Hope's eyes were trained on the dance floor, but her mind lay elsewhere.
She turned all the coincidences over in her head, over and over again, as if it would get her to notice a new detail.
She was so deep in thoughts, she didn't even notice the stool beside her getting pulled back.

''Enjoying yourself?'' Clarke pulled her from her thoughts and pointed to the glass in her hands.

''Oh, no— that's not mine.'' she put it down hastily. A sudden wave of nostalgia hit her in the feels and she pushed it as far away from her as possible -the last time she'd gotten really buzzed was at Freya's wedding.

He couldn't possibly know that though and he merely nodded, perching his elbow on the counter. He was almost eye-level with her, but she couldn't understand why his proximity bothered her so much.
It never had before.

''I don't... I don't usually drink... at least, not that kind of stuff.''

''It's alright. You're allowed to do what you want. You're old enough, after all.''
His -or rather her- words hit her like a truck and she found herself stifling a mocking laugh.

''Did you need something?''
If he could be sly, then so could she.

She caught the quirks of his lips twisting upward, but he quickly hid his uprising grin in his own glass.

He turned to the dance floor as he swallowed, observing the many couples.

''They seem to be having fun.'' he said, his eyes set on a blonde and her unlikely partner.

''It's Milton. He can make fun out of every situation.''

''Are you implying that isn't fun?'' he raised a brow over the rim of his glass, causing her to shrug.

''That's not really my thing.''

He studied her for a long moment before finally setting his glass on the counter.

''Then I guess it would be out of the way if I were to ask you to dance with me?'' he asked, his dark gaze unwavering.

As she looked at him, she wondered how ever those eyes could be made of mud. How could he have been crafted from the earth and still look so human? He seemed so real, so firm, like Pygmalion's Galatea.

''Oh. Oh, no... I meant—''
''It's completely okay.''
If he was disappointed, he hid it well.

Hope looked back to MG and Greer, who seemed to be having the time of their lives.
When her eyes went back to Clarke, she reached for his hand.

He sent her a weird look but she wouldn't turn around until she dragged him to the dance floor, passing between the many couples that were already dancing.

She cast a look at the other dancers to know how to proceed, and once she was sure to have a hang of it, she placed her hand on his shoulder, the other still holding his.

As they began to move together, Hope wondered if he'd ever danced like this before.
He was hesitant and rigid as marble for a few moments, before he began to follow the music. Slowly, he followed her lead and put his hands around her waist.

They moved in sync, in a companionable silence and at a reasonable distance from each other, until it wasn't anymore.
Subconsciously or not, they inched closer, until Hope's head was so close to his chest that she had no other choice but to close the distance.

The music dulled out, until all that was left was the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her ear. She'd never stopped to think that he had an actual heart. Could he bleed too?

After a long moment of listening to the silent drum, she felt a weight on the top of her head and sucked in a deep breath.

But his scent was intoxicating, and so uniquely him, that she found herself pressing closer to him.
Her inner wolf growled but she shut it off, only so she could hear the fluttering rhythm of his heartbeat again.
Strangely, she found comfort in it, because it was real. He was here and hadn't jumped into the Malivore portal on a lonely Christmas night.

He was here, with her.

The weight over her head lifted a single heartbeat later and just like that, the bubble burst and the music rang in her ears once more.

She looked up as he let go, only to find MG by her side.

''Hey,'' he said, Greer nowhere to be found, ''Uh, I need to tell you something. If you...'' he glanced between her and Malivore's most dangerous son, his eyes narrowed, although more surprised than suspicious. She was supposed to hate the guy's guts as much as he hated every one of his mother's employees.

''Oh,'' her voice was too quiet to be real, so she tried again, ''Yes. Yeah, sure. I'll be... a minute.''

MG nodded and went away with one last glance at Clarke.

The music was already back in her ears but she didn't let it bother her. The light air was loud enough to dance to but almost as if in a movie, it wasn't enough to break the dam a second time. However, surprisingly, she found that she quite enjoyed the moment with him.

Dancing with him had been a small second, a small tear, a wrinkle in time during which she hadn't had to bare the weight of the world on her shoulders.
In that moment, she'd truly experienced what it meant to be a young woman in the nineteen thirties; however short it had been.

''Thanks, Clarke.'' she said, looking up into his eyes, eternally grateful. She'd always pitied him, and their moment hadn't helped.

