She opens the door behind her and walk him back inside with her, still kissing him.

She is kissing him.

Just one kiss and he promised her that he would be happy. And now they are raining down on him like the sweetest dew and she is moving back toward the couch (kicking off her slippers on the way) and his hand is touching the soft fabric of her dress and - yes. Yes he is happy.

They settle on the couch and he touches her, almost hesitantly.
Sookie is far more resolute, as she grabs hold of the hem of his top and pulls it off him, grinning a little.

It's the sweetest thing he has ever seen.

Her dress goes too and she lies there in her underwear, all beautiful and radiant and warm and alive.

He leans down and kisses her rib cage.
Then her belly.

Sookie lets her head fall back and moans -

Pam wasn't sure how much longer her face -- and her entire body, really -- could hold up under the witch's curse. But when she got a call from Bill Compton, saying that he'd captured Marnie, and was holding her in a jail cell in the lower level of his mansion, Pam shot over to Bon Temps as fast as she could. Naturally, Pam thought they could get some fucking answers out of her, but as she watched on the monitor as Bill interrogated her, it was obvious that any progress was not going to happen.

"Recently, a vampire associate of mine entered the MoonGoddess Emporium and has not been seen since," Bill said into a microphone that broadcasted his voice into the witch's cell. "Do you know what happened to him?"

Of course, Pam kept silent. For all she knew, Eric was still hiding at Sookie's. Hopefully.

"He attacked us," said Marnie into the camera, looking like a frightened deer. "We started chanting, and-- he left. I have no idea where he went."

"What were you chanting?" Bill asked.

"It was a-- a non-specific protection incantation. I barely remember what I said because your 'associate' took a chunk out of my neck."

Bill glanced up at Pam, an eyebrow slightly raised. "Yes, he does that," he said dryly.

But Pam was getting more impatient with every word that wasn't to her liking. "Please tell her to reverse this goddamn spell," she hissed at him.

So Bill continued. "You have placed a spell on another associate of mine. A rotting spell of some kind, and I'd like you to reverse it."

"I don't know how," Marnie practically squeaked.

"Bullshit," Pam snarled. This had to be an act.

"You're certain?" Bill went on.

"Yes," Marnie insisted, sounding on the verge of tears. "I-- I have no idea how I cast it or how to reverse it. I'm sorry."

It was then that Bill decided to meet Marnie face to face and glamour her. Pam continued to watch on the monitor as he entered the cell. She had to admit, Bill had some balls to go in there, knowing what Marnie could do to vampires. But before Marnie could do anything out of fright, he held her in his thrall and pinned her to the wall.

"What are your intentions concerning witchcraft?" Bill demanded, looking her straight in the eyes.

In a trembling monotone, she murmured, "Only to assemble peacefully and practice our religion."

"What spell did you cast on Eric Northman at MoonGoddess Emporium?"

"I don't know. I was in a panic."

"How do we reverse the spell that you cast on my associate in the woods?"

"I don't know how."

Pam let out a noise of disgust and frustration.

Bill turned to look up at the camera. "You heard her," he said to Pam.

"Fuck."

Why wasn't this bitch giving up anything?

( Read more... )

[Dialogue taken from True Blood S4E5.]

It's stupid really.

Sookie's friend has come over and she is clearly upset about something. Emotionally wrung out.

And he should. Just have stayed away. Have hidden. Played along with Sookie's 'well, now is not the best time to have a sleep over'.

But he doesn't. And the friend, Tara, freaks, brandishing a poker at him, screaming at Sookie.
Because she betrayed her by letting Eric in. Eric who tortured Lafayette.

And he sees it, the dungeon, the one Pam showed him. Just as clear as if he was standing there.

Because he cannot deny it. He is that Eric too. Was that Eric.

Tara leaves and he asks Sookie, if he really did all of those horrible things Tara said he did. (To others. To Sookie). She confirms it. And then she tries telling him that there is good in him too. That she sees it. That she wouldn't have let him stay if that was not the case.

But he can't unhear the accusations. Unsee the dungeon with its chains.

So he tells her that he sees the beautiful light that shines within her and that he could not bear if he was the one to snuff it. And then he leaves, walking slowly into the darkness of the Louisiana night.

He hears the creak of her screendoor. The sound of a floorboard being stepped lightly on.

"Eric," she says, quietly.
You need not raise your voice when talking to a vampire.

