Work Text:
Strickler pulled from his dwindling stock of blades, and through them at the feral troll. Did nothing he did hurt it?
Over a hundred blades made up his metallic plumage, and all of them had struck their target, and yet he still wasn’t dead!
The troll drew out another handful of enchanted items, one of them being a gaggletack. Strickler did not need that touching him, and risk the damage that could be done to him while in his human form.
“Young Atlas! Where are you?” He growled, the boy brings this trollmarket thief to the surface then leaves Strickler to fight on his own? That seemed very unlike him.
He risked a glance over his shoulder, and spotted the other danger, apparently RotGuts had not been the only place robbed. Some of the rocks the troll had thrown had erupted with hellheeti’s.
“Sorry, Strickler!” Jim shouted, shoving the garden hose he had been wielding to keep the house from erupting into flames into his mother’s hands. “Just shoot all of them!”
Jim dodged a hellheeti that pounced at him, but he was careful not to strike at it; they didn’t need to feed the flame.
“Strickler watch out!” Jim shouted, right as the changeling was turning back towards his opponent who was throwing the contents of his hand.
A poisoned dagger zipped over Strickler’s head as he ducked, and rolled out of the way of the gaggletack and a bottle that smelled of Soman. Where the hell had they gotten that much?!
He looked back to be sure it hadn’t hit anyone, and thankfully the bottle didn’t even break. He would have to claim that for himself if he got the chance.
Strickler reached for another blade, he only had a handful left, he needed to use them wisely. The troll grunted as it threw something from his other hand, and it zipped through the air with alarming speed. Strickler moved out of the way, but in the same moment, his foot connected with something metalic and cold, that immediately shot a tingling sensation through his nerves.
“Shit,” He growled, as the gaggletack forced him into his human form. And he quickly moved away from the inconvenient item. It took a moment for the magic of the gaggletack to leave his system, and he quickly shifted back to his trollish form.
Jim flew back as the troll punched him, and the boy crashed into one of the large rocks of the back yard. Please let the armor have absorbed that hit.
The troll rushed Strickler, and grabbed him around the throat, squeezing tightly with both his stoney fingers and something metallic, that sent a jolt through his nerves similar to the gaggletack, but nothing happened. Strickler clutched the dagger in his hand, and stabbed it down into the troll’s arm, and suddenly the Sword of Daylight swung down only inches from his blade, and cleaved the troll’s arm in two.
The arm crumbled away, but something was still locked around his neck.
Jim darted around the troll, using their size difference to his advantage, then skewered him through, crumbling the troll to stone.
Jim heaved a heavy sigh of relief, and held up a little charm. “He had this!”
“Young Atlas, don’t let that touch your skin!” Strickler warned, before turning towards Barbara, who was extinguishing the last remaining flames from the hellheetis.
Jim held the item carefully with his armored hand, and walked over. “What is it? And what is on your neck?!”
Strickler rubbed his hand over the metallic collar on his neck, it was covered in runes and little stones, but he couldn’t tell what they said or were with feel alone.
“That is a protection charm, they were quite a rage back in the dark ages. They protect the wielder as if they wore the toughest armor.” Strickler explained, and Jim looked at the little charm with fascination. “The only problem is most of them were enchanted incorrectly, and have a high chance of turning you into a set of armor.”
Jim’s face paled, and he held the charm away from himself. “I really have to question what Rot and Gut are selling sometimes.”
“I question their wares constantly,” Strickler replied, and clawed at the collar, it wasn’t coming off.
Jim tossed the charm to the ground, beside a few other items, then summoned his shield. “Here you go.” He held it up, and although a bit warped in its curved shape, Strickler was able to see his reflection well enough.
He froze as his eyes settled on the collar, it was made of iron, but it was infused with brown and green stones. Darkland crystals, and Sapstone.
He had seen one of these on his neck once before, and had desperately tried to forget the experience and horror of wearing one. The joug was crafted by magically inclined humans long ago, and any changeling that wore them could not revert to their human form, and were often left in the sun as vengeance for stealing the place of human children.
Panic seized his chest, and he clawed at the joug desperately, instinctively trying to revert to his other form as a way to test if it was true.
“Strickler! Strickler! Stop!” Jim shouted. “MOM!”
“Walter!” Barbara rushed to them, and quickly grabbed Strickler’s hands and pried them away from the enchanted item. “Hey, hey, look at me.”
