All The Promises We Adore

Though we're tethered to the story we must tell

When I saw you, well I knew we'd tell it well

With a whisper we will tame the vicious seas

Like a feather bringing kingdoms to their knees

"Turning Page" Sleeping At Last

The sand slipped through her fingers, soft and warm and grainy. She hadn't been here in a long time but even so, she still knew the exact place where the bunker had stood before it had burned.

She sat above it's remains, looking out to the sea beyond the dunes that had once hidden the bunker from sight.

Leaning back, she closed her eyes and let the warm Carolinian sun wash over her, a gentle familiar embrace. She ran her hand through the sand and for a moment, she could almost fool herself into believing it was the smooth wooden bench that had lined the bunker's walls.

Ben's bench, she thought with a ghost of a smile.

Part of her wanted to dig her hands into the sand and dig, dig until she came to the burned and charred ruins of the bunker. The bunker where she'd made her first real friends. Where they'd nursed Cooper back to health. Where they had become Virals.

The bunker had been their place for so long and even now, the thought of it buried below her…

She shook her head softly and let the sand fall away.

She'd been chasing ghosts for so long…

How had she never seen it before?

She'd spent the last fourteen years trying to get back to that day, trying to be Viral again and in the end, it had simply been within her all along. She'd just become too passive to realize it.

And it didn't end there. No. Working at Candela, never seeing her family or friends, even marrying Chance; Tory had thought that the glimpse was a dream but now she realized it was the freezing dose of reality that had woken her from one.

And you're supposed to be a genius, a dark embittered voice deep within remarked.

Shaking the sand off her hands, she balled her fists and jammed them over her eyes, taking a deep stabilizing breath.

When she opened her eyes, she found that she wasn't alone.

"How are you adjusting, my dear?"

"About as well as one would when their entire world's been flipped upside down and inside out," Tory murmured, squinting at Karasi who had settled beside her. She seemed different, lighter in a way.

"Did you think this would be easy? You've faced far more difficult things in life, my dear Victoria."

Beyond the great sandy dunes, the bay glimmered in the light of the dying sun.

"You once told me that the glimpse was a gift and very few ever get that opportunity… Why was I chosen? Why now? Why not… why not when my mother died?" Tory asked, her voice solemn and quiet as she stared out at the horizon.

"My dear…"

Karasi trailed off and for the longest time, they sat silently, staring out to sea.

"It wouldn't have changed the fact that your mother was dead," she answered gently.

"The glimpse is meant to help the lost, it's meant to show you a different way, a better way. Back then, you found it in your family, your friends. You have to want to change things and you did, you do," Karasi touched a hand to Tory's cheek.

Tory nodded, her vision blurring. Karasi let her hand drop and with a sigh, heaved herself up from the sand. She held out her hands to Tory, pulling her up easily when Tory grasped onto them.

"Of all the people I've guided through the glimpse, you are perhaps the one I will miss the most," Karasi smiled kindly.

Tory felt a wave of irrepressible fondness wash over her and she couldn't help the urge to hug her. Karasi froze in her arms, startled by the sudden display of affection but after a brief moment, she relaxed and wound her arms around Tory.

"Thank you for everything," Tory mumbled into Karasi's shoulder.

"It was my pleasure, child. Remember, forward always."

"Forward always," Tory echoed as she stepped back.

For the last time ever, Karasi vanished into thin air, leaving Tory standing alone on the buried remains of the past.


Tory kicked the ball forward, sending it straight into the net. Cheers erupted all along the field, the referee blowing the whistle to signal halftime.

Tory made her way to the bench, smiling at the girls who came up to congratulate her. Ella ran up beside her, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her.

"That's what I'm talking about, Brennan!"

Tory grinned, grabbing her water bottle from the bench and taking a long swig. Tory loved soccer, she'd played it all throughout college on both the women's soccer club and the divisions three team. When Ella had called her earlier asking her to join the impromptu game in the park, Tory had jumped at the chance of a distraction. There was only so much of Whitney's endless probing questions she could take.

The whistle sounded and Ella grinned, jumping on her toes to pump herself up.

"Let's go beat these guys," Tory turned, running back onto the field, Ella following behind.

The other team started with the ball, running downfield, kicking the ball back and forth between players. Tory darted in between two of their players, intercepting the ball, maneuvering it around and back up field. She sidestepped a tall girl from the other team, glancing up to pin the location of her teammates. Ella was near the goal and two other girls were running defense, keeping the other team away from Tory.

