on me, and I can’t really move at the moment.  I think my leg’s broke.” Click.

Rufus jabbed at the third button. “You have reached the cell phone of Tseng of the Turks. I am unavailable right now, so leave your name, number, and a brief message, and I’ll return your call as soon as I can.” Rufus hung up without saying a word.  He had forgotten that Tseng was on vacation, and that his cell phone was currently locked in his desk.

The fourth button was hit, and a sleepy, disheveled voice answered with a raspy “Hello?”

Shit, shit, shit!!!! “Elena, I know you’re laid up with the flu that’s going around, but could you possibly come in today?” Elena had been out for the better part of a week after Rufus sent her and her runny nose home.  It wasn’t that he especially cared for her, it was just that he didn't want to wake up in the morning with a tomato where his nose should have been.

“Not unless I get hazard pay,” she wheezed before hanging up.  Rufus considered calling her back and offering her triple hazard pay, but decided, in the end, to just let her go back to bed and sleep it off.

This time, he really did hit his head on the desk, cracking the walnut finish and the skin on his forehead along with it.  Having to pry his head off the ice covering the desk wasn’t just a pain in the ass, it hurt like hell.  He had just run out of Turks, and could only think of one other person who might take pity on him by helping him out of this nightmare.  The thought of going home and crawling under the covers until the world righted itself never occurred to the man.  Besides, Murphy would have made sure the ceiling collapsed anyway.

Rufus’ finger hovered over the button marked “Never in a million years” and decided that the million-year mark had come and gone. He called the 7th Heaven Bar.

“7th Heaven, this is Tifa.”

“Good morning, Tifa.  Is Cloud around?” Rufus was trying to be polite.  He remembered, from past dealings with the pugilist, that, short of an EMR up the wazoo, it was the easiest way to get her cooperation.

Tifa was silent for a moment, making Rufus think she was about to tell him to go to hell.  In truth, she was trying to get a handle on her laughter.

“He and Rikku are on a delivery right now. Do you want to leave a message?”  Tifa hated him, and he could hear it in her voice, but he was desperate.

“Listen, I really need to talk to him.  Do you have his cell number? It’s a bit of an emergency.” Rufus pried up one of the fingers he had been drumming on his desk upon realizing that some industrial strength glue had spilled everywhere, making everything adhere to his desk with a sickening permanent effect.

“I could give it to you ... if you promise not to tell him where you got it,” she said with a laugh.  Cloud had told her last night that if anyone wanted his number, and they weren’t looking for a date, she was to give it to them, so why not?

He could hear the laughter, and almost thought she had something to do with his totally fucked-up day.  She did, but he would never know about that if she had anything to say about it.

“That would be most appreciated.” Rufus jotted down the number and hung up, waving his hand in the air like a mad man trying to unstick the pen that had decided it loved his middle finger.

“Strife.”

Great, Rufus thought, he’s in a monosyllabic mood today.  

“Cloud, I have a job for you. Can you come by my office? I’ll meet you out front.” Rufus was ready to do some serious negotiation if he had to. He just had to get out of there before he really hurt himself.

He listened to the whir of Fenrir’s engines as he waited for Cloud to think about the situation, his anxiety coming alive for the first time in his life, making him wish he could turn his feelings off.

“Five minutes,” Cloud said prior to hanging up.

Rufus looked at the receiver with a mixture of relief and anger prior to throwing it back on the cradle.  He pried the pen and a good amount of skin off his finger, then raced like a madman down the stairs.

Murphy was watching him as he sat on the roof of the tower and laughed his ass off.  He took pity on the President and refrained from putting any obstacles in the bleach blonde’s way.  He would have to visit Rufus again in the near future, as the man was way too much fun to only harass once.  He grinned, a malicious little glint in his green eyes as he snapped his fingers and teleported to the agreed upon shack in the slums to meet Squall.  

“I take it they are on their way?” Squall asked once Murphy stopped laughing long enough to nod at him.  “Okay, tell me what you need, and I’ll make sure you’ve got it.”

Murphy whispered in Squall’s ear, and the stoic mercenary started to smirk evilly.

~ ~ ~ ~

Vincent lay beside Bea as she snuggled into his side, and felt content.  The fire that had been burning his mind to a cinder since Brigantia had let loose his writer’s memories was relegated to where it belonged: in the darkest recesses of his mind, where it lit the surrounding area with a dim haze.  Much like Squall, he had new memories to deal with, and he played them over and over again in his mind, trying to figure out where they came from.  

They are the memories of the Muse you merged with, Apollo told him sadly.  You and Squall are not the first Muses to sleep with their artist, and you won’t be the last.

So this has happened before? Vincent was curious as to why the god was talking to him again, but he wasn’t going to look a gift Chocobo in the mouth, either.  He pulled Bea to him and kissed her cheek, just to let her know he was there if she needed him.

Of course it has.  Although, the last time it happened, the artist killed themselves, and the Muses faded away to nothing, having lost their reason for living.   Apollo sighed, then left Vincent’s mind all together.

Suicide?  But why?   It was something he was going to have to think on ... and circumvent, if he could.  There was no way he was going to allow anything like that to happen to Squall or Bea … no way in hell.  The very real threat that it might happen to him never crossed his mind.

“What’s the matter?” Bea stirred next to him, her fingers pulling his chin gently until he looked down at her.  “You’re leaking sadness.”

 Vincent moved her so she was laying on top of him and kissed her to give himself time to think.  “Well, I’ve just been thinking about us.”

“And that makes you sad?” Bea rose up so she could look into his face, and she noticed that he did look like he had been fighting with himself over something.  For the first time in her memories, he had dark circles under his eyes, and he looked slightly ill. I think he’s spending too much time on this side of reality.

“Not really,” he told her, his free hand reaching up and moving her bangs out of her face so he could see into her bright blue eyes.  “I was just thinking about how we should move forward from here.  I’m pretty sure Squall and I are having the same feelings for you that we have for each other, and I’ve been trying to figure out how we can work everything out … if you want to keep us around, that is.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to keep you around?  Vincent, you have to know that I never would have slept with you if I didn’t want you to stick around.  I’m not into one-night stands, and, if I had thought that was what you and Squall were after, I would have shown you both the door long before now.”  Bea had enough of that in her life, and had learned early on after her divorce how to tell, for the most part, if a potential suitor only wanted sex, or if they wanted something more.  The fact that she hadn’t found anyone like that before her two Muses said a lot about the areas of the country where she had lived.

He hugged her tightly and smiled into the kiss she gave him.  “That goes a long way to easing my fears, pet.  Thank you.”  He kissed her again, his hands moving over her back, fingers tracing each scar they came across, and he chuckled when she moved so she was straddling his lap.

“So … are you ready for another go?” she asked while rubbing her nether lips across the silky steel of his erection and sighing happily.  It was amazing how making love with two of the most considerate men in the universe helped break down some walls that had been up for years.  She chuckled internally when she thought she might become a nymphomaniac if she wasn’t careful.

“Minx.” He placed his hands on her hips to move her so he could slip inside her again when his phone rang. “Damn.”  He kept one hand on her hip so she wouldn’t move, and he answered with a terse “What?”

“Well, hello to you, too, Vincent.” Axel had been having a day, and he wasn’t up to making nice over the phone.  “We have a little issue over here at the castle, and I really need you to come home.”

“What’s the problem?” He sat up with the phone held in the crook of his shoulder and swiftly seated Bea in the perfect position so he could slip inside her while he spoke.  If he was going to have to go home, he was going to make damn sure both he and Bea had smiles on their faces.

“Well –” Axel sounded like he really didn’t want to tell Vincent whatever was on his mind over the phone, and had a suspicion the man was currently dick-deep in their writer, if the small pants and gasps he was hearing were any indication.  “Cloud called last night, saying Rufus was being really stubborn. Apparently, Murphy is outdoing himself on the prank front, and Squall is requesting your help in finding Auron. Irvine and I have been looking, but he’s not on the main island, and I have no idea where he could be because he’s not in his home realm.  Boudica is being most insistent that all Muses – except the two already mentioned – must come in for a meeting the gods have called.  And Selphie never turned up to Kairi’s house.  I swear I left her on the beach right outside their house, too!”  Axel took a deep breath, having said all of that in one go, and kept going at warp speed.  “I’m sorry for interrupting sexy time.”

Vincent had been controlling Bea's movements on his lap, and Bea was bouncing along as if she was riding a rather rambunctious horse, both of them grinning like idiots and trying to be quiet.  “It’s all good.  So, you need me to come back and find Auron, and we need to find Selphie?  Anything else?”

“Well —” Axel sounded like he was fighting with himself again, and it was starting to worry Vincent.

“Just spit it out, Axel,” Bea said into the phone before kissing Vincent intensely,  smiling when Vincent started to laugh into the kiss, and put the phone on speaker so he could flip Bea onto her back and pound into her like there was no tomorrow.  The sound of skin slapping against skin couldn’t be hidden from Axel, and they both knew he was blushing on the other end of the line. Hell, Bea was blushing enough for fifteen Muses.

