Ink and Flowers - 17. 17: Finley

The joy of seeing Emmett again bubbled up inside me, rising as smoke from my mouth and nose. I wanted to touch him, hold him, read his feelings directly from his skin. Admittedly, this was the dragon talking loudly, but on the other hand, Emmett looked like he could do with a hug.

When Emmett and Ben finally joined us, he actually looked a little better. There was a hint of annoyance on him, as well as a bit of hysteria clinging to Ben.

I smiled at both of them and restrained myself from pulling back the chair next to me in a conspicuously inviting manner.

Emmett plopped down on it anyway. “Nice to be back.” The warmth in his voice, his gaze as he looked at Mike and Jake, emphasized the sincerity of his words.

“Nice to have you back,” Jake returned with a smile.

I wanted to say something too, but my brief hesitation in finding words was long enough for Susy, our regular waitress, to approach the table.

“The usual?” she asked cheerfully and Mike gave her a thumbs-up. “All right.”

We talked about this and that, about the approaching Thanksgiving- which neither I nor Emmett were very interested in-, plans for Christmas- again, little interest on my or Emmett's part- and New Year's... but the mood was not good. Probably that's why Mike and Ben started downing cocktails at a rate I found somehow alarming. Jake, who kept scowling at his phone and looking down at his glass of Coke in frustration, finally sighed into their tipsy giggles.

“I would like to have your energy.”

“Mike doesn't have that much of it,” Emmett returned with a grin before Mike or Ben could say anything.

Questioningly, I raised a brow and sipped a far too sour non-alcoholic cocktail while the first pangs of jealousy awoke in me.

“You know?” Mike stuck his tongue out at him.

Emmett returned the gesture and raised his glass in salute. “Baby, you puked on my feet when we met.”

“Ew,” I said unintentionally. But as there had obviously been nothing between the two of them, the jealousy calmed down.

“Ew.” It came from Ben too.

Mike made a half-guilty, half-helpless gesture and Jake sighed again.

“You know, Fin, that night was really weird. It was like one of those murder stories where you hear what happened from someone and you think you know everything. And then someone else comes along, tells their version, and suddenly nothing fits at all.”

“Yeah, Jake, where were you anyway?” Mike wanted to know, while Ben and Emmett laughed and I snorted in amusement, then he pointed accusingly at Ben. “We were there because of you, but where were you?”

“In the bathroom with Mo.” Ben giggled, his glass clacking against his teeth because he couldn't keep it still from giggling so much. He should definitely stop drinking. Or switch to water.

“What?” the others asked, confused.

“Could I have a little more context?” I asked.

“Gay club.” Emmett said with raised brows and looked askance at Ben.

“What?” I was puzzled now, too. Then I looked at Jake in hope for an answer.

Sighing, Jake shrugged. “Ben's girlfriend had just broken up with him on his birthday and to cheer him up, we all decided to take him to the Naked Facts.”

“Who came up with the idea anyway?” Mike wanted to know.

“I thought it was you...” Jake looked at him in surprise, but Mike shook his head.

“I just agreed to it.”

“You mean all of you? Mo and Dom too?” I asked cautiously, getting nods from three sides.

“Anyway...” Jake then continued, ”My part of the story is this. Mike had suddenly disappeared, Mo went to look for him and disappeared too. Ben was on the dance floor and then Dom got into a fight with another shapeshifter. My attempt to mediate ended with us all being thrown out.” He wrinkled his nose a little ashamedly. “Just for the sake of completeness, I'll mention that the police picked us up.”

We laughed, but didn't comment.

“I didn't suddenly disappear at all,” Mike took the floor and pointed at Jake. “You and Dom were gone. And Mo wanted to get Ben off the dance floor for whatever reason. And then I had a drink with a nice guy, I mean, why say no when you can get a free drink? And then I felt like shit.”

“After one drink?” Ben asked skeptically.

Mike shrugged. “I wasn't feeling great before, but I didn't want to cancel on you. Anyway, then someone chats me up from the side” - he pointed at Emmett - ”and after that, apart from a cab ride and throwing up, it's all pretty much a blur.”

