Chapter Text
Dajan found it funny that intentionally short visits to the Mystery Shack seemed to always extend to longer ones. She had the notion of sorting the storage room space problem, but one thing led to another.
She had marveled at how odd it was that they'd tried to make her feel at home on that first visit...and now she really was feeling at home in their strange little cottage. Magical hangover from having broken her curse plus the Stans getting accustomed to being thirty years younger… They just hadn't managed to get her returned to New York. Every time the subject came up, the brothers managed to convince her to stay a little longer.
Also, Dajan’s insomnia eradication idea was still working… Sort of. The air mattress she’d slept on was now placed on top of Ford’s cot, as he flat out refused anything longer than a cat nap without her nearby even though it left them almost no room.
Stan was mostly bulldozing his way off to sleep with only the occasional request of a song. It seemed the twenty minutes of yoga and fifteen minutes talking to Mabel and Dipper before he was ready to settle primed him nicely. The routine he had just needed replacing.
… But Ford?
Even after yoga, herbal tea, and songs--Ford had nightmares . Violent, silent nightmares that left him flailing, grinding his teeth, and occasionally fighting something that he could see only in his mind’s eye. Dajan understood and was sympathetic, but it was difficult. Ford could not be coaxed or persuaded to discuss his lost three decades in detail, even with her.
Usually, on nightmare nights, Dajan wrapped her arms around Ford and sang softly into his ear. Often that settled him. Even asleep, the reminder he was not only no longer alone, but in the arms of someone who wanted him safe seemed to gently nudge away the bad dreams.
Other nights, though, nothing worked, and Dajan simply watched, heartsick, as he went through the torment alone. Sometimes the dream would settle out on its own. Sometimes Ford would spring out of bed only somewhat awake, and completely disoriented in the dark, still caught in whatever memory the dream had dug from his psyche. Dajan sat very still until Ford calmed enough to let her near him.
Ford, on realizing that sleep brought his worst paranoid fears to the surface of his subconscious, and how he responded to them, was absolutely stricken.
The first morning he'd awakened to discover himself tangled in the bedclothes and sweating like a broken fever, Dajan had tried to pull the tricksy faerie routine, and refused to answer any question he asked with a direct response. Unfortunately, Ford was used to that from his own experiences, and saw through it fairly quickly. Dajan guiltily gave up, realizing what it reminded him of. Dajan tried clamming up, but Ford’s sweet and earnest face was irresistible, and she didn't want the silent treatment to become a thing.
When Dajan finally cracked and regretfully admitted Ford was fighting enemies in his sleep with extreme prejudice, his immediate response was horror that he might have hurt her lashing out against the things in his dreams. Before Dajan could try to say anything, he’d leapt off the air mattress, stumbled into the bathroom and thrown up until he was left dry heaving.
After a shower and change of clothes, Ford gave Dajan the most doleful expression she'd ever seen, squeezed her hand ever so gently, walked down the hall, and for all intents and purposes… disappeared. Dajan followed but Ford was gone.
Ford hadn't left Dajan’s side except for forays into town. While her legs were regaining their strength he had even put aside his daily walks into the forest. But he wasn’t… Anywhere. Now sure she was fully healed, Dajan determinedly searched the house and couldn't find him.
She went into town. She looked in Greasy’s, the general store, the supermarket, or anywhere she had come to consider his usual haunts in the woods. He wasn’t aboard the Stan O’War III. She didn't think the bunker was a place he was quite ready to revisit. Those memories were still too fresh.
Frustrated and confused, Dajan did what she always did when faced with a problem that was beyond her: she cooked. The kitchen was not well appointed, having been run by one bachelor and then two over the past 40 odd years, but she made do with what there was to work with.
Stan and Soos were doing tours, so she turned the old stove down as low as it would go and went to walk into the woods until she found a mushroom circle.
She called up her magic and used the ley line running from the circle to power a teleport to the one on the roof of her apartment building in New York. Most of the tenants were fae, or humans with so little fae blood that they didn’t question the weirdness that seemed to have soaked into the building’s very walls. The comings and goings of Khrys and Dajan’s family were largely ignored and Dajan was grateful for it as she came down from the roof.
Khrys, who had not expected her cousin to come home this soon, came out of the kitchen and jumped like a startled cat upon finding Dajan sprawled on the sofa. “Warn me, will you?”
“Sorry. I didn’t plan it. Ford’s gone walkabout or something. I can’t find him in any of the usual spaces, nor any of the unusual ones.”