“Well, Quistis says that Seifer has gone missing.  They’re looking for him, but she said that whatever Squall told him last night had him so wound up she was afraid to let him near the students.  You know the man would rather cut off his nose than hurt a student, and Quistis seems to think that he might be with Selphie.”

“Damn it,” Vincent sped up his thrusts and suckled at Bea’s breast to give himself time to think.  Her fingers, wound in his hair to hold him in place, didn’t help his concentration in the least. “Squall’s realm doesn’t have portal technology, does it?”

“Not that I know of, but that would be a Squall question, and he seems to be out of pocket right now.  I really hate to tear you away from each other, but we really need your help.”  He did feel bad ... and a little jealous of the demolition duo.  Squall had been right: He and the others used the lake to cool off their libidos at the party, and just the sound of her little coos of enjoyment had him wishing for an ice bath.  The jealousy didn’t quite sit well with him, either.  That was one emotion he thought he had gotten rid of a long time ago when he first met Sora, but now?  It was running rampant in his chest, and he wished with all his being that he was the one currently fucking their writer with such abandon.

He had remembered Boudica’s comments from the night before, so he had asked her to tell him more about Bea over breakfast.  Some of the information she had given him made him  want to protect their writer, and it went a long way towards explaining why, as well.  The woman had made him promise not to tell the others until the rest of the God Squad decided they needed the information, and that was what he did.

“All right, Axel.  I’ll be home in about a half hour or so,” Vincent groaned as Bea’s muscles tightened around him, and he was reminded of how Squall tightened up when they made love.  It brought a smile to his face as he hung up on Axel.  

“So, you’re going home?” Bea asked as she wound her arms around Vincent’s neck, the coil in her belly starting to tighten and her pupils dilating to the point where Vincent thought she was about to come out of her skin with pleasure.

“Unfortunately, but I promise I’ll be back by tomorrow morning at the latest.”  He rose up on one arm so he could sneak his free hand between them and rub at her clit as his thrusts slowed to a pace that set up a lovely friction.  He watched her eyes widen, then narrow to slits as the pleasure built in her, and he wanted nothing more than to give her a sweet release. 

The memories that he now knew were from the Muse he had merged with led him to believe that, unless she had a solo orgasm when she first went through puberty before his Muse found her at age sixteen, she had never had one.  He found that was inexcusable to him, and he wanted to sit down with all her past lovers and knock their selfish heads together.

He watched her fight the feelings and sighed.  “Let it happen, pet.  Let go.  I promise you it won’t hurt,” he told her before kissing her.  He swiftly flipped their positions so she was again riding him and he had better access to the little button above her core, and he worried it mercilessly until she was all but grinding on his lap, her breath coming in short gasps, and her head thrown back in ecstasy.

He watched her expressions, enthralled with how such a completely private person could let go of herself with everything she had been through.  Her body may have been scarred, and he knew she had chronic pain that ghosted through his body, but she was open enough to allow herself to feel, at least in that instance.

He felt her muscles clamp around him tighter than before, and he finally let himself go, filling her channel with his seed once again, and falling even further in love with her.  The feelings became stronger with every act of making love they shared, and with the feelings came more memories.

His first memory of Bea was as a sixteen-year-old girl that had no self-confidence or self-worth.  He remembered visiting her dreams to help her through everything she was dealing with, but never did he try to love her.  It was almost as if he had taken on the role of a therapist.  Not that it did much good.

“Damn!” Bea collapsed on his chest and nuzzled his neck as her breathing finally started to calm down so she could speak.  “They were right, I’ll be damned.”  She loved the feel of their sweat mingling, and, for once, didn’t feel the need to immediately take a shower.

“Who was right?” Vincent asked as he played with her unbound hair.  The curls wound around his fingers as they combed the tresses, and it astounded him how soft they were.

“My friends.  I have several friends that write fiction like I do, and I was having issues describing what an orgasm felt like.”  She rolled off of him and snuggled up under his arm as she spoke, trying to hide the blush that made her cheeks burn at the admission.  “It shook them when I admitted I’d never had one.  Mom always told me the devil would take my soul if I touched myself, and, by the time I stopped believing in the Christian faith, I had been through the wringer with Eric.  So, I’ve never tried to give myself one.” She shrugged before rolling off the bed and making a beeline for the bathroom to hide her embarrassment.

Vincent was about to follow her when his phone rang again, only this time it was Irvine who was on the other end of the line.  “I already talked to Axel and told him I would be there within the hour,” he said as a way of heading off any further discussion.

“That’s interesting, Vincent, but you’re needed back now .” Irvine’s voice held the timbre Squall’s did when something important was happening, and he needed someone to listen carefully before they got in too deep to get themselves out of trouble.

“Why?  What happened?” Vincent snapped his fingers and was instantly clothed in clean jeans and a black t-shirt, every hair in place, and no sign of the love session he had just been enjoying.  He heard the shower start in the other room and wished that he could climb in with her, but settled for sitting on her bed.

“Boudica’s going insane is what’s happening!  We have a giant Cyclops in the courtyard saying he needs to speak to the lord of the castle.  She said that she would die before Balor stepped foot in any dwelling she was currently calling home, and he is swinging a club the size of a car at the east turret.  Can you please come talk some sense into these people?”  Irvine sounded like he was hanging onto his cool by a thread, and Vincent really didn’t want to rebuild his castle at that moment.

“I’ll be there in five minutes.” He hung up on Irvine before he could say anything else and peeked in at Bea.  “It seems I’m needed at home sooner than I thought.  Will you be okay until either Squall or myself can get back here?”

“Of course,” she said as she smiled over her shoulder at him.  “But why am I seeing a picture of a Cyclops?  What’s going on in the Hub, Vincent?”

It shouldn’t have surprised him that she had picked up on his anxiousness to get back, but to actually pinpoint the problem sent him reeling.  “Do you know someone called Balor?”

“Balor?  He’s the Celtic god of chaos, a giant Cyclops that loves nothing more than to make trouble for people. Cú Chulainn’s father, Lugh, killed him by decapitation.”  She turned to him, shock written across her face as her shampoo suds started running down her arms.  “I never wrote anything about him!  He’s in direct opposition to everything I stand for.  What the hell is a headless Cyclops doing in the Hub?”

“That’s what I’m going to find out.  Stay here, and please be careful.”  He opened the sliding shower door and kissed her lips before closing the glass so he wasn’t pulled in again. “I’m going to leave my number on your desk if you need me before I can get back.”  He snapped his fingers, then poofed out of her bathroom.

“I’m going to have to talk to them about a safe place for them to come and go from.  That was just too unsettling for me.”  She went back to her shower, her thoughts running away with her as she rinsed her hair.  

She was well versed in the Greco-Roman, Celtic, Norse, Japanese, and Egyptian mythologies, among others, so hearing Balor’s name spoken in her house made shivers run up and down her spine.  I might have to be more careful if they've found the Hub, she thought before pushing those thoughts away to enjoy her shower.

~ ~ ~ ~

Vincent popped into his kitchen and immediately had to grab onto the countertop to stop himself from falling to the floor.  The entire castle was vibrating every time Balor’s club hit the tower, and it had him seeing red.

“Damn it!  I told you already that Vincent was on the way!  Why won’t you stop?”  Vincent heard Irvine yelling out the second floor window above the kitchen and took off at a run.  “This isn’t going to make him come home any faster.”

“And I told you I would raze this castle to the ground unless the vampire showed himself,” Balor said, the deep rumble of his voice shaking the castle almost as much as his club.

Vincent saw Irvine standing with his back to the wall, his shotgun in hand, and peeking out the window at a head easily the size of a full-grown elephant.  He placed his finger to his lips when Irvine saw him, and then pointed to the floors above them.  Irvine nodded and then started yelling at the cyclops again to keep him busy.

He would have shot at the damn thing, but the last time he tried to get a bead on the monstrous god, it expelled a fetid breath in his direction that had him scrambling for purchase with his feet and trying to hold onto his lunch.  Figuring it would keep him occupied while Vincent scaled the castle steps, he swung around so he was face to face with his newest nightmare and sent a volley of Pulse Ammo right in its eye.  Unfortunately, the ammo didn’t seem to do anything other than piss Balor off, but it did keep him busy until Vincent made it to the top of the tower.

“You damn one-eyed freak! It’s going to take forever to get the smell of your breath out of these leathers.  Paine’s gonna kill you for this!”  Irvine wasn’t quick enough to escape the god’s breath, and it stuck to him like a second skin.

“Like I give a shit, little man.” Balor didn’t even bother correcting the gunslinger on the freak comment. Truth be told, he reveled in his “freakishness”, so why say something that wasn’t true? He swung his club against the tower and succeeded in breaking away a good chunk of the mortar and stone.

“I ought to make you rebuild that tower,” Vincent said from the rampart above the Cyclops. He winced slightly when he heard the tinkling of glass as some of his windows shattered.  “What did you want with me, Balor?”

“Ho-ho!  It’s about time, you old bat!” Balor stood up from where he had been stooped at the second floor window and towered above where Vincent stood fifty feet off the ground.  “I have a message for you.”

