The messages to Ira stayed unread for the rest of February. Nellie only sent one more, asking if he was all right, but that too stayed unread. She started to worry as mid-March crept by and took to searching the internet for any signs of Ira York whenever she was able.

“Boo!”

Nellie jumped, nearly dropping her school laptop on the floor. She frowned at Ava as she laughed at her, sinking into the seat next to her and pulling out her sketch pad.

“Mrs. Huffman is going to be angry if she comes in and sees that out,” Ava said. “You know she’s all upset over this AI art stuff.”

“I’ll put it away when she comes in,” Nellie murmured, keeping her eyes on the screen. The bright light mixed with her blue eyes, giving her a glazed look.

Ava pushed her glasses up her nose. “Clayborne York,” she questioned, leaning over to look.

Nellie tilted the screen down to distort the image of the middle-aged man with Ira’s blue eyes. She gave it a second of thought, and readjusted the screen so Ava could see. It was just the two of them in art class, and the other few students that arrived early did not so much as glance at them.

Clayborne York looked like the type of middle-aged dad Nellie would see in a soccer stadium waving a Manchester banner, and that was despite the expensive suit, neatly kept blond hair (starting to look duller with age), and the way he held his broad shoulders. It was something in his smirk, and the twinkle in his eye that gave the fun loving impression. He was more relaxed than Ira typically was, but not completely absent the weight Ira seemed to have during the times he would space out.

“I bet he was cute at our age,” Ava said, grinning widely. “Who is he?”

“Ira’s dad,” Nellie said. “The college guy that was visiting after I moved here.”

“And…?”

“And I haven’t heard from Ira, so was thinking of maybe emailing his dad,” Nellie said. She slowly shut her eyes with a groan. “Oh, wow, that sounded lame outloud.”

Ava frowned, chewing her words before saying them. “Eleven is probably too young for him,” she said tactfully.

“I’m twelve, but it isn’t like that,” Nellie said with a laugh. “He’s a family friend.” She felt that was not enough, and added, “Our fathers were cadets together.”

“Oh, so that’s why,” Ava said with dawning. “We couldn’t figure out why he was visiting after you told us he wasn't a relative. Wait… twelve? Since when?”

“Last Friday,” Nellie said, embarrassed.

Her cheeks reddened the longer Ava stared, clearly aghast that Nellie had kept her birthday quiet. She was saved trying to explain herself by Mrs. Huffman trotting into the room with the class bell on her heels. Nellie quickly put the laptop away. She made an attempt at drawing Cecily–poorly–while Mrs. Huffman droned on about texture.

Nellie had not been able to look at Clayborne York’s profile long enough to find a contact number or email. She would need to resume once he was home, hopefully on the laptop and not on her phone. It would be helpful if she was allowed to bring her school laptop home.

The person who would be able to tell her where Ira was, and convey a message to him, was probably Penny, but Nellie did not know a thing about her other than her first name. And, it was likely a nickname. In retrospect, Penny did not have an English accent like Ira did, but that did not help narrow down her identity.

She lingered in the doorway until the car rider monitor called her. She rushed to the pearlescent sedan with a wave at Emma and Olivia, giving them a small, fake laugh as she climbed in.

“Which ones are those,” Nathalie asked, giving them a wave as they rolled forward. “Shame all your friends were occupied last weekend.” She gave Nellie a strained smile. “Was school any more tolerable today?”

“Normal amount of tolerable,” Nellie murmured. “You haven’t heard from Ira, right?”

“From Mr. York,” Nathalie asked. “No. Not since he flew home. Are you having difficulty reaching him?”

“Yeah,” Nellie said. She dug her fingers into her knees. “I’m starting to worry. Should I call the Order of Ferblanc?”

“I… don’t believe that to be wise,” Nathalie said carefully. “I’m not exactly sure what it is they do, but Mr. York not calling them until the last minute when it came to that… thing, makes me believe they must be extraordinarily busy doing similar heroics.”

“It does seem extreme…,” Nellie said.

The larger of the two outbuilding–the one Nathalie claimed for her studio–had been fully outfitted with electricity. A bathroom was added, raising the amount of the property to two; Nathalie claiming foresight for Nellie’s approaching teen years. Ash’s house was still unfinished. Electricity and water had been added, but it was ripped to the studs and lacked a roof. It was slated to be complete as soon as Nathalie was paid for her recent ballerina statue.

“Can I use the laptop,” Nellie asked, shouldering her bag as she stepped out of the car.

“I suppose so,” Nathalie said. “Don’t lose track of time though, please. I’ll need you to pop dinner into the oven tonight.”

Ash had again destroyed her bedding. She did not bother to scold him, instead sitting on her bed and going into the recent orders tab to place another order for a comforter, pillow, and sheets. He was a wild animal with a supernatural flair. It was more their fault for locking him indoors and they had both come to accept that.

“You’ll be an outdoor dog-thing once your house is done,” Nellie said, patting his head. “I guess I’ve been worrying you’d run off and get hurt. Or just run off in general….” She stroked him, staring at the confirmed order screen unseeingly. “Please don’t run off on me, Ash.”

---

Nellie snapped thin branches, panting, as she tore through the forest. She leapt a fallen tree, twisting to see over her shoulder as much larger sounding branches broke. She tripped, tumbling head over heels through the dead leaves and mud hidden beneath. She stayed perfectly still as all the sounds vanished, waiting.

Black smoke elegantly wafted around her left side, bounced before her, and began to solidify into Ash. He crouched, hackles raised.

“No,” Nellie begged, half-laughing. “You win. You win.” She flopped backwards. “Let me catch my breath.”

Spring Break had started and it brought Nellie an enormous amount of relief to not go to school. A twinge of dread lingered in the depths of her mind, a mental countdown to when she would return to the tedium and mean stares from her teachers.

She climbed to her feet, shaking the leaves from her clothes. “Come on, Ash, let’s get back to the lady,” she said. “It’s got to be near lunch.”

She always referred to Nathalie as ‘the lady’ to Ash. In part, because Nathalie did not like to acknowledge Ash by his name, but also to avoid Nellie needing to definitively put a label on her. It was surprisingly easy to never say the words ‘mom’ or ‘aunt’ in everyday life. She knew it would need to be spoken aloud at some point, but that could wait until she was not enjoying the freedom of traipsing about the woods with her smoke wolf.

It was pleasantly warm, and the bright sun fell into the clearing before the small house causing the black asphalt to deepen. Birds pecked dropped seeds from the made feeders Nathalie had made, hopping along the tar happily.

Something made Nellie slow her casual pace, something that she could not put her finger on that stood out from the cheerful scene. Her shoulders tightened as Ash began growling at her side.

“Ssh, boy, don’t give us away,” she whispered, patting his head. She inched nearer, heart pounding and the hairs on her arm standing erect. “J-just… cover me.”

She stood back from the door, stretching to reach for it but not wanting to get any closer should she need to run away. She cringed as the door let out a slow, sharp squeak.

“Nellie,” Nathalie called, her tone strained. “Do hurry inside before the flies follow. Someone is here to see you.”

Inching into the doorway revealed a man in a tailored suit and a flamboyantly loudly patterned fuschia tie. He reminded her of Vincent Price but if he spent a lot of time in the tropics, his olive skin was either fully natural or the result of long, warm vacations. He looked to be in his late thirties or early forties but the only lines she saw were crows feet that crinkled up when he smiled fondly at her.

She smiled nervously, warily eyeing the length of him. There was something about him that she could not figure out, some feeling she could not name. It was not hostile, just not usual.

“My, look at you,” he said, a hint of some accent. “You–.”

Ash snarled, poofed, reformed in front of Nellie, and lunged. He smacked into a barrier, light spreading through the air from his impact. He tossed his head about, growling and ready to spring again.

“Easy there, friend,” said the man, holding his hand before him. He stood like bracing against a wall, his face twisted in concentration. “Would it be inconvenient to put the creature outside?”

Nellie stared, mouth open. She snapped to after a few seconds. “Ash, outside, boy,” she ordered. “It’s okay, boy.” She tilted her head at the man. “He’s a friend.” She firmly urged Ash out the door and shut it to prevent him poofing around her back into the house.

“Friend,” he said, amused. He sat on the worn soft looking completely out of place, crossing his legs to reveal his socks matched his tie. “Perhaps when you’ve grown, but for now I’ll have to be content with godfather.”