Khrys went from annoyed to sympathetic and concerned in a flash, vanishing into the kitchen and returning with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and a huge tablespoon which she offered Dajan. Dajan took them and set them down without opening the ice cream.
“Oh boy. That’s bad, if you’re not even going for the Karamel Sutra Core…” Khrys bit her lower lip. “First fight? It’ll pass, bebe.”
“But we didn’t fight. He just looked at me like he had done something terrible, and I haven’t seen him since.”
“What did he do, hon?” Khrys tipped Dajan’s chin up so she could look her face over. I would hate to go back there and renege on my promise to Wendy. But turning him to stone or into a rabbit is not turning him into a patch of poison oak…
Dajan did not appear to be physically injured. Khrys had already had a scry on the brothers after that mishap in the bunker. She knew they were both capable of some serious violence, but also that it seemed to only ever manifest in self defense or defense of those they cared about. Ford was a touch more volatile than his brother, though, so Khrys trusted Dajan, but remained ready to step in if needed. Dajan was smart for all that she came off as a sugarbuzzed adolescent, and Khrys respected that.
“Nothing. He woke up from a nightmare, and when I told him how he was thrashing and fighting, he jumped off the bed and got sick. He immediately got dressed, and took off after giving me this look like he’d done something terrible.”
“Sleep fighting, well that explains it, dandelion-head,” Khrys said, relieved. “Even if he didn’t dream about hurting you, he wasn’t in control of what he was doing while he was asleep. He’s afraid he’ll hurt you if he throws a punch in his sleep. You remember Rabbit. We called him that but his animal affinity was more Coyote, and he got like that sometimes. ”
Dajan sighed. “I remember.” It had taken Dajan a whole night in the rain singing to Rabbit to convince him to come out of the crate clubhouse when they were all nine. He'd been abused by teenagers and adults, and was skittish and snappish as a result. Eventually he'd run away altogether.
“So I give him his space for another few hours. If he doesn’t come to dinner, then I’m going to really look for him. But for now -- I know you got my limited short term disability at the bookstore, but there’s not really much I can do for work in Gravity Falls without giving myself away. If I lifeguard at the pool: gills. Same thing if I show off my strength at the lumber yard. They don’t need anybody at Greasy’s. The mayor already has a secretary. If I’m gonna cope with Ford’s sudden attacks of paranoia -- especially the unjustified ones -- I am gonna need something to do and someplace else to do it.”
Khrys blinked. “I was wondering why you hadn’t gone back to work at Granny Franny’s. Don’t tell me. He hasn’t opened the thing I sent.” She picked up the pint and put it back. “I’ll be right back. You chill here for a minute.”
In Oregon, Stan was leaning against the counter in the gift shop eating a pineapple popsicle. Wendy was reading one of the Blarchie comics from the rack. Khrys, in her hornless, merely-intimidating-for-a-human-woman face, walked in through the front door, paid for a tour. “Stan. Perfect. Need a moment with you. Now.”
Stanley looked from the cash register to Khrys, raised one brow slowly in a silent question.
“The answer to that question depends on the answer to my question. Where in the fuck is your brother?”
“Where he always is these days, four and a half inches from your cousin.”
“My cousin is in New York, on my sofa, sulking so hard she wouldn’t even touch the ice cream. Ford is definitely not beside her.”
Stan blinked, finished the popsicle in a bite, grimaced through the ensuing brain freeze. “They fought? Those two goofy lovebirds?”
“No, not exactly,” Khrys led the way into the kitchen, stirred the pot roast, covered it up again. “He’s not sleeping as well as you are, and the nightmares are getting physical. So --” she paused, waiting to see if Stan came to the same conclusion.
He didn't pause before smacking the heel of his hand against his forehead. “That boneheaded yutz. He’s afraid he’ll hurt her while he’s freaking out in his sleep, and instead of trying to figure out the source of the problem, has decided he’s a danger, hasn’t he?”
Khrys tapped her own nose, then leaned over and bent Stanley backward into a kiss. “Smart men. So hot.”
“...Woo! I got one right…” he murmured afterward, grinning.
“So what do we do about this?” Khrys asked.
“Nothing,” Stan shrugged. “Ford is more stubborn than I am. He’ll have to come to it on his own. He’ll feel even worse if he does hit the kid, and he won't have the same compunction against slugging yours truly.”
“Wrong,” Khrys snarled, and Stan gave her a mock-sullen pout.
“You got a better idea?”
“‘Course. Just need to see if I can get ahold of the tooth fairy.”
“The what?”
“You know there’s a reason kids don’t wake up for the big faerie holidays, right? The Folk with enough mojo to have a holiday can drop kids into a deep enough sleep that they don’t wake up and discover the eggs, the presents, the candy, the money....you know.”