Vincent crossed his arms and stared up at the underside of Balor’s chin, noticing a scar that ran the entire circumference of his neck.  “Well, give it to me quickly before I try to take your head off.”  Vincent’s eyes followed the scar before sending an evil little smile up to the Cyclops.  “It wouldn’t take much, you know.  All I have to do is connect the dots Lugh left behind.”

Balor gave him a look that one would usually reserve for an ant one was about to step on, but then smiled joyfully, his razor-sharp teeth glinting in the blue moonlight.  “I like you, you have spunk.”  He pulled his club up to meet his shoulder and reached into his loincloth, rummaging around until he came up with a scroll of parchment at least eight feet long and tossed it at Vincent, who sidestepped it neatly.  “Consider yourself served.”

He saluted Vincent, then walked through a portal big enough to swallow the castle whole and was gone with a thunderclap.  Vincent kept staring at the space Balor had disappeared from, and he had to wonder when the gods decided they needed a process server.

Vincent looked at the quarterstaff-sized scroll at his feet, and he wrinkled his nose at the reek coming off the thing.  He was trying to make up his mind as to what was the best way to read it when Irvine climbed through the trap door and walked over to him.

“Is that a giant pube sticking out of the wax seal?  And what the hell is that smell?” Irvine was holding his nose and moving the scroll around with the toe of his boot, trying to push it downwind from them.

“I do believe that is Cyclops smegma,” Vincent said with a grimace before waving his hand over the scroll.  In an instant, the parchment was clean, and it shrunk down to a more manageable size.  “Let’s see what he wanted, shall we?”

“Yes, let’s,” Boudica said from where she sat on the wall behind them, her legs swinging in the breeze.  “Then I can call in a few favors.”  She smiled at Vincent and winked at Irvine, laughing when they gave her twin smiles of mischief.  Murphy was right: These Muses are just what Bernadette needs.

~ ~ ~ ~

 When Rufus made it down the stairs, Cloud was already out front. “Thanks for coming.”

Cloud looked the man up and down, smiling ever so slightly. “Get on,” he said, not asking where the President wanted to go, and really didn’t care, either, as he wouldn’t have listened to him.  He stepped on the accelerator, not giving Rufus much time to get a good hold on him before he zipped out into traffic.  He knew where he was going, and Rufus owed him for the delivery.

They pulled up to a shack in the slums, and Rufus looked around with a bit of apprehension. “What are we doing here?”  He had expected Cloud to take him to 7th Heaven for a meeting with Squall Leonhart, knowing that the two were quite tight, and it made him wonder if Cloud was perhaps thinking it would be the easiest way to get back at Rufus for not allowing his Turk to make the trip back to the Hub.

“Discussing payment with a friend of mine.” Cloud got off the bike and motioned for him to follow through the door that was half hanging off its hinges. Cloud held no sympathy, or guilt for that matter, for the man who had made his life hell.  At least this little revenge would be easy for the man to deal with, and it might even go a ways towards chilling him out. 

Rufus was surprised at  the interior of the outhouse-sized structure.  It was huge, completely black like the bowels of a Bandersnatch, and cold as his father’s heart.  As cold as his own heart, as well, if the truth were to be known.

“Welcome, Rufus Shinra,” a voice that seemed familiar to him boomed from everywhere at once.  “You have just entered the Murphy Zone.”  And he then knew who he was up against.

Cloud sniggered from behind him, and Rufus turned to head right back out the door, only to come to the realization that Squall Leonhart was blocking the way, and no door was present.  He hated the smug look on Squall’s face, and knew, without a doubt, that he was in trouble.  

He turned back, and a chair and card table appeared out of nowhere with the man who had started the whole shit show sitting with his feet crossed on the table.  He backed away from all three of the men in the room and looked around for a way out.  At that point, he would have welcomed a sewer opening.

“What do you want?” Rufus tried hard to keep any waver out of his voice as he spoke.  He didn’t think his life was in danger, but he did have a sneaking suspicion he would have to throw most of his modesty out the non-existent door before it was all said and done.

“That’s a great question, Mr. President,” Murphy said as his feet hit the ground and he stood up, his visage changing as he straightened to his full demi-god height: approximately eight feet tall, shoulders wider than the golem from the morning’s accident, and bare chested.  Rufus was never one to like gingers, but this one?  He felt his blood sing and start to move in a southern direction.

“Have you heard of my law?” At Rufus’s negative head shake, the man sighed in exasperation.  “Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong in the most spectacular way, and you’ve been the object of that law for a while now.  As I said before, I’m a demi-god, and I’ve taken a liking to you and your Turks.  You chose to wander off the path I’ve set for you, as I knew you would, and now you have a few choices to make.”  

Rufus gulped harshly, and he came to the realization that his former thoughts about Murphy had been incorrect: He was indeed standing in front of a demi-god, and Squall and company were in cahoots with him.  In short, he was screwed; he just didn’t realize how apt, and literal, that feeling was.  He would have trembled in his sandals at the thought if he knew how, but, as he was who he was, he just stood there glaring defiantly.

“Now, to answer your question, we want payment, and permission to take Reno for a while.  You owe Cloud for his services, Squall for helping you get rid of Sephiroth and the ASSESSOR, and I intend to make sure you pay up.”  He pointed one long finger to a space behind the blonde, and a bed large enough for ten people popped into being behind him. “You have an outstanding debt that must be paid before we can move forward.”

Squall stepped forward and waved his hand, making silk restraints appear on the bed, and Cloud stood by the bed with a stern look on his face, his hand on his Buster Sword, just in case Rufus got any ideas.

Rufus blanched when he saw the bed, and then noticed that all three men had radiant grins on their faces.  I am in so much trouble here, he thought to himself.  Though, I don’t think I’m going to hate this too much.

“What is this payment you speak of?”

“Nothing you won’t enjoy,” Squall spoke up for the first time.  “Although, after some discussion, we’ve decided to give you a choice: Play with us, or fight us.  It will end the same either way.  So, what will it be, Shinra?  Pain or pleasure?”  Squall was aware of how Rufus felt about himself and Cloud, having spent a week with him a month or so ago, and he had a good idea what the man would choose.  He just neglected to tell him it would mostly be for their pleasure, although Rufus would receive a lot of physical pleasure – just not mentally.  It was time someone took the man to task and showed him what giving instead of taking could do.

“I’ll take pleasure, if it’s all the same to you,” Rufus told them as Cloud moved around him, taking the measure of the man before looking over at Murphy.  His boss nodded at him and went to sit in a high-backed, overstuffed chair that appeared out of thin air to accommodate his true height.

“What’s going to happen?” Rufus was fighting with himself between excitement at being able to get his hands on three of the best-looking men in existence ... and fear of what they might actually do to him.

“Nothing you won’t enjoy,” Cloud chuckled as he flicked at Rufus’s clothing. “These need to go.” 

With a wave of his hand, Murphy removed every piece of clothing in the area, even his own.  Rufus’s eyes grew large at the sight of the godly-sized organ hanging between the demi-god’s legs and began to pray Murphy didn’t want to join them.  That thing would hurt like a bitch.

Noticing where his eyes were, Squall took a little pity on the man.  “Don’t worry about Murphy, he only watches and never pulls his tricks when something interesting is happening.  So, you don’t have to worry about, say, your dick getting bent or all of your hair falling out.”

“If that’s supposed to ease my mind, you’ve fallen far short of the mark,” Rufus grumped as Cloud and Squall forced him onto the bed and into the restraints.  

Murphy chuckled to himself as he watched two of his employees do things to the President of Shinra that were equal parts embarrassing and kind.  Neither of the Muses went too far, and gave as much pleasure as they received from the magnate.  It was more than he would have done, but his Muses were a kind bunch for the most part, and had quite a bit of Bernadette in them as well.

In the end, the three had not only Rufus’s promise that Reno was theirs for as long as they needed him, but also a standing play date once a month.

~ ~ ~ ~

Right around the time that Vincent received the missive from Balor, and Squall, Murphy, Cloud, and Rufus were coming to terms with what needed to be done, Bea stepped out of the shower and into some clean clothes after braiding her wet hair in a plait down her back. She would have chosen something other than some old denim shorts and a T-shirt if she had known what was to come, but, as even Brigantia had been blocked from seeing what was to happen, she, along with everyone else, was blissfully unaware of the danger on the breeze.  She took the time to add Vincent’s number to her contacts, put her phone in her back pocket, and then grabbed up her laundry, added Vincent’s to it, and headed down to her basement, which she had lovingly deemed the Dungeon.

She whistled happily as she walked down the basement stairs before coming to a stop halfway down and placing the laundry basket on the landing above her. She stared at a small pile of white and black fur at the foot of the stairs in confusion and dread.

“Mamakitty?” she whispered in fear as her feet carried her down the stairs at a breakneck pace.  Sitting on the second step from the bottom, she reached for her little girl cat,  knowing she was dead before her fingers so much as grazed the cat’s fur. “Oh, no.” Her sob ended in a high-pitched scream when a hand reached out between the risers and pulled her back forcefully against the stairs she was sitting on.