Tory kicked the ball to Ella, blood pumping loudly in her ears. She ran further up field, awaiting the ball when she caught sight of someone standing beyond the chainlink fence of the park. Leaning against the fence, fingers hanging on to the metal, dressed in familiar dark jeans and a black muscle shirt, was Ben. Their eyes met and Tory resisted the urge to shiver.

"Tory!"

Tory whipped around, the ball heading straight toward her. Tory kneed it, letting it drop to the floor and pivoting on her feet to position herself to kick. The goalie, a big-chested blonde with a nasty sneer, stared her down. From the corner of her eye, Tory saw Madison inch her way to the other side of the goal. Tory pulled her foot back, pretending to kick the ball into the net and instead kicking it sideways at Madison. The goalie dove to the side as Madison sent the ball spiraling into the net.

Cheering, Tory jogged over and high-fived Madison. While Tory still wasn't exactly friends with the former Tripod queen, years of exposure had gotten rid of any awkwardness left over from their high school years.

Madison smiled at her and then her eyes flicked up over Tory's shoulder and she waved. Tory looked over her shoulder and saw Ben give a short wave. Tory blinked in surprise but whatever questions her mind had begun formulating were scattered in the wind as the referee blew the whistle. The rest of the game followed in a similar fashion, Tory's team running circles around the other girls.

The game ended with Tory's team leading by a wide margin and Tory felt herself grinning, the pain jolting up her leg a mere twinge in the face of the pure unadulterated adrenaline she felt.

She limped to the bench, fingers already seeking out the bruises on her legs. Peeking up from under her lashes, Tory noticed when Madison jogged over to the fence, saying something to Ben. Ella plopped down beside her, looking in the direction of Ben and Madison.

"When did that happen?" Ella whistled, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. Tory shook her head because no. It just wasn't possible. Ben and Madison? Not even in another universe would that ever make sense. Besides, he'd been in town for about 2 weeks top.

"Maybe they're just friends?" Tory suggested weakly as she watched Madison loop around to the outside of the park, carrying her soccer bag to where Ben was waiting for her. Together, they continued down the street, Ben looking back once before they crossed the street and disappeared from view.

"If it lets you sleep at night," Ella muttered under her breath. Tory elbowed her.

Grabbing her duffel bag, she followed Ella out of the park, Ella silent beside her.

When they reach Broad Street, Claybourne Manor looming in the distance, Tory feels the ball of dread that settles in the pit of her stomach. It shoots ice into her veins and makes her hands shake with nerves, cold and clammy.

She didn't know how to break things off with Chance but she knew she couldn't keep putting it off.

Ella's hand slips into hers, squeezing gently.

"He's not home at this time, right?"

Tory shakes her head, biting her lip. In actuality, it couldn't hurt to go and pack up some of her things. She didn't have much at Morris, just old clothes that didn't fit quite as comfortably as they once had.

Still, there was always the possibility that he'd left the office and headed home early which she hoped wasn't the case.

"Can you come with me?"

She feels silly for even asking but the thought of going alone unnerves her.

"Couldn't stop me even if you tried," Ella smiles, bumping her hip against Tory's, "now let's go before he gets home and I find myself in a truly awkward situation."

Inside the manor, all was silent. It felt a bit like being in a museum after hours.

Upstairs in the master bedroom, Tory started shoving clothes into her old suitcase while Ella wandered around the room. She would have to leave some things behind for later but it's not like she planned on further postponing her talk with Chance… at least not by much.

She's wrestling a pile of jeans and shorts from the top shelf when she spots it. The little box full of mementos.

She tosses the clothes onto the bed and grabs the box, setting it gently on the bureau in the main room. Opening it, she finds the dog tags resting right where she'd left them, atop the stack of photographs.

She lifts them from the box, watching as the silver little tags twist and turn in the light, the engravings carved deep into the surface. Something catches in her throat and then dissolves as a brief flit of joy shoots up her body.

"Are those Ben's… dog tags?"

Ella's eyes are wide, mouth slack jawed.

"Yeah," Tory replies quietly, trying not to think of how sentimental it is when she slips the tags over her neck and tucks them into her shirt, shivering when the cold metal nestles between her breasts.

