After Finale, Turnabout, after Finale.

Luke had been through battles. He had held his own entrails inside his body while waiting for a healer to get to him. He had sat waiting, the endless breath-holding, to hear if his nation was at war.

All of that was a heartbeat, a moment, a breath compared to waiting for Myst to answer. In his head, Mike taunted him. Keaira taunted him. Wil didn’t taunt – she never did – but she shook her head slowly, amused.

When I said ‘don’t be an idiot,’ Bird-brain, this wasn’t what I had in mind.

“Of course I will, Luca you idiot. Returned gods, I love you.”

Myst’s voice chases away all the others. She was hugging him, sobbing into his shoulder, so, slowly, sluggishly, he held her against him, patting her back. That was a yes. She’d taken the ring. She’d said Of course. He kissed the top of her head and tried for words.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He laughed, more than a little embarrassed. No need to tell her that he’d thought he’d been asking, building the house. Not right now, at least. “It was time.” he took the ring out of her hand and, as carefully as if he was defusing a bomb, slipped it on her finger. His wings were flared wide, and his heart was perfectly at peace.

Nearly perfectly. He reached out an arm to the children. “Icarus. Chavva. This is about you, too.” It would always be, forever and ever, about family.

Family. He pressed Myst close to him. It was a nice word to be thinking of again. It was a nice thing to be being, again.

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After Matters, after Mutts

The blood splattered, and the woman fell.

Luke pulled the sword out of his chest with both hands. “Idu… Kwxe.” shit. The bitch had really gotten him. But he could still feel for heat signatures. A child could have done that.

Child. The children were right there, holding their knives. Good kids.

“We’re clear. Nobody else within a mile.” He coughed, and spat out a Jasfe Tlacatl. There. His guts were back inside of him. “Myst…” he closed his mouth. “Mystral, sa’Oncoming Storm.” He dropped to one knee in the bloody grass. “I did not come home tonight to fight …ninjas.”

Don’t be a moron, Luke

Trying. The blood loss and the twitchy feeling of post-combat were not helping the situation.

“But we fight together. Like we move together.” The children were listening. He should be careful what he said. “We’re a team, Mystral. We should always be a team.” The ring was still there, in his pocket. Sapphire and diamond. He pulled it out, and offered it, in the palm of his hand. “Mystral, would you do me the immense honor of being my wife?”

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After Check, after Fire

::Luca. I’m on the ground. The slave-trader bastard that had me is dead. Tell me where you want me, and what you want me to do.::

For the briefest moment, Luke was confused, as Mike’s voice was replaced by Mystral’s. Then he smiled, a fierce snarl of an expression.

“My kids aren’t mutt’s.” He stared at a direction that was close to where the woman actually was. She was either getting careless with her voice-throwing or taunting him. “Damn you, my children are not mutts.”

“Must be hard for you.” While she gloated, Luke send Myst a mental map. ::Come in this way. Watch out for traps.:: “Your blood looks pure, with those wings. But the mutt blood shows in the children. Don’t worry.” Her voice changed position, and the tone changed to something conciliatory. “They’ll know what they are well enough when they serve us. They’ll always know. Won’t you, children?”

“Stay away from my kids!” ::Now:: He made a lot of flapping, useless rage-noises, that put him “accidentally” between the bitch and the children. It also drew her attention to him, so that Myst could make a move.

Once in a while – once in a very long while – Luke enjoyed playing stupid.

He knew when Myst was in position. He thought he would always know. “Fuck your slaving asses.” He snarled it, and stepped forward into the woman’s reach.

She had a sword. It was steel, at least. His was, too. He hoped he’d gotten in the better shot.

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After Strong Relationships, after Bloodless.

The …ninja… writhed in Mystral’s grip, mentally and physically. He fought her, struggling against the invasive Working with everything he had. Zen.

Zen. A place of quiet. A place of water.

The storm rushed through, ripping the water out of the pond, revealing his thoughts below. The camp. The quiet trade in those who would grow up to be such very good slaves. The wooden chains.

Calm. The ninja breathed. He could not kill himself, as he should, as he had been ordered to. But he could dream of the fire. Fire. Fire, and the way it touched the sky. The way his home had burned. The way the bridges behind him had burned.

The storm rushed in and blew out the fire, showing the camp, again, the fortress with its little cabins, so tidy, all in a row, with its silence. With the silence of death, although many people lived.

Fire.

Snow, and the way the children sometimes did die, in the winter, hauling wood, doing chores.

Fire!

The coffles being led to sale across the continent.

Fire? The ninja was running out of energy. He felt as if his mind might burn out.

And that would be okay. He would never survive the failure of this mission, anyway.

Fire. He remembered the fire.

~

Luke knew he was out of control, or, at the least, balancing on a knife-edge of control and rage.

Bring it on he’d shouted at the wind, and then, angrier, “Come to me, or, goddamnit, I will find you.”

No-one came. He couldn’t actually leave. He wouldn’t leave the children. But he needed to hurt someone. He needed to hear them break beneath his hands.

He muttered Working after Working, searching the surrounding area. There, there, there. There. The dead ones, the incapacitated ones. They were all as he had left them. There. And there, one, walking towards him, trying to sneak up on him.

“You will die,” he informed the air, intentionally mis-aiming his call. “For invading my home and attacking my family. You will die.”

“But you will die, too.” The voice was female, level, cool, and evil. Luke spun as if surprised to look the direction the voice came from – not where the woman was coming from. He readied his attack. Let her think him blustering and foolish. “And your children will go to the Unit. No matter what you do, foolish man.”

“What Unit?” He strode forward, just a step. Not far enough to leave the children un-protected, but far enough to make it look that way.

“My Unit.” She really thought he was a moron. “The Unit.” Now her voice was coming from yet another direction, and she was sneaking up on the kids. Luke did not smile, but inside, the fighting glee rose in him. “Your kids will do well. Then again, mutt children always do.”

Mutt. For a moment, he saw red. Control it, old son, control it… The voice inside his head was Mike’s. He’d worry about that another time. Right now, he had a bitch to capture.

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