CW⚠️: very subtle but intense manipulation (basically anytime Leonard is here), implications to emotional abuse (how grace behaves, it's still interpretive), brief description of panic attacks (thanks reg)

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☂︎ 𝔱𝔰𝔲 | ❛ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ. ɪᴛ'ꜱ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴇᴀꜱʏ ❜

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❛❛𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆,❜❜

The man who introduced himself as Leonard perked at Vanya's praise at his squeaky rendition of Frere Jacques. Their lessons had been going surprisingly smooth, she couldn't remember the last time someone was this eager to learn. Someone who wasn't discouraged when they messed up or were corrected.

"Looks like I picked the right teacher," he shrugged.

"Oh," Vanya smiled, shaking her head as if it would somehow shake the smile from her lips. "well, I'm glad someone thinks so,"

Vanya quickly explains at Leonard's expression. "My next student could probably lecture me on what I'm doing wrong. She's... She's a bit of a prodigy." You'd be surprised how many of my students actually come to me to learn violin, she thinks. But Vanya doesn't have the courage to say it aloud. This was going so well. Not one mention of her relations to the academy, her siblings, or if she were to pick up crime-fighting ever again. She was just Vanya.

"Well, you can relax," assures Leonard, as if reading her thoughts. "I've never been a prodigy at anything," His eyes, far away, crinkle as he chuckles with a bitter shake of his head. "much to my father's chagrin."

Vanya nods solemnly, her words slipping past her lips without thought. "Well, that makes two of us," she gulped, fearful of what she just brought forth. That and the twinkle in his eye she thought she saw. She didn't have time to decide, he had flashed her a polite smile and awkwardly cleared his throat.

"So--"

"I'll see you next week," she knows she's cut him off, but her fear of the dreaded White Violin talk was motivation enough to make sure this ended on a good note. "and, uh, practice the hold-don't forget your posture, and uh, maybe get a violin." Part of Vanya was relieved when he chuckled with her, the other half wondering why he hadn't said anything yet.

"You can be honest," he begins. They had already risen from their seats, Vanya taking from him her first violin and propping it delicately on the couch. "Do you think it's weird wanting to learn violin this late in life?"

Relieved, Vanya quickly shakes her head. "No, no. Monet didn't really start painting until his forties. He did alright for himself," Leonard smiled fondly at that. "No, if you love music then you're in the right place,"

At that Leonard gave a scoff. "I'd say you're describing my dad more than me. He was the music lover." Vanya nodded along. "No, yeah he, uh-- well, it's kind of why I'm here, to be honest. You see, he passed a while ago."

Vanya's face fell. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"Oh, no, it's fine. Really," he assured, digging his hands in his pockets. Once again, he rocked bashfully on his heels. "We had a complicated relationship. Didn't really get each other. No, yeah, he, uh... He and I had a falling out, and uh... he expected things of me," He gestured to the violin and gave an embarrassed chuckle. "I didn't want that weight on me-all that pressure, you know?"

Stupefied at how well she did, Vanya nodded after a pause. "Yeah," she nodded again, wetting her chapped lips out of nervous habit. "I do actually,"

Looking up from the floor, his dark eyes met hers with a look she yet again couldn't place. A twinkle she couldn't identify. Nevertheless, it left her curious. And his words were dangerous; they were just what she wanted to hear.

"Family. It's never easy, right?"

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

It had started with another hushed conversation. Another quick briefing before another person was made aware of your existence and you had to decide whether or not to trust them. But instead of others being prepared for you, it was Diego preparing you for someone else-making sure you were ready for whatever unfolded. It was a welcome change.

He had assured you many times he trusted this individual with his life, and for now, that was enough for you. But then you learned more about her, and dread sunk your gut. She wasn't human-she was an AI. Made by The Monocle. It was an all too harsh reminder of the life you left far below your feet and you could still hear his modulated voice as sure as you would for the rest of your days.

Diego didn't fail to notice the sudden and rapid increase in your breathing or your coiled grip around his bicep tightening like a python. The two of you stopped before the grand staircase, your eyes stuck where his had flickered to the balcony above and you spotted an alcove that held a small gallery. You suspected this was where you were going. You had little time to dwell when you felt his gaze on you; studying the rippling of muscle from your clenched jaw and the dialing of your irises as you finally met his eye.

You watched with the same intensity, unaware of just how vulnerable you stood with him here and now. Questions of all kinds were buzzing through your mind as they had been since that stupid door came caving in, but Diego occupied less and less. His motivations with you were less of a question.