“G-godfather,” Nellie stammered. She turned to Nathalie. “I have a godfather?”

“Godfather,” Nathalie cried at nearly the same time. “What on earth–? Is my brother a Catholic? Oh, I knew that group was some sort of cult!”

“Dear woman, calm yourself,” the man said, although he looked highly entertained. “The Order of Ferblanc is no cult, though it pains me to admit that. Perhaps they went through periods of cultishness, but that could be my distaste wanting more than anything.” He raised a sculpted eyebrow. “Or are you accusing his most recent association?”

“No,” Nellie said firmly, holding her hands at each of the adults like forcing them apart. “No, no, no! I don’t care about if my father is a Catholic or a cultist or former cultist or whatever. …Well, I do, but not right this second.” She pointed at the man. “Name. Please.”

His lip curled. He stood, and gave a sweeping bow. “Amias Baig.”

“And you’re a witch,” Nellie asked, trying to sound nonchalant despite her heart beating from her chest.

“Witch,” Amias said, scandalized.

“Wait, no, not a witch,” Nellie said. “What was it Ira called you guys…?”

“Mage.” Amias sat again, knitting his fingers on his knee. “Ah, yes, so the little prince truly was here. Oh, how his father fretted.” He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “Sent inquires to us asking after him and everything. Poor child. Such a tight leash.”

Ira had been delayed by the white screamer and Cecily running off. It did not strike Nellie as unusual that his father would worry, especially since he was surely informed why his son was roaming about. Amias did not seem concerned about Ira. He could know where he was and why he was not looking at his messages. He could know about her parents, what happened to her mother and where her father disappeared to.

Nellie–and the adults–jumped as Ash let out a long, discontented howl right outside the door. She moved to let him in before recoiling, shooting a look at Amias.

“Ash doesn’t like you,” she stated.

“Naturally,” he said, nodding. “We magic types put animals on edge by default. It’s a dangerous thing, magic, and in some ways unnatural.” He laughed lightly. “Unless you are of the natural type yourself, but those are few and far.”

“Magic is… that weirdness I’m getting off you,” Nellie asked.

“Rudely stated, but yes,” Amias said. He lifted his eyes to Nathalie. “And you feel nothing, correct?”

“Confusion and mild anger,” Nathalie said wryly. “Are you staying long enough for refreshment, Mr. Baig, or do you need to be on your way?”

“Oh my, I like you,” Amias said coolly. “Tea. Preferably black. And, if you have a cake, I’ll take a bite.” He twisted to put Nellie more squarely in sight and Nathalie further from it. He gave her a sad smile. “You were so young last I saw you. When word reached the Regere of where you were, I leapt at the chance to see you.”

“The Regere,” Nathalie asked, stepping next to Nellie and putting a hand on her shoulder.

“My uncle,” Nellie murmured. “The one… Rhys didn’t want near me.”

Nathalie paled, she inadvertently painfully digging her fingers into Nellie’s shoulder. “Wh-what? But, how?”

“The Order of Ferblanc,” Nellie said, staring at the grain in the floor. “I gave my name when I called. They must've recognized it. Ira did.”

Nathalie released Nellie, stepping away to pace. She covered her mouth in horror, her brow furrowed.

“So… about that tea,” Amias asked. He tensed as Nathalie glared at him. “Water is also perfectly fine.”

Nathalie held her glare for a few seconds before snatching her phone up off the table. She stormed into her room, slamming the door hard enough to shake the walls. It was no great leap to think she was calling Uncle Winston as some form of reinforcement.

Amias stood and walked up to her. He put his hands on her shoulder before thinking better and raising them off so that they hovered inches above. He gave a snort, shaking his head with a smile.

“Suppose going right for a hug is too forward given that I’m a stranger now,” Amias said. His smile grew more fond. “You look a good deal like Brue. Have her freckles. Her smile, from the little I saw of it.”

“I,” she swallowed, “look like her?”

“I’d say you have a good mix, but I can see her in you, yes,” Amias said. He clapped her shoulders and returned to the couch, squirming about with a disgusted look. “My, this thing is tattered.” His warm, brown eyes wandered the floor, ceiling, and walls of the old, cramped house. “Well….” He allowed his words to trail into obscurity.

“Did you train with the Order of Ferblanc,” Nellie asked. “Is that how you and my father–?”

She abruptly stopped at Amias’s roar of laughter. Her face burned with embarrassment, her mind churning backwards to discover where she went wrong. She giggled nervously, grasping.

“N-no, that wasn’t right,” she said. “You don’t seem to like them.”

“I’m so sorry, my dear,” Amias said, wiping a tear from his eye with his finger. “Oh, how I needed that! Oh, my, come here.”

Nellie sat on the coffee table across from Amias. She took his hand as he offered it, still feeling embarrassed as he gave it a squeeze. His grip was strong, warm, and his hands soft as if he had never done any manual labor or even roughhousing. There was the smallest tingle on her skin where his skin touched, like the lingering effects of putting her hand under a tap that was too hot.

“Firstly, my connection to you comes from Brue more than it does Rhys,” Amias said. “Your father and I were amiable, but your mother and I were the best of friends.” His lip curled. “Rhys was too serious.” He patted her hand. “The Order of Ferblanc are the opposite to mages. They’re sensitive to magic but contain a sort of nullifying element in their person. They supposedly exist to combat when people misuse magic.”

“Did my mother have that type of sensitivity and… power, I guess for lack of a word,” Nellie asked.

“Oh no,” Amias said bluntly. “No, no, Brue was completely desensitized to magic. Hadn’t the faintest I was a mage, but completely unperturbed when she saw me do magic.” He laughed. “You’d have thought she witnessed me fold a duvet. Just a mild ‘oh, neat’. I was more surprised over her lack of surprise.”

Rhys had described Brue as flippant and airheaded in the first letters that mentioned her. Nellie had not thought much on it, perhaps because of how rigid Rhys came through in his letters, but having no strong reaction to witnessing magic was a point to her father’s assessment.

“Of course, once I was made aware that she was the Regere’s sister, it all made sense,” Amias said.

“Made sense… that she had her job,” Nellie asked unsurely.

“Made sense that she was desensitized and unfazed by magic,” Amias said, eyeing her carefully. “My lamb, has no one plainly stated to you that the Regere is a mage?”

“He is,” Nellie blurted. “I’m part magic!”

“It doesn’t exactly work that way…,” Amias said, amusement once more returning to his face. “Related to magic, perhaps, as in the same way you are related to him.” He chuckled. “Sounds like the little prince didn’t deem to mention it.”

Ira only mentioned the Regere was powerful. There was no actual reason he needed to mention that her uncle had magic.

“He did mention something else,” Nellie said, straightening. She set her gaze on Amias. “He said my mother was a dragon.”

Amias’s face flinched. “Did he?”

Nathalie emerged from her room in a whirl, causing Nellie to jump to her feet and Amias to straighten. She clutched her phone, putting a hand on her hip, and chewing the words popping into her head. She heaved in a breath and let loose a long, loud exhale.

“Mr. Baig, we should talk,” Nathalie said, her tone clear she was not requesting. “Nellie, please go see to that animal. He was clawing outside my window.”

“One moment, my dear,” Amias said, rising. He looked down at Nellie intently. “We will talk about it. Allow me to set your aunt’s mind at ease. She deserves as much.”

Nellie and Nathalie both avoided looking at the other. It was the first time someone had used ‘aunt’ with them together. Nellie gave a curt nod, and hastened outside before Nathalie could reassure or condemn the term. She shushed Ash, locking her arm around his thick, furry neck to comfort him and keep him still, hunkering beneath the living room windows.

There was a long stretch of silence before Nathalie broke in, asking, “Is my little brother a Catholic?”

“Seems an odd thing to fixate on,” Amias answered.

“You think so,” Nathalie asked scathingly. “I think it’s the perfect representation of how little I know about my brother. Of how much of his life he decided not to divulge.”

“The Order of Ferblanc has ties to Catholicism from what I understand,” Amias said. “They originally were the exorcism and demonology arm back in the Dark Ages, but split away the more the religion turned towards souls, the afterlife, and politics. Is that satisfactory enough?”

Nellie could hear the floorboards squeaking as they shifted. The squeak retreated, signaling to her that Nathalie was moving towards the kitchen. She would not be able to eavesdrop on what Nathalie asked.