To her surprise, she found his eyes already focused on her and he sent her a polite nod.

''Call me Ryan,'' he nodded again, ''Just Ryan.''

All at once, she felt the urge to cry. Holding those tears was a Herculean effort, but she had to. She'd always had to.
Merry Christmas, Clarke and Merry Christmas, Ryan seemed so different, the latter so completely out of reach that she could have cried until there was not a single tear left in her body.

The fact that he seemed so sincere almost had her breaking down then and there.

Fortunately for her, MG came back, this time more urgent.

''Hey, sorry, but this is kind of an emergency so if you could...'' he trailed off, only for her to bob her head up and down rapidly.

He took her wrist and pulled her out of the building, the fresh air hitting her hot face in an instant. It was a if she'd regained her sanity, although she'd never lost it in the first place. It was an eerie feeling that she wasn't even sure she liked.

Once she'd made sure no traitorous tear would fall, she turned to her companion.

''What's wrong? Where's Greer?''

''Had to leave her hanging,'' MG said, pulling out a piece of paper from his pocket, ''Look what I found.''

''Another murder?'' Hope asked.

''Better. A witness.''

                                                 ⌛︎

By the time Hope and MG arrived to the outskirts of town, it was deep dark out and the air was chillier than she expected.

''Do you want my coat?'' he asked, stepping around a root on the ground.

''I'm good. Thank you.''

There was a short minute of silence, almost as if a death knell, during which Hope observed her surroundings.
Even in the dim lighting of the single candle perched in the lantern overhead, she could still see the worn out porch and the house.

She stepped forward, the wood creaking beneath her feet and sending a chill through his spine.

''You were good back in there too,'' MG spoke, trailing behind her, although more careful, ''You've been thinking about Landon lately or...''

''What's that supposed to mean?'' she grew defensive at the mention of her boyfriend. What was he implying?

''Nothing. Just that... we're not here to stay.'' he nodded with a tight smile, which she answered with one of her own.

''You told Greer that?''

Before he could answer, or better yet, before they could decide whether they would break in or knock, a lightbulb was switched on upstairs.

''Crap. Are you even sure this is the place?'' MG asked, stepping back to observe movement behind the window.

''Positive. Janet Hopkins. 143, Dawson Creek Avenue.''

''Great, but where's number 142 and 144?''

''Even houses in the middle of nowhere have adresses, MG.''

''In an era where the mail was so important, I shouldn't be surprised.''

Wood creaked inside and shut him up, and they wondered if they had to run back to their car.
Fate decided for them though, because the very next second, something fell on the floor and screams ripped through the domain.

MG didn't hesitate to knock the door down, almost as surprised as Hope by his newfound strength.

The two quickly ran upstairs, only to find Janet Hopkins lying in a puddle of her own blood.

His wrist was on her mouth in a second but Hope could tell his blood wouldn't be of much assistance.

She looked up when a shadow passed on the wall, only to come face to face with Aion himself.

His disturbing teeth were bared at her, as sharp and rotten as she remembered.
His wings seemed even more majestic than in her memory, but she didn't have much time to dwell on that, because the very next second, he charged at her friend.

''MG!'' she screamed when Aion sank his teeth into his neck, his predicament seeming both ironic and bittersweet.

She sprung into action a heartbeat later, and flung her hands in the air. Curling her fingers, she watched as Aion roared and screamed, thrashing around the room as he held his skull between his hands.

After long minutes of Hope giving him the worst torture she ever inflicted, her nose started to bleed, the drops dripping onto the carpet below.

Doubt crept in and she flicked her wrist, in a vain effort to break his neck.

She groaned when MG tore a splinter of wood out of the headboard and lunged forward but Aion brought himself up just in time to snap the vampire's neck.

Then, slowly, he turned to her.

Though her hand was still raised and nose still bleeding, her spells did little to affect him, so it wasn't a surprise when he grabbed her throat and pulled her up in the air.

She thrashed in his hold until he smirked with his crookedly sharp teeth and flicked her across the wall.

Her vision blurred and an ominous bell kept ringing in her ears, but she couldn't stand up.

Between the stars stinging in her eyes, she could see legs walking up to her, almost as fast as they were loud.
The last thing she saw before her word went dark was a pair of loafers.

                                                  ⌛︎

Hope winced as her vision came back, a sharp pain stinging in her skull.
The light was blinding and she found herself squinting her eyes and turning her head to the side.

