The marigold abroad her leaves doth spread, because the sun's and her power is the same—Henry Constable

Even in a ridiculous outfit—that she was wearing pants with, so random! (Her legs were one of her nicest features she shouldn't have hidden them so)—his breath still hitched a bit in his throat when he saw her. He dispatched with the one-hooked man quickly and then she tried to be nice.

It was that. That persistence in politeness, even after all their history, even after he had quasi-deliberately blown apart her cover, even after everything that peaked his curiosity. So, he tried one of his usually relatively successful approaches a subtle dig at her followed by a show of power. It worked in the animal kingdom, why not here. Humans were just animals at heart. He was kind of intrigued by the fact that she didn't see impressed by his internet success and that her eyes kind of sparkled when she was angry.

Where did her strength come from? She was at times an absolute twitchy neurotic mess. She was horrible at strategy, appealing to good nature when a show of force was needed and assuming that there was good in everyone. For goodness sake she couldn't even curse them out appropriately (but damn his inconvenient heart because he found her piratical and somewhat juvenile cursing cute; damn bloody pang).

In short she fascinated him and ever since that fateful day when he finished the list and became his new self he only did what interested him. He was the kind of guy that only filled up his gas tank when he felt like, he was the kind of guy that didn't buy into your societal norms, he was the kind of guy who followed the interesting.

So he lurked in the shadows and popped out asking out again. After all, who wouldn't want to date him again?

But she said why? And so he tried for reminiscence and played on the last time she asked him out. And he knew he could have convinced her if it wouldn't have been for Jeanette. With her bad poker face once Codex saw that, yes indeed he had gotten all up in Jeanette the window of convincing her had closed for the moment.

"Consider me you're a**-kicking fairy godmother, but even if I hadn't laid the beat down she wasn't going to say yes you know."

"Huh," was all Fawkes' beaten and shaken self managed in response.

"She's not in it for the sheer fun of sex or just a night," was punctuated with a knee to his groin. "You want to date her? You might have to change your game. Think about what you like about her and you might want to start with not being such a d*bag."

Later, Fawkes would decide that as painful as it was he owed Jeanette a mighty big favor. Currently, he decided he owed Jeanette a world of hurt.

Because he wasn't a doctor, after letting the Axis know, he headed over to the urgent care center at the hospital and, because his life was currently turning into one big coincidence (and he understood the law of large numbers just fine, thank you. Now f* off) and who should follow but the Knights of Good. All of them.

Not to see him of course—but to make sure that neither Codex nor Bladezz was hurt. Hidden as he was by a curtain, they couldn't see him he just heard them.

The Axis came together to play, but dare he say it? The Knights of Good seemed almost familial. Though, if he heard them right and it wasn't just the morphine, some of them were going to become family. Suckers. Who needed them.

And yet, and yet, His mother's face as she didn't ask the question he could have and his father's act of letting him be the dungeonmaster when it wasn't his turn stuck in his throat.

The Knights of Good may have been gooey, but there they were checking to make sure no one was injured from smoke inhalation. The Knights of Good may have been sappy, but there they were bantering and taking about the silly things of life to distract from the fact that they could have been harmed. The Knights of Good may have been a bit rag tag but they were home. And, he wasn't.

Home is not a place, but all places, all places except the one we happen to be in at the moment (Anthony Burgess). He was there first, he was the injured one and yet he felt like an intruder in his own space. He felt like an exile.

Later that night long after they left, as he was lulled to sleep by the morphine and the gentle beep of his heart monitor he thought about many things. He thought about the flowers that didn't adorn his bed stand—Zaboo had brought some spray painted flowers that matched up to what the in game flowers had looked like; he thought about the solitude of his stay—they had all been so loud and yet he found he didn't mind; and he thought about life. The Axis hadn't come. He hadn't expected them to come, wouldn't have minded that they didn't come if it wasn't for the Knights of Good...if it wasn't for that strange appeal and that last item on his list.

A girl you can bring home, show to your family, and maybe love.

He was a sap at age fourteen. He thought he'd fall in love forever and so while most of his list was about revenge (see, 14. a girl who wore Lilly Pulitzer; 19. a girl who failed earth science the first time) or fun (see, 56. a Japanese Lolita—fashion not book; 62. a Ren Faire wench) or just plain craziness (see, 49. a tattoo artist with 8 piercings; 103. someone in the science lab on the lab tables) but that one his closet romantic heart had put on there because he knew at 14 he'd fall in love. With the short sight of youth he figured it would be Heather but once it was revealed it couldn't be he put it on because at 14 he believed in the power of love everlasting.

Sap. He kind of hated his 14 year old self some days.

He had put away his love and hope and care for humanity and become an anarchist caring only for himself and for his success and his goals. His guild was the best because he picked the best. His guild was strong because they didn't let wimpy feelings and emotions get in way. His guild was the best because it was his.