“Crawlspace,” Nellie muttered. “Stay here, Ash.”

She army-crawled under the house, hissing over her shoulder at Ash to be quiet and stay put. She pushed the large, plastic tubs of junk out of her way the best she could.

“Rhys told our older brother that this… Regere is dangerous,” Nathalie said. “He was very clear that he have nothing to do with Nellie. Am I going to need to pack up and move now that he knows where she is, or is he content to respect Rhys’s wishes and leave her be?”

“The Regere is a complicated man,” Amias said. “At the moment, he expresses no want to interfere with Perenelle, but he does have a desire to meet her at the same time.”

“Is he dangerous,” Nathalie asked again, more firmly.

“Extremely,” Amias said. “His amount of power makes him so by default. Would he harm Perenelle is what you wish to ask. No. He would not.” There was a long pause. “Not intentionally. May I vent just a moment?”

“I suppose so…,” Nathalie said unsurely.

“I’m angry with Brecken over Brue,” Amias said. “But, I am removed enough from the family aspect to understand he is not fully at fault.” He cleared his throat. “More to the point we need to discuss, Perenelle isn’t a normal child. If–.”

“Of course she’s normal,” Nathalie snapped.

“No, she’s not,” Amias said. “That animal outside is proof enough without her confirming she senses my magic.”

Nellie tensed as the floor creaked over her head. She tried not to imagine Amias or Nathalie suddenly falling through, telling herself that the floor held so far and it was still strong. She did start to shuffle back towards the exit though. She could hear Ash still snuffling at the opening, scratching at the ground to widen it to enter himself.

She pulled out from under the house, pushing Ash back to climb to her feet. She smooshed his face, ruffling his head, and trotted off towards his house. She ushered him inside just as the front door opened.

“Nellie,” Nathalie called. “Oh, good, you’re shutting him away. Keep him in for now, please, and come….” Nathalie scowled, putting her hands on her hips as she looked Nellie up and down as she approached the house. “You’re filthy!”

“We were roughhousing,” Nellie lied.

“Well, come say goodbye to Mr. Baig before you wash up,” Nathalie said. “We’ll go out for lunch.”

“He can’t leave,” Nellie said. “He promised we’d talk!”

“And so we shall, my lamb,” Amias said, coming to the door. He smiled down at her. “I was informed you’re on break from school. Your aunt has agreed we can meet for lunch tomorrow.” His eyes darted to Nathalie. “So long as she chaperones.”

“Okay… as long as we can talk,” Nellie said. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow… um… Mr. Baig.”

He regarded her with amusement, but did not urge her to call him anything else. He gave a nod to Nathalie–recieving one in return–and walked off the steps. He looked odd in his fine suit walking up the driveway. He followed the curve through the woods, walking out of sight.

“Sorry he kept calling you my…,” Nellie trailed away, looking down at her soiled shoes.

Nathalie clasped her arm around Nellie’s muddy and cobwebbed shoulders, giving her a squeeze. “Come get washed up.”

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

I just put Nellie's birthday as March 15th so it was right in the middle of the month. Which is what I did with Rook, so they have the same birthday, I guess, lol.

Spring Break for what would be Nellie's school zone started April 1st in 2024. I wanted so badly to put in an April Fool reference, but Amias wouldn't know/celebrate/acknowledge that day, neither would Nathalie, and neither would Nellie both because she was raised by Nathalie and because the kids now don't seem to participate after age 8.

The room was still dim with ever-growing morning light when Hudson emerged from the bathroom after a quick shower. His hands were balled in a towel to dry off his damp hair. He was shirtless but had slipped on pants before stepping out into the main room of the loft. He squinted through the darkness, battling the bright yellow light pouring out of the bathroom behind him, to find Gemini was still in bed.

“Hey; you gettin’ up?” He asked.

She moaned, wincing a bit before opening her eyes. “I don’t know. I barely slept last night and I feel terrible.”

He let his hands and the towel droop. “Do you need me to call Ms. Lillith?”

“No,“ she grunted as she turned over to face the opposite wall.

“Just–you seem to be havin’ more trouble lately.” He frowned in sympathy when she didn’t respond, and he stepped over to the bed. He scooted onto the side and put a hand on her back. “You rest a bit more, and I’ll check on you soon.”

“Mm.” She hummed.

He scratched his head, his damp hair sticking in every direction. “You let me know if you need anythin’, okay?”

“I will.”

He leaned over her and kissed her cheek, but she turned her head to snag one of her own before he could pull away. “Hey; what’s this,” her eyes darted to his bare chest. Her fingers slipped through the hair that covered it before he took her hand.

“Careful, or I may have to get back in bed with you,” he said slyly, giving her another kiss on the cheek.

“Okay,” she smirked at him tiredly.

He shook his head with a chuckle and got up from the bed. He set the damp towel on the back of the chair, walked over to the dresser to slip on a clean work shirt, and ran his fingers through his hair to even it out. “I’ll see you soon, love?”

“See you soon,” she breathed.

She heard the door open and close, then the bumping of footsteps heading down the stairs, fading out until Hudson reached the ground. She let out a sigh, grabbed his pillow, and flopped it over her head to block out the light of sunrise peeking through the sheer curtains. In this cocoon, she somehow managed to fall asleep, though her rest was interrupted when the phone began rattling on the end table beside her.

Gemini gasped, pushing herself from the bed as the second pillow fell to the floor. Her heart pounding, her eyes darted to the phone as it rattled a second time. “Who even uses phones anymore??” She groaned loudly as she leaned over to grab the handpiece. “Hello?” She tried to hide her immense annoyance.

“Gemini, is my husband over there?”

The woman’s clouded brain had to process whose voice was on the other line. “Oh–Carla, um…” she squinted her eyes at the window, now bright with sunlight. “Not that I know of... Have you tried calling the shop or Timothy?”

“Neither of them answered. I swear, nobody uses phones anymore!”

Gemini’s eyes fell closed as she sat back onto the bed, stretching the phone’s cord to its limit. “Uh-huh.”

“I’m just not sure where he got off too. He was supposed to come home before lunch.”

“I’ll... go look. I haven’t been down yet.”

“What do you mean? It’s nearly noon.”

Gemini held the phone away as she sighed heavily and slid her legs to the edge of the bed. “I’m moving slower this morning.” she replied once the mouthpiece was returned.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she grunted as she stood up, trying to balance the phone between her ear and her shoulder so her hands could tug down on the bottom of her nightgown. “Just tired.”

“Aw,“ Carla’s voice cooed. “I’ll let you go, then. Thanks for checking.”

“Okay,” Gemini returned the phone to her hand. “I’ll send him home if I find him.”

“Thanks. Take care.”

“Bye.”

Gemini dropped the phone back onto its base, grumbling again as she walked over to the kitchen counter. “I guess I’m up.”

With a sigh, she idly opened up the cabinets above the stove. Nothing sounded particularly appetising; not even the smell of the coffee beans seemed to perk her appetite. She frowned and started across the room to the dresser instead. She slipped on a black undershirt and buttoned a purple plaid shirt over it, but when she slipped on her pants, she found them difficult to button.

“I swear, these jeans shrink up every time I wash them,” she complained, finally getting the button to hold.

She paused, her eyes losing their focus as a thought entered her mind.

She leapt when the phone began to ring again.

“Oh my goodness,” she exclaimed as she paced back to her bedside table and lifted the handle. “Hello?”

“Are you hungry?”

She blinked. “Tim?”

“I’ve got some soup on. Hudson said you weren’t feelin’ good.”

She winced with a hand on her stomach for a moment before shrugging. “That… sure; I’ll be down in a few minutes. Thanks, Ti–” She stopped when she heard the click of Timothy hanging up the phone. With a sigh, she grabbed her boots from beside the door and sat back on the bed to put them on.

Despite the cool weather, Kitty was curled up on the outside windowsill in the sun, and she meowed happily when Gemini stepped outside. The black and white cat rose, arched her back in a stretch, and sauntered to the edge of the sill. Gemini picked her up on her way down, pausing to shoot a glance into the shop to look for Hudson. When she didn’t find him there, she absent-mindedly carried the cat inside the home.

Timothy was in the kitchen stirring the pot of soup when she entered. “Ah, there y’are!” He said, offering her a glance. He did a double take. “What're you doing with the cat?”

“Oh,” she looked down at Kitty, purring happily in her arms. “Just holding her. Did you want me to leave her outside?” She bounced the cat onto her shoulder, cradling it against her chest.