"Don't go."

He turns and she is standing there in the porch lit by the warm light from her kitchen window and her inner glow.

She holds out her hands to him and he returns to her embrace.

To her kisses.

After Fry's little escapade onto the roof to escape the classroom noise, Mr Magnesium-Fitzgerald went first to grovel to the head, and then consulted Mr Irons for some more guidance.

"I understand what you're trying to do." Mr Irons said. "You want the kids to learn to make their own rules, so that they think and challenge why we do things a certain way. But you can't let them go all Lord of the Flies when you have special needs kids involved. Kids like Fry, and Bethany, they need rules and stability, and they need you to be the adult."

"Bethany's loving it." Mr Mags said.

"She might be loving it now, but if you don't keep her in line she'll struggle to adjust to Mrs Patel's class next year." Mr Irons said. "She might not have a formal diagnosis of ADHD but I can tell you, that little girl needs teaching correctly first time."

"I've got a plan." Mr Mags said. "I'll let you know if it doesn't work."

***

The next day he calls Fry into the classroom before the start of classes. Fry comes in, a little wary, wondering if he's going to get told off.

"Right." Mr Mags says. "Firstly. You don't go climbing any more ladders or buildings in this school, unless we tell you to, okay?"

Fry nods.

"Secondly, sit in your seat for a moment." Mr Mags says.

Fry sits in his seat. He's moved away so that he's out of reach of Ben, but he doesn't want to change tables, so Ben is still pretty close. To his surprise, Mr Mags measures a distance from him, gets out his phone and plays what seems to be some sort of background noise.

"Tell me when this gets too loud." he says, gradually turning it up.

"Now." Fry says.

Mr Mags walks around the other side of the table, measures again, and repeats it. Then he goes over to where Ben sits and repeats it again.

"What is that?" Fry asks, as Mr Mags goes over to the smart board. A collection of little speedometer-like things has appeared at the right hand side.

"Make a noise for me." Mr Mags says.

Fry hesitates, then starts singing a song they're doing in music. He notices the needles on the little dials go up.

"You know how we have attention points?" Mr Mags says. "Which I award to you lot for various things? Every table that keeps the dial under the red line for five minutes gets a point."

Attention points are a bit like credits. Fry doesn't like them as much, because the rules for getting them seem to be more random. But you do get prizes, like sparkly pencils, and this could certainly be useful to him. And he likes the way that your points flash up next to your mini-me on the class screen.

"How does it know which table is making the noise?" he asks.

"Because the detectors are on the ceiling, the same distance from the centre of each table." Mr Mags says. "It doesn't record what you're saying, just the volume. In fact, the software can even tell if the noise is coming from a different table, so you won't lose your points if the next table made the noise over the line."

"That's clever." Fry says.

"Thanks." Mr Mags says. "Now, let's see how long it takes your classmates to figure out how it works."

"You're not going to tell them?" Fry asks.

"Nah. Be patient. By the end of the morning, they'll be quiet as mice." Mr Mags says. "Including Ben."

Fry is doubtful about this. But to his surprise, his classmates spot the dials pretty quickly, and set about trying to work out what they are.

"Hey, table two just got attention points for not doing anything!"

"Our needle went over the line when you yelled that!"

"Say something again, see what happens..."

By the end of the morning, sure enough, everyone is being really quiet.

***

It doesn't last quite as Fry hoped. Within a couple of days, Ben quickly realises that if his table do go over the meter, that this is the perfect opportunity to make another loud noise, which he decides to do by dropping his desk lid with a BANG. After the third time he does this, seeing not just Fry jump but Joram also, Mr Mags intervenes.

"Whoever's doing that, knock it off."

"Sorry sir, my hand slipped." Ben says.

At the end of the class, Mr Mags calls Fry over again when the others go out for break.

"Mr Mags?" Fry asks, when the others have gone out. "Why do you pretend you keep forgetting everyone's name? I know you know who Ben is."

Mr Mags grins at him.

"You ever pick your nose when nobody is looking?"

Fry blinks. "Yes."

"People don't act the same when they think they're invisible. It shows you who they truly are." Mr Mags says. "Well, most people anyway, you're an exception."

He puts his feet on the table. Fry moves slightly away from them. He doesn't like Mr Mags' horrible hairy feet. Why can't the man wear shoes like everyone else?

"Fry, did Mr Irons ever tell you that whole 'Everyone has a story' thing?"