And yet, marigolds were a good choice for her: grief, despair and sorrow were only secondary meanings to pretty, affection, caress, and love. He had thought her weak, reliant on what others thought and what her guild needed. He had thought her foolish for following the rules and wanting everyone to get along. He had thought her stunted reaching for sunlight in a world that didn't care. He saw now that the light was strength, her guild was her strength, and her heart was her strength. And like the marigold her power was that of the sun and the light. And there in the darkness of a hospital bed, beaten, cold under the blankets, and—dare he say—alone under the moon he wondered if maybe she had chosen the better path.

Morning dawned with no epiphany and none of that brand-new day smell. But Jeanette's words seemed to be sinking in a bit. Was he really that despicable? Surely he didn't need to be a marigold to win her heart. He changed for no woman. Except, maybe today he did because on his release he had to take a taxi home because none of his guildies would pick him up. Even Valkerie was too busy—supposedly working on his cosplay outfit for the convention.

And it wasn't the ride that upset him—a taxi is much more convenient after all—but what the ride represented.

So, maybe he needed to work a bit on some of his habits, those diminutive chains that are seldom heavy enough to be felt, till they are too strong to be broken (Samuel Johnson). Ha! He could break any chain. He was strong.

It was with this in mind that he blew off the Saturday night raid (AFK—out PvP-ing IRL) and went to the opera. After all, it wasn't like gamers would be at Lucia di Lammermoor, it was prime raiding night and they didn't strike him as opera fans. When he was young he had enjoyed the word play of Gilbert & Sullivan, certainly Lucia di Lammermoor would cheer him up like Gilbert & Sullivan had. So he hadn't even googled Lucia di Lammermoor it was done by the same group that did The Mikado, it was bound to be funny.

It was in the first act that he realized his mistake.

It was in the second act that the floor dropped from under in and he felt as alone as Lucia.

It was in the third act that he felt tears brimming in his eyes. It was the tears that had been waiting to fall since he was 14 and making that list. It was the tears that had locked away a part of his heart. Achievement unlocked.

During intermission he thought he saw a flash of familiar red hair in the pit, but it couldn't be. This was opera, he had picked it specifically because he didn't want to see anyone from the Game.

And there during the standing ovation he saw her. He saw her and the look on her face was indescribable. She looked radiant and confident and like she knew just how much she (and the rest of the orchestra and singers) had transported the audience.

All Fawkes could think was "Me, look at me like that", well that and that he regretted his jab about music to pirate man the other day.

But no use dwelling in the past, he had a quest. A quest that called for real flowers. A quest to prove that he wasn't always a d*bag and that she really should date him. Caught up in the music and the story and the magic of the opera, he skipped over the fact that he was buying a girl flowers (twice) and that he was trying to get someone to date him that had turned him down.

The florist didn't have marigolds. So he was left with purple lilacs and sweet peas.

He watched as first the chorister and soloists came out to their adoring fans and then the orchestra came out to their adoring families and was slightly sad to realize that Cyd was coming out to no one. No family, just him.

"Without music, life would be a mistake (Friedrich Nietzsche)"

"What are you doing here! You said the Axis would leave us alone."

"I just came back to congratulate you on a good performance and give you these flowers"

"Yeah, okay," she said as she rolled her eyes and her checks flushed with anger.

This wasn't going as he planned. He just wanted to tell her how interesting she was and how beautiful it was and she suspected some vast plot. Maybe he shouldn't ask her out quite yet, just slowly work on it.

"No, really I'd never seen it before and it was beautiful"

Codex's face was study in contradictions, he could tell she wanted to take the compliment but doubted him so much.

"Here, take them. I certainly am not going to take them home."

"They are kind of pretty," with this she begrudgingly accepted the flowers.

His voice had a almost tearful hitch as he struggled to find something to talk about that wouldn't make her suspect an Anarchist plot.

"That song in the third act sounded really familiar...what was it again."

"The famous soprano solo that goes up to a high F?"

"Yes?"

"You just recognize it from the Fifth Element"

"Oh. Nice."

He wanted to pull her close and kiss her lips, he wanted to ask her out again. But he could see the suspicion in her eyes. She wore her heart all over her face and right now she didn't know what to make of him.

"So, uh, I didn't know you were a violinist."

"Lucky break for me, as it turns out one of the violinists got mono. So even with my cello burning ways the opera pit orchestra called me up."

"Cello burning ways?"

"Never mind, really what are you doing here. Are you stalking me?"

Apparently, the cello was a sore subject as her defenses slammed right back up. The invite for after concert ice cream that had been lingering on his lips dissipated and he figured a strategic retreat might be the best to regroup and plan for tomorrow.

"I didn't come to the opera expecting to see you. But I was delighted to have the experience," he couldn't resist a little eyebrow wiggle. He was cleaning himself up not sanitizing himself.

"It was a great performance. Have a great night," and with that he walked away.

He could tell from the slightly audible sputtering as he walked away that he had confused her. Which, considering everything that had happened. Perhaps confusion was the best he could hope for.