Timothy offered a shrug. “Eh, I guess she can stay; so long as she stays off the table. I’ve been goin’ thru old boxes.” He then pointed to the pot. “Hungry?”

Gemini grimaced. “Not really.”

“Well, you should try,” he waved the ladle at her. “I've been given strict orders to make sure you eat somthin’.”

She smirked. “Hudson’s orders?”

“Yep.”

She smiled and shook her head, just as Kitty climbed over her shoulder and dropped down to the floor. “Where is he?”

“Thought he was at the shop.”

“I didn’t see him.”

“May’ve been called to the church. I can at least feed you.”

She crossed her arms at her waist, figuring Timothy’s soup was as good as anything else she could eat. She watched Timothy rest the ladle over the pot and reach up into the cabinet for a couple bowls. He strained just enough to prompt her to step towards him. “Oh, here!”

“Hey!”

She tucked her hands back as he snatched the bowls from the shelf.

“I can manage this, thanks.” He said just sternly enough for his daughter-in-law to question if he was joking or not.

“Sorry,” she admitted nervously. “Did you need me to clear the table?”

“I was gonna after this.”

"But I can–”

“Nope.”

Gemini’s eyes instead fell upon the overfilled compost bin near the cabinets. “Well, let me at least–”

“Stop doin' stuff!” Timothy waved his hand to stop her from approaching it. “Hudson said you wa’n’t feelin’ good and I’m trying to feed yeh!” With one point of his finger, he concluded with, “Please, sit down.”

Gemini did as she was told, somewhat embarrassed at the tone Timothy had taken. She frowned and glanced away, her arms idly wrapped around her stomach. “Sorry, I just... figured I could help.”

Timothy's eyes narrowed as if he had just realized something. “Hm.” He hummed. 

From her place at the table, Gemini watched Timothy ladle soup into each bowl, then left them and their rising steam on the counter. He stepped over to the table to clear away the pile of paper and box of knick-knacks he had been sorting through, dropping it all onto the sofa nearby. Now, with a clean place to set them, he returned to the bowls, carried one over to Gemini, and took the other to the other side of the table for himself.

She looked into the bean and pasta soup and breathed in its scent, surprised when she felt no adverse reaction to the presence of the food. She glanced up and was about to thank her father-in-law when she saw his head had bowed. She quickly followed suit as the man began to bless their meal.

“Thank you, Lord, for this food that you have provided us,” he spoke gently, “and thank you for giving me a very devoted daughter'n'law–and for her and Hudson’s family. In your Son's name, I pray.”

“Amen,” Gemini responded, though now it was her turn to narrow her eyes curiously. “My family?”

“Yep,” he answered succinctly, not even changing his gaze from his bowl.

Despite her initial lack of appetite, found the red soup's warmth and flavor comforting. “This is very good, Tim; thank you,” she said as she scooped up another spoonful.

“Pasta fagioli is always a good standby. Always good for the soul; not hard to make.”

“You'll have to show me how to make it.”

“'Course!”

The rest of the meal fell quiet as the two finished their bowls. Feeling strengthened, Gemini got up to bring her bowl to the sink, but Timothy again stopped her.

“I can take care of the kitchen; you go check on Hudson. See if he wants to eat.”

“I will, thanks, Tim–”

Both of them froze when they heard men shouting outside. 

The following gunshot urged Gemini out the door.

She rushed around to the back of the shop and immediately saw Thomas facing a beast in the middle of the field. His rifle was in hand, and the beast’s slumped stance indicated the shot had been to its shoulder. Unfortunately, it was still upright.

Adiren was at his left with a pistol in hand. Hudson was at his right, though he was much further back with only clenched fists and his eyes on the treeline–where two more beasts were lurking.

Before she could process the scene further, all three beasts began clamboring toward them.

She ran past Hudson, skidded to a halt between Thomas and Adrien, and unleashed a wide wall of flame.

At once, severe weakness overtook her, as if the fire she conjured had sucked every ounce of her own energy. She gasped for air and doubled over, dropping her hands to her thighs.

“Gemini!” Hudson rushed into the field.

Thomas whipped his head around. “Hudson, stay back!”

He did not stay back, and he caught his wife by the shoulders. 

She straightened up quickly. “I’m fine,” she breathed, stepping out of Hudson’s grasp. She reset her stance, veins glowing hot as the air curled from the heat. “Get back to the shop.”

“I ain’t leaving you,” he stressed.

“We’re not through this yet,” Thomas warned, noting that all three beasts–though they had been pushed down the hill–were still alive, and they were beginning to lumber back to their feet. “Y’all should both get back!”

“I’ve got a shot,” Adrien had his pistol aimed. With rounds growing scarce, every shot was planned as much as it could be.

“Shoot.”

The sheriff fired two shots into one beast's neck, dropping it to the ground. When the second rose in retaliation, Thomas fired his shot into its head, and it fell alongside the first. While Thomas reloaded, Adrien aimed to shoot the third–only to notice his brother appear at the edge of the forest on the other side of the beasts.

“Randy!” He dropped his arm. “I didn’t know you were back there! Get out the way!”

Victor was at Randy’s side a moment later, instantly freezing in shock.

“It’s late to be hunting,” Gemini leaned into her stance to watch the last beast’s movements. “What are they doing?”

“I sent Randy out to patrol when I knew you weren’t gonna make it,” Adrien replied.

Gemini glanced at Adrien, then at Hudson. The latter frowned and shrugged.

“Go!” Thomas shouted across the field and waved his arms wildly to his right as the beast began to stand. He. “We can’t do nothin’ as long as you’re over there!” 

Randall finally gathered his courage and started a wide circle back to the shop.

“Randy–wait!” Victor shouted.

The last remaining beast heard his cry and turned to face him. 

Victor’s eyes followed the beast as it managed to rise to its hind legs. The double-barreled shotgun shook in his trembling hands when the beast let out a gurgling cry.

“Hey!” Gemini yelled to garner the beast’s attention when both gunman split to find a clear shot. “Over here!!” She ran further into the field and threw a much smaller ball of flame. She still winced from the lack of energy, but she could stay upright that time.

Victor watched as the beast roared and fell forward, revealing Gemini standing behind it. He locked eyes with her from across the field.

“Victor–get out the way!!” Thomas shouted again, hands clutching his rifle tight against his chest, refusing to put it to his eye as long as Victor was within range.

“I’ve got a shot!” Adrien called from halfway around the field.

Hudson saw Victor lift the shotgun seconds before the beast rose back to its hind legs. 

“Shoot!”

The shotgun fired.

The beast gagged, its movements staggering as yellow blood poured from its side. Another shot from Adrien pegged the beast in the head. At last, the beast flopped to the ground.

Gemini’s face was scrunched as she remained unusually still. At last, she let out a breath and pressed her hand against the outside of her right thigh.

Dark blood began spreading beneath her fingers.

Hudson shouted some semblance of “No!” as he raced forward to catch her before she collapsed.

Thomas dropped his rifle, face paled. “Gemini!” His eyes then flew to Victor. “Victor!!”

Victor’s jaw went slack, and he fell back a step. He then turned on his heels and ran.

Adrien sprinted after Victor’s trail, and he tackled the fleeing man before he could escape from the field. 

“G--get off me!” Victor railed in protest.

With his knee in the struggling man’s back, he hissed the words, “Someone’s been shot, and you’re trying to run off??”

“Wha–I didn’t mean to–I wa’n’t trying to shoot her!!”

“How long have yeh been huntin’ and not know yeh can’t cross fire?!” Thomas yelled as he loomed over them, his entire posture bent from anger.

“That’s why I’m taking you into holding.” Adrien’s grip was firm on Victor’s arms.

“Holdin’??” Victor spat.

“What??” Randall’s sprint slowed as he reached them. “You’re not serious!”

“Oh my gosh,” Hudson hissed under his breath. With his hand on her thigh, he could feel the torn skin through her ripped jeans and the warmth of her blood still seeping from it. He tried desperately to keep pressure on the wound as he cradled her into his arms to lift her up, but he knew she was losing more blood than he could hold. “Help!” He shouted over his shoulder, unsure of what else to do.

Stephanie was the first to heed the call as she stepped out into the field. She gasped when she saw Gemini had been injured. “Hudson–what happened?” She raced toward him.