"Yes." Fry says.

"Want to know the next line?"

Fry nods.

"Everyone has a story." Mr Mags says. "But that doesn't give them the right to pick on you." He puts his feet down and leans forward. "Let me tell you something, Fry. In this world, some people are going to be mean to you. When you hit secondary school, you'll probably have a dozen Bens in your life. They will pick on you for being different. And that's NOT okay. And you are going to have to learn how to handle it."

Fry isn't sure what to say to that. Mr Mags continues.

"Some people have problems and act like jerks. Some people just are jerks. You need to learn how to handle either because Fry, in a few years time, you will not be able to run to a teacher without getting a rep as a tattle tale. Now that said, if you want an adult to step in here, now, you just say the word. You can come talk to me about anything. But I also want to arm you with skills to deal with things that are unreasonable and unexpected. Do you understand?"

Fry nods.

"So tell me." Mr Mags says. "Ben calls you a baby. What could you do?"

Fry considers this.

"I could ask him to stop."

"Good. What if that doesn't work?"

"I could ignore him." Fry says.

"Right. You could go off to find a friend."

"I could say something back."

"Yes. Though that might make things worse." Mr Mags says. "Because then it becomes an argument. So if you're going to do that, at least try and make it clever and amusing. And if anyone asks, you didn't get that advice from me. If you let Ben get under your skin, he'll see and keep doing it." He picks up his bag of marking. "I don't think Ben is going to do anything really foul to you, so why don't you have a go at fixing it yourself first, and then give me a shout if it doesn't work?"

Fry considers this advice over the course of the rest of the day. Ben lets his desk lid drop another couple of times. Hm. How does he reply to that? Asking him to stop and ignoring him hasn't worked, but what do you say back to that? It's not a word, it's just a noise.

Just at the end of school, as he's packing up his things to go, he suddenly gets an idea. He pretends to need the bathroom, and when he gets back to the classroom everyone else has gone. He goes to the craft drawer and pulls out a big tub of PVA glue, opens Ben's desk, and thoroughly coats the underside of the lid with the glue around where it sits on the bottom half of the desk. Then he carefully puts the lid down, making a rather satisfying 'squish' noise, grabs a paintbrush, and seals any gaps with glue.

He washes the brush, quickly replaces the glue, and runs out to the playground before anyone can catch him.

 Contact me, you know what to do.

Emcee has decided to take a little trip back to Jay's Berlin. Up in his room, he packs a small bag with essentials for a few days away. Clothes, toiletries, makeup kit. Just some things to make his home away from home start to actually feel like a home.

He lifts the lid to his drone-made music box, glittering silver and blue. Somewhere Over the Rainbow plays sweetly, and he listens for a moment before picking out the special key with the glass fob on a chain. He gathers it into the palm of his hand and tucks it into his trouser pocket. After the last note of the melody, he gently shuts the lid.

A new Berlin calls to him.

***

Emcee borrows a smartphone and charger from the Bar, and leaves a note for Jay. Emcee is fairly sure he won't be missed by anyone else, but just in case someone asks, Jay will know where he is.

He then pauses at the door just long enough to use the key for the first time, trusting it to lead to the penthouse, and not a hail of bullets.

He turns the knob. Opens the door.

...It works.

With a breath of relief, Emcee hangs the key around his neck and slips through, closing the door behind him.

***

It's early evening. The wide windows let in the dusky light as the city skyline begins to twinkle awake. The expansive room is quiet, empty, incredibly still.

Emcee still feels like a stranger in it. Perhaps turning on a lamp will help? He does so, and he drapes his leather coat (can't go anywhere without it) on the back of a chair, and sets his bag down on the floor.

Actually, no, he'll bring his bag to the master bedroom. And he'll unpack it. He'll take out his clothes and arrange them in the dresser and the closet, and he'll set out his makeup on the vanity table.

There.

Music! Music is definitely missing from this scenario, so Emcee heads back out into the living room to turn on the stereo. This is a state-of-the-art entertainment system, because Jay would have nothing less for Emcee. However, there are a lot of buttons. Emcee pushes many of them in growing dismay until he finds the radio, which immediately blares out a bright and dance-y pop song that he has never heard of, but he likes it!

There! Music!

Filling the very big and very empty room.

Emcee sighs.

(He is going to have to plan a party here, and fill the rooms with life.)