''Sorry,'' a familiar voice said, taking their hands off of her wound.
A second later had her realizing it was Ryan, and he was reaching for her head again.

She winced once more as he put the fresh bandaid back over the wound but she made no attempt to swat it away this time.

''Sorry,'' he said again, ''You hit your head. Here.''
Something even fresher was placed over her forehead and she let out a contented sigh.

She looked up at him, studying the way his arm flexed as he focused on his ministrations.
He bit his lip and furrowed his brows in deep concentration -she swore she could almost feel his breath on her cheek.

He truly was handsome.

The bag of ice stilled over her head for a second, before it was put down on the tray beside them.

''Thanks,'' he said.

Had she said that aloud?
But instead of a flush rising to her cheeks, she felt her flesh healing itself up under the bandage. She sighed in relief -however drained she was, her remarkably quick healing was intact.

''But now you better tell me what it is that you were doing out there by yourself.'' he continued, his tone suddenly serious.

''I wasn't— MG!''

''Milton is alright.'' he assured, but Hope still tried to stand up, only to fall back into his arms.

''Okay, okay. Lie down.''

He put her back on the stretcher and rotated the tray away from her face, then, he switched off the bulb overhead, leaving the room only alight by the few posts on the wall.

''Ryan?'' she called, watching through heavy eyes as his back stiffened.
He still turned to her, and slowly met her gaze.
''Why where you there? Were you following me?'' she chuckled, almost waiting for the moment to turn cliche. Her head was still throbbing, and she decided to put the blame of her current state onto that fact.

''No,'' he laughed, although she couldn't find it near as insulting as the smug smirk he'd had back at Triad -the one he'd kept on up until she'd forced him over the railing.
But she couldn't deny there had been something satisfying in watching his composure slip away as they'd both sunk into oblivion.
''My team's been on this... God for a few days. Word has it, he's already killed thirty two people.''

Hope was quiet for a while, taking in what it all meant.

''I know,'' she finally said, realizing just how raspy her voice sounded, ''But what happens to him once you catch him?''

Ryan sent her a look that said it all.

She nodded once, not finding an ounce of pity in herself. She'd been into the pit herself and knew its horrors and yet, Aion deserved it all.

A loud clattering sounded behind the door and a second later, MG was barging in the room, three Triad Agents in tow.

''I'm telling you, let go of me or god help me I will—''
''Kennedy, Jamil, it's fine. Let him go.'' Ryan commanded, his voice more authoritative than she'd ever heard it before.

Reluctantly, the two agents holding him let go, MG's great-grandfather stepping in after them.

''Hope!'' MG ran into her arms, crushing her with his weight.

She winced and he separated from her after helping her in a sitting position.
Ryan seemed wary beside her but she sent him a discreet nod which he answered by looking away.
His concern was almost too good to be true -too unlike him.

''Earth to Hope. I asked how you're doing.'' MG started again, tearing the witch's attention from the golem.

''What?'' she asked, taking in her surroundings at last. ''What's this place?''

''This is the infirmary.'' Ryan replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

''Triad Industries' infirmary.'' MG whispered, as if it were a bad word, causing Ryan to snort beside him.

''We found you at Janet Hopkins's house.'' Roy continued, stepping forward.

''We didn't kill her.'' MG defended, draping an arm over Hope's shoulders protectively.

''We know that.'' Another agent chimed in, who just stepped into the room. It seemed they were guests, or even worse -prisoners.

''Potter, hold it.'' Ryan warned.

''Potter?'' MG asked, his brows raised. ''This is so—'' One look at Hope, and his mouth was shut again. He'd give the J.K Rowling references when the time was right.

Her legs dangled off the side of the stretcher and he stepped to the side, casting a wary glance at the needle driver coated in her blood.
She noticed too and took the tray, almost dropping it in the process.

Ryan caught her trembling hands, passing it to Potter at her request to have it away.
His eyes almost lingered on the vampire for a second too long but he let it go when Hope leaned against his shoulder, needing the momentary pull back to reality.

She pushed back after a moment and braced herself on her knees, and he almost frowned at the loss.

''So, what were you guys doing at Janet's?'' Roy asked, his eyes darting between the exchange.

''We were trying to stop Aion.''

''And failing, obviously.'' one of the agents answered, sending a look to the vampire.

''How do you guys even know about Aion anyway?'' Charles, she thought his name was, asked, arms crossed over his chest.