“She’s losing–she’s–I need something to blot ‘er–” He stammered through his words as panic stopped them in his throat.

“I’ve got it,” she was back across the street a moment later.

Gemini winced from the pain as she weakly shifted in his grasp. "I should’ve stayed in bed," she attempted to smile.

"Hang in there," Hudson was still shaking with fear as he held her paling cheek within his other hand. "Well get you fixed up.”

“Hudson–get ‘er to the hospital!” Thomas called from the field.

“Get who–what’s goin’ on?” It was Timothy’s turn to come round the corner of the shop, though he quickly came to a halt when he found his son cradling his daughter-in-law–and the blood soaking through her jeans.

Stephanie reappeared with a wad of bandages, rushing past Timothy to kneel beside Hudson. She had to coax away his hand to administer them, and she winced when she saw the jagged tear that streaked across Gemini’s leg. “Hudson, this doesn’t look like a beast wound,” she eyed him. 

He shook his head, unable to speak. He had witnessed Gemini wounded and unconscious before; but this time, seeing his wife’s fading gaze and the blood left behind on his hand left him paralyzed.

“Randy,” she eyed him as he trudged toward them. “What happened?”

“Victor was–was shootin’ a beast, an’...”

“She was shot?” Stephanie nearly dropped the bandage she was wrapping around Gemini’s leg.

Randall jumped as Thomas pushed past him and began to shoo Hudson from the ground.

“Go on–get ‘er to the hospital!” Thomas practically pulled Hudson to his feet. “Steph–go with him!”

The woman did not hesitate. She remained glued to Hudson’s side as he finally got Gemini up into his arms. The two rushed away with Gemini in tow, leaving Timothy, Thomas, and Randall to turn as Adrien tugged a very reluctant Victor toward them.

“This is outrageous!” Victor drug his feet through the grass as the sheriff attempted to push him through. “No one’s been put in that jail for decades!“ 

“No one’s been shot in decades,” Adrien grumbled, fighting against the fidgeting man.

“You shot her?? Timothy barked, pointing his cane at Victor.

“I didn’t mean to!!“ Victor rebutted.

“Yeh know not to cross fire and yeh still did!” Thomas shouted back.

“I was just–protecting–agh!” He growled and pulled hard in Adrien’s grasp, leaning toward Randall as they passed him. “You see what’s happened??” He spouted at the sheriff’s twin. “The mayor picks your brother and that alien as his posse, an’ look where I am! Gettin’ locked up for helpin’ you do her job that she wouldn’t do!”

“Shut up, Victor,” Adrien shot coolly.

“You’d’ve never let this happen!!“ He continued to shout.

“Shut up, Victor!” Thomas spat.

Victor’s blue eyes narrowed, locking onto Randall’s before he was pulled out of sight. 

Thomas gave Randall a glance of his own before redirecting his attention to Timothy. “Come on, Mr. Rowlett,” his moustache tugging down with his frown, “let’s go check on Gemini.”

--

When Timothy and Thomas arrived at the hospital, the former walked through Stephanie and Emily’s conversation and stepped straight into the medical ward. He narrowly missed running into Lillith when he found Gemini lying on a bed with Hudson standing beside her.

Gemini’s eyes were closed and her expression was bent in a pained grimace. Hudson delicately touched her face, trying to keep his trembling hand steady.

The doctor moved him out of the way moments later, pushing him toward the back wall, so she could begin cleaning the wound. With a pair of scissors, she slit open Gemini’s bloodied jeans and cut off most of the leg. With a clean rag, she wiped away the smeared blood to get a better look at the wound.

The sight of her torn skin sent a pang of fear through Hudson’s body. He was gripped so tightly with the terror of losing her, he could barely comprehend what was being said around him.

“It looks like it just barely grazed her,” Lillith spoke to her with a hint of relief in her voice. “It tore up the skin pretty bad, but the bullet passed on through. It looks shallow.” She pressed the cloth back against the wound. “Emily,“ she glanced into the office, “can you get a blood bag out of the cooler? I’ve got the types written there on the inside.“

“Yes, ma’am.” The young woman parted from her sister and did as she was told.

“Hudson, could you…” Lillith turned to look at her just as he slumped against the wall. “Hudson!”

Thomas darted into action and caught him before he could slide all the way to the floor. “Hey, snap out of it!”

“Sit him on the bed,“ Lillith gestured to the bed at their backs.

“Hudson?” Gemini's focus was still weak.

“He’s all right,” Lillith reassured her. 

Timothy joined Thomas as he set Hudson down on the bed. “What’s up with you?” He patted his son’s cheek.

“I’m sorry, I just…” he hissed into his hands, heavily slumping over his knees.

“Stephanie?” Lillith called.

“She’s left,” Emily peeked out from the storage room.

“Thomas, can you hold this for a moment?”

His eyes shot to Lillith. “Me?”

“Is your name Thomas?” The woman’s patience was short.

The man accepted the doctor’s order without another word and warily stepped up to her, allowing her to firmly relocate his hand against the rag at Gemini’s thigh. He watched her get up and hurry into the office to rummage through the cabinet of supplies. He remained in place as Emily set up an IV pole beside him and brought out a clean needle. Even he felt faint when the nurse inserted it into the vein of Gemini’s arm, and he was forced to look away before he ended up on a bed like Hudson.

“Thank you, sir,” Lillith scooted back into place a moment later, relieving the uncomfortable man from his brief duty. “Emily, can you get a wet rag for Hudson’s forehead?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the blond woman again slipped past the mayor and went to the sink.

Thomas remained between the two beds while Lillith worked to stitch Gemini’s wound closed. When, at last, he looked down at his hand, he noticed it was smeared with his friend’s blood. He scowled and balled up his fingers.

“This shouldn’t’ve happened.”

Timothy turned his head to find Thomas’ blue eyes narrowed to slits and a frown so deep, not even his moustache could hide it. Even Hudson had lifted his head, though his scowl was much weaker.

“There,” Lillith sat back, setting down the needle and suture thread.

The men’s attention was pulled back to the moment, and they watched the doctor gently place a bandage over the neatly stitched skin. She then got up and took the blanket from the bed beside Hudson and spread it over Gemini’s legs.

“She's gonna be all right,” Lillith reassured the small group beside her once her work was done. “The wound is stitched shut, and we're replenishing the lost blood now. She’s gonna be plenty sore, but she heals faster than we do; she’ll be back on her feet in no time.”

As if on cue, Gemini’s eyes cracked open. “Hudson?”

He was up on his feet a moment later, taking her hand as he scooted against her bedside.

Her lips tugged weakly. “Hey,” she spoke breathily.

“Hey,” he squeezed her hand. “How're you feelin’?”

“Okay, I guess,” her eyes refocused. “Are you okay?”

“I am now,” he admitted. “Just… don’t like seein’ you hurt anymore. I don’t wanna lose you.”

Her eyes fell shut. “You’re not gonna lose me.”

Lillith turned to Timothy. “What happened to her? How did she get shot?”

Timothy leaned heavily on his cane. “They were warding off some beasts; Victor hit’er by accident.”

“It wa’n’t an accident.”

The small group turned to look at Hudson.

His face bore an almost eerily solemn expression. “I saw Victor aim at her.”

Lillith's brows furrowed. “What?” She instinctively turned to Thomas, but the mayor had lowered his gaze. “Don't tell me that's true.”

“Victor was crossin’ fire; that much is true,” the blond-haired man spoke softly. “Whether or not he was aiming at the beast or at Gemini... I’m not sure.”

“I saw him,” Hudson urged before turning to Gemini. “I know you saw it too.”

"I saw him across from me, and the beast was between us,” his wife’s voice was soft. “I don’t know how we would know where he was aiming.”

“What did you see?” Timothy inched closer to Thomas, his prickled brows furrowed.

“I was too busy lookin’ for a clean shot. Adrien called it, and that’s when I heard him shoot,” he admitted, glancing down at his boots. “Victor’s in holdin’ until we can discuss what happened.”

“He's in jail?” Lillith was unable to hold back her shock.

“Nobody’s been in jail for years,” Emily had donned a look of surprise as she peeked into the room.

“The sheriff and I are taking this as seriously as we need to,” the mayor pointed out. And wit that said, “I should go check on ‘em. Everybody's all right here?”