"I know what you must be thinking," he had said to you. "but I think she might be able to help if you give her a chance."

"Diego..." your voice was filled with unease, and although that was all you could bring yourself to say, he understood.

"Look," he shifted on his feet, his eyes suddenly gravitating to the floor. Your eyes followed, listening to the steady breath released through his nose and the wavering in his voice as looked at his feet pointing directly at your own-his focus completely on you. "I'm not gonna pretend to know what your experience was-or hell, how this'll go,"

Diego felt a noticeable shift in the air pressure. He couldn't quite describe how he knew, but... he could have sworn it was slight relief behind it all.

"or what she'll know about your situation or-- or, if she even knows about you." There was a momentary pause. One occupied by the distant humming carrying like a haunting melody from upstairs. From this Grace─from Diego's mother. When he spoke again, his voice was small and vulnerable, so unlike anything or anyone you were used to. "But I think it's worth a shot."

He waited for what felt like a small eternity before you nodded, the sight gently tugging at the ends of his lips in the process. The pressure shifted again as you glanced down at your hands encased in his, only just now realizing he had taken them in such a gentle plea. You didn't mind.

"Thank you, Y/n," he said. Another tilt of your head told him you didn't quite understand what prompted this. And if he was being completely honest with himself, he didn't know either. He just knew he wasn't used to someone accepting the trust he placed in his mother. Just as you weren't used to the trust placed in yourself.

You held on to the feeling that trust gave you as tightly as you clung to the banister trailing to Grace's gallery. Diego remained by your side, departing only after a small, non-verbal gesture you barely caught before he crossed the hall to where a beautiful, statuesque woman sat poised on a plush couch. You weren't even sure she was real, she sat so still. Her golden hair was half pinned up, the rest cascading down her shoulders─not a single strand out of place. You found her so... unsettling. Though G.R.E.G.O.R.Y. had no physical form, you couldn't help but see the resemblance─the lack of blemish, how structurally 'perfect' they both were in The Monocle's work upon first glance.

A dreadful thought struck you at that moment, one that had been lurking in the depths of your mind that finally broke the surface; what would you do if this went south? This Grace meant everything to Diego and you feared what that might mean for your safety if you didn't trust her. It was enough to twist your stomach into knots and your grip on the railing tightened in fear of flipping the world upside down.

One. Two. Three. Four...

And then Diego approached, with every bit of caution and respect as he had down in your prison. She turned her head, giving you your first glimpse of the woman he called his mother and something changed. "Diego,"

Even from here, you could see the love in her eyes brightening up the room. Her ruby lips split her face in adoration and had you not known any better in this exact instant you would have been sure she had a beating heart. Whatever chilling, lifeless stature she had displayed seconds ago had vanished─she had completely come alive before your eyes in every way, her voice warm and soothing in a manner that tightened your throat.

A tired smile came to his lips as he took her hand, placing a gentle kiss on the back of her palm before kneeling before her. "Hey, Mom," With a flattered tilt of her head, she smiled down at him with a warm smile that contradicted anything you had pictured from her. You stiffened when she finally pulled her kind, now smile-crinkled eyes away from her son where they landed on your figure, lingering in the hall, almost completely out of sight. Her kind smile never fell as she looked at you, though her eyes now held curiosity.

"Oh, hello there," she said. You waited for any sort of indication from her that you were in any sort of danger, but like Diego, it never came. She looked back to him as he rose to his feet, her hand still in his as he looked between the two of you. "Is this a friend of yours?"

"That's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about," he said. He returned his attention to you, give you a reassuring nod to step forward. And with a pounding heart, you joined his side. Grace rose to her feet, her hands stiffly folding over her front, almost out of reflex. "Mom, this is Y/n."

You didn't miss the flicker in her eyes at the sound of your name-nor the slack in her warm grin when Diego began to explain your situation. Her eyes, crestfallen and somehow teary despite her robotic features, finally returns to you. There's still something about her that sticks with you-though you can't place what.

"Mom," His final plea turns her head, her sullen gaze prying off of you after many moments before she gives in to her son's aching voice. But she could hardly help it. These children were hurting. "I need you to promise me something,"

His voice is threatening to break, and you momentarily forget where you are. He almost sounded as frightened as you-as small as you felt after all those years. As angry. Was he angry for you, or had his whole display been purely out of validation from his grudges with his father? Was this only out of grief for learning the depths of his father's cruelty, or did it have anything to do with the way his eyes had been finding you any time you marveled in something new? It made you curious, in many ways as it left you in silence watching him swallow painfully. It stirred something in your chest, but it had been far too long for you to recognize what.