Ella shakes her head, giving her a disbelieving look.

"You're so far gone, Brennan," she comments pointedly. Tory makes a face.

They finish packing quietly, Tory gathering an armful of Cooper's things.

When they step out of the manor, Tory chances one last glance at the structure. The manor had been her home for a year now but it never had quite felt like home.

She can't help but think as she walks out the main gate, Ella chattering at her side, that maybe things were looking up.

Maybe she could someday have the life she'd seen in the glimpse.

The thought makes her smile.


It begins with Kit casually mentioning over dinner that LIRI is looking to fill in some positions. She thinks nothing of it, instead choosing to ask about the wolf pack. She hadn't been to Loggerhead in a while.

A few days later, the topic comes up again and Whitney pipes in, lamenting that the Magnolia League was still looking for graduated members to help participate in the mentorship program Whitney had instituted just this year.

Tory nods absentmindedly and continues shoveling potatoes into her mouth.

It isn't until her Aunt Tempe comes up that Tory begins to suspect Kit and Whitney are trying to nudge her into a new career.

"It's wonderful how respected she is in her field. Tory, honey, didn't you want to go into the same thing as her?" Whitney hedges in not-so-subtly.

Tory hums from the couch where she's helping Jackson with homework.

"I think it would be great. I mean, look at all the stuff you did as a teen," Kit adds, looking up from his laptop. "And this time, you'd be doing it within the parameters of the law."

Tory grins, ignoring the pointed look Kit sends her way. She corrects Jackson's math, murmuring to him as she pointed out that he hadn't carried over the one in his addition.

"I already have a job," Tory reminds them.

"One you haven't been to in a week," Whitney remarks matter-of-factly, coming to stand behind Kit who looks up at her adoringly. "Are you planning on staying there after you break things off with Chance?"

Tory honestly hadn't thought that far but she knows with absolute certainty that she has no desire to keep working at Candela.

The expression on her face must be telling. Kit raises a brow at her.

"Have you thought about maybe going back to school?"

"No, I haven't and I know you're only trying to help but could you drop it?" she pleads, a tad too sharp.

"Of course," Whitney assures, smoothing a comforting hand down Kit's shoulder. He looks like he wants to argue, press further but instead, he sighs and that's that.

Tory finishes helping Jackson with his math homework and then excuses herself upstairs, leaving a sleepy Cooper at the mercy of a cuddly Jackson.

It's not that she refused to think of her future, it's more that she had yet to come to terms with how radically different her life had turned out from her original plan. And now how different her visions for the future contrasted from both.

She'd enjoyed working for the Charleston PD in the glimpse but she couldn't imagine it for herself in this life. It seemed too much like clinging to the experiences of a past self. Even working at LIRI, which had once seemed so tantalizing a future, had lost it's appeal after so much time spent in the labs at Candela.

But if not forensics or scientific research, what appealed to Tory now?

She spends a long time thinking about it, staring up at the ceiling of her room, mapping out the imperfections in the plaster, the little chinks and dips. She's not quite sure what possesses her to drag her laptop closer and search it up but something about typing it into the search box, allowing herself to indulge in the thought, makes her giddy. It's a short-lived joy.

As she scrolls through the requirements, her heart sinks.

Truthfully, she'd never really thought about teaching as a possible career, instead enamored with the idea of living up to the Brennan-Howard name in scientific endeavors.

But she couldn't deny that it felt… right when she thought about working with children, children like Grayson and Jackson.

She spends the rest of the night researching and when Jackson barges in to tell her dinner is ready, she startles, clutching the notebook she'd been scribbling notes on close to her chest. She waves him out of the room and then hastily shoves her notebook into her drawer, not quite ready to share this with anyone.

Still, she can't help but feel light and happy as she goes downstairs to join the others for dinner.


Whitney is fussing.

Tory bats at her hands, leaning away from Whitney who sighs and throws her hands up in exasperation.

"I'm trying to make you presentable, Victoria!"

"I look fine. Go check on the debutantes or something," Tory responds, pushing her off in the direction of the stage.

"Okay, I'm going. Look after your brother," Whitney calls, half-turning to point at Jackson who is leaning heavily into the dessert table, her blonde hair shining a soft gold under the lights of the stage.