Emmett snorted. “I really liked those shoes.”

I patted his shoulder comfortingly- that small insignificant touch alone felt good, but wasn't nearly enough and only fueled the hungry longing for my hoard.

“Yeah, I chatted Mike up,” Emmett then said, making a dismissive gesture. “But we haven't exchanged more than a few words when he suddenly pukes on my feet and starts crying.”

“Not true.” Mike mumbled.

“Very true.” Jake mumbled back. “You always cry when you puke.”

I had to chuckle involuntarily when I saw Mike's mortally offended expression.

“So I dragged him out of the club and he's crying he wants to go home, so I take him to the cabs,” Emmett continued in a mock annoyed tone. “But the only cab driver refused to take a puke-covered guy anywhere unaccompanied, so I got in.”

“Brave.” Ben commented half into his glass, only to realize that it was empty except for ice cubes.

“And then we're there and this deep black couple opens the door and this toothpaste boy here is crying mom and falling around the woman's neck.” Emmett shook his head.

I chuckled again when this time Jake sent a stern, slightly offended look at Mike. Apparently he didn't know this part yet.

“I mean, Jake's mom is adorable, but at that moment I was a little overwhelmed. She just dragged me in and then a little while later I was just sitting on the couch in a bathrobe while she tried to clean Mike and then my clothes from his puke,” Emmett finished his story and Mike shrugged.

“My mom got you-” Jake was at a loss for words, Mike shrugged again.

“I don't remember, man. I woke up on the couch and threw up some more.”

“And what was going on with you?” I then asked, turning to Ben as the two of them communicated wordlessly.

“I didn't have the evening I wanted, but hey, it was still unforgettable.” Grinning broadly, he tried to drink from his empty glass again; scowling, he put it down. “Well, I noticed that Dom got into a fight with the guy. I was standing at the bar with Mo and a glass came flying - it shattered right next to us and Mo got a few splinters. One of the bartenders saw it and shouted to us that there was a first aid box next to the toilets, so we went there because Mo was bleeding.”

“Shit, I didn't realize that,” Jake remarked thoughtfully. “Flying glasses, that is.”

Ben shrugged. “Well, it was pitch black in the hallway where the box was hanging, so we went into the bathroom, at least there was any light at all. Luckily it wasn't too bad, just a few scratches from the splinters, but the one on the cheek bled a lot at first.”

Blood is a pretty effective warning signal, but on the other hand Mo had probably been lucky if he had already been hit in the face. Shards of glass in the eye - anyone could do without them.

“But it didn't really matter, I suppose,” Ben continued, now grinning broadly again, ”because a couple suddenly came in. They banged each other into the door and so we were trapped. But hey, that was fucking hot, I tell you.” He fanned himself with his hand. “It traumatized Mo a bit, though, I guess.” He chuckled. “And we swore we wouldn't tell anyone. But...” With a sniffle, all his good humor fell away. “But that's not important now...”

While the others had just laughed, they now fell silent.

The pain flitting across Ben's face burned on my tongue, combined with his underlying sadness and a touch of despair making an unpleasant mix. I tried to wash it all down with my drink, but its sour taste only made it worse and I grimaced.

The feelings of the others, especially Emmett's compassion, got muddled in. I really wanted to get up, get some fresh air, have a smoke, but when I looked up, I met Mike's gaze.

“What about you, Fin? Any embarrassingly funny stories to share?”

“Uh...” I said, caught off guard. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Emmett looking expectantly at me with a fake smile. “Uh, I guess most of it would be pretty unfunny for human civilians. And not declassified.”

“Most of it...” Ben echoed pointedly, and I tried not to grimace too noticeably. The way the others were grinning, I probably wasn't succeeding very well.

“Come on.” Emmett poked me in the arm. “Jump over your shadow.”

“It's pretty big...”

“Fin-ley! Fin-ley! Fin-ley!” Mike started chanting and Jake rolled his eyes while Emmett and Ben laughed.