Strickler’s shallow panicked breaths slowed enough to properly grant his brain oxygen. “S-sorry.”
“What’s wrong?” Barbara asked. “Are you hurt?”
He shook his head slowly. “I can’t change my form.”
Jim and Barbara exchanged surprised looks, then Barbara reached for the joug, but stopped when Strickler flinched away from her reach.
She pulled her hands back close to herself, she knew that Strickler was sensitive about anyone touching his neck. Too many people had strangled him, and then there was this.
He shuddered. He’d had it good with his family, and then a fool of a changeling was discovered in the neighboring village, and the purge began.
He had it good with this family, what if this took that away too?
“Walter, can you look at me?” Barbara asked gently, her voice pulling him from the memories.
His eyes focused on her, and found Jim was no longer beside her. Strickler quickly looked for the boy, and found him walking about the yard, collecting up the stolen artifacts into a laundry basket to be returned to Trollmarket.
“Walt?” Barbara prompted, and he brought his attention back to her. “Do you want to try to calmly take it off?”
Strickler swallowed hard, hating how he could feel his adamsapple move against the metal. He shook his head, this wasn’t something that could just be broken off, the Sapstone infused in it made sure of that. He swallowed again, doing his best to ignore the sensation.
“It needs a key,” he explained.
“Looking!” Jim announced.
Strickler cleared his throat and rubbed his hand over the joug again. At least it didn’t have a chain to be nailed down.
“I am sorry for my reaction,” Strickler said, bridling his emotions again. “I should have tried to keep a level head. We will find the key to the joug, and it will be done with.”
Barbara's concern didn't leave, even as he turned away from her to search if the troll had even grabbed the key to go with the item.
It took them several minutes to gather everything up, and Strickler was successful it stowing away the bottle of Soman, planning on putting it with his collection of similar illegal items in his basement when this was all over.
But to his destress, there was no key to be found. Not even the gaggletack worked to change his form.
"I'll take the stuff to RotGuts and see if they have the key there," Jim said, trying to look on the hopeful side, which Strickler greatly appreciated.
Although he had a few places he could check for himself.
"I'll call you after I'm done," Jim announced, and headed down to the basement to the sewer tunnel, not wanting to carry all the magical items through the open street.
Strickler rubbed his hand over the joug, fighting down the panic that continued to try to rise up. He needed to work on getting this thing off.
He plunged his hand into the pouch on his waist and yanked his phone out, his grip causing the screen to crack.
Get a hold of your self, Stricklander!
He would get the screen repaired later. He opened his contacts, and called one of the four people within the priority list.
The phone only rang for a single tone, before it was answered.
"What?" Normura answered with little patience.
"Does the museum archives happen to have a Darklands Joug key on hand?" He asked, cutting right the the chase because neither of them wanted to make this conversation last longer than needed.
"Did you get a joug out on you?" She asked, her voice thick with amusement.
Strickler didn't respond, unwilling to admit to it, but also knew if he tried to lie she would see right through it.
"Yeah, I we've got one in the archive, along with a few collected jougs." She answered, "I'm also pretty sure there are a few at Omni Reach."
Strickler did not want to have to walk through the Janus Order with the metal collar on his neck, so he would have to go with the museum.
"Can you get the key-"
"I'm working today, or did you forget?" Nomura snapped, which did manage to bring a small smile to Strickler's face.
He much rathered it being her having to deal with the clean up of the mess caused by a few changelings up north. She was great at damage control though, and he trusted her wholly to get it hushed up.
"Get the key yourself," She growled, and ended the call.
Strickler put the phone back into his pocket, and his eyes found Barbara who was looking at him with that unending concern.
"Nomura says there is a key within the museum archives I can dig up," He stated, readying to head there immediately.
"Do you want to wait to see if Jim can get a key from Trollmarket first?" She asked, but that was going to take too long, Nomura promised a key in the museum and that would be the fastest.
Barbara stepped forward, managing to sort it out just based on his expressions. "Can I come with you?"
It seemed especially strange for her to ask, especially with her knowing the museum would be closed, and if he were going like this it would very much be sneaking in illegally. This was highly out of the ordinary for her, but as he studied her expression it made more sense.
She wanted to go because she had seen the state he had been in only minutes ago. She was worried about his well being.