"Yeah yeah," Tory waves her hand, turning back to Kit who is wrestling with his bow-tie. She pulls Jackson gently away from the table, handing him one of the chocolate truffles he'd been trying to reach.

"The more you struggle, the tighter it'll seem," Tory jokes, watching Kit struggle.

"I hate wearing suits," he grumbles, the pout on his face making him look boyish. Not for the first time, she revels in how young and happy he looks, so different from the Kit she'd seen in the glimpse.

"Dad?"

Kit glances at her, his hands falling to his sides.

"I'm glad you're so happy with Whitney," she smiles.

His eyes close momentarily and when they open, they're soft with emotion, glimmering with unshed tears. Needless to say, Tory is alarmed. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen her dad cry.

"Are you going to cry?"

"No. No," Kit shakes his head, rubbing at his eyes. "I'm just wondering what I ever did to deserve you all."

She smiles, a warm and happy feeling unfurling in her chest and sending ribbons of bubbly gold into her veins.

"And Colleen. She was too good for me too."

Her smile falters, the mere mention of her mother still able to choke her up.

"Tory, look! I have chocolate fingers," Jackson exclaimed, waving his hands in the air.

Kit laughs, smiling brightly as he led Jackson away to the bathroom.

"Let's get you cleaned up before you dirty the nice clothes your mom picked out for you."

"But I want more chocolate!" Jackson whines, his voice becoming indistinguishable in the din of the ballroom.

She stands there awkwardly for a moment, willing her emotions under control. Almost unconsciously, her eyes slide over to where the Gamemaster's banner had once hung, a sunburst hidden behind a swath of yellow and white streamers.

For a moment, she's transported to her own deb ball.

A desperate race against time to stop a madman, her frazzled nerves at debuting first in front of all of Charleston's elite, the acrid fear she'd felt down in that basement and then the pure rush of adrenaline the flare had granted them.

It hadn't all been bad though, she thinks, the memory of Ben giving her away to Jason coming to mind, understanding she needed someone with experience at her side. Making her laugh. Hiram in his ridiculous top hat and velvet jacket. The exhilaration of being alive.

Whitney's voice jars her out of her reverie, the room falling silent as she announces that the first debutante would be introduced shortly.

Tory hurries to her seat, waving to the Francis' and the Taylors' who are seated off to the left of the stage.

She sits, smiling at the unfamiliar faces around the table. When Kit finally settles beside her, a pouty Jackson on his left, she lets out a sigh of relief and edges her seat closer to his.

The minutes tick by and the low murmur of crowd grows inquisitive as they wait. Suddenly, Kit nudges her, pointing to where her phone is vibrating on the table. Whitney's name flashes across the screen, urgent and loud despite being on vibrate.

"Hello?" she answers hesitantly.

"TORY! Thank god. Get backstage now!" Whitney shrills in her ear before the line clicks dead.

Kit sends her a questioning look and she shrugs, excusing herself and slipping backstage. Whitney spot her immediately, hands waving frantically.

"I need to start presenting the girls and nobody has gotten them into position," she relays quickly, waving her hands. "Please, make sure that all the girls have their escorts chosen and are ready to walk when I call them."

Shoving a clipboard into Tory's hands, Whitney whirled, heading towards the stage. Tory stumbled toward her, catching her arm.

"Whitney!"

"Tory, please. Everything's a mess right now and I know you won't let me down," Whitney replied sincerely and with that, she disappeared behind the thick curtains.

Moments later, Tory hears her voice on the speakers, sweet and clear as she welcomed everyone. The applause was thunderous, the crowd clearly relieved to be back on track. Sucking in a deep breath and cursing Whitney under her breath, Tory turned.

She has the first few girls ready within minutes, standing with their escorts and ready to be presented. It isn't until halfway down the line that she runs into a situation.

The girl was tiny, almost alarmingly so. She looked on the verge of tears, hands fisted in the soft pink tulle of her dress. With her blonde hair and pale blue eyes, she seemed almost celestial, like a statue you'd expect to see in a museum, forever immortalized in its otherworldliness.

She seemed familiar too.

The boy at her side reminded her of a young Hiram. Stocky, face still boyish with baby fat, an inky brown mess of hair. He was whispering something to her, concern clear on his face.

"You're not going to mess up, Tess," he was saying. "You practiced this like a hundred times."

"But what if I trip and make a fool of myself in front of everyone? Everyone will laugh," she fretted.