"Oh, my darling," A pained smile took over Grace's features, the warmth of concern still lingering in the hues of blue as she grazed her knuckles down his cheek. As if wiping away the tears that had yet to fall. "You know I'd pluck the moon right from the sky if you asked it of me,"

He winced as if an invisible knife was driving into his heart, and that feeling in your chest turned to a small lurch. He drew in a breath, carefully grabbing his mother's hand and pulling it away from his face. He spares a moment to look at you, scared for the answer he's about to ask for.

"I need you to promise me you'll tell me the truth--"

She nods, immediately. The pain in her eyes still lingers as they flicker to you, making your gut sink.

"Did you know about her?"

A pause hung in the air that demanded to be broken. She was looking at you again, the love of a mother still in her eyes and it put a lump right in your throat. The look on her face was chilling: her smile was screwed in place, as still as the ones in her paintings but you two swore it looked as if her mouth was fighting to speak. She shook her head with a sharp wince, and in an instant, the look was gone.

She was grasping at her temples, a new kind of pained look contorting her face that made you unsettled. Diego was at her aid at a moment's notice, his arm around her and deep concern in his voice as she continued to hiss and gasp in pain. You were surprised to find yourself almost worried for her.

"Mom, hey? What's going on? Are you--? Tell me what's wrong."

Her eyes opened, her lashes fluttered, and all signs of stress dissolved before your very eyes. She straightened, looking at her two new visitors and finding looks of solemn and worry.

"Is everything alright?" She's pleased to see her son at her side, and when she processes this she practically glows. "Diego, my darling!" She looks sweetly between the two of you. "Who's this?"

The words struck Diego right through the heart. That look in her eyes of genuine surprise as if none of the past two minutes had ever happened. He could feel your eyes on him as his shoulders sank, but all he could think about at this moment is what he assured the others of yesterday. She just needs to recharge. He kept telling himself this even when he found her attempting to boil an empty pot on the stove.

The only thing to ease Diego from his crestfallen state was the presence of the grip tightening in his chest from your growing concern affecting the atmosphere. That and the expectant gaze from his awaiting mother. With a shallow breath, he swallowed the rock seeding in his throat and gestured to you with a tight-lipped smile.

"Mom, I already told you," His voice ached in a gentle plea. He wanted her to remember, he knew it was dangerous for her to be in such a state around the others. "this is Y/n."

The two of you studied the strained flutter of her eyes as she turned to look at you-that warmth you had seen was dimming. Like she was fighting to keep the lights on deep inside. Like she was fighting to break her programming.

All the same, she put on a polished grin.

"Lovely to meet you, dear," Robots couldn't cry could they? You wondered, catching the sight of her eyes. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Dad kidnapped her. Twenty-eight years ago," your head snapped to Diego, surprised by his quick answer and hardened tone.

Diego was taken by surprise, himself. The answer came blurting out of his mouth without refrain or regret. But the not knowing had been slowly gnawing at his insides, leaving him questing his entire life. Had the one and only steady figure in his life-his anchor-been just as nefarious and unstable as the others? Was there no one he could trust but himself?

Everything about the mechanical mother was stilled, including the unsettled look glued to her face. If anything it had intensified. Particularly after a half-second glance past your shoulder and over the balcony where Pogo remained. It was a quick, but noticeable moment until a crack in her facade revealed itself.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean," Grace chimed, her voice as strained as the smile not quite reaching her eyes. "You're father is a good man-a great man. He takes care of us--"

"--Mom."

"It is not good for us to question his ways--"

"--Mom."

"--whatever they may be-no matter how much we want--"

"--Mom!"

Diego can't remember the last time he raised his voice at his mother. But you were already storming off down the hall, portraits from her wall that weren't already sucked to the ground were rattling on their hooks, threatening to peel themselves off the very walls lest they rip the nails from the wood. The sounds of shattering glass followed you bulb by bulb as you charged as far as your legs could take you before you collapsed in panicky sobs. Diego was sure he should have gotten whiplash by the double-take he gave between his mother and the sight of your retrieving figure.