Timothy's brows were knitted as he looked to the ground. Emily had returned to the front desk. Hudson refused to look away from his wife, and Gemini's eyes had fallen closed. Only Lillith nodded quietly, and with that, Thomas Hiller left the room.

--

Hudson and Thomas both reached the hospital at the same time early the next morning. Hudson had been tied to Gemini’s side until he was finally convinced into going home to rest long after dark. Thomas had gone from the jail to bearing the news of Victor’s holding to his wife and the rest of the town. Drained from the entire ordeal, both had their exhaustion to thank for any rest they received.

The two sleepily acknowledged each other with a simple nod before Thomas gestured to Hudson to enter first.

Emily waved at them as they walked inside, gesturing for them to enter the medical ward. To Hudson’s surprise, he found Gemini sitting up against a mound of pillows.

A wide grin immediately spread across his face. “Hey, love!” He greeted her happily.

Her smile broke almost as wide as his. “Hey,” she opened her arms as he rushed to her side and delicately wrapped his arms around her.

“Oh, Gem,” he buried his face into her hair. “I’m so glad to see you,” he leaned back enough to find her smile. "You seem like you're doing better.”

“Much better,” she nodded, laying a hand on her leg. Her jeans had been replaced with soft pajama pants with one leg rolled up to display a lump of skin and stitches. “I’m still really sore, but I’ll make it. Lillith wants me to stay another day to rest and make sure I don’t get an infection.”

“And not pull out her stitches,” Lillith added as she stepped out of the supply room. “If I let her go, I’m going to have a much harder time keeping her from doing all the things she thinks she can do.”

Gemini rolled her eyes, and Hudson chuckled under his breath. 

The doctor sauntered up to the other side of the bed, glancing at Thomas in the doorway before leaning her hip against the mattress and setting down an oddly-shaped medical device. “Now, since everyone’s here,” she clasped her hands together, “while we were sitting together this morning, Ms. Gemini and I were talking about some changes she’s been feeling lately.”

“Oh, yeah,” Hudson glanced at Gemini before turning back to Lillith. “I’ve been kinda worried, to be honest. Yesterday–before she got hurt–she wa’n’t feeling too good.”

“She nearly collapsed using her fire,” Thomas inserted himself into the conversation.

“Mm-hm,” Lillith nodded, a peculiar smile tugging her lips. “I have my hypothesis,” she picked up a small wand, stretching the cord that attached it to the larger monitor, “if you don’t mind if I test it out.”

Gemini’s face flushed as her heart began to race. She chewed on her bottom lip and nodded.

Lillith gently pulled her waistband lower. 

She held her breath as the wand was placed below her abdomen.

At first, a hiss of static emanated from the machine. But as Lillith slowly passed the wand lower, a new sound took its place: a steady, yet fast, thumping sound.

Gemini released her breath and shut her eyes.

Hudson, on the other hand, seemed confused. “What… is that like… a lil’ heartbeat? But, why is it…”

Thomas chewed on a grin when Hudson suddenly bolted upright. 

His eyes bulged. “OH!”

“Yes,” Lillith’s toothy grin beamed, “Gemini is–”

“Oh my gosh!!” Hudson exclaimed, clapping his hands against his mouth.

“...Expecting a baby,” she finished, shaking her head and laughing.

“Gemini–you–you're gonna–we're gonna–” He shouted a cry, half in shock and half in utter joy, and dove forward to grab her.

“Careful!” Gemini caught him in her arms, though she couldn’t help but break into her own laughter as he rocked her back and forth upon the bed. “Don’t pull out my stitches!”

“But–Gem–you’re pregnant!” He looked about ready to burst with excitement as his brows arched on his forehead and his wide smile bit his lower lip. “We're gonna be parents!”

She nodded as her expression bent to match his. “You’re gonna be the best Papa ever,” she leaned forward to hold his head in her hands as his dark eyes threatened to well with tears.

“Gol-ly,” Thomas stretched the word between shakes. “I sure wa’n’t expectin’ this!”

Lillith had retreated with the doppler when Hudson dove in, and she managed to slip back in with her arms around them both. “Congratulations, big brother; and you, too, sis."

The door opened in the office, and Lillith stepped away from the joyful scene to find Timothy standing next to Emily's desk. She waved him over, and he soon stepped into the room.

“Paw!” Hudson grunted as he pushed himself from the bed. “Paw, guess what!!”

Timothy looked at the two of them. “She’s pregnant.”

Hudson’s mouth opened and closed. “Well, how’d'you know that?” He spat, almost offended.

“Son, I’ve lived with a pregnant woman,” Timothy said succinctly. “I know how they act. They start motherin’ everything.”

Gemini wasn't sure whether to feel recognized or violated. “When was I doing that?”

“The last couple weeks, you've been takin’ care of everything–and everyone–at the house and the shop. I couldn’t take two steps without you offerin' to help or clean somethin’.” Timothy put his other hand on his hip as a smirk tugged his lips. “With as observant as Hudson is, I’d have thought for sure he’d have noticed the change.”

Hudson glanced at his wife sheepishly. “At least I knew somethin’ was off.”

Gemini only smiled and grabbed his hand.

“Well, nothing can get past you, can it,” Lillith laughed at Timothy.

“That's what happens when you get old.” He balked. He then shuffled over on his cane and stepped up to the side of the bed. “You're gettin' started a lot later than I expected,” he raised an eyebrow, only for his expression to soften, “but I'm real happy for you both.”

“Thanks, Paw,” his son smiled.

Gemini reached for Timothy and grasped him a hug.

“See what I mean?” He spoke from behind her shoulder.

“What–I can't even hug you without being ‘mothering?’” Gemini released him and crossed her arms.

Timothy broke into a short laugh, but he paused when his daughter-in-law laid a hand on his shoulder.

“I'm definitely going to need some help from Grand-Paw,” she offered kindly.

Timothy’s expression cracked somewhat. He finally nodded, a grateful smile warming his face. “I can't wait,” his voice squeaked past the lump in his throat.

As Timothy stepped back and accepted congratulations from Lillith, Gemini puffed out a breath and gently flopped back onto her pillows. Her eyes wandered as much as her mind, attempting to process the news. She and Hudson had understood the town's low birth rate would most likely affect them, and it was possible Gemini's Aravasti genetics would throw further infertility into the mix. Two years into their marriage, there had been nothing to indicate otherwise.

But that morning, when Lillith mentioned she had noticed certain changes in Gemini’s physical appearance and quizzed her on certain tell-tale signs, she realized just how little she had been paying attention to her own body–as if she had forgotten that such a thing could be possible.

Now, as her husband sat back on Lillith’s rolling chair and laid his head on her shoulder, she shut her eyes and breathed in his love. She knew better than to think of something as impossible. Even the Bible spoke of nothing being impossible with God–and being able to hear their unborn baby’s heartbeat was proof of that.

“Is it normal to be more excited than anything,” Hudson said after the lull had grown long, “but also be completely terrified at the same time?”

“Yep.” Timothy said simply.

“I still haven't gotten past the shock,” Gemini admitted, biting her own smile.

Lillith chuckled as she crossed her arms. “I can tell you from every other expectant couple that those feelings are completely normal.”

“Okay, good,” Hudson shut his eyes and puffed a breath through his lips. “Gosh, this has been quite the day and a half.”

“You're telling me,” his wife replied, combing her fingers through his hair. “But there's still no one else in the universe I would want to go through it with.”

His smile beamed brighter than the sunlight glimmering from the window across the room. “Absolutely.”

“So,” Thomas regained their attention with a sly look in his eyes, “the big question: do you want me to tell Carla?”

Gemini grinned. “I dunno, Hudson; are we ready for the rest of town to know?"

Thomas laughed. “That’s why I asked.”

“Go ahead,” Hudson grinned. 

“Now, they do say good things come in three’s,” Lillith added with a hand on Thomas’ shoulder. “We’ve got Stephanie and Gemini, so maybe next is–”

“Yeah, let's not get too ahead of ourselves,” the mayor interrupted, pinching the corner of his moustache as eyed the window curtain. “I’m glad Gemini is okay, but her fallin’ pregnant makes this situation with Victor even more irritatin’.”

“How so?” Hudson asked, recognizing his shifting of the topic.

The mayor's face dulled. “If Gemini had been shot up worse… it wouldn’t’ve just been her.”

The father-to-be frowned and looked away.

“Is he still in jail?” Lillith asked.