If he was being honest with himself he probably should do this mission alone, it would be much easier that way, but he didn't want to be alone. He didn't want to be a changeling trapped in his trollish form hiding from humans and searching desperately for a key again.
Strickler gave a small nod. "If you are so willing, of course you may come."
Barbara hesitated a moment, perhaps not expecting that answer, and then she gave a soft smile. "Are we taking the car, or are you flying us?"
Flying always made him feel more free, even when he was ruled over by the worst monsters.
"Flying," he answered, eagerly grabbing her, and held on tight as he shot them up into the sky.
He held her tightly for the flight, but also for himself. What if there wasn't a key? What if he was stuck like this forever? He knew that was going to happen anyways once his familiar was freed, but that felt less real than this for the time being.
Strickler landed them on the roof of the museum, and continued to hold her, unable to let her go so easily.
"Walt," Barbara started, her voice confused but soft. "Are you okay?"
"Y-yes." He quickly released her, embarrassment showing on his cheeks. Strickler allowed he to wander away, as he felt ridiculous for letting his emotions be so in control this night. He cleared his throat and scanned the roof. "One of these windows should be un-"
"This one?" Barbara whispered, already lifting open one of the glass panels.
He raised a curios brow, and she only replied with a smile.
"Come on, let's get that key," She nodded to their acquired entrance, and Strickler quickly hurried over.
He looked down into the museum, scanning over every display and exhibit. Security was as slim as usual, there were obviously cameras in case of a real break in, but all that footage that funneled through the Janus Order to be edited as needed.
Other than those, the coast was clear.
Strickler lowered himself down through the window, and swung himself over the railing of the second floor, finding his footing quietly.
He turned back around, and offered up his hands, signalling that he would catch his accomplice. "Are you coming down?"
Barbara looked down at the darkness beneath her, human eyes unable to see the same amount of detail as Strickler's could. It also didn't help the without properly swinging one would drop all the way to the first floor.
Strickler spread his wings as a further sign that he would not let her fall so far.
Barbara heaved a sigh, then lowered herself through the window, determined to stay with him. She had most of her body through, but once her chest lowered below below the window frame, she dropped before catching herself with straight arms.
Barbara's grip was already slipping, but she still attempted to swing towards him.
The second she was close enough, Strickler grabbed her, and feeling his grasp she let go of the frame. Strickler shot his wings out to balance as he pulled her close to him, knocking into a stone carved bust.
He stepped back off the railing, and quickly released Barbara to rush and stabilize the rocking display.
"Sorry," Barbara whispered, seeing the damage that could have been caused. Strickler swapped his wings for his cape, thankful he still had such glamoring abilities, and turned back around toward her.
"No need to apologize." He flashed her a tusked smile, then brushed several loose hairs out of her face, and cupped her jaw. "I am thoroughly impressed."
His eyes wandered from her face to his hand, and he quickly retracted it, somehow forgetting the form he currently had displayed. How did she look at him while he was like this? She didn't even flinch away.
"You're impressed?" she questioned, grabbing his hand before it could fully retreat, keeping him there. "And yet I'm incredibly out of practice."
"Break into places frequently?" He couldn't help but ask, curiosity taking control.
"I preferred breaking out rather than breaking in," she answered. She turned and spotted the stairs, then started for them, still keeping his hand in hers. "Strict parents, and all."
Barbara had made small mentions of her life as a youth before, but based on the fact that she was no longer in contact with her parents, and Jim had never met them, Strickler felt it was much more than a case of strict parents.
He had seen plenty of cases of abuse as his time as a teacher, and the way Barbara acted, he could only admire what an amazing person she had become even through it all.
He on the other hand…
"Which way?" Barbara asked quietly when they reached the bottom of the stairs.
Strickler hesitated a moment, even if he had the entire museum memorized. He swallowed and his free hand went to the joug once more, he would have the key in a few minutes.
"This way." He took the lead, weaving through the displays, and pushed through the employees only door.
"Wow, it's even darker in here," Barbara noted, and tightened her hold on his hand, he tightened his own grip in response, assuring her that he would not be leaving her blind.
He turned to the right, and headed along through the displays being prepared to be put out on the floor.
A light flickered up ahead, and Strickler ducked behind a display and yanked Barbara close to him, placing his hand over her mouth before she could make a sound.
Her back to his chest, he could feel her panicked breaths that slowed as she forced herself to calm.
The light grew, and the security guard came into view.