Tess… Where had she heard that name before?

In a blinding rush, it comes to her, the realization like a swift punch to the chest. Jason's sister.

Tory could still remember how often Jason mentioned her, how she'd been the first person he'd thought of when they'd revealed to him the truth about the bomb the night of the ball. Looking at her now, all grown up, it strikes Tory how much time has truly passed.

Hesitating, she approaches the frazzled girl.

"Hi. Tess, is it?" Tory interjected, smiling kindly. Tess nodded, blinking wide blue eyes at her.

"I'm a friend of your brother's. Tory," she introduced herself. "Now, what seems to be the problem?"

Tess is shy. It's obvious in the same way it's obvious Jason is out-going, in the way it's obvious was clearly missing a few bolts and screws. (Whitney still loved sharing that story.)

"She thinks she's going to trip on stage," the boy pipes up, glancing at Tess. He continues, voice dropping into a whisper, "she doesn't want to embarrass her family."

"Timothy!" Tess hisses, her cheeks flushing.

"It's okay to be nervous, I was too," Tory assures. "How about this, show me your curtsy and I'll tell you if you're doing it right."

Tess hesitates and then smoothly dips into a curtsy, wobbling a bit on her heels, back straight and head bowed. In her mind's eye, Tory sees Whitney bowing in her tourniquet dress. Tess straightens, looking up at Tory from under the fringe of her lashes.

Tory clears her throat.

"That was good. Just bow your head a bit lower and don't let your arms hang. Use them to accentuate your dress," Tory advises.

"Could you- could you show me how?"

Nodding, Tory hands her clipboard to Tim and steps back. Smoothing her dress, a black cocktail with a slit up the side, she bows and holds, the whispers around her of little concern. Counting the beats in her head, she waits and then rises, smiling when she catches the look on Tess's face.

"You're going to be amazing," Tory assures her and then adds, "And your family will be proud of you no matter what."

Tess smiles shyly and mumbles a thank you.

"If anything, just imagine them all in their underwear," Tory echoes, grinning when they both choke out surprised laughs.

She grabs her clipboard from Tim and continues down the line. When Tess is announced, Tory watches from backstage as she struts down the aisle and executes her bow flawlessly, only rising a bit quicker than she should've. Still, the crowd is clearly enamored by her, their princess in tulle.

When Tess launches herself at Tory backstage, hugging her tightly, Tory can only think of the notebook in her drawer and a quiet dream still folded in her heart.


Tory laughs as she twirls, stepping back into the fold of Kit's arms.

"Whitney's been making you practice, hasn't she?"

"She's like a drill sergeant," he groans, stumbling.

"Well at least you're getting a workout. You do sit on your butt all day," Tory teases and Kit squints at her.

"Pot calling kettle black, kiddo," he retorts, stepping back as the song comes to an end and a soft musical number comes on.

She goes to follow Kit off the dance floor when a smooth voice from behind her stops her in her tracks.

"May I have this dance?"

She turns, swallowing thickly as she comes face to face with Chance. Glancing back at Kit, who looks at her questioningly, she shakes her head almost imperceptibly, knowing her time is up.

Slipping her hand into his, she lets Chance lead her back out onto the floor and pull her close, his hand falling to her waist. Placing one hand on his shoulder, she focuses her gaze on the black lining of his suit, determined to see this through. She owed him that much after having just disappeared.

For the first few minutes, they are silent, swaying to the music like palm trees before a storm. When he speaks, his voice is a soft murmur in her ear, low and flat.

"Were you ever going to tell me you were moving out?"

Tory's hand twitches and she has to force herself to look up at him. His face was like stone, the muscle in his jaw ticking furiously the only indication of his emotional volatility.

"Yes," she answered lamely.

His eyes flick down to hers, hurt shining in the dark pools of brown.

"This was never gonna last, was it?" he asked, his hands dropping from where they'd held her. They come to a stop, a still island in a sea of dancing couples.

"Chance…" Tory trailed off. "Let's not do this here."

Looking away from her, he nods, hands clenching into fists.

He opens his mouth and then bites down whatever he meant to say, instead turning on his heel and leaving her standing on the floor.

She's only far too aware of their audience.


NOTE: College is stressful and writer's block is a bitch. Sorry for the wait! Until next time! (Reviews go a long way in motivating me to write!)