Thomas nodded. “Adrien wants to talk to everyone on the scene a bit more in depth–once you're up to it, anyway,” he eyed Gemini. “Vic's already in the wrong for not followin’ shootin’ etiquette, but with the circumstances, Victor’s past grievances, and Hudson’s fears, Adrien’s concerned it may be more than that.”

Gemini sighed and shook her head. “I don’t want to have to fight that battle.”

Hudson glanced up. “But, Gem, if he was aimin’ for you–”

“How would we prove that?” She frowned. 

“We’d have to bring it trial–”

“Trial,” Lillith repeated, her eyes locking onto Thomas.

“We've got a woman–an expectant woman–down for something that could have been avoided.” He answered sharply.

“I don't want this to go to trial.” Gemini urged.

The mayor turned back to her. “Gemini, you've been shot.”

“Because the beast was between us,” she stressed. “Victor doesn’t come face to face with beasts very often, and when one of them is looking you in the face, it’s really easy to jump straight into survival mode. He had a double barrel shotgun, and one of the two bullets hit the beast. The second one slipped past it and hit my leg. That could absolutely be a panic-induced accident.”

“But a hunter not rememberin’ not to shoot when someone is behind yer target–and we know he’s a mite vocal about how he thinks I favor you.”

“I can’t see him consciously aiming at her because of that!!” Lillith was almost disgusted.

“What has he said?” Timothy turned toward Thomas.

“He denies doin’ it on purpose, o’ course,” he shrugged somewhat.

“Of course,” Hudson repeated with a hint of sarcasm.

“Hudson,” Lillith half scolded.

“I don’t mind talking to Adrien,” Gemini remained firm, “but it’s not worth further tearing our relationships apart trying to fight this. I am more than willing to give Victor the benefit of the doubt and call it an accident.” She frowned and eyed her stomach. “Things are already going to change enough as it is…”

Thomas scanned the room, from Lillith, to Timothy, to Hudson, and, finally, Gemini. He then gave a curt nod. “I’ll let ‘im know.”

The mayor had scarcely turned and entered the hospital’s office when the door swung open, startling him and Emily at the front desk.

“Thomas!” Carla blinked as she closed the door behind her. “How’s Gemini?”

“She’s all right,” he grinned and pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “But you should go ask about her news.”

“News?” She repeated, puzzlement on her face as she slipped closer to him.

Though his moustache hid most of his grin, his eyes gave it away. “News.”

At once, Carla gasped and nearly knocked her husband over to burst into the hospital ward. 

“Oh my gosh–Gemini!!”

--

So I had started writing this a year or so ago; fitting I'm now posting it after discussing whether or not Gemini and Hudson would end up having a kid :D Maybe not in the Star Trek universe, but looks like that's the case for Westfall!

I have the whole story written up to a point, then I just have these little snippets of ideas or conversations that eventually will be pieced together (or moved, or rewritten by the time I string them all together). So some of this may change by final... Also I probably need to check which month it is/how cold it should probably be since the baby is born in the summer, and Gem's already at 4ish months here. Westfall doesn't have a whole lot of technology left, so the doppler was the best thing I could think of to confirm, and you have to be kinda far along for a heartbeat.

But to catch up: the longer Gemini is part of Westfall, the more most of the town gets comfortable around her, Thomas gets to be really close friends, Hudson finally asks her to marry him, and a couple of the ladies actually start getting pregnant (Randy and Rachel have a boy around 2-3 years old at this point, and Stephanie and Adrien find out they're expecting not long before this).

But then there's Victor. He's always been wary of Gemini, and that only magnifies into more disdain when Thomas starts to choose her over the others for certain roles in town. He thinks she's able to get away with anything she wants because she's the "mayor's pet", and he definitely knows how to push the right buttons to make her flare up--then, of course, play the victim. He's BFFs with Randy, too, and that kinda gets Randy on the "wrong side" every so often; and truth be told, Victor is one of a handful of those who don't quite trust Gemini--he's just the loudest.

And I guess I can admit this is not the last time something really big is going to happen between him and Gem... maybe that'll be another snippet i can share eventually :D I may start posting a few more here and there (since, like Ace, who knows how long all this will take to get done lol)

Nellie started to settle into a routine where the only abnormality was her dog poofing into smoke during their nightly walks. She avoided asking Ira about the claim that her mother was a dragon; he did not mention it whatsoever in the sparse messages he sent, and she was no longer confident she heard him correctly. She drummed up the courage and curiosity to comb through every word of Rhys’s letters to Nathalie, reading one or two every night before bed.

There was still an unaddressed tension between she and Nathalie. Nellie had sat with the knowledge of her true connection to Nathalie long enough to not be angry over the long, long deception, and Nathalie for her part would tell her at random that she was open to speak more, but Nellie had not taken her up on that. There was something to be said, but what it was she could not grasp.

The lunchroom was extra noisy. She sat happily among Ava and the others as she had been doing since returning to school regularly at the end of January. She raised her eyes at the prompting hisses from Olivia and Sophia, tracking a sandy-haired boy as he passed their table without a look.

“OMG,” Emma cried, burying her face in her hands. “Mason hates me!”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Nellie said on autopilot, echoing the sentiments of the other girls.

“I should’ve just given him the same generic, cheap Valentine like everyone else,” Emma lamented. “Why’d I have to give him a real card!”

“Uh, because you like him,” Sophia said, rolling her eyes. “Like, how else was he supposed to know? You won’t just tell him.”

Nellie was confident there was no need for Emma to say anything. Even she had picked up on Emma’s crush after a complete week of school. She pulled back from the coddling to choke down the rest of her food, stealing looks at her phone to check the time and see if anyone tried messaging her.

“Just let him think about it all weekend. I’m sure he’ll say something to you Monday,” Ava said. “So, Perenelle, any plans this weekend?”

“Not really,” Nellie said, shrugging. “Webb’s February break is starting, so I’m supposed to go for a tour. Maybe an interview.” She slid her tray away. “I won’t be able to do my shadow day until December.”

“Looks like you’re stuck here longer than you expected,” Olivia said with the slightest hint of meanness.

Nellie forced a smile.

She skated through the rest of the day in her usual bored daze. She doddled a crude white screamer in art class as Ava attempted the lesson of shading the dodgeball set on a stool under a bright light. She turned her triangles into houses in geometry while Sophia kept pace with the lesson–half unfinished when the bell rung.

She took her time packing up her backpack and walking out to the car rider awning. She headed towards Olivia and Emma, but was blindsided by somebody and found herself on her butt.

“Sorry!” Mason grabbed her arm and yanked her up. “There you go. Hey, Will, I still got your gum!”

Mason waved a pack of gum and raced off among the crowd.

Nellie rubbed her backside and hobbled towards Emma and Olivia, slowing her pace further at the wounded expression on Emma’s face and the daggers Olivia shot her. Her stomach sunk. She took a quick step over, needing to explain herself, but was stopped by the monitor calling her name to inform her that the Crown Victoria had arrived.

“How was school today,” Nathalie asked as they left the grounds.

“If I do get into Webb, should I just start for highschool,” Nellie asked. “At the rate this is taking, I might get in for half of eighth grade, and I don’t know how worth it that’ll be.”

Nathalie pursed her lips, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. “Is this your way of saying school was not as terrible,” she asked.

“It’s always terrible,” Nellie said heatedly.

They fell into silence and soon were rolling down the long, paved driveway. The front yard right up to the front steps was also covered in black asphalt. A pick-up truck and a utility van were parked in this space, the truck being a roofer and the utility van being an electrician. The roofer–a rail thin man that was younger than he looked with a cigarette in his mouth–stood near his truck with a clipboard, tapping his foot impatiently.

“See to that animal, please,” Nathalie said. “He’s locked in your room with a package of jerky that I'm sure won’t keep him quiet much longer.”

Ash was still gnawing the last piece of jerky when she entered her room. Her bed was ripped apart with the comforter and pillows shredded.

“Ash,” Nellie cried, frustration welling up until tears poured from her eyes. She took deep breathes, not stopping the tears but stopping the want to scream. “It-it’s not your fault. You’re a wild boy.” She wiped her eyes, still not stopping the tears.

She half-crawled beneath her bed to retrieve her father’s letters. She rifled through them, not looking for any specific one. She paused as she found her list of cryptids from the diner. She extracted it, smirking and re-drying her eyes as they fell on ‘smoke wolf’ written in the middle.