Her head hit the lip of a stair and she started seeing stars as she felt the blood swell from a cut that had opened up from the force of the blow.  She felt something slice through her braid, and without that holding her steady, she fell forward and went head first into the concrete wall at the base of the stairs.  She shook her head trying to clear her vision and only got a stabbing pain through her skull.

She watched as a man dressed all in black came out from under her stairs, and she tried to scramble to her feet before falling back on her ass when her equilibrium deserted her for lands unknown.  So fucking dizzy, she thought as her new chin-length hair swung before her eyes.

“Such a pretty little braid you had.” She watched the man kiss the braid he had in his hand before stashing it in his pocket, and she felt her stomach fall to her toes as her fingers stroked the cold body of her baby girl.

“It’s only hair,” she said when she finally found her voice.  “It will grow back.”  She smiled at him as she pushed her hair back out of her face, her fingers coming away bloody when it swiped across a cut she hadn’t even known had opened up on her forehead when she took a header into the wall.

Seeing her blood brought every nerve in her body to attention, her stomach crept back to its rightful place, and she felt a surge of adrenaline that pushed all of her pain and dizziness to the back burner.  She had knocked over the bag of cat litter she kept at the bottom of the stairs when she fell, and grabbed for a handful, flinging it in the man’s face before picking up her cat’s body.  She raced up the stairs while he was cursing, then kicked her clothes basket down the stairs when he swung around to follow her.

~ ~ ~ ~

Sheriff Dunham pulled into his driveway and sighed.  Bernadette had been his neighbor for a little over a year, and he had always watched out for her.  Now he was even more worried about her after the past couple of days.  

He went through everything that had happened, ticking every event off on the detective notes he kept in his head:

One: Bernie had a party the day before with people he had never seen before, and she was happier than he had ever seen her until that afternoon.

Two: Jeff Babbage had come by the Sheriff’s office this morning to tell him about the party and what had happened when he showed up: That Bernie all but forced him off her property at gunpoint, which was  far out of character for the woman, and he had to wonder what had happened to cause it.

Three: Last night, she had sex in the lake with a man who was not the man she was walking around town that afternoon. If he hadn’t been out on his dock with the lights off, he never would have seen them.  He went back inside once he figured out where their conversation under the stars was going out of propriety.

Four: Mrs. Swanson had called him to complain about the PDA Bernadette and Vincent had in front of her lawn.  Why the old busybody had cared was beyond him, but he thought Bernie had given her old heart something to fantasize about until she died.

All of that led Ben to assume she was in a romantic relationship with both men, or, and this wasn’t something he gave any credence to, she had turned to prostitution for extra money.  That last thought only came about because polyamorous relationships were not even close to being the norm in these parts.

He turned off his Range Rover and stepped out into the heat of the afternoon, intent on figuring out what the hell his neighbor was up to.  He never seriously entertained the thought that it was something illegal.  He had known Bernie since she was born, when he was one year old, and they had kept in touch when she was not up there visiting her father. There wasn’t a criminal bone in her body.

No, he was more worried that someone was out to do her harm, either physically or emotionally.  He loved her like a sister, always had, and gladly sold her father the land his family had owned across the lake for her house.  It wasn’t like he was going to do anything with that acre of lake front property, anyway.  He had his childhood home now that his parents had moved to Florida to become snowbirds, and was content.

A low meow drew him out of his musings.  He looked up on his porch and found Jake sitting there, calling out to him, his tail swaying rapidly back and forth.  The sight of the cat sent a shiver down his spine, as he knew Bernie kept her cats inside the house at all times.  He ran up the stairs and squatted to pet the old butterball of a tabby.

“What are you doing out here, Jake?” he asked the cat as he scooped him up in his arms and moved back to the Range Rover, intent on taking the feline back to his mistress and making sure everything was okay with her – not to mention having a long heart-to-heart with her about her choice of partners.  Although, now that he had met Vincent, he couldn’t really warn her off that pairing with any sense of contentment.

A pair of green eyes watched the Sheriff as he pulled out of his driveway and turned towards Bernadette’s house.  Once he was out of sight, Bastet stood up from where she had been crouched and wiped a tear from her eye, knowing that one of Bernadette’s cats had died – just not how she had died.  With any luck, the Sheriff would get to the bottom of why one of her children was dead and another one was being hunted.  She shook her head and disappeared from sight, reappearing at the side of Bernadette’s house, waiting for the Sheriff to arrive.

Ten minutes later Ben pulled up in Bernie’s dooryard and killed the engine for the second time in less than fifteen minutes.  He looked around from the driver’s seat and noticed a few things that were out of sorts.  Bernie’s vehicle had a distinctive tire tread which he picked out on the dirt, but there was also a set that belonged down south which brought Eric to mind. But that’s impossible, he thought as he pulled his service revolver out of the glovebox and placed it in his holster before petting an increasingly nervous Jake with his other hand.  The police chief from her home town told me this afternoon that he was still there.

He shook his head to get his attention centered and left Jake in the Rover with the windows cracked, hoping he would be back for the cat in five minutes.  Fingering the key he had to Bea’s house, he silently walked up the front porch steps and let himself in the door, taking a look around at his surroundings, cursing under his breath when Jake ran through his legs. 

Damn cat! He looked back at his Rover and noticed that somehow or another the passenger side door had been opened.  I know damn well I closed and locked those doors.   He turned back around and watched as Jake trotted to the base of the stairs and meowed at him before running up the stairs, scratching almost soundlessly at Bernie’s bedroom door.  All right, let’s see what he wants.

Ben heard a grunt and someone saying something beneath their breath which didn’t quite seem right.  Blocking Jake with his foot so he couldn’t get into the room, he cracked the door slightly and put more of his attention to what was being said.

“No more, please,” Bernie’s voice floated from the room.  “Just leave me alone.”  Her voice sounded muffled, and there seemed to be a bit of a gurgle to it.

“I don’t think so, bitch.  I don’t think you’re gonna remember me when I leave, so let’s give you something to remind you.” The man’s voice was a little louder than Bernie’s, but not by much, and Ben was having an issue making out all the words.  All he knew was that it wasn't Vincent’s voice he heard.

“You’ve already killed my cat, trust me, asshole, I won’t be forgetting you any time soon.” Bernie’s voice had regained some of its usual cocksure attitude, and Ben could make out more and more of what was said.  He just wished he knew where they were in her room.  He knew the layout, but the echoing quality of the voices made it hard to tell where they were, and he didn’t dare open the door any further.

“I didn’t kill your fucking cat, cunt.  She died as soon as I grabbed her.  I don’t kill unless I’m paid to, and it’s your lucky day that I haven’t been paid to kill you, either.  Beat the shit out of you, yes, kill you, no.”

Ben heard three loud bangs punctuated by shattering glass and one scream, then nothing.  Either Bernie was unconscious or the bastard had stopped her from screaming any further.  Ben threw open the door, revolver in hand, and called out: “Police!  Drop any weapons and come out with your hands up!”

“Fuck you, Sheriff!” A man dressed all in black, including a ski mask, yelled at him as he kicked a prone Bernie in the ass where she lay draped over the side of the tub, then tackled him to the floor as he ran through the bedroom door.  

“God dammit!  I said halt, you son of a bitch!” Ben was torn between checking on Bernie and running after the attacker, but decided that Bernie was a bigger priority at that moment.  “Fuck!” He holstered his gun and ran back to where she lay in a steadily spreading pool of her blood.  “Bernie!” He called out to her as he lifted her off of the tub.  “Can you hear me, hon?”

He checked her pulse and sighed when he felt it beating beneath his fingers.  He grabbed a folded towel out of a box on the back of the toilet and held it to the back of her head, where the worst of the blood was coming from, then pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911 before grabbing another towel to hold over the rip on her abdomen.  

“This is Sheriff Dunham.  I need an ambulance at Bernadette Roberts’ place.  She’s been attacked.  Get here yesterday.” He set the phone on the counter after putting it on speaker.  “She’s been beaten up pretty badly and is unconscious.  When you’ve got the ambulance on the way, get my deputies out here ASAP!”

“Yes, sir!” The dispatch officer didn’t need to ask for the address; everyone in any public service capacity knew where she lived.  He had made damned sure of that fact when she moved back.

Ben listened to the dispatcher sending out his orders and pulled Bernie to him so she was sitting in his lap.  It was more to straighten her out than anything else, but he couldn’t deny that he just wanted to make sure she was still with him through touch.  She was one of his best friends, and the thought of living without her smile to brighten his day made him want to kill something.

His eyes traveled around the bathroom and he noticed a bloody trail on the carpet that ended at Mamakitty’s crumpled body.  Jake had come into the room and was currently wrapped around his sister and licking the blood off her head.  If Ben didn’t know any better, he’d swear Jake had tears hanging off his whiskers.

“Okay, Sheriff. Ambulance is on the way, ETA: ten minutes. Deputy McClure called in stating he was five minutes out.  How is the patient?”

“She’s alive, and heart rate is stable, but she’s going to need medical attention.  Can you call Dr. Lindstrom and have her come by to pick up Mamakitty for an autopsy? She's in Bernie’s bedroom.”  Ben could tell from here that the old girl had joined the choir immortal and wanted to know why.