Carlos, if he was remembering correctly, he liked this guard. He did his job, but not thoroughly enough to catch a goblin or changeling.
Strickler kept his hand firmly over Barbara's mouth as she stiffened and the guard walked right past them, where they would be instantly spotted if he turned his head.
Both of them held their breath, and to their silent relief Carlos walked right past them, his attention drawn to a painting of one of Jim's predecessors.
Once the guard was far enough away, Strickler released Barbara's face, and quickly but silently lead her down the hall to the next set of stairs.
They descended to the basement level, and into the archive where even the guards weren't supposed to go. Confident of their safety, Strickler flicked on the lights.
"And here are the museum archives," Strickler announced, gesturing to the many boxes and file drawers. "Only the most select are allowed to go through these."
"You mean changelings?" She asked, raising a brow.
Strickler smiled. "And a few others we can't seem to be rid of, but we know how to handle them."
Barbara seemed a little concerned by that, but decided to let it slide for now. He knew she was taking all this in, and the questions would come later. Right now the priority was the key.
Strickler released Barbara's hand, and her fingers lingered on his for a moment before they separated to start their search.
Nomura organized enough that the further back in the archive you went the more things became tied to trolls.
Strickler listened as Barbara began looking through things, and he was curious what it might be that she had found. She was far enough in for it to be relevant to their search, but what she might discover about the old world of magic was intriguing to think about.
Strickler had known about magic, and trolls, and war his whole life. But what might be be like to discover it all for the first time?
He heard a filing cabinet open, and knew it would just be translated records. He secretly hoped that it was something she would be interested in, maybe they could talk about it when this was over with.
Strickler shook his head, and pulled at the joug. He needed to focus, he was so busy trying to listen to Barbara, he wasn't actually looking in anything himself.
Strickler turned to a random crate, and opened it. It was full padding for the clay urns within. Full and sealed urns of changeling ashes. Strickler's stomach twisted, he had seen them hundreds of times, seen so many changelings die, but in the moment it made him feel ill.
They're remains were just sitting in a box, because that was all changelings got at the best. And at the worst-
He tugged and clawed desperately at the joug, the forest around him shading him from the sun that had been meant to turn him to stone.
He couldn't get it off no matter what he tried, even the little magic he knew did nothing against it. All he did was scrape and tear his own flesh. He couldn't get out, he couldn't change, he was useless like this! He would be killed! No, worse, would be eaten alive! Only freed from the joug when his head was bitten off by his master!
"I FOUND IT!" Barbara's voice cut through the memory like the blades around his neck, and he let out a shakey breath of relief.
"Walter?" Barbara called when he didn't give a response.
"Coming!" He shut the crate of changeling urns, and hurried over to where he had heard Barbara.
She looked up at him as he approached, and lifted open the crate containing the needed items.
The crate was full of that typical protective packaging, but on full display were three more Darklands crystal and Sapstone infused jougs, and carefully cradled in the middle of it all was the enchanted key.
Strickler quickly grabbed the key, careful not to touch the other items, and with his other hand searched for the key hole where inner runes would connect and release the enchanted hold.
He slid the key into the slot, and nothing happened. He tried to turn the key, but it was not made to turn. it was made to be simply inserted and the magic would be activated.
He pulled the key out and slid it back in. A miserable sound climbed up his throat, but he stopped it there, refusing to sound so distressed.
"Walt, do you want me to try it?" Barbara asked, maybe he hadn't done it right, maybe it wasn't responding due to the stone that made up his hands.
"Yes, please," he managed through a stuttering breath, and shoved the key into her hand with more force than he meant. "Sorry."
"You're alright, we'll get this thing off," she said with such confidence he couldn't not believe it. Gods it felt nice to trust someone, even as little as his trust extended, it felt like a miniscule safety line between them.
She grabbed his shoulder to lower him to a point that she could easily see the slot, her face so close to his, but her focus was on the joug.
She slotted the key in, and gave it a small wiggle, pulled it out, turned it upside down and slotted it in that way. The metal still held solid.
"Hold on," Barbara said, her breath warming his stone. She pulled him a little lower. "I'm going to touch the joug, okay?"
"Okay," he said quietly, and did his best to hold himself still as he felt her fingertips brush his neck as she ran her hand over the collar.
He kept his eyes carefully on her, wishing he could see exactly what she was doing. In his mind he clung tightly to that thread of trust.