“You’re very real,” Nellie said to Ash. She ran her finger across ‘griffin/gryphon’ at the bottom. “Cecily is very real. So was the white screamer.” She patted the space next to her to encourage Ash to lay near her instead of at the door, resting her arm across him as he complied. “I saw a wampus cat in Florida, so I’m better that’s real here too.” Her eyes lingered on the first creature on her list: Cumberland dragon.

Tennessee having a dragon story was likely the reason Ira was wandering about in the more rural parts of the state. She opened her phone to Ira’s messages, frowning as her last one–asking him to explain what he meant about her mother being a dragon–was still unread. She typed: Did you find anything on the Cumberland dragon? She stared at the messages for several minutes, both staying unread, and put her phone away with a deep sigh.

---

The weather warmed as February neared the end. It was still too cold for Nellie’s subtropic sensibilities, but she was able to ditch her thick, parka for a fleece-lined zip-up. The heathered gray with stitched flowers did not go with her Christmas dress whatsoever, but it was less bulky to place on her lap as she sat in the small, bright office with Nathalie, smiling with practice at the Enrollment Counselor.

Nathalie wore lipstick for the occasion. She kept subtly licking her teeth to be sure no smears of red were on her teeth before she spoke to the middle-aged woman on the other side of the desk. “Enrollment is a touch different from my time,” Nathalie said. She smiled without showing teeth. “Of course, I expect it to be different being over three decades later and not an international applicant.”

“I have pulled up your records, Ms. Herle,” the counselor said, scanning a paper before her. “You show great aptitude for economics and sociology, and seemed to enjoy meeting all the other international applicants.” She gave a friendly smile. “How did the internship at the Miami Consulate go? Did it lead to a wonderful job opportunity like you hoped?”

“For a time… but I discovered the fun world of metal art,” Nathalie said. “But I hope my good marks in economics and sociology will help highlight what an asset Perenelle will be. And, of course, any help with her enrollment is greatly appreciated. As stated, the process is a little more involved than when I completed it.”

Nellie drifted in and out of the boring, academic talk. She slumped in her chair, straightening as Nathalie tapped her leg with her foot. She glanced around to keep herself occupied, spying photos of outdoor trips with students, horse competitions, and some type of party. She leaned forward, narrowing her eyes at one of the hiking trips.

“Is that a bigfoot,” Nellie asked.

Nathalie’s already fair complexion paled, this being lost on the counselor who had turned to see what Nallie was looking at with amused confusion.

“A bigfoot,” she asked. “Where? Which one?”

“Perenelle,” Nathalie whispered sternly.

Nellie leapt up. She half skipped around the desk, a relieved and cheerful smile now replacing her practiced interview one. She had not been met with a dismissal or a jeer. She pointed to a hairy leg in the far background of the photograph, jutting out from behind a large tree.

“It looks almost like a stump, or part of this tree, but the marks don’t match up,” Nellie said. “The bark ends here,” she touched the picture, “and this is fur. It looks like a weird pattern; like it would look like bark if the bigfoot was very, very still.” Her heart pitterpattered. “Where is this? Is it on campus? I’ve never seen a bigfoot. I did smell a skunk bear… once.”

The office was still. Nellie stiffened, slowly turning to see the counselor’s polite amusement had given way to mild disturbance. Nathalie had her face in her hands, shaking her head.

Nellie laughed nervously. “Kidding! Obviously, I’m kidding,” she said. “I’m… embracing the local lore.”

“She has a proclivity towards fairy stories and how they shaped narratives of a place,” Nathalie jumped in. Then added, “A rather important part of the history of a place and its people are the stories they tell each other, do you not agree?”

The counselor reluctantly agreed but was still eyeing Nellie warily. She finished laying out what steps they would need to take without any further delay via smalltalk and friendliness. They quietly left, walking briskly off the campus and towards the tiny main street of Bell Buckle.

Bell Buckle was old. It felt old. It looked old, with the building being semi-old west designed and brick. Those roaming in and out of the storefronts were also old, moving slowly over the wide sidewalk.

“Sorry,” Nellie murmured.

“Are you,” Nathalie responded coolly.

“I thought she was interested,” Nellie said. “I thought maybe she….”

“She what? Believes,” Nathalie asked. She sighed in exasperation. “Of course she doesn’t. Why would she?”

“Why wouldn’t she,” Nellie retorted. “She had a picture–.”

“Perenelle, enough!” Nathalie pinched at her eyes. “Perhaps we salvaged the situation, but now we’ll always wonder should you not be accepted.”

Nellie stopped in the middle of the sidewalk as Nathalie moved to open the door for the combination bakery/antique store. A lump was forming in her throat as her eyes prickled. She flinched when Nathalie turned to her, her tears finally cutting down her cheeks at the aggravated look in Nathalie’s eyes. She sputtered–unable to grasp Nathalie’s expression shifting to concern–and raced to the car.

The ride back was uncomfortable with the silence weighing them both down. Nellie kept her face to the window, wiping her quiet tears. She bolted before the car was shifted to park, and shuttered herself in her room.

Nathalie did not and could not understand her. She did not have that weirdness, that sensitivity that Nellie did. She did not have her life uprooted and relocated in the middle of a school year. She did not have doubts about her family, and a lack of relationship with that family. And, all of that could go right back to her oddity.

Nellie pulled the album from under her bed and flipped to the image of Rhys at his graduation. Her lip shook.

“It’s your fault,” Nellie said quietly. She sucked in a sob. “Wh-why’d you have to make me weird?”

She slowly went backwards through the album, watching Rhys’s sullen expression in most of the photos. He stood in contrast to the happier expressions worn by his siblings. He was an outsider in his own family too. Nathalie had said he was driven by his oddness to excel, and used that to hightail it from his loving family.

The first letter Rhys wrote to Nathalie read:

Dear Nat,

I understand my departure was brisk, but I had an opportunity that I couldn’t allow to slip by. I’ve been recruited into the Order of Ferblanc; it’s ancient and real and full of strange guys like myself. My fellow recruits are earnest and steadfast, and I look forward to writing you next with our shenanigans.

Send my love to Mum, Dad, and even Winny. Oh, and of course Margaret. I only met her briefly, but she seems good for our dear brother. I hope to be allowed a visit at Christmas, but I’m still unsure of operations.

Fondly your brother,

Rhys

“Nerd,” Nellie muttered, snorting a giggle.

The next few letters did indeed talk about what Rhys and the other new recruits got up to. They toured Rome–seemingy the headquarters of the Order–daily, partaking in the ancient ruins and the modern nightlife, Rhys clearly making the distinction that the parties were tame compared to some they moseyed into. He wrote of prudence, virtue, and how their vows were akin to monks.

She searched the battered shoebox for Rhys’s last letter as a member of the Order of Ferblanc:

Nathalie,

I’ve resigned. I’m certain you find this to be no shock considering how frequently I write.

Nellie tilted her head, confused. She scanned through the previous letters full of global wandering and fondness for the Order and life in Rome. She returned to the letter:

Perhaps this is just what running the course is like. I do know my conscience won’t allow me to remain. I admit, I am at a loss for what to do next. A visit home could be just the thing. I’ll write you of my travel plans.

Rhys

She wondered how at a loss Nathalie was reading this for the first time, cracking a smile. Rhys was of few words, and seemed reliant on his bond with his sister to do most of the heavy lifting. Nellie had inherited his oddness–sensitivity–but she was glad to possess more warmth.

She hastily covered the letter with both hands as her door opened. Only Nathalie’s arm was visible, she not poking her head in to see what Nellie was up to. Ash bolted in, cozying up to Nellie.

Nellie draped her arm over Ash’s thick, dark fur, swallowing the emotion in her throat. She returned to the photo album, to Rhys’s graduation picture, to that small smile he wore. It went beyond pride in completing school; he was leaving everything he ever knew behind in the search, the hope, of finding understanding and use.

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

The most popular boy names in TN in 2012 were Mason and William (Liam). They'll probably never show up again, lol. I think I messed up dates. This might be closer to March for the amount of time I want to have passed, but I based when Nellie started school off when school returned from Christmas break up north on the 1990s/2000s, and it's so much sooner than here in TN. But, either way, it's after Valentine's day. I did look up how to apply to Webb, which I should've done first chapter, because the timeline is all weird now. If I put this through a rewrite at some point, I'll use the application timeline to raise the stakes and stuff.