He rummages through some drawers in search of cigarettes. He finds a stash of several unopened Lucky Strikes, which makes him smile. At the wet bar (he has his own bar), he pours himself a gin on the rocks, and takes his glass and cigarette out onto the balcony. It's getting darker, and the weather is pleasantly cool, with a breeze that plays with Emcee's hair.

How much time has passed since he was last here? Are Alice and Jared still waiting for his return?

He stays out there for as long as it takes to finish his smoke and drink. He doesn't think too deeply on anything in particular. It would be too overwhelming.

Right about now, in a past existence, in a past Berlin, he would be showing up at the Kit Kat Klub for his opening number.

No, that's too deep. Emcee turns and goes back inside, as if wanting to leave his thoughts on the balcony. He needs a distraction. He'll go to Wonderland.

***

After a glorious shower in that glorious bathroom, he parades around naked through his rooms as he prepares for a night out, because he can.

Tonight he'll wear the tank top with the word Delicious splashed across the front in hot pink, and a pair of tight, black, cropped trousers. His trusty old boots will do for dancing (though sometimes he wonders if there would be any harm in buying a new pair, frugal as he is). His eyeshadow is lavender, his lipstick a deep purple.

Wallet with cash in one pocket (he'll leave the credit cards behind for safety), smartphone for selfies in the other, he pats the key hanging on its chain under his shirt to check that it's still on him.

Is he ready? Is he really doing this?

Yes.

He shrugs on his coat before turning off the radio and the lamp, bathing the entire room in darkness, except for the city lights glimmering through the windows. And then he heads out into the embrace of this beautiful city, hoping it will remember him.

***

Emcee takes some detours on the way to Wonderland, just to familiarize himself with the immediate neighborhood at night. The sound of German being spoken everywhere pulls him in every direction at once, and he loves it. There are a few bars, some shops that are closing up (a bookseller, a dress boutique, a housewares store, an art supplies shop, and the like), and some cafes that are still open. Emcee can't resist popping into a bakery to buy a square of Bienenstich cake. He hasn't had any sort of dinner yet, but he's never cared about the order of things.

With the taste of honey on his lips and tongue and fingers, he makes his way around back to the street where the penthouse is -- above Wonderland, its art deco signage glowing warmly in the dark.

Emcee's excitement and anticipation builds as he approaches the nondescript door to the club. Outside, there are some party people milling around, smoking, laughing into the night air. His people, basically, and he smiles to himself.

The smile widens as he sees the bouncer keeping watch at the door.

He lies in her bed, talking.

Crying.

Her face softens as she listens. As she comforts him.

Godric.
She knows the name too. The vampire.

He can't make it fit; what she says and what people told him in Milliways. Not with the horrid creature he dreamt about.

But he lies in Sookie's bed and when he turns on his side, his back to her, and reaches back, to pull her arm across his body - she holds him as he falls asleep.

She likes the old Eric too.
But maybe she likes this Eric too.

Sookie is sleeping. She is laying on the bed in a flimsy nightdress that somehow makes her seem more naked than her naked skin would have. Clinging to her thighs, her buttocks, her breasts, her hair fanned out on the pillow.

He watches her from the doorway. Half naked.
Entranced,

And then - there is a heavy hand on his shoulder. A cold, heavy hand.

He turns and looks down.

A vampire.

Short and pale with cropped hair and a dark, geometric band tattooed across his clavicle.

"Hello Eric," he says, reaching up to run a finger along Eric's jawline.

It's a gentle touch.
Confusing.
Caressing.
Paralyzing.

He steps past Eric and walks over to where Sookie lies sleeping. Running a hand up her leg. Leaning down to breathe her scent, face close to her neck.

And then Eric moves, the trance finally broken, rushing to the bedside, pushing the other vampire away.
"Don't touch her," he says, and his voice sounds strange to his own ears. Strained. Pained.

"She is beautiful," the other vampire murmurs and then he continues, in Swedish, "Drink with me. Let us drain her and walk in the sun together."

He is appalled and frightened but his 'no' sounds weak to his own ears.
Still, it enrages the other vampire, who is in front of him in a flash, his fingers closing around Eric's throat. Forcing him to his knees.

Snarling, "You are incapable of love," as if he can hear Eric's thoughts. "You are damned."
"She can redeem me," he whispers.
"You cannot be saved. You are a creature of death, and the living are good for only one thing. And it is not love."