“I’ll give your brother a week to get his head out of his ass, but then I’m going for the deep magic.” Khrys pronounced. “But before I go, c’mere. ” She reached up and pulled him by his tie again.
Stan grinned widely.
The noises from above didn’t tend to bother Ford. He could tune them out since Stan and Soos gave multiple tours a day, and the constant footfalls would be a distraction if he hadn’t already learned to concentrate past them. That they’d suddenly turned rhythmic didn’t even distract him. The plaster falling from the ceiling gave him a moment’s pause but he shook it off. He had other things to consume his attention, and those things had him quickly approaching his wits’ end.
“I’m going to need the library or that internet thing if I’m going to sort this out.” Ford thought out loud, pacing the length of the basement. There was already a place where the concrete floor had been worn a lighter shade of grey by his pacing over the years. “There has to be a way to induce a deeper sleep than I’ve been falling into so far … But I require REM sleep… But I won’t be able to sleep at all knowing I could hurt Dajan... I'd never forgive myself… If I don’t sleep, Dajan won’t sleep... If I am not near her, I won't even get to sleep...That will leave us both sleep-deprived and not thinking clearly…but she was right about my needing more sleep… But… “
His thoughts continued to spiral...
Upstairs, Dajan returned from her “walk in the woods” to find Khrys and Stan sipping tea in the kitchen. Khrys had a hair out of place, and Stan’s bow tie was undone. An entire wordless conversation consisting of head tilts, eyebrow raises, and knowing smiles ensued before Dajan tired of the game.
“This is silly. We just need to talk now that I know what we need to talk about!” Dajan threw her hands into the air. “Stan, where’s Ford?”
“In his lab,” replied Stan, pinky out and huge smile across his face. “I’ll show you soon as the shack closes.”
Khrys gave Stan a wink, and Dajan a one-armed hug. “That’s my cuz. I always told you there’s more than dandelion fluff between your ears.”
Dajan gave Khrys a mock punch back rather than returning the hug. “I hate to ask, Stan, but would you close up early? For me? Please?”
Stan folded his arms and rolled his eyes skyward. “C’mon, kid, you’re killin’ me here.”
“Is whatever Ford is up to going to get any better left to his own thoughts?” Dajan asked, tapping an impatient foot on the linoleum.
“Okay, thaaaaaat’s a fair point. If he gets himself wound up, who knows what he’ll do -- the houseboat is still parked out back isn’t it?”
“It is. I checked.”
“Okay, kid. For you. For Ford. For cryin’ out loud, my life is turning into a telenovela.” He stood and walked back out of the kitchen, up the hall, through the showroom, and back into the gift shop. As it turned out, Soos was thanking the last few customers as they exited.
Stan turned the sign over to read CLOSED, and locked the door. He waited for Soos to head to the extension he was working on for himself and Melody, then sauntered over to the gift shop and stood beside the vending machine. “Watch closely. I’m only showing you this once. If he gives me a black eye for showing you a secret he hasn’t shared yet it’s on you.”
“I promise I’ll take care of it if you get hurt in a fight,” Dajan said seriously. “I really do appreciate you going out of your way.”
“Aw, stop with the face, kid. As it is my grumpy old guy exterior is in tatters.”
Dajan watched as Stan keyed a six digit combination into the vending machine. None of the snack choices had anything that required that many digits. The vending machine swung open like a vault door.
“Thanks. You can close it. I won’t need the combination.”
Stanley frowned “Then what’d you ask me for?!”
“So I knew where he was. I promise I’ll get Fix out here to repair it.”
Dajan squared her shoulders, then laced her fingers and turned them outwards, cracking her knuckles. While Stan gaped, and Khrys looked on like a proud auntie, she simply dug her fingers into the vending machine’s metal sides, and pulled the door open manually.
WRRRRUUUUNNNNNNNCH!
“Ford?”
That noise was not the shuffling of tourists footsteps. The fact that it was followed by Dajan’s voice, and she sounded upset, jarred Ford out of his spiraling musings. “Dajan?”
“Hi,” she called down. “I know where the door leads, but I’m trying really hard to respect your privacy by not coming down and getting you, so please come upstairs?”
“But--”
“I know about the nightmares. I know you think you might hurt me in your sleep! I know this is all new and scary to you and for you. But the thing about relationships is that they require communication. So you can’t just give in to your paranoid tendencies and your fears and hole up when something spooks you. Please come upstairs.”