''Charles,'' Ryan warned, nevertheless looking back at the pair, waiting for an answer.

''We followed him there.'' Hope said, moisture coming back to her mouth at last.
It wasn't far from the truth after all.

And although MG wasn't fond of lying, he'd been taught that white lies didn't fit in that category.
Telling a lie and not telling the whole truth were two completely different things, or so he told himself so he could sleep at night.

''We've been tracking him down from a small town in Virginia. He... killed people there too.'' he said, rubbing his neck.

''Well,'' Roy started, ''Usually I'd consider it our last option, but if you really want to stop him, you'll need the big guy there.'' he pointed a thumb behind him, where, a few rooms over, the railing lay.
Just below it, MG could hear the mud bubbling. Every time a bubble burst, he swore he could hear the screams of the innocents trapped within the darkness.

''We're good without Malivore's help. Or Triad's. Thanks.''

''You'd be dead without us.'' Charles said again, a defiant look in his eyes.

Ryan said nothing this once and Hope felt something in her shrivel up and shrink away.
She preferred to focus on the matter at hand rather than the new things she felt and started to think. Those conflicted with her very primary instincts.

''Hope? Any bright ideas?''

''It just doesn't make sense,'' she said, turning thoughts over in her head. Her brows furrowed and she swallowed thickly, looking up at the lot of them. ''Why do it at all? Why come back for the witness?''

''He's a clean guy?''

''No, he's really not.'' MG muttered.

''I think I might know.'' Ryan said.
He harbored a deep frown, as if all he had were theories. Still, theories were better than nothing.
''Aion is a God of Time, right?'' he asked.

''The God of Time.'' MG answered.

''Don't listen to him. He's only sore because he broke his neck, twice now.''

''You'd be sore too if that happened to you.'' the vampire retorted, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck again.

''Point is, Time is not the only one pulling the strings.'' Ryan explained, ignoring them both.
To the clueless faces before him, he continued.
''Okay, think of this: to exist, Time, although unbounded, follows a precise string of events, otherwise the consequences of each event would be completely irrelevant. What would even be the point of them?'' he snickered, ''I guess that's where Destiny comes in.''

''He's still speaking English, right?''

''Thing is, although complementary, they are at constant war to see who will outlive the other.''

''Isn't that what everything's about? The fight to determine who's stronger?''

''Shut it, Charles.''

''You know all that. How?'' Hope asked, turning to Ryan.

''I read books.'' he shrugged.

''Hold on,'' MG intervened, although he wasn't sure he understood, ''You say Destiny like it's a person?''

''Three days ago you didn't know Time was a person.'' Hope retorted, shifting her gaze from the golem. 

''A god,'' MG corrected. ''And if it's true, what does Destiny have to do with those murders?''

''Maybe the witness was a collateral damage,'' Ryan explained after a second of thinking, ''Maybe she wasn't meant to live past today and Aion had to finish the job.''

''That's a lot of maybes.''

''I don't have a better theory yet.''

If that theory were to go verified, that meant that, not only Destiny was real -of all things- but that Aion was merely following orders.

''If we work together though, we might come up with something.'' Roy chimed in, breaking the silence that had settled over the room.

''We? There's no 'we','' Charles scoffed, ''I don't work with monsters. I push them into the pit. Like that one the other day.'' he added, his pointed smirk toward MG.

''Nicole,'' Roy hung his head, ''Her name was Nicole.''

The regret dripping from his voice had his great-grandson stare at him.
Roy was unlike any Triad Agent MG had ever met.
It was true that his own mother hadn't seem so guilt-stricken over any of the awful things her industries had done.

''And that's the only thing we'll ever know about her,'' Charles retorted, smirk still present on his face, ''Why do we even keep records of every scheduled absorption? There are so many. The archive room is already packed to the rafters.''

''We'll find another room.'' Ryan concluded, his tone not letting room for any argument.

Hope looked up, and considered the side of his face for a long moment. Although the look on his face was indecipherable, he heaved a sigh that was barely audible, and she wouldn't have caught it if it hadn't been for her werewolf senses.
When he met her gaze, she turned her eyes to the floor.

Later that night, Hope searched for answers in her precious tome, but when it was obvious that she wouldn't be through by the end of the night, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, her thoughts wandering to Ryan Clarke.

Do I have absolutely no idea what people used to dance back in the thirties? Yes.
Did I still enjoy writing this chapter? Also, yes.