“Consider it done. McClure is outside.” The dispatcher hung up the phone, knowing she was no longer needed, and Ben could hear his second in command yelling and stomping around downstairs.

“Up the stairs, McClure,” he yelled once he recognized the heavy tread of cowboy boots below him.  He listened to the elephant as it ran up the stairs, and breathed a heavy sigh once he was sure he and Bernie were no longer alone.  “The perp has already left the premises.  I need you to wait for the ambulance, and let them in.  I’ll bring Bernie down stairs.”  He stood with her in his arms, then followed McClure down the stairs.  

Ben heard the sirens as they grew louder before they ceased their incessant  wailing and blew out a breath of relief, knowing help was there.  Bernadette groaned and tried to fight her way out of his arms just as McClure ran back in with the two paramedics and stretcher in tow.

“Lay back down, Bernie.  You’re safe now.” He restrained her with gentle – but firm – hands until the paramedics came over to help get her on the stretcher.  Once they had her belted in and were going through the numbers, Ben stood up and looked at his uniform, grimacing at the amount of blood that had seeped through the towel.  “Hey, McClure!”

“Yeah, Boss,” McClure, a short man with dark hair and eyes, said as he closed the door after the stretcher loaded with Bernie on it went through.

“I want you to start processing the crime scene.”  Ben followed a trail of blood that ended at the basement door, and shook his head in disgust when he saw the blood splatter on the wall at the base of the stairs.  “I’ll write a report while I’m waiting with Bernie at the ER.  Lock up the place once you’re done here, and Dr. Lindstrom has picked up Mamakitty.  I don’t have to tell you that this is priority one, and give me a call if anyone shows up here or when you’re on your way.”

Once he had his bearings, Ben ran back to the front yard.  He jumped into his vehicle and sped out of the driveway to meet up with Bernie at the hospital once she was loaded into the back of the ambulance,  and they were on their way.  With any luck, the vet would be able to tell him what had killed the cat, the crime scene would be processed, and he and Bernie could be back before morning. He didn’t think that would be the case, but Bernie was tough.

The most pressing question he had, and one only Bernie could answer readily, was where the hell was Vincent or the mystery man from last night?

Chapter Text

Surgical Fire

Vincent jumped from the ramparts to the front lawn as Boudica and Irvine made their way downstairs in a more respectable way. He surveyed the damage done by the Cyclops’ club and shook his head in disgust. They were lucky the whole tower had not come down with the last swing. Vincent’s hand reached out, fingers splayed, towards the damage as his eyes closed in concentration, and nothing happened.

His eyes flew open with surprise as he walked over and picked up one of the moss-covered gray stones and started cursing under his breath. He could feel the Cyclops’ magic coursing over and through the rock, effectively shielding it from his magic and cutting it off from the Hub completely.

“What seems to be the problem, Vincent?” Auron asked him with a small, disgruntled smile. He had been busy digging out the outhouse when a woman named Hathor had shown up at his and Lulu’s homestead to tell him he was needed at the castle. He had been ready to battle her, as the woman was strange-looking and ethereal to his eyes, but Vidina and Lulu’s reaction to her had settled him down for the most part and made him listen to what the goddess had to say.

“Either we will have to repair the tower the old-fashioned way, or kill a Cyclops to negate his magic.” Vincent dropped the stone and turned to greet the guardian as he walked up to him over the grass that was slowly dying and turning into dry straw under his feet.

“Killing the Cyclops seems to be the fastest way, if you ask me.” Auron toed one of the bricks and shook his head before turning once more to Vincent. “I came by because I could hear the monster’s voice all the way across the reach. That, and Hathor told me I was needed. How can I be of service?”

“Your presence is needed at the castle for a while,” Vincent stated as he started moving the stones into a steel barrel he had waved into being, intending on sealing all the tainted bricks away until they could either make Balor lift the curse or kill him, whichever came first. Vincent’s money was on killing him, but he would be fine either way the problem resolved itself.

“Not a problem,” Auron answered as he began picking up the bricks and depositing them in the stone bank. “Lulu has the building of our home well in hand until I get back, so giving you my time shouldn’t hurt anything.”

“Building your home?” Irvine asked once he and Boudica reached the pair and started helping to clear away the detritus without being asked. Those that inhabited the Hub tended to lend a hand as best they could without the need for requests or remuneration.

“Yes,” Vincent replied distractedly as he tried to pry a small bit of moss off his finger. “Squall and I gave them part of the large island for a village.”

“Yuna and Tidus have decided that they would like to live there, as well, and, where they go, so do the rest of the original group.” Auron dusted his hands off after dropping the last of the stones in the now overflowing barrel. “Kimahri has already brought his mate over, and, from what I’ve been told, most of his remaining tribe will be moving to this side of things sooner rather than later. Apparently, they like the tropical weather where we’ve set up shop better than the mountain top. Although, they are eyeing the northernmost mountains for a summer hideaway.”

“They are more than welcome,” Squall said as he walked up to the castle with Reno, Cloud, and Rikku in tow.  “Although, I think Bea mentioned a plan for those mountains down the line—if we agree. Best to talk to her once we’re done here. Speaking of being done, where are the rest of the Heavenly Hosts?”

Vincent pulled Squall into a hug, fierce and tender, enough to turn every head in blushing deference—as if privacy could be gifted by sheer courtesy.  One would think they would all be used to these displays by now, but it always seemed to catch them off guard.  Bernadette would have been taking mental notes on how to envision a loving embrace that left nothing and everything to the imagination.

“Heavenly Hosts?  I prefer the God Squad myself.  The moniker of Heavenly Hosts is reserved for the Christian god and his minions, and we are definitely not invited to his table,” Apollo stated from where he sat on the garden wall.  “He likes to pretend that we don’t exist, and we let him get on with it, at least until we have no other choice.”

“Why is that?” Rikku asked, eyes wide at her first sight of the golden god.  He reminded her of a more tanned Cloud, and for some reason, finding a nice sunny place for them to lay out became a top priority.

“Because, little one, every time we, as a whole or individually, take umbrage with him, he stirs his faithful into war, and we grow weary of burying our children,” Bragi told her as he allowed his staff to hold up most of his weight.  “I’m not knocking any religion. Humans, for the most part, need some kind of direction and something to believe in outside of themselves, but that god has so many different faces and followers that there are internal wars all the time.  We don’t want them to remember us so we can get on with living our lives in peace.”

“Bea’s witch-burning comment makes a lot more sense now,” Squall said with a grimace before turning to Vincent.  “She’s silent—and worse, I can't feel her. It’s like the thread between us has vanished.”

Vincent took stock of his own feelings, now that the danger to their home was over for the time being, and realized he was back to being blocked somehow or other.  “Can any of you feel her presence?” he asked the assembled deities and muses and got troubled looks all around.  “Might I suggest we get this meeting over and done with so we can go figure out what is so strong it can block even the gods’ sight?”

He walked past Boudica and noticed she was not all there.  Her gaze drifted somewhere unseen, tethered to a voice only she could hear, the way one might hear music long after it fades, and it made Vincent worry for some reason when not even Axel’s jumping body couldn’t catch her attention.  “Are you okay, Boudica?” he asked, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder to try and bring her out of her reverie.

“I would leave her alone for a moment,” Apollo stated as he came to stand beside Vincent, placing a strong hand on Axel’s shoulder to get his feet settled on the ground.  “She’s talking to someone important to her, and she won’t take kindly to being interrupted.”

“Who do you think she’s talking to?” Cloud asked as he joined the conversation.

“I’m sure she will tell us when she’s ready.  It’s not like we can read her mind. Believe me—I’ve tried.  The God Squad is closed off pretty tightly mentally, so there’s no need in forcing the issue,” Vincent said neutrally as he turned on his heel and walked into the castle to wait for the rest of them in the dining room.

Boudica shook her head about five minutes later and walked back into the castle once she realized she was alone.  She followed the sound of raised voices to the dining room and pushed the doors open hard enough for them to smack against the walls.

“If you all are done with the pissing contest about whose job it is to go check on Bernadette, I have some news.”  She stood still, waiting to see if anyone was willing to stop yelling long enough to notice her.  So far, the only one that even paid her any mind was Brigantia, who only gave her a small smile and a shrug as if to say, “You’ll have to knock some heads together if you want their attention.”

Boudica exhaled once, steady and measured, before swinging her axe from the holster at her back and bringing it down hard enough to split the dining table in half.  She scoffed, once she had every startled eye glancing in her direction, “I have news that should stop any infighting, so are you ready to hear it now, or would you prefer to tear each other to pieces first?”

Squall gave her a small smirk before waving his hand over the table, making a new round table appear in its place.  He waved the rest of the group into their seats before answering Boudica’s question.  “I think all the piss and vinegar has gone out of the conversation, but I will have to remember your special brand of getting others' attention.  It would work wonders with the students.”  He waved at her to give her report, hoping that she had some good news for them.

“First of all, have none of you realized that we are currently missing a sweet cat goddess and a beautiful cow?”  She nodded in satisfaction at the stunned faces around her.  “Thought so.  I was just talking to Cú Chulainn, and he told me Bastet and Hathor are on Earth because Bernadette has lost one of her cats, and is in a fair bit of trouble of her own.  He said he thought the cat that died’s name was Mama, and that Bastet is beside herself with grief.  Hathor is more worried about Bernadette.”  