My grimace remained, but underneath it was a warm feeling of friendship and belonging. There was no sensationalism, just curiosity and perhaps comradely mockery.

“And he takes a running start... and he jumps! He jumps! He sails through the air! Do you see that, ladies and gentlemen? Can you see - he lands! He has landed! Praise be to the MORRTIMERS, this is a new world record!” Mike's imitation of a sports commentator was impressive. In theory at least, as it was referring to me, my enthusiasm was limited.

“Your silliness is setting a new world record here,” Jake sighed, but a smile played around the corners of his mouth.

“Who gives templates like that...” Emmett winked at me and I sighed as well.

Since I obviously had no other choice, I poked around in the dusty box of academy memories and found what I was looking for faster than I would have liked. I sighed again.

“How bad is it?” Jake asked sympathetically and I gave him a raised brow.

“An 8 on the embarrassment scale? My personal one, at least.”

Ominous murmurs followed and I felt my face heat up.

Then I cleared my throat and, because the expectant looks were uncomfortable, I held on to my glass. “We were all going through puberty, weren't we, and-”

Grinning, Ben made a jerk-off gesture.

I nodded. “Uh... well, at the academy, we often went to the Rockies. Training under special conditions. I was 17, I think, it was winter, we had a shitty day and, uh...”

Everyone nodded in understanding.

If possible, my face got even warmer. Why was it so hard for me to talk about it? To put appropriate words in my mouth? Because Emmett was sitting next to me? “Yeah so I was busy, it was late and suddenly there's roll call.”

All four of them made a sympathetic sound.

“Let me guess, the elastic band on the pants didn't hold?” asked Mike, amused.

“It did.” I had to clear my throat again. “When there's an unexpected roll call, you don't have time to get dressed. So I had no shoes on and was standing barefoot in the snow.”

“Ugh.” It came from Ben, Jake also shook himself.

“And- I mean, my body temperature is higher than that of humans, already in my normal state, but the snow around me was melting merrily.”

Mike and Ben giggled.

“One of the instructors saw that and said" - the words had gotten burned into my brain, as embarrassing moments tend to do, but I paused to consciously replace my call sign with my name- "'Finley, we know you're hot, but this is unusual even for you. What's wrong?'”

To my surprise, Emmett reached out and put the flat of his hand against my forehead. “Sorry, Sarge, the man's got a fever. Immediately back to bed with him.”

Puzzled, I looked at him while the other three laughed.

“Sorry.” Emmett grinned.

I blinked and then nodded more to myself. “So... yeah. Well. Before I could say anything, one of my roommates spoke up. 'Sir, Finley was polishing his rifle.' And the instructor asks, 'Did you finish?'"

“Sweet Jesus...” Jake muttered, half amused, half horrified.

“I mean” - in keeping with the story, my whole body was now uncomfortably hot - "what am I supposed to say other than ’no, sir'?”

“No,” Mike said with a chuckle, ”the military wouldn't be for me. As one of your comrades, I'd probably die laughing.”

“Thank you,” I replied dryly.

“We were all teenagers once,” Jake said with a sympathetic smile and Emmett chuckled:

“There's guided meditation for the teenagers in the coven. How many times do you think I've pitched a tent there? Gods, the guide's voice was sooooo sexy...”

Somehow that was actually comforting.

After that, the mood was much better, but around eleven, Jake basically broke up the group by saying goodbye. An unplanned emergency shift at work beckoned in the early morning. Jake, Mike and Ben then disappeared into a shared cab and Emmett gave them a slightly exaggerated wave.

“Hey,” he then turned to me, and taking a drag on my cigarette, I raised a brow questioningly, ”would you-”

“Sure.”

“You don't even know what I was going to say.” He grinned cheekily at me.

“Ask me to take you home?” I said cautiously.

“What if I wanted to ask you to come with me to the Naked Facts? Dance the night away a bit more...” He wiggled his butt suggestively and I looked at him in astonishment.

I'd never been to a club before and the question kind of threw me for a loop.

It probably showed, because Emmett laughed and gave me a nudge with his shoulder. “I was joking. I really want to go home.”