And the vampire lets down his fangs and hisses and he is a frightsome and fearful sight, making Eric's insides go cold and heavy.

"Drink," he orders and Eric tries to tell him no, he really does, but the hand on his neck is so heavy and his fangs throb and it is just easier to go along with it, to let his fangs down, to let the hiss out -

He sits up with a start, alone on the cot.

He rises and walks up the stairs, through the dark house.

Sookie is in bed, obscured by her cozy flannel nightgown.
He stands in the darkness, staring down at her.

She opens her eyes, startled.
"Ah, Eric! What the hell?"

And he says, "I had a bad dream."

“I swear to every classification I know, it doesn’t make sense. You know how it is, another new form, but no easy way to enter it,” She sighed and took a long drink of the nice whiskey that Cassian had provided.

“I know, you’d think they’d want to make it easier for themselves. Have you heard that they’re going to reclassify the rations?” It was easy to sound skeptical, the organization in the Empire could work far too well in some ways but had holes. Tired bureaucrats especially archivists who wanted everything to be available knew all the openings and Beca was one of them. They had first met when he was traveling between jobs and ended up keeping in touch, much of her knowledge had led him to unexpected finds.

“That’s because of changing routes, I think. Everything has to be traced so if it’s lost then they know where to start looking. You fly those routes, I mean there are pirates and smugglers even others out there,” She tapped the table and he could almost see her entering forms and wondering.

“Yes, it seems like every time I fly somewhere, something changes,” An easy complaint and she knew him as a pilot only getting by.

“Promise me, Jeron, that you won’t only half do them, I can help if you need it. That data matters, that’s what makes the Empire run. Someday I’m going to be assigned to Coruscant or maybe..I can’t tell you about that one. Just a place where all the information really is and make it all make sense,” She was so passionate and he nodded earnestly for her.

“Of course not, I can’t risk anything happening. My ship’s all I have,” He sighed into his drink, he knew what to put into forms and glanced around. They hadn’t said anything too risky and this was a noisy cantina on a station, the meeting itself was only planned on his end. He’d noticed her name in travel records and this stopover led well to where he was headed next.

She nodded and sipped her drink after giving him a thoughtful look, he was glad she cared, though all she knew of him was a lie. Not all of it, there was some truth in it, but if she knew the truth of him, she wouldn't talk to him.

An announcement blared outside as a patrol stomped by, Beca checked her datapad, “I should be going. It’s always good to see you, Jeron. I hope you get some profitable. jobs.”

“And I hope the new changes help you out,” He stood up as she did with a smile.

“I’ll sort them out,” She patted his shoulder before turning to leave. Cassian finished his drink before getting up to go and find Kay.

The most important thing to do, when trapped on the roof of your school, is not to panic.

Fry digs into his inside pocket and consults his book of rules and guidelines, which do not cover this specific scenario. They suggest that in an emergency he calls Mum or Dad or 999. However, Fry at this moment in time would rather none of those people know that he's on the roof. It would be better to get off the roof.

He lies down flat and crawls over to the nearest edge. The school has a ground floor and a first floor, so it's too tall to just jump off, and he knows that. But maybe there's a fire escape or something. He looks around; but the fire escape is not something he can easily drop down onto either.

He gets out his phone. He wishes he'd actually asked some of his classmates for their number. They're all filing into the dining hall now for lunch break, and because he only left fifteen minutes before the end of the class, he suspects that people might assume he's gone straight to lunch.

And then he realises it's worse than that. Sometimes he takes his lunch and eats it in the kitchen on his own, because the dining hall is too noisy. So his friends might not notice he's gone right away.

Maybe he can climb back down the way he came up. He crawls back over to the miniature door he climbed out of, and tries the handle. But it doesn't turn. Hm. Maybe it's burglar-proof. Then he realises it's not a real door, so much as a vent, and you're probably not supposed to actually go through it.

He's starting to panic a little bit now. He wants his lunch, and it's colder up here than he expected.

***

It's not until the end of lunch break, when everyone returns to class, that Mr Magnesium-Fitzgerald notices that Fry is missing. He frowns slightly, then begins to make some enquiries.

"Anyone seen Fry?"

Noah puts his hand up. "Mr Mags, I last saw him when he went to calm down at the end of the last lesson."

"All right, and he goes to the fish tank?" Mr Mags asks.