“C’mon, Stan. Let’s leave ‘em the house and time to sort this out. Why don't I have you for dinner,” Khrys suggested, reaching for his tie again. “Don’t wait up. I wanna see if Stan can keep up at Crossroads.”
Stan did not argue. They turned and left the gift shop through the front door, locking it behind them. The El Diablo started up and drove off shortly thereafter.
Dajan waited patiently. It was a few minutes before Ford appeared in the doorway. He opened his mouth to say something but was immediately distracted by the vending machine being open. “What happened to my door?!”
“I did,” Dajan said from the countertop where she sat, flipping through the comic Wendy had left.
“You did this?” the hectic color from pacing disappeared from Ford’s face , leaving him pale as milk.
“I'm sorry,” Dajan said quietly. “It seemed the quickest way to make the point.”
“That you’re … destructive when you’re angry?” Ford asked, glancing from Dajan to the door again, and not moving a step closer. “Good to know. Really.” he added in a tone of voice that had clearly audible parentheses around the phrase (please don’t tear my arms off and beat me to death with the wet ends).
“You’ve seen me carry your brother when he was dead weight asleep,” Dajan reminded Ford with her hands spread out before her. “You heard my whole story...at least, as much of it as I know. You know what I am...but because I look mostly human, I think you still try to think of me as completely human. Squishy and fragile. And I can be that, yeah. But I don’t have to be.”
Ford drew his brows together. “You’re right. I should know better,” His face took on that clouded expression that indicated he was about to drop back into thoughtspace again..or worse, one of the lost decade memories. Dajan couldn’t afford for him to walk the haunted halls of his own mindspace just now. She might lose him.
“Ford. Ford, listen to me. You have had nightmares off and on for two weeks. You’ve thrashed, tossed, turned, and thrown punches and kicks and you have not laid a finger on me . Even in your sleep you know I’m there. Even unconscious, you would never do anything to hurt me. It's just plain not in you. You're not that guy! And even if you somehow tried, you couldn’t hurt me.”
“So toss whatever ideas you had about immobilizing yourself to sleep so you won’t hurt me, and trust us, okay?” Dajan recalled the part of Ford’s story about being turned to a statue; more accurately a backscratcher, and was certain the experience had added claustrophobia to Ford’s list of existing mental trauma scars. Along with fear of triangles. It was a clear indication of his feelings that he was willing to endure that, but unnecessary.
“You’re willing to trust me when I don’t even know if I can trust myself?” Ford asked, stepping away from the door. His hands raked through his hair as he worked to process the information versus his own mind’s frantic reactions.
“Stanford Pines!” Dajan threw her hands into the air again. “You crossed timespace to find me and expect me to do anything less when you’re in a fix? If you think I’m not the girl who’d do that, you’ve got another think coming!”
“Obligation,” Ford murmured, hanging his head. He was still hanging onto the guilt over having reacted badly to the realization Dajan was only approximately 50% human. The guilt was now compounded because the man insisted on blaming himself for not having recalled that looking human didn't mean human; and that not human didn't mean monster. He’d just gone to the other extreme!
“Tinkerbell’s unmentionables, You big, adorable doofus,” Dajan hopped off the countertop and closed the distance between them in a couple of steps. As expected, Ford couldn’t handle being this close to her without almost reflexively reaching his arms around her. He only held on because he was wide awake now, and aware of what he was doing. But the tightness of the embrace showed how much he'd missed it after they'd touched in little ways for days.
“There is no obligation between us, okay?! The car is fixed. I’m not a harp. You have got to let go of the idea that I’d do anything out of indebtedness. Or that you need to. I'm with you because I want to be! I know it’s a fae lore thing, but that wasn’t why you did it, was it?”
“No. It was because the idea of never seeing you again…” Ford closed his eyes. “Unthinkable.” His arms tightened around her. “Never feeling you in my arms again. Unimaginable. How did you become as necessary as air to me so fast?”
Dajan just shrugged, “I don't know. I could ask the same of you.” She sighed happily with her head against Ford’s chest. “We’re still good then?”
“I … I think we are.” Ford’s mouth curved up into a relieved smile.
“Good. Khrys says you should open her surprise, by the way.”
“I was going to but the tag said moonlight -- and I presumed that meant wait for a full moon, which we’re getting tonight.”
“Then let’s go see what’s it is.”
“I have to let go of you to go get it.”
“In a minute. Maybe five minutes. It’s not all the way dark yet anyway.”
Five minutes turned into twenty minutes of silent embrace before Ford finally did reluctantly remove his arms and led Dajan down the stairs to see the basement. Khrys’ gift was sitting atop the highest shelf, near the elevator at the far end of the room.