She slotted the key in again, then pulled it free, and then she released him.
"Got a diagnosis for me, doctor?" He asked, trying to lighten the mood slightly.
To his dismay he saw her put on a carefully masked expression, that faltered for a split second when she met his eyes.
"The runes on the inside of the key hole are damaged," she reported, "The key seems to be fine, but the-"
"The runes are broken," he understood well enough, even with a different key it would not work, maybe he could get someone to fix the inner runes, then he could get it off.
He placed his back against the crate, and slid down it to the ground. He pulled on the collar, but knew it only absorbed the strength he put into the effort.
Barbara deposited the key back into the crate, then sat down on the floor beside him. "Can I ask a probably dumb question?"
"I will often say there are no dumb questions, but students have proven me wrong a time or a dozen," he said, trying to forget for just a moment of the situation he was in. "But you my dear will never be able to stoop to such depths."
She rolled her eyes, but smiled. Her hand found his forearm, and traced one of his carvings with her finger until she found his hand and interlaced their fingers.
She gave a small sigh, and glanced at the joug before meeting his eyes. "Why can't you just… break it off? I've seen how strong you can be."
Strickler tightened his hand on hers, then with his other hand traced his claw around several of the infused stones.
"Sapstone," he answered, feeling utterly defeated by it. "It claims the brute strength of any troll, no matter how powerful."
A moment of silence passed as Barbara processed the new information, and he allowed his gaze to wander for a moment, until she broke the silence.
"I have an idea, but I don't know if you'll like it… or if it will work," Barbara said, and a her face scrunched in that adorable way as she thought.
It didn't sound promising, but what else did they have at this point. "Care to share it?"
"It claims the strength of trolls, but only trolls?" She asked, for clarification.
"Yes, although I doubt a goblin or a human could rip such an alloy apart," he said, venturing the idea slightly.
"But what about a saw?" Barbara looked up at him with absolute seriousness.
"A saw?" Strickler couldn't help but rub his neck at the idea of having a blade powerful enough to cut through metal and stone anywhere near it.
"In the hospital we have ring saws," she elaborated. "It would probably take an eternity, but they're made to cut through metal that is stuck on someone."
Strickler's eyes widened, that could actually work. Sure the saws were made for small finger rings, and like she said it would take an incredibly long time, but the saw would be uninhibited by the Sapstone.
"You don't happen to have one at home, would you?" Strickler asked, already shoving that bit of wishful thinking down before it could rise.
She shook her head, but then she got a look in her eye. "I know it's a bit busier even at this time of night, but… how do you feel trying to break into the hospital?"
Strickler hated the idea, but the way Barbara offered it made it sound like a delightful adventure in his mind.
"We've already broken into the museum, so why the hell not?"
After a call with Jim, and a quick stop at the house, they were at their next breaking and entering.
Barbara had the thought of herself not having to do the breaking part, but knew that if she was seen entering the building questions would be asked, and it would make everything more difficult.
Strickler watched with silent delight at how masterfully Barbara routed them through a back door—that opened with the tap of her badge—and through the halls avoiding everyone with impressive success.
Barbara opened the door to a dark and unused patient room, and once Strickler was close enough, pushed him inside.
"Stay here, I'm going to get the saw." She said, and disappeared down the hall before he could say anything against it if he wanted to.
Strickler backed into the darkness as the door closed, and he took in the room, picking out places to hide if it came down to it. The window could not open wide enough for someone to slip through it, which was very understandable within a hospital, but it did mean he would have to resort to breaking the window if a retreat was made necessary.
It felt so strange to be in a hospital room, trollish form or not. He always tended his wounds himself, and never had someone he would visit. There was a changeling who worked in a neighboring hospital, but it wasn't like that gave him a reason to go in.
The only thing to really bring him to the hospital was Barbara, occasionally he brought her lunch when Jim wasn't already on top of that, but that never brought him to a patient room.
And now here he was in the hospital about to be helped by the only doctor he would allow so close to him. Maybe that thread of trust was far more than a thread.
Barbara wouldn't allow him to use the saw on himself, and he knew well enough it would be a bad idea. He was going to need to let someone bring a saw to his neck.
He buried his face in his hands, that thread of trust was going to need to become something more like a dyneema rope by the time Barbara came back through that door.
I do trust Barbara, he reminded himself. He trusted her with his secrets, with any bit of his past that she asked about. He trusted her in intamate moments of just them, how many times had he let down his guard for her pleasure?