Her face fell upon the sight but found herself unable to fix it. Grace was immobile. She could sense the distress she had caused and despite the need to help wired in deep, something dark and wrong was overpowering it and had been for some time. Clouding her thoughts and floating her through her manufactured life with little memory of what was happening. It was almost like a virus. A virus that gave her terrible headaches. Every time she thought of helping that poor--

Grace collapsed back into her love seat, her hand clasping at her temples in pain at the electric shock. Another headache. Like the others, it disappeared as thoughts of you-or any desire to help you-were wiped from her priorities. When she collected herself, her memories half present, she looked up to find Diego disappearing down the hall, hurtling over the stuffed beaver that had fallen to the ground along with several vases and candelabras.

With a small tsk of her tongue, she returned to her feet to get cleaning. If only she could recall what had upset Diego so.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

You hadn't made it far. After stumbling down the hall and around the corner you found yourself in an odd corridor so contradicting to the rest of the house. It was all sea-foam green, from the wooden paneled steps to the cracks in the ceilings. It did you no favors, your head was already spinning and your stomach felt as if it was trying to invert itself. And your heart ached with stress and anger.

A frustrated yelp escaped your lips, born of your emotions and the pain in your toes from stubbing your foot as it caught the fourth step up. Your limbs were tired and the room was caving-or at least you feared it would if you didn't keep your emotions in check-so you didn't seem to care when you crumbled to the steps as panic settled in your heart.

Your throat burned with anger but the tears came anyway. It was a feeling you knew intimately...

The pain shooting up into your knees where they meet the floor were like butterfly kisses compared to the strain in your body to have made you collapse in the first place. It was like every muscle in your body was being pulled like taffy as you fought against the forces built to keep you inside. And that was just your muscles-your throat swelled with flaring, whether from screaming or the gut-wrenching sob begging to be released, you weren't sure.

That never stopped you from trying. Even with him in your ear.

"Number Zero," you cringed at the sound of his modulated voice. You had been in here long enough it felt as if it was coming out of every crevice in the walls. "Perhaps you should take a break? Your stress levels are climbing. Should they climb any higher, they'd be cause for serious medical concern,"

With a huff, you pushed yourself off of your hands and knees where you collapsed against the wall, your rear on the floor, and your hands plopping into your lap. Your mouth hung open slightly as you fought to catch your breath, your stomach twisting as you faced the single door to gave taunted you for as long as you could remember.

It's a long time before you speak. It's a long silence, your stare locked with the single white plated window that you didn't even get access to-why, you once asked? Well, so you couldn't break it of course-as you taste the spots of blood creeping up in your mouth. It painted your lips like watercolors as your tongue explored your inner lip, chewing on your thoughts. Finally, you speak.

"You don't care, G.R.E.G.O.R.Y,"

The black screen in your peripherals comes back to life in protest, the single cobalt line zipping up and down like a heart monitor. "Quite the opposite, child,"

Not a child, you think bitterly. Not anymore. You'd been here something past twenty years. And the very machine to claim concern was responsible.

"You are under my protection and guidance. Seeing as I was built for this very reason, I very much dislike seeing you hurt,"

Finally turning your head to face the faceless screen, your eyes sunken, solemn, and bitter, you spit the truth. You no longer cared if you made him mad.

"You hurt me, G.R.E.G.O.R.Y."

A pause hangs in the air. One you gladly bask in. Your head, still glued to the hexagonal-textured walls, rolls back to face the door. When you speak again, your voice is barely audible. It's a broken whisper, hoarse from your previous screams of strain.

"Won't last in here."

Another silence.

"Can't."

"I'm afraid you must, Number Zero,"

"Do not call me that,"

When he didn't answer, you realized you hadn't said it aloud. You didn't bother trying again. You thought about walking another lap around but you couldn't summon the energy. Let alone the fact a path had practically been worn in up and around the room.

"Is there anything I can do to soothe your nerves? Perhaps some gentle rain sounds?" You feel your entire body bristle. "...Perhaps not. How about some music? As you know, I have access to all, including your favorites, as well as selections you haven't heard,"

To be completely honest, you had stopped listening. With little knowledge of what he had been saying, you released an incomprehensible noise that could have been determined as either a 'yes' or a 'no'. G.R.E.G.O.R.Y., in this case, took it as yes.

With a cheery tone that mocked your very existence, the electric blue line beating along the screen twirled amongst the black as it morphed into several pulsing rings. He pulsed as he talked, all the while digitally thumbing through his files and ignoring the state you were in.

"Very well! Shuffling selection. One moment, please,"

Twenty years. You hadn't stepped foot outside these four walls in twenty years. At least, that's what it was when you stopped counting.