She looked around with childlike wonder, but said nothing, knowing he was letting her in despite his instincts telling him not to. She could see the tension in his shoulders and the way he moved. Getting him to relax around her again was going to be a whole new project. He got on a stepstool and retrieved the box. Ford didn’t linger, and returned to the stairs.
Dajan casually swung the vending machine back into place. The hinges were fine, but the lock had broken so it closed but the security was gone. Ford took one look at Dajan’s guilty pout and had to inspect the lock. He pronounced it not worth bothering the Fixer over. “It will be only a few minutes’ work to fix the lock on the back. If we leave your finger marks, it will just be one more Mystery for the Shack. It's safe for you to turn on that gigawatt smile...” Ford held still until Dajan did favor him with a smile.
They paused in the kitchen long enough to shut off the pot roast, though Dajan’s brownie magic meant it would never burn, no longer how long it was left on the flame. Ford reached for Dajan’s hand with his free one, and relaxed incrementally when she curled her fingers around his.
They walked until they reached a mushroom circle which happened to also sit beneath a natural clearing. “A faerie ring,” Ford breathed, as the old terminology returned to the surface of his mind.
He glanced around a moment and squinted in the darkness until he could just barely make out the property line sign mostly hidden amongst the red-berried, thorned cotoneaster bushes. The circle was just inside it, Ford noted to himself. He wasn’t anything like a rich man these days but to keep a gift from a possible faerie princess, he was prepared to go into debt extending the property if it had come to that.
Satisfied the gift would be safely on the Mystery Shack lot, He read the tag to himself again. “Khrys has some spellwork going, I think? Your folk like to rhyme when working magic?”
“Yeah. It helps us shape what we want it to do. For the stuff that requires more than what comes naturally. My magic is mostly hearth magic, and I can hold up a glamour like nobody’s business. But Khrys is less mixed up than me. She has a lot of magic to burn. The purebloods -- and you really don’t wanna meet a pureblood anyway -- they don’t necessarily need rhymes or couplets. Wave of the hand is enough.”
The box contained an acorn and the note which read:
Fling me in a faerie ring ‘neath the light of the moon.
A draught of water with you bring; the magic happens soon.
Dajan wrinkled her nose. “I wonder who she bought that spell from. That’s not Khrys’ poetry. Too old school. She raps. And not like the 1980s DDAMD rap. Really good rap.” Ford silently perked up as Dajan said that; she’d been researching the game!
An old Pitt cola can had collected some rainwater, and once Ford tossed the acorn, Dajan stepped into the ring and sprinkled the can’s contents over it, then came back, at a dead run. “Soon” could mean as quick as “instantaneous”.
Which in this case was accurate. The acorn sunk into the ground and as they watched, it sprouted a tiny shoot.
“She’s growing us an oak tree?” Ford asked.
“Probably along with something else, but no clue what. I’m awful with surprises. So...why don’t we finish walking the woods. I never did get to finish that game of twenty questions we started awhile back...”
“This gives me an idea. Come on.” Dajan broke into a run, back to the house. Ford, happily surprised and then curious, was outpaced only for a few seconds. He picked up his stride and soon caught up.
She rummaged in the workroom for a few seconds before she found a blanket, a flashlight, a bag to carry them in, a camping cook pot, and a box of waterproof matches, some of which may not have been in the room before she began looking. Ford watched her, charmed and bemused. He waited patiently to see where this would lead, fascination overcoming his analytical tendencies. A stop in the kitchen for bowls, utensils and a disposable container of pot roast joined the other things in the bag. Lastly she grabbed a towel from the linen closet.
“Let’s go!” Dajan shoved the bag into his arms and darted off barefoot into the forest. “Hide and seek!” she was back to her old self, between the recovery from the curse and the drastic measures she'd seen the need to take to get through to him.
Ford laughed with surprise, paused to pull his night goggles from his coat pocket, and dashed after her, slinging the bag over his right shoulder effortlessly. The oddness of two grown adults playing a child's game in the dark did not even occur to him.
Ford realized belatedly that giving Dajan a head start was less gentlemanly and more foolish than he expected. There were no cooling footprints on the ground. No handprints on the trees. The regular creatures of the forest gave off their minimal light, but moonlight ended up giving him better visibility. “She doesn't show up as a heat signature,” he thought aloud. “Contradictory! I've touched her, and she's as warm blooded as any human.”
“That mistake you just keep making,” came Dajan’s gently teasing voice from somewhere in front of him. “Human stats aren't always applicable!”