Maybe he had been too scared to admit how much trust he granted her, maybe that dyneema rope had already been woven, but he had refused to acknowledge it as anymore than a sewing thread.
The door to the room opened, and Strickler quickly stowed himself away. He was sure it was Barbara, but there was no reason to let down his guard at this moment.
The door shut, bringing back the darkness.
"Walter?" Barbara's quiet voice came.
Strickler pulled out of his hiding spot, and her eyes quickly found him, and then she flicked on the lights.
He squeezed his eyes shut, and blinked them open, quickly adapting to the bright white lights.
"You scared me," she said, turning away from him. She taped a clipboard to the door to cover the little window, layed a towel at the bottom of the door, and propped a broom in such a way to help prevent the door from possibly being opened.
"And you blinded me in return," he mumbled, but had no intentions of holding such action against her. "You were successful in retrieving the saw?"
She held up the box that contained the tool, with confidence. "Right here."
She walked over to the medical bed, and patted it. "Come sit. I'm telling you this now, this isn't going to be a short process."
Strickler pulled himself away from his hiding spot, suddenly feeling sick about the situation all over again. He supposed this wasn't the worst place to start feeling sick though.
As he sat on the medical bed, with his legs hanging off the side. Barbara climbed onto it as well on his left, and made herself comfortable as she began to meticulously put the equipment together. It looked as if she had taken blades from other cases too, as the amount within the box seemed absurd for its typical use.
With it all put together, Barbara pulled her hands away from her work, and set them on their knees.
"Alright, you ready?" She asked, not planning on taking up the saw until he gave her the word.
He looked towards the secured door, but reminded himself that even midway through this they could retreat. He was sure he could dig up a similar tool from someone in the Janus Order.
"Yes," He calmly answered. "Let's get this damned thing off."
Barbara set to work, informing him of everything she was doing before she did it.
Strickler's ears pinned back, and he bit back an instinctive growl at the sound of the whirring blade.
The chain of the joug was nailed to the large oak where others they deemed unwelcome were often tied to or hung from.
The captive looked at the humans he had been tasked to call his family. The ones he had let himself believe could perhaps be such a thing.
But they only saw him as the monster he was revealed to be.
They threw rocks at him, which did little against his stone flesh, but they bruised his very soul.
They screamed at him for his crimes, but this was how he was supposed live, this was what he was supposed to do!
He clawed helplessly at the joug as it absorbed his strength, but the tree his chain had been nailed to was not enchanted, and it did not have the the ability to claim his strength.
He dug and clawed into the wood, even as the humans tried to stop him, tried to beat him into submission of his fate to burn in the sun. It didn't matter what they WANTED, he NEEDED to escape.
He clawed, and dug, and tore-
"Walter?" A hand came laid over his, and his eyes focused on the reality right in front of him. His fingers curled tightly, burying his claws into his own legs.
"I'm okay," he said. "Please, continue."
He trusted Barbara, he trusted her with his life. She was not like the family he had been swapped into, she was not scared of this form.
"Barbara," he began, as she replaced the blade, and based on the amount of dull ones, this was the fifth time swapping it out.
"Yeah?" She looked up at him, pausing her work for the moment.
"Thank you, for doing this," he said, wishing he could truly express how grateful he was for her. "For being here with me."
The corners of her mouth lifted into a gentle smile. "Thank you for trusting me." She pushed up onto her knees, and planted a kiss on his cheek. "We're about halfway done, you're doing great."
Halfway through, they almost had this retched thing off of him.
With a small warning she started the saw again, and continued the removal process.
He kept his face pointed towards the door, not wanting to get in her way, but he scanned her over with his eyes. He much preferred admiring her much rather than reliving his old memories.
"I love you," he said quietly, still trying desperately to express what he was feeling. "You know that right."
That gentle smile returned to her face, although slightly bigger this time.
"I know," she replied, not stopping her work, determined to get him out of it, and out of the hospital as soon as possible. She offered him a very small glance, with her bright blue eyes before returning them to the saw. "I love you too, Walt."
"It is alright that I speak while you work?" he asked, realizing how much better it allowed him to endure the experience.
"As long as you hold still," she answered, then recognizing why he might ask, added. "What's on your mind?"
"The last time I had a joug like this put around my neck I lost the family I was placed with," he began, and looked down at his claws, that still bore into his stone, although not as harshly now.
