faelans_folly | [Open - Folly Cemetary

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[Open - Folly Cemetary - Father's Day]

It was without a doubt, Maggie's least favorite day.

Mother's Day wasn't far behind it but she only had vague memories of her mother. She'd been six when the woman had dropped back out of The Folly. Long enough for Maggie to remember her, but not long enough for anything to remain in her mind beyond little shadows in her mind.

Her father's exit. That she remembered clearly, considering she'd been the one that found him when the last of his attempts to bring her back to the Folly had failed. Magic drained after five years of these attempts, he'd been unable to fight the depression, unable to see anything beyond the loss of the love of his life.

Unable to see the daughter he'd be leaving behind.

She'd seen first hand what magical exhaustion did now that she was fully in her magic now. When she'd been eleven and sent to her foster home, it hadn't been as easy to see at all. She still hated him for leaving, still wished she'd been enough to keep him from giving up, but now, she was a little more accepting of it all.

When she saw a vaguely familiar woman at his gravesite, it took everything she had not to pull the earth, wind and water to her to blast the woman, and the trash around the headstone, into the forest so deep even Bella wouldn't be able to find her.

"Excuse me, but who are you?"

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Maggie felt the flash of heat and opened her eyes, her gasp of shock pulling her mouth completely off his cock. Flames didn't bother her, because they couldn't hurt her. But Jack was a different story and she wouldn't see him hurt. It took a second only to pull moisture from the air to douse the flames and a strong wind to carry the flame away.

At once, she started looking at his arms and the now-wet bedding. "Are you all right?"

I jump up off the bed and bat at the flames on my body, but I'm not particularly worried about them. I know that I can survive them and that they won't even burn me as bad as most people. The bed is also ruined, even though she put out the fire quickly. Fortunately I don't need the mattress anymore.

"I'm fine," I say, glancing over at my back to watch my flesh heal itself. "That was... odd."

Maggie's eyes widened, watching his skin heal before her eyes. She knew his healing was accelerated, but she had no idea it was that instantaneous. "It was, yeah, but I don't think it was me. When I lose control," I said and looked up into his eyes, "well, you heard the lightning, right?"

I nodded then looked at the bed and frowned. If it wasn't here then I'm the one that did it, but I've never done anything like that before. I didn't know I had the ability to set things on fire. If I do and I can't control it... that's not good at all.

"I don't know how I did that then."

Maggie was about to crook her finger to get him to come back to bed - but the bed was pretty much a lost cause at this point. "I remember you were getting brighter," she said, thinking back to what preceded the fire. "And then I had my hands over your tattoos. The runes."

She looked from his arms to her hands. Was it possible?

"Were you giving me a- a magical blowjob?"

I don't know how else to phrase it. She can do all sorts of stuff with her magic so maybe she was introducing a little... extra because I was being so difficult. I should probably not be so difficult.

Both of her hands went up to her mouth, stifling the giggle. "No, there was nothing magical about it. Well, not elemental magic anyway. It felt pretty magical at the time, to me at least."

Maggie crawled off the bed and over to stand in front of him. "And if memory serves, an incomplete one."

"Uh, can we- can we figure out what happened first?"

I hate this, I hate not knowing the extent of what I can do. If Maggie hadn't been who she was and I suddenly caught on figure she could have been seriously hurt. I'm some sort of freak science experiment or something and I have no idea what my body is going to do one moment to the next.

"All right," Maggie said, shifting gears and putting her libido into neutral. He was very clearly upset about what had happened. Her gift didn't lend itself to looking into the thoughts of others, but her connection to Jack was to a level that she didn't need anything like that. She just knew him. And he was full of self-flagellation over what had happened.

"If I remember right, in the heat of the moment, one of my hands was on your arm. I was touching one of the runes."

"You've touched them before," I say, running my hands over my hair. She's touched me everywhere before, although it's mostly been her fingers just brushing along them.

"I could have hurt you."

"I have," Maggie nodded, "but not with the level of energy I had just now. I was sparking lightning outside, Jack. That's not something I do very often. It's possible that the shift in my body chemistry from being with you in that state, combined with the magic under your skin from the runes just...went a little wild and didn't have any other outlet."

She touched his hand. "You could have, yes, but you didn't. But you could also bump into me in the hall, knock me on my ass and hurt me that way, too, right?"

"I- I can control my physical movements," I say, clenching my hands in frustration. I hate not being in control, I hate the loss of it, I hate that at times I can't control myself.

"I would never bump into you in the hall."

"It was a hypothetical, Jack, not an accusation," Maggie countered, her voice soft and soothing in reaction to the tension in his hands and his voice. "Take a breath, love, okay?"

"I know it wasn't. I just- I hate that I can't control myself. I hate that I don't know how or why I'm this way."

And I hate having to admit all of that. When I was by myself I didn't have to, I could loathe myself and no one would care. But Maggie cares and as much as I want to, I'm not going to hide this part of me from her. At least not completely.

She remembered the night they met, the confusion she felt in him, when he said he didn't know for sure what forms he took. "What have you done to try and find out? Do you have any memories, even small ones?"

A vague idea was forming in the back of her mind.

"I sort of remember things," I say, although I know it's not what she means. The memories that I have aren't memories of doing things, just of what the training drilled into me.

"I remember things I was trained to do and how to do them. But I don't remember the actual training."

"What kind of things were you trained to do? Did it have a military feel to it, or something more secretive?"

Maggie knew enough about the world the DIs came from - about spy organizations and military ones - that did such things. She couldn't help but wonder if Jack had been a part of something like that.

"Both," I say, although I'm not sure if either of those are entirely true. I feel like it's mostly military though, I'm not sure what things most spies do, but there are situations I wouldn't be good at.

"But I don't- I don't think I was really meant to interact with society much. I think I was mostly supposed to kill people or- or things like that."

Maggie nodded; that didn't surprise her much. "As I understand it, that was the main purpose of people trained that way. One DI told me his whole purpose in life was coloring outside the lines. I think what he meant was that he took care of things his government couldn't do officially."

She watched him as she spoke, looking to see if there was any recognition there.

"I don't like knowing these things," I admit, only that's not entirely true. Part of me does, because I can keep people safe. I can keep Maggie safe. I know she can do so much herself, but she's only one person, she can't think about her safety all the time.

"Do you know what the worst part is?"

"Tell me," she said simply looking up into his conflicted eyes.

"I volunteered for this," I say, looking down at the silver tattoos on my body. I've lived with them for so long I don't really think about it much, but they hurt. Constantly.

"I don't remember doing it, but I know you can't make an effective soldier or operative out of someone you forced in to something. At some point I gave permission for people to do this to me."

Everything in her cries out to pull him into her arms and just hold him until the hurt and conflict in them goes away. "I would argue that without a memory of your voice saying that you agreed, or finding something you signed, that you don't know that for sure, but I won't argue the logic that a coerced soldier isn't an effective one at all. I will say that there are many ways to get someone to an agreeable state of mind."

"What type of person volunteers to become a better killer?"

I stare down at my hands and wonder how many people I've hurt or killed. How many people are dead that I have no memory of? That doesn't seem right to me. I feel like if you take a life, you should remember that. At the very least that should be your penance.

Maggie reached out and took his hands in hers, gave them a squeeze. "Jack, you don't know what lead you to be in that position. You don't know if you were escaping some other hell, you don't know if you were coerced or even brainwashed into it."

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