Ford blinked. Hide and seek as a learning experience? Unorthodox, but Ford had to admit no one in his family played by the rules; why should the strange and amazing girl he was becoming hopelessly attached to be any different? “How about a hint?” he called back.
A little periwinkle ball of light, about a foot higher than his head and at least a few yards deeper into the woods lit up for a count of five, then went out. The next time it lit for the same amount of time, but closer to the forest floor. Up, on for a five count; down, on for a five count. No light for a count of ten, then the pattern began again from the top.
Dajan was quick. Ford, used to stalking creatures with his journal or for food, turned out to be almost as quick. Dajan was in her pixie form… Or as close to it as she was willing or able to. She was ten inches high and her pixie wings were hard at work keeping her airborne. She gave up completely, dousing her light and going back to normal size when a screech owl made a dive for her. “Yikes! I'm not a pheasant! Go’way!”
“Dajan! Are you all right?”
Dajan landed on her backside, looking more sheepish than spooked. She sat on the dirt looking up at the bewildered owl which clearly wondered where its tasty little prey had gone. “I'm fine. Didn't lay a talon on me!” She got back to her feet and walked at Ford’s side without any more cute shrinking or flying antics. She was a touch unnerved at having let her guard down and the consequences she'd almost paid for doing so.
Their path through the woods had led to the lake. The moonlight off the water made it easy to see, except where fog had settled in. Dajan, ever un-self-conscious, stripped off her tank top, causing Ford to gasp and whirl away from her. “you're doing that… On Purpose,” he protested mildly.
“Problem with the view, Dr. Pines?” Dajan asked coyly.
“I am quite happy to gaze upon you in anything you care to wear. It's just that I also consider myself a gentleman!”
“You are, and it's super sweet. I just didn't grow up with all that awkwardness.”
“Your family are nudists?” Ford asked, half turning to speak over his shoulder.
“No, but we’re all outcasts for being not fae enough, or not the right kind of fae, or just lacking the common decency to lose our minds and run off never to be heard from again. With those kinds of messages, you learn to not care so much about what people think. Or at least you try. So, you know, having hair that defies gravity or pointed ears that refuse to glamour is nothing when you know a kid whose parents tried to drown him for being born with goat ears. Or if you had to wear hats in 10th grade because your antlers started to show. ”
“I get that,” Ford commiserated, looking down at his own hands. His own parents had never given him a hard time about it, and Stanley had the scarred knuckles from giving a hard time to anyone who tried giving Ford misery about his six fingers. But there had always been the bigger kids and the adults who had venomous words even for a ten year old, when there was no one around to defend him. He knew well how deep those words can cut.
“But that's a depressing story for another time,” Dajan announced, pointedly shaking off the mood along with her cutoffs. “This is the last shapeshift I’m doing for you tonight. I’m out of practice, but wow, it feels good to cut loose.”. She cast a look out over the water, then turned to Ford. “Build me a fire?”
Dajan had managed at some point to get her swimsuit on under her outfit. Or she'd whistled one up with magic. Ford wasn't sure which and was struck speechless as she walked toward the water. And into it she went, shivering ostentatiously as she reached shins-deep. “Ho ma stars, this water is freezing!” And the late October weather wasn't exactly warm anymore either. She kept walking nonetheless until the water was waist deep. Chest deep. And finally closed over her head. There weren't even bubbles to show where she’d gone under.
Ford had to resort to meditative breathing to remain calm and keep his natural urge to rush into the water after her from overtaking his rational mind. His discipline was rewarded though when Dajan leapt from the surface of the water like a dolphin, and waved from near the center of the lake.
Reassured, Ford set at once to building a fire, using a flint from one of his coat pockets to strike the spark. Now he understood why she'd shoved a blanket in as well. He settled down beside the modest little fire pit he'd quickly built, then realized Dajan was waving at him from the edge of the boat pier the fishermen used. Ford walked with the flashlight turned off and the towel over his arm. By the time he reached the edge, she was waiting, elbows propped on the wood. “You can flip the flashlight on. I don't mind.”
The flashlight showed her skin had turned an iridescent greenish blue with gold and pink shimmer where the light hit her. Her eyes were big and green similar to the creature from that lagoon movie he'd seen as a kid. Except Dajan had extremely long lashes, and he could still see her personality and expressions in those eyes. Gills gaped at intervals on her neck. Her hair, soaking wet, was plastered to her head, for once adhering to her environment. Once Ford had a good look at her, she held up webbed fingers, and splashed at him playfully with one webbed foot.