"I was afraid that somehow this would make you hate me too," he continued. "I know it's ridiculous, and you have done more than enough to prove that wrong. But I suppose fear still has its way to take hold of us."
"I know you already know, but me and Jim aren't going to leave you, and we will never hate you, Walt," she assured. Then sighed and began swapping out the blade again. "You've been through a lot, more than I can even comprehend, and it's okay for those things to come up. We'll work through them together."
He hummed in acknowledgement. "You're too good for me."
"Well I don't plan on letting you go any time soon, so you better get used to it." She teased, not that she believed herself to be above him in any way.
"Any time soon?" He questioned, raising a brow, and reminded himself to not turn his head towards her.
"Maybe I'll want some space after a few million years." She stuck her tongue out at him, making a childish face, before refocusing on her task.
"Well I suppose I wouldn't define that as soon, so you pass there."
She held back a laugh. "I wasn't sure, especially with it being you."
Strickler snorted, as a laugh forced its way up. Only she would be able to get him to laugh at a time like this. "I'm not that old."
She gave a tiny shrug, feigning disbelief. "If you say so."
"Forgive me for not aging as gracefully as you, only so many of us can achieve such beauty standards."
She pulled the saw away, already through another blade, but before swapping it out, planted another kiss on his cheek. Before she could return to her work, he turned to her, hooked a finger under her chin, and planted a kiss on her lips. She lingered there for a moment, pressing against him with absent fear of this form.
She pulled away from him, and pushed him back into place. "Save it for later mister, need I remind you that we aren't exactly here legally?"
"Forgive me," he said half-heartedly. But he definitely would be saving it for later.
The two of them continued talking, occasionally having to remind each other that they needed to keep their voices low. It was a miracle they hadn't been caught.
Perhaps Strickler was too used to letting his guard down around her.
He was on about some History lesson he had taught maybe fifty years ago, and the rediculousness of his students even then, when he felt the joug spring open.
"Got it!" Barbara announced quietly, and the moment it broke he felt the enchantments behind to fade from his body, but he knew they would linger for a while longer.
Strickler hastely pulled the iron from his body, reveling the feeling of having his neck free again.
"Now let's get out of here." Barbara didn't waste any time, putting the dulled blades into her pocket, and packed up the saw, before stowing it on a shelf to be taken care of another time. She took up the joug and threw it over her shoulder, knowing they couldn't leave anything behind.
"Ready?" She asked.
Strickler let out a long sigh of relief and stood. His hands rubbed over his neck, and made the mental note to thank Barbara a thousand times over for this.
"Let's go." He gestured towards the door, and they carefully made their way back through the hospital again.
They reached the exit, when the two of them heard footsteps. Barbara shoved Strickler through the door, and hastily shut it between them, making him rely solely on sound to know what was happening.
"Doctor Lake?" a man questioned, clearly not expecting to find her there, especially in her current wear. "I thought you had the weekend off."
"It's really embarrassing, but I left my wallet in the lunch room," Barbara said, the nervousness of the situation appearing as the mentioned embarrassment.
The man chuckled. "Oh I've done that before, the whole drive to the hospital I was terrified I would get pulled over."
Barbara did her best to laugh along with him. "Glad to know I'm not the only one, I'll see you on Monday, Malcom."
"See you Monday," he replied, "Enjoy the rest of your weekend, we all know you deserve it."
Silence followed, and then the door opened and Barbara leaned against it to shut it.
"Fantastically done," Strickler congratulated. "You make an excellent partner in crime."
"I'm never breaking into anywhere ever again," she said breathlessly.
"Shame, I know this really adorable house at the end of a cul-de-sac, it has an absolutely wonderful master bedroom-"
Barbara elbowed him, cutting him off. "I'm not breaking into my own house. Let's go home, I believe you had something you were told to save for later."
With the relief of the joug off his neck, and the uncontainable joy he got from being around this woman, he laughed and snatched her up in his arms. But even with the burst of energy he couldn't ignore how exhausted he was from the day.
"Perhaps it will have to be saved for even later, I am afraid I am beat." He sighed.
"Fly us home, then we can cuddle on the couch and eat leftovers and watch some cheesy RomCom?" Barbara offered, smiling up at him.
"As if I could deny such a wonderful evening." He unfurled his wings, and shot up into the air, relieved to finally go home.