Boudica noticed that Vincent's face fell into a look of pure sorrow at the mention of the death and was not looking forward to giving the rest of her report.  Vincent’s sorrow wasn’t just sympathy—it was memory, a silent grief etched with feline eyes and whispered comforts. 

“He also stated that he will be going Earthside to protect Bernadette until everything Hubside has been taken care of.  He stated that the entire Hub is in danger from what he called the Chaos Collective, and that all of you are needed here.”

“And you expect us to just turn Bea over to someone we have never met?” Irvine asked as he quietly texted Paine under the table about what had been going on and asked if she would please find a way to come to the castle. He had the feeling he was going to need as much help as possible keeping everyone alive.

“I don’t expect you to do anything of the sort,” said the tall, willowy man who stepped into the room as though summoned by the weight of destiny itself, his crimson eyes touching on each of them.  “But, as Bernadette is in good hands at the moment and the ambulance would probably wreck if I just popped in, I figured I could take five minutes to fill you all in.”  He bent and kissed Boudica’s hand before he walked over to Vincent.

He bowed low to the guardian before inclining his head to Murphy and the rest of the God Squad with grudging respect. He patted Squall on the shoulder with a smirk and a barely disguised wink.  

His greeting told everyone assembled who was the real boss around there, and it was not anyone they thought it was.  Vincent was a step above the gods assembled, Squall only one step below, and it irked Apollo to no end.  He was not the oldest god assembled, but to have such deference afforded to Vincent and Squall, two beings who were the gods of their own realm, but mere babes compared to the rest of them, rubbed him the wrong way.

Squall grabbed his hand and squeezed it as hard as he could.  “Who are you, friend, and what the hell do you mean by ambulance?” The man attached to the hand just pried Squall’s fingers off of his and nodded before walking over to the window.

“I am Cú Chulainn, and I have known Bernadette longer than any of you, even longer than Murphy.  I have about thirty minutes before I can conceivably talk to Ben, so that’s all the time I have for explanations.”  He sat on the window seat, seating himself like a flare in the dark—commanding attention with quiet, absolute intent.  “After Vincent left her to come back here, Bea was attacked in her basement.  Mama died of a heart attack, and Jake went to get Sheriff Dunham, as he lives not that far from Bea.  Bastet is on site and told me everything she could with the warning that keeping Bea safe isn’t the only thing that needs to be done.  She will fill you in the rest of the way once she comes back.  What I need from all of you is to find the group of assholes that is mucking about with everything and deal with them.  I will take care of Bea.”

Apollo gave the demigod an appraising look before nodding slightly.  “As you wish, but you will stay in contact with us, and if anything else happens to Bernadette, I will personally make sure you stay on that stake you died on for the rest of eternity.  Pecked apart by crows every day sounds like a good punishment.”

“You’re welcome to try, but I don’t think you’d be able to keep him still for more than a week at most,” Boudica said as she took a long swig of her ale the castle just gave her.  “If he could save Ulster from Queen Medb’s army single-handed, I think he can take on his father’s cousin.”

“Yes, thank you for reminding me of Lugh’s progeny, Boudica.  I would never do something permanent to my family, but the warning still stands.” Apollo raised his cup to her and took a sip of ambrosia. Greco-Roman gods were not known for their familial feelings, so no one thought he would not keep that promise, least of all Cú Chulainn.

“I don’t think you’ll get a chance, Apollo.  If something happens to Bea, I’ll seal him in the deepest shadow of the cosmos—and burn the map before I draw my final breath,” Vincent said.  The look on his face made it quite clear he wasn’t joking.

Cú Chulainn rose from where he sat and called his lance, Gae Bolg, to his hand, a bloodthirsty smile gracing his lips.  “I’ll tell you what, old man,” he said as he twirled the spear between his fingers faster than the eye could track.  “We’ll let fate mark it down. When the dust settles, you and I will see whose spear strikes truest.”  The spear stilled, then disappeared to wherever it had come from.  “Now, I don’t have much time left, so sit still and listen.”

~ ~ ~ ~

Seifer squinted into the darkness once he got his bearings and cursed under his breath in exasperation.  The last thing he remembered was climbing into Quistis’ bed and snuggling up to her after killing as many grats in the Training Center as he could find.  He definitely didn’t remember getting the knot on the back of his skull, the splitting headache, nor the broken and bleeding knuckles he sported.

“It’s about time you woke up,” Selphie said from the cot hanging from the wall across him.  “I’ve been waiting for you to rejoin the land of the living for four hours.”

“What? I’ve been out of it for that long?  What the hell is happening, Selphie?” Seifer rotated his head to try and work out some of the kinks and still his brain from swimming in his skull.

“How the hell should I know?  I was all set to enjoy a visit with Kairi and the boys, and poof!  I woke up here.” She pulled her legs up under her and hugged herself around the waist.  “Do you think this is another one of our writer’s twisted plot detours?”

“Probably,” Seifer grunted as he pulled himself up to a sitting position and looked around their cell, noticing as he did that the room was almost an exact replica of Squall’s D-District prison cell.  Not a good sign, he thought.  I had hoped to never see this place again as long as I lived.   “We need to figure out how to get out of here.  Any ideas?”

Selphie watched him settle back on the other cot and shrugged.  “I would say capture the guards when they come to feed us, but the food just appears on the floor, and I haven’t seen anyone in the past two days.  Also, if you notice, there are no doors or windows here.”

“I noticed,” Seifer grumbled, then stilled as every hair on his body stood on end like he was in the middle of a thunderstorm.  “What’s going on?”

He looked over at Selphie and tried to run to her, his legs giving out with the first step.  He watched as she rose into the air and hovered above the cot, her body writhing against invisible forces, a puppet pulled skyward by strings she could not see.  It was only when he could not see her any more and his body started to rise into the air to join hers that he started to worry they may not be able to get out of the mess in one piece.

It was a short ride, all things considered.  Less than five minutes after his feet left the floor of the cell, Seifer’s feet settled on something he assumed was solid next to a very irate Selphie.

“I don’t know who you lot are, but this has got to be the most inconsiderate vacation I’ve ever had,” she yelled at the assembled beings standing in a circle around them.  Selphie never was one to keep her temper once a fire had been lit under it.

“Calm down, Selphie,” Seifer whispered as his hand fell on her shoulder and pushed her behind him.  “She’s right, though,” he continued in a calm, deadly voice as he took in the motley crew around them.  Not one of them—except the gentleman with the golden horns—looked remotely human. Or sane. And the kind of madness he sensed was not easily outwitted. “I have a feeling you lot don’t think we’re prisoners and want something from us we aren’t likely to give, no matter how ‘nicely’ you ask.”

“Point taken,” said the being with the golden horns.  “Perhaps we should have some introductions, and then get down to business.”  He pointed to the winged serpent to his right to begin.

“I am Apophis, Egyptian god of chaos, and I am not as amused as I thought I would be.” The voice winding its way around the constantly flickering tongue was deep, and every word seemed to be wrapped in hisses and demonic screams.  It genuinely made Seifer’s balls crawl back up into his body.

The tall woman next to him smiled slightly and brushed her long raven hair behind her black-and -red wings before nodding at the two in the middle of the gathering.  “I am Eris, the Greek goddess of chaos, strife, and discord.  And I am amused.”  She laughed lightly, then looked at the next god to take over.

The red-headed god, draped in a crimson sheet of cloth that barely covered his muscular body, stepped forward, lightning skittering beneath each footfall, licking the ground like hungry tongues. Seifer could feel his molecules humming with discomfort.  “The Romans called me Khaos.  I control all of the elements that can destroy.” He grinned at Selphie as she stood as tall as she could and glared at him.

Khaos turned on his heel and walked back to his spot in the circle, patting the small raccoon curled up on the floor.  The raccoon—more tanuki than mammal—rose, his anatomy crashing with a theatrical slap against the floor. Seifer immediately regretted looking directly at him.

“I am Tanuki,” he said with a dainty bow, voice sweet and impish—then curled around his anatomy like a cat around yarn and promptly dozed off, utterly indifferent to his divine credentials.

The mermaid lounging in what Seifer could only describe as a huge cooking pot reached down and stroked Tanuki’s fur before smiling at the captives. “I am Tiamat, and I welcome both of you to our home.”  Her voice was musical, laced with harp strings and dancing chimes, and Seifer felt it stir something ancient and vulnerable in him—like awe wrapped in velvet.

The air thickened with the stench of mildew and ancient grime as Balor stirred—a cyclopean relic groaning back to relevance.  “What? Oh, yeah.” He grunted as he sat up, his brow furrowing slightly in concentration as his size shrunk so he could sit up and not knock his head on the ceiling.  “I’m Balor,” he said as he scratched the scar running around his neck absentmindedly.  “Celtic god of chaos, a cyclops, a giant, blah, blah, blah.”