“Astonishing,” Ford observed. “But… Um...how to phrase this… “
“Why do I have feet and not a tail?” Dajan guessed. When Ford nodded, she went on. “I'm a city kid and pool water is the wrong kind of water. Lake water is closer, but I only can do the full mermaid in sea water. Something to do with how much Siren blood is trying to take over, how much the rest of the faerie in my blood want to fight back...and the optimum environment. If there was more mer in my blood, I’d probably be able to manifest a tail in any water. C’est la vie. I never have to worry about drowning and that’s good enough for me.”
Ford leaned down to give Dajan a hand up, surprised at how cold she was, though she no longer seemed chilled. Ford held the towel open and wrapped it around her as they walked back to the fire. It wasn't quite a transformation. With each step Dajan shimmered a little, and fewer aquatic features were on her body. By the time they were back at the fire, Dajan’s eyes blinked back to normal. A second later the warmth dried her hair enough that it went “foomf” back to normal.
Once she was back in her most human shape, Dajan went right back to shivering, and Ford took the opportunity to trade off the towel for the blanket, wrapping it around her. “Water would probably have been foolish to swim in. Had to be 40 degrees.”
“Only the local polar bear club likes it that cold,” Ford agreed, brushing his hair back with one hand as the lake breeze insisted on blowing it into his eyes. “So how does this all...work?” he asked, and took the pose of the eager but slightly smitten student as she dished out the pot roast. “This is a new branch of study for me.”
She turned to see him batting his eyes at her like a crushing eighteen year old and had to swallow a squeak of delight. “Magic,” was the answer, along with a shrug. “I mean, I’m not exactly sure. It's not all conscious. If I need to be strong, I’m strong. If I have excessive happy thoughts, I fly. If I’m knocked into the water, I grow gills and webs. Because the bits of magical heritage in my blood say I should be able to. ”
The possible ways Ford could hurt Dajan -- or worse -- had been running through his head all day, starting from the moment he’d realized what Dajan’s reticence had meant. That had been what made him sick - - his own mind showing him, in gut-wrenching, blood curdling, ultra-specific detail what he was capable of doing to Dajan because he’d done it before to stay free, to stay alive. It didn't matter that he had actually declared his feelings to her. Emotion and reason didn't get much weight when the intrusive thoughts popped into his head.
Hearing Dajan describe her impossible changing physiology quelled that way too Cipher-like voice in his backbrain that gleefully insisted he was a monster wearing Ford’s face now, and that if the family knew who he’d become over the past 30 years they’d kick him back through the portal. It was still whispering, always whispering, but not clearly enough to distract or distress him now. I really can’t hurt her. Not even if I’m out of control.
Considering trying to explain that to her was another ice shard in his spine. Dajan was immensely forgiving, but Ford could not be certain he wouldn't take her past a line he couldn't come back from. For the moment , he told himself, be grateful for this night. Even her magic can't fix me.
They ate together quietly, and once the fire warmed her enough, Dajan pulled a sweater on over her swimsuit. True to his word, Ford gave this outfit an admiring glance as well. Dajan settled next to him again, and covered up a yawn. “Downside of all the shapeshifting is it burns so many calories. I’m going to sleep like a rock tonight, Ford, and nothing you do will wake me.”
“I have the feeling I’m going to sleep better tonight as well,” Ford admitted in a soft voice. “I almost wish you’d packed sleeping bags. It’d be a nice night to sleep under the stars.”
“Oooh, I like that idea. I was in spontaneous mode and didn’t think of that at the time. But sure, let’s plan a campout. I’m sure Stan will appreciate having the house to himself without tripping over us for a night.”
“Indubitably,” Ford agreed, beginning to pack up their repast. “I’m sure he loves having a big family, but … I’m equally certain that after years of being alone, he feels a bit crowded. I imagine even with your cousin’s attentions, it is probably a little grating to be around us. I’m surprised he hasn’t complained already.”
Dajan used the cookpot they’d heated their dinner to scoop water out of the lake and dump onto the fire until it went out. She then scooped some dirt on top to make certain the fire was truly smothered out. “Oh, there have been one or two gently ribbing remarks, but fair play. The NRE is hard on the people not directly generating it.”
“NRE?” Ford repeated, tilting his head like a confused owl.
“New relationship energy,” Dajan explained as they inspected the fire one more time, then picked up the bag. “The way a couple who have just gotten together can be a little um...overwhelmingly cute from an onlooker’s point of view.”