Strangely relieved, I nodded.

In the car we were silent at first, but it was a good silence in my opinion. Part of me was taking in every little change in his scent, analyzing it as he went about his thoughts, another part of me was wondering quite suddenly what it looked like when my mouth seemed to be working all the time. Did I perhaps come across as a psychopath who was already chewing on his victim just thinking about it?

I think this kind of thought occurred to me for the first time at that moment and, unsettled, I closed my mouth, pressed my lips together and breathed through my nose. It felt incredibly wrong. As if I had been robbed of a sense. My tongue pressed against the roof of my mouth and my whole jaw cramped up.

“Was it very awkward without me?” Emmett asked so suddenly that I actually flinched. “I mean, since I'm the reason you're hanging out with the slobs...” He sounded strangely meek, almost guilty, and I shook my head.

“Maybe a little at first,” I replied slowly. “But I like the guys. Don't ask me why, but Mike obviously sees me as his new best buddy and Jake... Jake's solid. He's good to talk to.”

Relief and something comforting rolled warmly over my tongue as Emmett relaxed. “That's probably true.” He nodded thoughtfully.

“Don't worry,” I said before the pause in conversation could drift into an awkward silence this time. “I know what it's like when you need time to yourself. To sort yourself and your thoughts out.”

“But dead people are hard to sort out.”

“That's probably true,” I repeated his words quietly.

Grief now hung in the car, wafting around for a moment like stray wisps of mist.

“If you hadn't discussed with Bomb back then, if you had followed your comrades... would it have changed anything?” he asked hesitantly.

“No.” I didn't even make a face at the question. I had gone over the subject so many times with so many officials, with Bomb and therapists and experts... Dragons may be resistant to magic to a certain degree, but there in the cave, black magic had been emitted with the intention to kill. I wouldn't have survived that even in dragon form and with extra reinforced shields.

Emmett seemed to wait for me to elaborate on the answer, but then gave a thoughtful hum. “I wish I could take some of your pain off you,” he whispered. His level of empathy had to be incredibly distressing for himself.

“Emmett, grief is not an ulcer that needs to be cut away.” I hoped I didn't sound too harsh. “It's a process.”

Aside from a suppressed sniffle, he made no reply and I swallowed a sigh. Avoiding your own grief and turning to others wasn't healthy either, nor were my attempts to run away from my feelings and find a grief-free paradise.

“How are you sleeping now?” he wanted to know after a pause.

“Better.” But because I wanted to be honest about it, I admitted: “But the nightmares are still there. Not every night. Not as intense as before. I still dream, though.”

“Hmm.” Thoughtful, almost sullen. “Wait another two or three weeks, then have Tony look at the tattoo, maybe he'll have to touch it up. And maybe... There are still some free feathers in the dreamcatcher, aren't there?”

I nodded.

“You might get another anti-dream formula. I'll read up on it.”

I nodded again. “Sounds good.” Maybe he wasn't a Fairy mix, but a Pixie mix. After all, they were said to be the inventors and tinkerers of the fae. But those were details.

And then he surprised me by asking if I'd met Dom by now.

“Yes,” I replied, puzzled, and growled under my breath as a street-cleaning vehicle pulled up directly in front of us and crawled forward at a snail's pace, spraying water and dirt all over us. “One night we had pizza at Jake's and he was there.”

In fact, Emmett seemed surprised by that too. “Can I have your honest opinion of him?”

I didn't have to think twice about that. “Arrogant heartless bastard. Reminds me of the lion shifters I know. Only without the subliminal hunter-shifter aggression. Sorry.”

“No, no, don't worry...” He laughed humorlessly. His negative feelings were sticking unpleasantly on my tongue and I desperately wanted to give him a hug. “He came to see me.”

A surprised sound escaped me.

“Yeah, I wasn't expecting that either.” He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed deeply. “He showed me his true character, and it's pretty ugly.”

Although Emmett continued to talk about Dom, I only listened with half an ear. Not because I wasn't interested, but because I was a little distracted. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a shimmer and glitter on him.