“And that brings it back to me,” the horned god said with a galant bow.  “Loki at your service.  Norse god of mischief and, once again, chaos.  We are the Chaos Collective,” he said with a grin sharp enough to slice fate. “And we’ve chosen you for a task that ends in victory—or obliteration.”

For the next half hour, Loki spoke, Seifer and Selphie listening and learning why they had been brought before the group, what was expected of them, and what the punishment would be if they refused or failed in the task they had been given.  Choice was a luxury they no longer had. What lay ahead was survival—or annihilation.

~ ~ ~ ~

Ben ran into the ER waiting room and barked at the nurse sitting behind the front desk.  She did not even look up from her computer screen, just pointed through the doors as they swung open to admit the Sheriff.  This was not his first rodeo, and he knew exactly where to go. It did not take him long to meet the ER doctor, Dr. Newton, on the loading dock.  Ben felt his frustration start to boil up while they waited, his legs taking him on several laps around the area.  His anxiety was making the nurses on break halfway down the building start to twitch when Bea’s ambulance rolled to a stop before them.

“How did you beat us?” one of the EMTs asked as they pulled a very pale Bea from the back of the ambulance and started running to the trauma bay.

“One of the perks of being a backwoods sheriff: lights and knowledge of the logging roads.  How is she?”

“Stable,” the other EMT stated as he handed the clipboard to the waiting nurse.  “Assault victim with multiple lacerations.  IV started en route, patient is in and out of consciousness.”  He grunted as they transferred her to the ER bed and stepped out of the way to allow the hospital’s trauma team to take over, pulling Ben out into the hall with them after the hand off.

“Ben, it’s bad, man,” one of them said as they signed the transfer of care paperwork at the nurse’s station.  “Did you know she has five nails sticking through her right foot?”

“And I’m pretty sure a piece of her shower door pierced her abdominal cavity,” the other said as he shook his head.  “Find them.  Whoever did this to her.”  He patted the sheriff on the shoulder before motioning for his partner to follow him as they wheeled the stretcher out the door.

Ben got himself a cup of coffee and settled in at the nurse's station until he could go in with Bernie or the doc came out to give him an update.  Another of the perks of being sheriff, no need to languish in the waiting room hoping for a good outcome.  Privilege had its shadows: It let him be close enough to the action to be of help, or hindrance, but, in this situation, not close enough.

~ ~ ~ ~

All Bernie felt was pain, all she smelled was the overpowering antiseptic of a sterile area and her blood.  Fear really was not an issue at the moment as the nurses cut the clothes off her body with scissors that could have been warmed up a bit, and the gloved hands seemed to be everywhere at once. She could hear the doctor and nurses going by the numbers, and her mind kept track of what was said.  Blood pressure: elevated, respirations: stable, awareness: in and out.  The ABCs of emergency medicine: Airway: open, Breaths: normal, Circulation: slow, but still there.

She tried to speak, to tell them she would be okay, but she could not move her mouth, could not open her eyes, could not even moan.  All she could do was ride the wave and let everything happen without her input, and it pissed her off to no end.  She was tired of always having to be the person who gave up control.  For once, she wanted to be the one who controlled the narrative.

Her ears stopped being able to discern individual voices and only picked up on the anxious feeling filling the ER bay.  She was waiting for something, and not knowing what that thing was filled her with impatience and anger.  Where are Vincent and Squall?  Where are my Muses?

Oh, sweet Hathor, please protect me.  Keep me safe, keep me alive. She prayed as the medicine Dr. Newton pushed through her IV sent her to sleep.  Her last thoughts were a memory of sitting between Vincent and Squall on her porch swing, their arms around her shoulders, the warmth from their bodies filling her with sunshine.  She felt protected, and allowed herself to relax into the drug-induced oblivion. 

“OR is ready,” Dr. Rafferty stated as she walked into the bay and took over for the ER doctor.  “Let’s get this lady put back together.”  She turned to Dr. Newton and nodded.  “I leave the sheriff to you.  We’ll get her through this, so there’s no need for him to arrest us.”  She winked at the doctor and followed her team as they rushed Bernie out of the ER and off to the OR suite.

~ ~ ~ ~ 

It seemed like he had been sitting in a chair that the charge nurse got for him for more than an hour before Bernie’s bed was wheeled out of the room and down the hall at a good clip.  The ER doc came out and pulled up a chair beside him.  Sighing heavily, Dr. Newton hung his head and looked at his hands as they dangled between his knees before looking up at Ben, a serious look on his face.

“She’s going in for surgery to repair her colon.  It was bisected.  We’ll sew up the two lesions on her scalp at that time and set the break as best we can on her right foot.  One of the nails went through her middle metatarsal bone – clean break.  We’ll have to keep her for a day or two to make sure she’s stable, but nothing’s wrong that can’t be fixed,”  Dr. Newton stated as he slid down in the chair until his head was resting on the back of the chair.  “What the hell happened, Ben?”

“She didn’t tell you?” Ben sighed when Newton shook his head.  “I don’t know everything that happened, but I can tell you she didn’t do it to herself.  Some asshole broke into her house and apparently ambushed her in the basement.  Dude was wearing all black and a ski mask when he tackled me in her room.” Ben clenched his fists in anger.  “McClure is still going over her house now, and he’s found a lot of little booby traps all over the place, not to mention quite a few cameras that I’m pretty sure she didn’t install either.”

Dr. Newton whistled below his breath and sighed as he stood up.  “Go home, Ben.  Take a shower, change your clothes.  By the time you do that, hopefully, Bernie will be out of surgery.  Just keep your phone handy.”

“Are you sure?  I don’t want her to wake up alone.” The one thing he had promised Bernie was that he would never leave her to fight her battles by herself ever again.  

When Eric pulled that shit in Texas, it was all he could do not to fly down there to be with her and the girls.  The only reason he did not was his job.  He had others that relied on him besides Bernie and her girls.  He was married to his job and to the town, it just so happened that his cousin was the most important part of that marriage in his mind.

“She’s in good hands, Ben.  The surgeon, Dr. Rafferty, is the best in these parts.  You need to clean up, you smell like a handful of pennies that’s been in a four-year-old’s fist all day.”  And with that, Dr. Newton left the sheriff to sniff at himself and let the charge nurse know where he could be reached before turning heel and walking out to do as he was ordered.

He thought about the men in Bernie’s life as he drove home and had to wonder where in the hell they ran off to.  He knew she was with Vincent that afternoon, and that other guy was a mystery – hell, they both were, but with a comatose Bernie and her phone nowhere in sight, he had no choice but to wait and see. 

He stomped up his steps and smiled at the tabby cat sitting on his welcome mat.  “Hi, Jake.  Are you staying with me until your mistress is back?”  He opened his door, and the cat made a beeline to his own cat’s bowl for some kibble.  Mable, his female tortie, gave him an experimental sniff, then put her paw on his back and started cleaning him.  “Okay, y’all behave while I shower.”

He was halfway through rinsing the soap off his body when the emergency dial tone rang through the bathroom.  “Shit fire,” he swore as he grabbed his towel and wrapped it around his slim hips.

“Dunham,” he answered the phone after putting it on speaker so he could dry off and get dressed as fast as possible.  

“Hey, boss.  We’ve got a problem.”  It was McClure yelling through the phone, and Ben swore he heard fire crackling in the background, then he heard the fire engine’s siren whaling, and he knew his night just got a hell of a lot more complicated.

“What the hell happened?”  His voice was muffled as he pulled on the first shirt he could get his hands on.

“I swear I just left long enough to get another kit out of my car, then the whole damn thing went up like a bonfire!”  McClure wasn’t one to panic, but he definitely was.  “I opened my trunk, and then the blast blew me over my cruiser.  It wasn’t a bomb or anything, it looked like the whole house caught fire everywhere at once.  If I didn’t know better, I’d swear the house decided it didn’t want to be here anymore. I’ve seen fires, Ben.  This ain’t just a fire.”

“Are you okay?  Do you need an ambulance?”  Ben’s first thought was for his deputy.  He could figure out what to tell Bernie about her house later.

“There’s one here now, and Daniels is coming up the drive too.  Stay with Bernie, we’ll take care of this.”  McClure sounded like he was in pain, but still had himself under control, which did a lot to assuage Ben’s conscience.  “And none of this 'I’m the sheriff, it’s my duty' bullshit.  I got most of the evidence out of the place before it went up, and the vet picked up her cat about an hour ago.  I’ve got this.  Take care of Bernie.”

McClure didn’t even wait for Ben to say anything before hanging up.  Ben trusted his people, he just wished there were about fifteen more of them.  

He was pulling on his boots when his doorbell rang.  He took his stairs two at a time and skidded to a halt at his front door, giving Jake a startled look when he noticed he was watching the door with an expectant air of someone waiting for someone beloved to come through the door.

“Can I help you?” The words died on the wind when he got a load of the two beings standing on his porch.  “Lady Bastet, Lord Cú Chulainn.  To what do I owe the honor of your company?”  He stepped aside to allow the two entry as if being visited by two deities was an everyday occurrence.