"Usually." Teddy says. "Or he goes to the bathroom and watches the tap run."

Ben sniggers from the table behind. Teddy and Noah shoot him a glare.

"It's not normal for Fry not to come back at the start of the next class." Kasha says. "Fry follows timetables very strictly."

"He'll have gone somewhere quiet." Tommy says.

"I didn't see him at lunch."

"I don't remember seeing him in the playground."

Mr Mags tells them to get out their reading books and read, then goes across the corridor to Mr Irons' room.

Back in the classroom, there is a lot of noise. Ben, Jamal and Zack are making sarcastic remarks about Fry's absence. Suddenly, Teddy stands up.

"SHAME ON YOU!" he yells at Ben's table. Everyone goes quiet. Teddy glares at the whole class. "Shame on all of you! Fry has been in this class since he was four years old, he's one of us. You all knew you were being too noisy, you knew it was upsetting him, and you all carried on! Even the new kids knew, and if they didn't, we should have stopped them."

"It wasn't a rule." Ben says.

Teddy goes over to the rules board and writes 'Don't be noisy' on it.

"Now it is. And now we have to find Fry. So you lot start looking in cupboards, and me and Noah'll go down the corridor."

Teddy goes off down the corridor with Noah, looking in cupboards. Joram gets up and follows them.

"Watch." Joram says, after a minute.

"Watch what?" Noah asks.

Joram points to his wrist.

"Oh yes!" Teddy says. "Fry wears a watch with a tracker on it."

***

In the other corridor, Mr Irons and Mr Mags have come to the same conclusion. Since Mr Irons has been Fry's special education teacher for a few years, Mum and Dad have installed the app that tracks Fry on his phone, in case of emergencies.

"It appears he's still in the building." Mr Irons says. "Unless he's taken the watch off."

"How accurate is this?" Mr Mags asks.

"In good GPS conditions, it'll track him to the nearest metre."

"So he's right here. Or on the floor above." Mr Mags says.

They look in the cupboards, then go up to the first floor and look there. No sign of him.

"What's this thing here?" Mr Mags asks, knocking on part of the wall that sticks out towards them.

"Vent." Mr Irons says. "There's no opening on this floor."

"Mr Magnesium-Fitzgerald!" Teddy comes running up. "We've found Fry."

"Oh well done, where is he?" Mr Mags asks.

"On the roof." Noah says. "We looked for him behind the school and he peeped over and waved."

"Noah, please go and get the head." Mr Irons says, as he and Mr Mags rush out back and climb up the fire escape. "Fry, do not move, we're coming to get you."

Fry peeps over.

"I didn't mean to get up here." He says.

"Don't worry about that." Mr Mags says, taking his shoes off and shimmying up the drainpipe.

"Magnus, wait for the fire brigade!" Mr Irons hisses. Then, on second thoughts, tries to climb up after him.

"Whoops, careful." Mr Mags says, reaching down from the top of the roof to help Mr Irons get on. "Why are you coming up?"

"I was worried you might startle him." Mr Irons says. "Are you okay, Fry?"

"I'm in a lot of trouble, aren't I?" Fry says, shivering.

Mr Irons takes off his jacket and puts it round him.

"I think we'll decide if you're in trouble when we're all safely on the ground." he says.

"Fry, why did you take off?" Mr Mags asks.

"Because you said I could leave the class at any time if I needed a time out." Fry says. "And I couldn't go to the fish tank so I looked for a quiet place, and then I climbed the ladder into the vent and I got stuck."

"Did you know it was wrong to climb into vents?" Mr Irons asks.

"I never heard a rule about it." Fry says.

"Okay. You must not climb into vents." Mr Irons says.

Mr Mags stares at him. "Isn't that sort of obvious?"

"No, Magnus, it's not obvious to him." Mr Irons says. "I know you like the kids to make their own rules in your class, but Fry needs more structure than that. And if the whole class votes to be noisy, he can't just accept that, any more than if the whole class voted to eat peanuts but one person had an allergy."

Mr Mags nods.

"Hey, I'm sorry man." he says to Fry. "I'll give your classmates more help with the rule-making, okay?" He smiles slightly. "Well, assuming I'm not fired."

"You might get fired?" Fry asks, watching as the fire engine comes up the road towards the school.

"Maybe. Hopefully not." Mr Mags says. "There's so much I want to teach you guys. But don't worry, man, I'm a substitute teacher by trade, even if I do get fired I'll be okay."