The shimmer was the typical, almost oily appearance of poorly adjusted or hastily raised shields. Were his agitated emotions causing him to lose control of his shields? That could explain the glitter I thought I saw in his hair and on his cheeks. Were his shields wavering, perhaps his human mask too? What was hiding underneath? Was he Fairy or Pixie enough to have wings? That would be incredible.

His depressed, kind of frustrated flow of words came to a halt when we reached his home, and after a rather hurried goodbye, he hopped out of the car and greeted Judy Miller, who was also being dropped off.

I waited until the two of them had disappeared into the house talking and laughing, then turned the car.

Wings. What were the odds that a half-breed had wings, and working ones at that?

~

With Monday came black clouds, an unpleasantly strong wind swept through the streets. A subtle longing to fly up there through the storm and play with the gusts tugged at me, but I stayed on the ground. Red-gold dragons of my size are just too conspicuous.

I had just changed one of those tiny LEDs in the overhead light and climbed off the ladder when I spotted Ben. He was bracing himself against the wind and literally stumbled against the door of the tattoo parlor. Since he didn't just show up here, and certainly not in the middle of the day, I turned to Patricia, who was doing Thanksgiving decorations.

“Can I go over for a minute?”

“Sure.” She nodded and then gestured to a box with her chin.

Obediently, I took it and entered the studio at the same moment Tony came out of the back room. Ben was standing in the middle of the room, looking somewhat indecisive, and Emmett behind the counter didn't look very happy either.

But somehow no one seemed to take any real notice of me and Emmett only gave me a tiny sideways glance when I put the box down on the counter. That's why I swallowed a half-finished greeting.

“Hi Ben.” Tony nodded at him. “Did you do the cleansing ritual? And the test for magic residue afterwards?”

Ben nodded, his fingers twitching in a helpless gesture. “The test was negative. I wanted to let you know, but that's when it happened again.”

Having only guessed what it was about, I leaned against the counter and listened.

“Hmm.” Tony said critically. “Where were the magic residues?”

Ben pointed to his left shoulder and then took off his thick jacket after a wordless request.

With slightly narrowed eyes, Tony looked at him, scrutinizing him from different angles.

“I don't know much about this sort of thing,” Emmett whispered, ”but I checked on Saturday. Ben was afraid there was a curse or something on him.”

I nodded silently; so my guess had been right.

“Emmett, how big was the stain?” Tony then wanted to know and Emmett formed a not quite closed circle with his thumb and forefinger.

“Like a smudge.”

But Tony shook his head, his fingers roaming over Ben's shoulder at some distance.

“It's gotten worse, hasn't it?” Ben whispered, his nervousness flaring up.

“Bigger, yes. Worse?” Tony shrugged. “I'd have to know what I'm looking at for that.”

“Fin.” The syllable shot out of Ben like a bullet. “Fin, can't you look?” Something flickered in his gaze as his dark eyes looked at me.

“Sorry, I don't have any active magic.” Apologetically, I raised my hands.

Then I caught Tony's gaze, but it was decidedly thoughtful. Again, he squinted a little and the salty taste of his magic wafted through the air. “Hmm.” he repeated several times.

Ben shivered faintly, fear rising from him.

“Please forgive me for asking so directly, Ben, but are you human?”

Completely caught off guard, Ben blinked at Tony. “Yeah, sure. Well, I mean, my grandpa likes to tell stories we have leprechaun blood, but I think it's just that: a story.”

Tony nodded, eyeing Ben's shoulder, looking to me. “Finley, can I take a closer look at your shields? And yours, Emmett, for comparison?”

“Sure.” I nodded in confirmation and then flinched as the magic scratched my shields. It was a careful touch, but unpleasant nonetheless, and the strong salty taste in my mouth was accompanied by something earthy.

“You're starting to make me nervous too,” Emmett remarked critically after Tony had made several more 'hmm' murmurs. As if it had been a signal, Ben shuddered violently.

And Tony sighed. “It's definitely not a residue, not just something smeared on there. Look at it, Emmett, but look at it like it's a wound.”