Ford chuckled, deep in his chest, and Dajan felt something tight in her chest give way. He was relaxing around her again. “I suppose that would be sort of cloying from an outside perspective. But even if he were inclined to get out of the house, I’m not inclined to spend any significant amount of time separated from my brother again, and I believe he feels the same. The Stan O’War III is roomy enough, but what point is there in living in a houseboat if you’re not going to sail anywhere? It’s unfair to give him no outlet from us.”
“I’m pretty sure Khrys is giving him an outlet. If he’s even home by the time we get home, he’ll be too exhausted to complain about us.” As if on cue Ford’s phone notification went off.
Ford pulled out the phone, checked his messages, and gawked. It was a selfie of Stan holding Khrys up over his head by her hands and looking like he was having the time of his life. Her hair was hanging down onto his shoulders, and Khrys was doing that duck face, but it was actually sultry.
“She’s keeping him busy, but I don’t think either one of them feels as close as we do,” Ford said, saving the photo.
“She likes him well enough to swing dance with him.” was Dajan’s observation. “He’ll be lucky if he’s not gone another six months.”
“That would have been a handy trick during my you--I mean, my original research days,” Ford sighed. “How much more I could have got done. I don’t suppose that trick is in your repertoire?”
“...sorry, no.” Dajan was genuinely apologetic. He doesn’t mean to compare you with Khrys. He just thinks time compression would be convenient. You know that, stop being silly. “Time magic is levels above me. I don’t even have enough to magic up the plans for a TARDIS.”
Ford made a strange noise. “You know what a TARDIS is.” He looked ready to cry for joy. Instead he just picked her up and swung her around.
“I’m a geek, what can I tell you,” Dajan laughed, then paused as they emerged from the woods. It was nearly midnight now, after their romp in the woods. An Oregon White Oak tree stood in the mushroom circle. It was already about six feet tall, and it seemed to still be working its way upward.
“It is an oak tree,” Ford marveled, but did not stay to look at it since Dajan didn’t. “Extraordinary.”
“Wait ‘til you see whatever she has planned for it when it’s done,” Dajan grinned. “I expect this isn’t the real surprise. Let’s go inside. Watched magic is slow magic.”
The Mystery shack was as dark as it had been when they left it, so Dajan didn’t bother turning on the lights. Ford took that as a cue to stick close to Dajan since she was the one who could see in the dark. But for his sake, she lit one of the little votive candles left over from the Labor Day storm, and led him back to their room once they’d put the dirty dishes to soak.
“Turn,” Dajan suggested, trying to be mindful of Ford’s quirk about not seeing her undress. She found it charming even if she didn’t quite get it. “Ok, done.” Laundry doing itself was another perk of having her brownie magic given free reign in the house. She was back in her boyfriend shorts and the Shack T-shirt she wore as a nightshirt. “So any other questions before we turn in, confident that no nightmare will come between us?”
“Something was bothering you earlier tonight -- just for a second, I thought.” Ford leaned forward and put a hand atop hers. “You know I am willing to listen. To anything you have to say. About anything.”
“I --” Dajan blinked. “It is not fair that you are that perceptive.”
“In my defense,” Ford pointed out reasonably, “Making observations of minute details has been my life’s work.”
“Nobody sees through that poker face. Or everybody has, and has just been nice about it,” Dajan moaned like an embarrassed fifteen year old.
“Poker face?” Ford repeated, confused, until he parsed the idiom. He fell silent for a moment, with his hand lost in her hair, and her head resting on his chest. “Your cousin,” he said. “Khrys. We joke about her being terrifying because she is, you know.”
“Oh she is,” Dajan agreed. “But even though she was an orphan like us, she didn’t stay unadopted long. “Her gawky uncute phase lasted probably a week. And then she looked like that. So, okay, yeah. I look like a mangy kitten from the alley and she’s the Sphinx. And I know -- rationally -- that it’s really dumb. But part of it is the whole silly fae society thing. She has the one little defect and can weaponize it. I’m a jumbled mess and can barely defend myself. She gets phenomenal magic, and mine is just barely enough to keep myself together. So yeah, okay...it gets to me sometimes.”
Ford waited to make sure that she was absolutely done before he reacted. The only thing he did was pause for a second, then guide her left hand to rest under her cheek -- over his heart, where the tattoo of his personal brand and a now unbroken heart indicated the promise he made to always find her. “You never need to worry about that. Khrys may be beautiful, but she is not you. Nothing can change that.”
“Furthermore-- you have more than one way of showing how beautiful you are. She’s stuck with just the one. I think you have the advantage.”
“...Charmer. Are you trying to turn my head?” Dajan sighed, the note of unhappiness now gone from her voice.
“I certainly am. Is it working?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Goooooooooood.”