Fry looks at Mr Irons as Mr Mags gets up to direct the crane.

"He won't really get fired will he?"

"I don't think so." Mr Irons reassures him. "But you gave us a scare, so please tell him where you're going next time."

It wasn't unusual for the students at the school, of which population Noriko was a member, to screw around between classes with their powers. After all, half the point of the school was to learn to use what they had, and with that came, naturally, experimentation. The problem came in when the aforementioned powers didn't...get along, as it were. Noriko had just been fooling around making Julian's hair stand on end, an act which made him pissy and amused her. And it would have stopped there had he not decided to contain her electricity in a small bubble around her, with the unexpected result that it kept building.

Nori had only ever not electrocuted something when she meant to once, and it had been just as unexpected then as it was now when she felt a jolt and stumbled on the carpet, catching herself on a display table before falling. She still had her bookbag slung over a shoulder, beacon-bright hair more or less covered by a slouchy cap against the early winter chill from New York. Her shirtsleeves were already pushed up, leaving her no trouble with the channeling of current.

Looking up the disappearance of her classmates got Noriko's attention pretty quickly, and though the hallways looked similar enough, there were notable differences: no students, no teachers, no...people, it seemed.

Which left her with the small problem of figuring out what happened. And where she was.

Life in Mr Mags' classroom isn't all bad. In the first few days, they do vote on some actual classroom rules, and they decide the timetable together. Of course, they have to do things like maths and English, but their new teacher also schedules in ten minutes of yoga first thing in the morning, and some wooly-sort of things like 'Question Box', where he answers questions that you put in the box.

A few times a week, they work on their pretend country, Fortland, which as far as Fry can work out covers bits of history, geography, maths, art and nature. Fortland is growing on Fry, though he wishes Mr Mags could just decide all the rules himself. It is quite interesting, though, hearing about all the weird places Mr Mags has been to and all the different ways a country can be. And sometimes Mr Mags asks them interesting questions to get them thinking.

"So, what national language or languages should Fortland have?" he asks, one day. And there is a bit of a stunned silence for a moment, before Tommy pipes up.

"Well, English of course."

"Why?" Mr Mags asks.

"Well, because most of us speak it." Tommy says.

"How do you know most of you don't speak another language too?" Mr Mags asks. "I mean, like, if it suddenly turned out that three quarters of you spoke something else, wouldn't it be a cool thing to learn, so you could have secret messages other countries couldn't understand? Who here knows another language?"

Fry puts his hand up for Punjabi. Joram speaks Arabic, Kasha speaks Polish, and by the time Mr Mags has gone around the class, they find a handful of other languages. Pixie speaks Welsh, but keeps her mouth shut because she's not used to all the new people yet.

"But English is the most common language in the world." JJ says. Despite being new, he's not shy of saying anything.

"It's not actually, there are more speakers of Mandarin Chinese." Mr Mags says.

They have a vote, and decide to make English the official language, but decide to make everyone who speaks a second language an 'Official Translator of Fortland'.

Mr Mags seems happy with his work too, having high praise for Fry's bean project (though he wasn't the winner, as Pixie beat him by three points). Unlike Miss Havisham, Mr Mags loves technology, and uses the smartboard and devices for almost everything. To the class's delight, the main screen of his smart board is a model of their classroom, with little cartoon figures of each of them. Clicking on your miniature figure will bring up your scores in his various games, such as the maths and spelling apps he writes himself.

Nobody had ever completed the maths game until Fry was let loose on it; he beat every level in fourteen minutes. The next day, Mr Mags had created another ten levels. Fry likes that.

There's really just one thing Fry can't stand in the classroom, and that's the noise.

One of the new kids, Ben, is particularly loud - and also after their fight on the first day particularly keen to wind Fry up. Mr Mags doesn't appear to immediately notice, but after a few days suggests that one of them might like to move. Fry isn't big on moving, so he swaps only with Noah in the next seat.

"Ignore him, he's being a git." Teddy urges Fry the next day from his other side. "He's just annoyed because he's jealous of JJ."

"Jealous?" Fry asks.

"Yeah. When Ben arrived at the start of the week, he was the centre of attention as the cool new kid for all of five minutes. Then a moment later, JJ turns up, people recognise his famous father the footballer, and Ben's moment of fame is over." Teddy says, in a hushed tone. "You can tell by the way he looks at JJ."