That made me frown and Ben's eyes go wide, but Emmett went around the counter and stepped up to Ben, holding out a hand and tilting his head slightly.

At the same moment that Ben threw himself forward with a cry of pain, away from Emmett's touch, I thought I saw a glint and sparkle in Emmett's hair again.

“Are you okay?” asked Tony, catching Ben.

“Yes.” whispered Ben, more startled than actually in pain; his pain I would've tasted.

“Oh gods I'm so sorry!” Emmett exclaimed, clearly shocked, and slapped his hands over his mouth. “I didn't mean to-”

For a moment, the scene seemed to freeze and I realized that Emmett must have healing abilities. An empath and a healer, what a cruel mix for the person in question.

Everything in me was screaming to comfort him, because even though his posture showed only the beginnings of it, I could feel in overly sharp clarity how distressed he was that he had inadvertently caused his friend pain.

“Ben, I'm afraid we can't help you,” Tony then said softly and gently. “It looks like a crack in a shield, but since you're human... My guess is that it's a crack in your very Self.”

“... what?” Ben asked uncomprehendingly.

“You need a mind healer.” Emmett said cautiously.

“Mo.” I said, and all three of them looked at me as if they had forgotten I was there. “What Mo said, that he just disappeared like that... that literally cut into your soul,” I explained. “You've been best friends since childhood, or not?”

Ben nodded and burst into tears.

Immediately, Emmett rushed the few steps to him and took him in his arms; with a half-sob, Ben returned the hug and buried his face in his shoulder.

I could actually see Emmett's flaring aura - shades of green, pale blue and soft lilac purple - and wondered if it was generally visible or if it was my hoarding instinct towards him. “You don't necessarily need a mind healer for something like that, unless the wound gets excessively big,” I said, realizing myself that it didn't sound very comforting.

“He has a personality disorder because of it,” Emmett replied in a tone that almost sounded like a scolding.

Tony also gave me a skeptical look. “Come on,” he said, turning to Ben and patting his shoulder, ”let's check the computer.”

Good luck, I thought, but didn't say it.

“Why so negative?” Emmett gave me a half-questioning, half-critical glance after Tony and Ben had disappeared into the back room.

Weakly, I shook my head. “Just realistic.” And because Emmett's gaze became even more critical, I added an implied shrug. “You know, mind healers are under state control, just like necromancers. Here in North Carolina, there isn't even one. And getting a human civilian without any government entanglements an appointment...? Forget it.”

Bitterness rolled in a harsh wave off Emmett and over me. “That's not fair.”

Again, I shrugged weakly. “There just aren't enough mind healers. After my unit died, I was entitled to three mind healing sessions. I got one.”

Emmett's bitterness was joined by an incredible sadness and with stiff steps he went back behind the counter. This time I was pretty sure I wasn't imagining the silver glitter in his hair.

We remained silent.

He took the box I had brought, took a look inside and nodded curtly.

Tony's voice came over quietly and a yapping dog walked past outside.

Emmett's depressed expression tugged at me uncomfortably, but I couldn't react the way I wanted to. I had no idea what to do now, but I had to do something. “Have you ever been to the tropical garden at St Beatrice?”

Surprised, he looked at me, one hand paused in mid-motion. “No.” Almost hesitantly, he finished the gesture and ran his hand through his hair. “I always wanted to, but not alone.”

“Then come with me.” I smiled - or at least tried to. “Patricia said some rare flowers are blooming now and I need to see something other than the same old grind. I'm not used to this much stability.” Hopefully the joke at my expense helped Emmett not take the invitation the wrong way. This wasn't meant to be a date. Although I wouldn't have minded if it really was. But he needed to give me a sign first, that he would be okay to even be asked.

His amused smile made him look like the ever-cheerful Emmett I'd known him to be. He thought for a moment, his head slightly tilted, and just as I was expecting a rejection, he twitched his eyebrows. “You're right, the same old grind is exhausting in its own way. And I don't just like eating flowers, I also like looking at them.”

Date or no date, everything about me was happy at the prospect of spending time with Emmett.