"Do-dooo do-doo-ooo-oooo ooooo doodoodoodoo!"

Everything was heavy. Your heart. Your bones. Your breath.

"Hello walls (hello!) (hello!)"

You couldn't be sure if it was the defeat settling in, or if it was just you.

"How'd things go for you today?"

You tried picturing your mother's face, as you had every day since you could remember being here.

"Don't you miss her"

But you couldn't. Her face was fading and so was she. So were you.

"Since she up and walked away?"

All you had now was fear for her lack of warmth. Dread that took the place of her love.

"And I'll bet you dread to spend"

Dread of that man coming back down. Dread of the weight growing heavier and heavier despite your lack of tension.

"Another lonely night with me"

Somewhere in your mind, you knew it was happening again. He was on his way down to visit you again-hence G.R.E.G.O.R.Y.'s increasing hold on you. The pressure is building in your ears.

"But lonely walls, I'll keep you company"

The fight to keep your eyelids open and on the plated window was growing increasingly difficult. Your blood felt like it was getting thicker and you feared you might fall in your drunken-like state.

"Hello window"

Time itself seemed to slow around you, including the music and its taunting tales as your eyes drilled into the walls. The only faces you grew to know.

"(hello!)"

The room was tilting sideways, or maybe you were-no, it was definitely just the room. Your bones were stiff, your body propped up against the wall like a ragdoll. Blood still creeps up your lips. The taste grew sharper as your senses dialed at the sound of the door window opening.

"(hello~!")

"Y/n! Y/n!"

When Diego finds you, you're folded into the wall against the first flight of stairs, just halfway up. He hadn't expected to find you so soon, he came barreling to a stop in the corridor when he did.

Your head was buried in your hands, your elbows wobbled as they propped themselves upon your knees. He could hear the trembling of your breathing as you attempted to gulp down what air you could. Before he could realize what he was doing, his instincts drew him in your direction. He didn't know what he would do but he knew he wanted to be near you-to comfort you. But his steps turned cautious when he heard the creaks of the walls and ceilings around him.

"Y/n, I am...so sorry," no answer but your zigzagging breath, hinging on your dwindling sobs.

Testing the waters, he inched closer. You made no move to stop him. So he got a little closer. Nothing. He reached the end of the stairs, his soft eyes boring into your figure doubled over halfway up the steps. An ache was burrowing within his chest, taking root alongside something else.

With no intention of going further, Diego hiked a leg to rest on the bottom step and opened his mouth to speak.

"'m not going back there," your voice came out in a low croak, worn from emotion.

It was a moment before Diego spoke, always in fear of saying the wrong thing. "I wouldn't ask you to," His eyes leave you only when the sounds of settling wood reached his ears. His gaze took him around the stairwell as he listened to your settling grip on the house that sounded eerily similar to that of the creaking of a ship at sea.

You haven't moved your head from your lap, but from here he can see the faraway look in your eyes. "Why?" you finally asked, your voice hardened from the lump in your throat.

The question confused Diego. You were still such a mystery to him-a big question mark. What were you asking, how he could help, how could he prove he wanted to help? Your question was presented to him in many forms: Why, did you bring me to her then? Why are you helping me? Why do you care for that woman when she says those things about The Monocle? Why are you not mad at me for storming off?

They were such a simple questions, and yet he had no answer.

It was the first time he managed to pull your eyes from their daze and onto him in veiled surprise, and all it took was another simple question. "Can I sit?" When you finally glanced up at him through your hands, he remained where he was at the bottom of the steps. Waiting for your permission to enter your space, at the bottom of the steps. His steps. It was a small act, but not to you.

Keeping a wary but curious eye on him, you softly nodded. He offered you a thankful one in return and lowered himself down on the fourth step, giving you plenty of space. He didn't speak, not immediately. Allowing the two of you to settle in the silence, adjusting to one another's presence.

Again, Diego continued to surprise you. He was such a mystery to you, a big question mark. Just when you thought you had a decent idea of who he might be, what he might do, he contradicted your expectations. Even now, as if plucking the thoughts right from your head, he shook his in disappointment.

"Look," he said. "I have no idea if you'll ever trust another word out of my mouth ever again, and that's fine. But you have to know..." His eyes bore into yours as he spoke, and for the first time in your life, you felt drawn in by someone else. Not the other way around. You clung to his voice, and that feeling of curiosity it gave you, unaware of the fear evident in his pulse. Not of you, but for you. "I am on your side." He had to get this right. "It's hard to explain, but know that, at least."