Bastet came in and picked up Jake, carrying him with her to the living room as her human head changed into her more comfortable cat head while Cú Chulainn patted the sheriff on the shoulder as he brushed past him.  “You’ve spruced the place up.  It looks a lot different than it did when you were a kid.”  Cú Chulainn sat on the couch, arms draped across the back and legs crossed at the ankles as if he did not have a care in the world.

“It doesn’t surprise me that it looks different.  You haven’t been here since I was sixteen after all.”  Ben shut the door after making sure no one was out on the lake.  “I take it you’re here because of Bernie.”  He sat on an overstuffed armchair after offering the love seat to Bastet with obvious deference.

“Of course we are,” Bastet said as she caressed Jake.  “I don’t know who that human was that did all that to Bernadette, but I can tell you who it was not.”

“You mean it was none of the people that have been in and out of her house over the weekend.  I figured it wasn’t.  From what I’ve heard, they all treated her with love.  And I’ve met Vincent.  If the others are like him, they have nothing to do with this mess she’s in.”  He looked at the two deities currently making themselves at home in his living room and sighed inwardly.  “If you two are here, it means Bernie will be okay for the time being, and I’m about to be overrun – aren’t I?”

“If you mean you’re about to share the lake with a few mercenaries and Turks, no.  It will just be me, myself and I. At least until the Muse Brigade can make the Hub stable – though I think I’ll have to put hexes on Vincent and Squall to keep them in the castle.”  Cú Chulainn sniggered before sobering.  “Was that Bernie’s house that just blew up across the lake?”

“Yes,” Ben replied after scrubbing his chin.  “We’ve got it handled, and I was told to stay away and take care of Bernie.  I don’t know how I’m going to tell her about that.  Her father built that house for her, and everything she owns was inside it.  Her daughters are going to have a cow when they find out.”

“I think Vincent and Squall can help out with the rebuilding,” Murphy said as he walked in from the kitchen.

“So the guy from the lake is Squall?  Bernie said his name was Leon.”  Ben was starting to think his cousin had some very powerful friends, and he might just be out of a job.

“That is his name,” Murphy stated as he sat on the other side of the couch.  “He and Vincent are aware of the situation here, but they can’t come back just yet.  Their home was just attacked by Balor.  They’re having to do some giant hunting, among other things.”

“Balor?” he asked turning to Cú Chulainn with a fearful look on his face.  “I thought your father killed him – never mind.”  He turned back to Murphy.  “You know, if I hadn’t grown up with this guy visiting whenever the urge took him, I’d be calling the nice men in the clean white coats to take me away.” Ben flopped back in the chair looking up at the ceiling for a moment before nodding his head, his mind made up.  “Okay, Bernie’s staying here as soon as she’s out of the hospital, and I’m sure Cú Chulainn will make himself at home, too.  I don’t think Bastet staying would be a wise idea unless she takes her cat form during the day.  I don’t think it’s wise for Murphy to stay, either.  Too tempting.”

“So you know who I am, do you?” Murphy asked, a strange sort of pride flowing out of him as he spoke.

“Of course I do.  You’re Bernie’s mother’s favorite fall guy.  I’ve been hearing about you my entire life.  There was a time that Uncle Harry would joke that you were her real husband and he was just the sperm bank.”  Ben smiled slightly at the blush that rose to the demigod’s cheeks, happy that he was able to tweak the guy for once.

“Then you should know that I’m one of the main reasons Bernie’s Muses have been able to find her, and why they can become real to her.  Apollo decided he’d had enough of that little side business, so I got the job.  Something about creating something for once.  There are a lot of them, and she’s going to need someone that knows what’s going on and won’t try to call in the calvary.”  Murphy knew that Ben was the one person in the world he could trust with their little secret. 

“Well then,” Ben sighed.  “That means Madelyn needs to keep her hooked nose out of Bernie’s business.  That’s going to be a tough sell.  I can keep her away from the hospital, but once Bernie’s here, it will be harder.  Madelyn seems to think she owns the whole lake because she was born here, and because her father was so loved, not to mention her mother.  I’m almost glad that woman is long gone – she would have made this impossible.”

“That woman,” Bastet hissed, “needs to mind her own business.  She is one of the Christian god’s children, and unlike Bernie’s father, would gladly burn our children at the stake.  I have never liked her.  All those nights that she made Bernadette pray to that stuffed shirt.  Saying her marriage was her just punishment for not towing the line Madelyn tied her hands with.  I would be happiest if we could keep her away forever.”

“None of us like her very much, my Lady.  We never have.  I don’t think even Uncle Harry liked her all that much, and he was married to her for twenty years.” Ben’s phone rang as he spoke.  He answered it after raising one finger for quiet.  “Sheriff Dunham.”  He listened for a few minutes then nodded his head even though the person on the other end of the line couldn’t see him.  “Thank you, I will be there within the next thirty minutes.”

He looked at the three beings as he hung up and decided that he needed as much help as he could get.  The situation was beyond his meager magical abilities.  He and Bernadette were members of their own little family coven, but two members, even if one was more powerful than any other natural witch he had ever come across, were not enough to battle what was turning out to be a very dangerous enemy.

“That was the hospital.  Bernie is out of surgery and they were able to sew her up without having to remove too much of her intestine.  The doc said they only had to remove two inches, and her lacerations closed up neatly.  They said she has at least one more surgery for the break on her foot.  The orthopedic surgeon is out of town until tomorrow.  She also has an infection that will require hospitalization.  She’s spiking a fever of 103 degrees.  I need to go be with her.  She’ll need someone who loves her there.”  He was grabbing his keys as he spoke, dismissing the abilities of the gathered beings to help without a second thought.

“Might I be of service?” called a voice that was caring and calm from behind him.  He turned and knelt before the beautiful woman who stood before him.  

“I would never turn down your help, my mother.”  He took her hand and kissed it with reverence.  “I am honored by your presence, Lady Hathor.”  He stood and hugged her tightly.  “I never thought I would be able to meet you again.  I have missed your calming presence.”

“My son, I have always been with you and your family.  I will not allow my daughter to be harmed any more than she has been.  Shall we go to the hospital?”  Her form shifted slightly as she spoke, her cow’s ears shrinking to a more human shape that was hidden by her hair, and her Egyptian robes morphed into a gauzy sundress that brought a sunflower field to mind.

“As you wish, mother.  Come on, Cú Chulainn, let’s get the lead out.”  Ben beckoned to the demigod as he opened the door.  “I’m driving, and you two are staying on the solid side of things until we get back.”  He got two solemn nods in response as they headed out into the twilight.

~ ~ ~ ~

“Are you sure you won’t work with us?” Loki asked after both Seifer and Selphie told the assembled gods to stick their orders up their collective asses.  He sighed when he got stony shakes of both heads and turned to Apophis.  “Think you can show these two what happens when they deny the gods of chaos?”

Apophis hissed a laugh before shrinking to the size of a medium python, large enough to be seen at a distance if someone knew what to look for, but not so large as to cause a panic.  He waved his tail and a portal appeared before the group.  “Watch closely,” he hissed as he slithered through the portal and onto Bea’s front lawn.

Seifer and Selphie watched the snake as he slithered past a sheriff’s vehicle and coiled himself in the flower bed beside her front steps as a deputy sped past him on his way to his car.  Selphie found herself loving the way the moon shine reflected off the snake god’s scales in jewel tone colors that made the flowers glow slowly. She shook her head and wondered why she even thought that.

Seifer gasped as Apophis’s tail rose, a flame glowing at its tip before he touched the wooden steps.  The house went up like steel wool after it was touched by a battery.  Seifer’s eyes could barely follow the trail of fire as it climbed the steps then spread everywhere before he felt the blast of hot wind through the portal.

Apophis slithered back through the portal, making sure to go around the deputy who was trying to pull himself off the ground and grab his cell phone at the same time.  His figure grew again once the portal was closed, and the captives were once again face to face with a nightmare.

“Now then,” Loki asked as he brushed some ash from his shoulder.  “Are you sure you won’t do as we ask?  You will go up in flames a hell of a lot easier than Bernadette’s house.”

“That was Bea’s house!” Selphie was so upset she could only get a whisper out.  “She wasn’t in there, was she?”

“No, she was not,” Tiamat said as she pulled herself out of her bath, her tail splitting and becoming two shapely legs.  She shook her hips and the small ruffle of a skirt she had around her waist elongated until she was wearing an ankle length skirt made of fish scales that caught the light and sparkled.  “I won’t allow this lot to kill her.  We just need her power, and I want to protect her.  The one who hurt her this afternoon was not sent by us, and it is lamentable that he was allowed to hurt her as badly as he did.”

Loki scoffed at the goddess, but did not contradict her.  “Of course we won’t hurt her.  If she dies, the Hub universe will cease to exist.  We just want to control it.”

Seifer had watched the house he had grown comfortable in be destroyed, and found out that a woman he had come to adore, had promised to protect, had been hurt made him feel the way he did when Ultimecia first came to him in Timber.  He felt useless, and when he felt like that he did stupid things … like agreeing to what the gods assembled wanted just so he could get his hands on Bea and get her to safety.

He stood staring at the spot the portal used to be and wondered if he could indeed do that: Could he keep his mind closed enough to get Bea to safety, then help the rest of the gang hang these assholes out to dry?