Fry glances over at JJ, who is surrounded by all the kids he would consider to be fairly popular, aside from Tommy, who is a lifelong Holby United fan and wouldn't go to a Holby City FC match if you paid him. Still, Fry is indifferent to JJ for now, whereas Ben is thoroughly irritating.

"What's that got to do with me?" he asks Teddy.

"He can't take it out on JJ, so he's taking it out on you." Teddy says.

"That's stupid." Fry says.

"Yes. Just ignore him." Teddy says.

Fry tries. But even when Ben is not being so noisy, he still finds ways to wind Fry up. His favourite one morning being to go 'Shh, don't disturb the baby', which is earning him some giggles on his table behind Fry's. Fry eventually gets fed up with this same joke after the fourth time, and fifteen minutes before the end of the class excuses himself to have a time out. Mr Mags lets him do that, as he needs.

But there's a group lesson going on in the resources room, where the fish tank is, so he can't stay in there. Instead, he wanders into the corridor, looking for somewhere to get away from the racket. And that's when he notices something unusual.

There's a stepladder, leading up to a hole in the ceiling. A trap door that Fry has never noticed before. At the end of the corridor, a handyman is just going into the toilet, and the ladder is therefore quite, quite unattended.

He steps forward, climbs up the ladder, and disappears into the hole. It's nice and quiet up there. He steps forward and goes further into the attic. It's not a very big space, and not quite as exciting as he anticipated, but there is a fan to look at, and he watches that spinning around for a bit until he feels better.

And then, suddenly, there is a bang, and a click, behind him, and it goes pitch black.

Uh oh.

He gets his phone out and uses it as a torch. Where was that trap door again?

He hears the bell go for break. He can't climb down the trap door now, even if he finds it. He'll be seen. He starts checking if there's any other way out, climbing through and around a few things and suddenly he finds a very little door in the wall. He tries the handle, and it opens to bright sunlight. He crawls through the hole and looks around.

It's the flat roof of the school.

Okay. No need to panic, all he needs to do is figure out a way to get down without being seen...

Sometimes, even after you're dead there's still work to be done. This is less of a problem for Force Users and even less of one for the Master of the Dead. Ibani simply made extensive preparations across the galaxy while she was alive and carried on as a Force Ghost when her body died, shaping history when she could.

This time, the Empire will not rise, the Jedi will not be slaughtered, and the Temple of the Kyber will remain standing. She will not permit anything less!

The Kyber crystals sing in the Force, as almost anyone knows. What fewer people know is that they sometimes react to Force Users by glowing, even if that Force User is a Force Ghost.

There is a silvery laugh in the Kyber caves as Ibani manifests, a blue glowing image of a middle aged woman, dark hair just beginning to gray in black robes. The Kyber crystals glow for her, as they always do when she visits. "I'm happy to see you too, but you're going to cause a tizzy upstairs saying hello so loudly, you know."

It’s late in the week, when Yamato’s grief has become more blunted, easier to ignore, that Koushiro shows up at his apartment.

Yamato silently lets him in, makes him a drink, and busies himself doing -- nothing, really. Pretending to clean an already clean work surface in the kitchen.

“I want to go back to the Digital World,” Koushiro says, eventually. “Our Digimon will have been reborn by now. We could go see them again.”

Yamato’s shoulders tense, and for a few seconds his grip tightens on the cloth he’s using to rub down the work surface.

“What’d Taichi say?”

Koushiro makes a soft noise. “He doesn’t want to go. Neither did Mimi, when I asked her. Neither did Takeru.”

“There’s your answer, then.”

“You’re not going to try to change their minds?”

“They won’t remember us,” he says, eventually. “We’d be strangers to them.”

Koushiro doesn’t look at him, but when he talks, his voice is perfectly even. “Is that really going to stop you?” He asks. “They were strangers to us once, too.”

“-- If we go and find them, they’ll have to fight. They’ll . Gabumon’s spent years fighting for me,” Yamato says. “He’s got a fresh start now. He deserves to rest.”

Koushiro glances over at him. Then: “Shouldn’t that be his choice?”

He finishes his drink in several quick gulps, and stands. Yamato doesn’t meet his gaze, waiting quietly as the other boy lets himself out. It isn’t until he’s gone that Yamato balls up the cloth in his hand, tossing it as far as he can.

 ( cut for material )