Diego decided to count the several beats of silence in his favor. Perhaps you were thinking on his words. He hoped you were.

"You trust her?" It was the first time you picked your head up from your hands, your voice, as well as your expression, was wounded. But what twisted that knife in his heart was the accusatory tone creeping up in your voice. Diego felt the familiar lick of anger that came with any disrespect towards his mother. But with a subtle breath, he reminded himself the only reason Grace had said those things, and the reason you were rightfully upset with them-all of it could be traced back to his father. If there was any anger to express, it was owed somewhere else.

Nevertheless, Diego answered carefully, his tone matter-of-fact but gentle. "Yes, I do," you looked sick with disappointment. It only urged him further. "but that doesn't mean I agree with anything she said."

Diego sighed, his eyes falling to his lap as his fingers fiddled with the gloves on his hands. He suddenly had a hard time meeting your eye as he spoke.

"I'm certainly in no position to speak considering what I know now, you know?" he cleared his throat as he gestured to you. His wrist drops back on his lap, dangling off his knee as his eyes found a tiny crack in the wall. "I mean, I wasn't taken or locked away, or anything but... Well, just try and picture that guy as a dad," a small, pathetic breath of air left his nose in an excuse as a nervous laugh and he shook his head. "He wasn't exactly father of the year,"

Diego missed the confusion that flickered across your face at that statement.

"He didn't kidnap us, but we were hardly his children. He never saw us as children. Never people. Our whole lives, he pitted us against each other. And now there's only five... sorry, six of us left. One's dead, the other disappeared for seventeen years. And now we found you," Now it was your turn to struggle meeting his eye. "So, no I don't really think he's all that great. Never really have."

You took a moment to think about this. You could tell by Diego's small, sad smile he wasn't truly mad despite his tone. If he was, you thought, then he probably wouldn't still be here with you. Making an effort for you. Coming through for you. Even after your lack of faith in his mother-the person he so clearly trusts most.

Another creak ripples through the walls. But it's the last Diego hears.

"I get that it's hard," he confessed after a long sigh. "learning how to trust people. It's...tricky. And I understand we aren't exactly the first in line. But if there is even a chance at doing some good here-a chance at helping you and stopping his twisted shit..." He sighed again. You noticed he did that a lot when he was in some way upset. He scratched at the back of his head before finally meeting your eye again. "even if it is unforgivably late. Then I want to help. I want to help you. If you'll still let me,"

Diego's next breath remained locked in his throat as you studied him. There were so many emotions dancing in your eyes, and the further he searched the deeper he felt himself sinking. The truth was, you were beginning to realize you might not know what trust really felt like. Was it truly something as simple as safety, or was it just an absence of fear? Neither of which, you were sad to admit, you could ever remember experiencing.

But damn, did you want to.

"No new people," you wager. You speak as if it's a negotiation-you speak as if you're still considering his help.

Immediately, he shakes his head. "No new people,"

Diego can't help it. A hopeful, twitching smile fights his way onto his face just before he pushes himself up by his knees and offers out his hand. He's flooded with relief when you take it. He can't quite explain why he feels the certain way that he does that he hasn't completely scared you off. And he knows it has little to do with the existing ties to your capture or his father.

Something similar was crossing your mind at that very moment. You were pleasantly surprised you didn't have to say anything for him to know what you were asking. Neither of you had really realized how much you had picked up on one another already. "I want to show you something," he simply told you. "I think it might take your mind off things for a while,"

The frown already evident on your face, you parted your mouth to speak. Again, Diego beat you to it as he gently lead you through the house. "It's nothing bad, I promise," he paused in worry, stopping only to gently question you. "Wait, you're not afraid of heights are you?"

"Diego," voice uneasy, you peered at the man with concern. "where are we going?"

Frankly, he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it before. Considering how hard that image of you from last night had been to shake from his mind; the tears of joy leaking from your face and the pure, genuine laugh when you first saw the sky was stuck in his head like a catchy song. Going to his mother was what he would have wanted. He understood that now. Diego was still getting to know you, and for someone tucked away from the world their entire lives, he imagine they'd want one hell of a view.

The mere thought of being able to offer such a thing-to possibly not royally fuck up for once had gotten to him. He could feel it in a smirk splitting his face as he extended his arm.

"Somewhere the stars shine the brightest,"

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

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