As we saw in the last chapter, I brought in this pairing. Oh yes, this wonderful pairing. Surprisingly, this isn't going to be the longest profile though because there were a couple big reasons for the pairing as opposed to a bunch of little ones.

Pairing Profiles: Nowi x Donnel

~In context of this story, Donnel was the best suitor for Nowi (I mean, besides Ricken, but I wouldn't ship him with anyone) because he's one of the younger characters. I wanted someone young to actually make use of Nah's backstory. She was in a foster home in the game, which is the root cause of her mature act. It felt like I'd be ripping out half her character if this wasn't used somehow.
~Continuing from the above point, Nah's father gets very impatient in their B support. I feel like the teen pregnancy bit that's going on in this particular story makes that make sense. Generally, I can't see Donnel getting impatient with anyone, he's just so nice, but what if their having a child young was a sore spot?

On Saturday night, Lucina sat quietly at the dinner table. She kept her head low, didn't look up at her father or say much of anything. Cynthia could nudge a response, even Sumia managed to get her to talk if given the time, but not Chrom. The eldest was like this since Chrom grounded her.

Sumia gave a weighted sigh and gathered up the plates on the table. "Cynthia, sweetie, could you wash the dishes?"

"Sure, Mom." Cynthia took the plates and hurried away to the kitchen, away from the heavy air that hung in the dinning room.

"Okay, you two, I'm ending this now." Sumia turned to Chrom, who was getting up to leave, and placed her hands square on her hips. "Sit back down."

Chrom furrowed his brows. "I've got work I need to finish."

"It can wait five minutes," Sumia said. "You both need to stop moping and just make up, a week's more than long enough. Now I'm going to step out, but I expect you to talk."

Her husband looked almost surprised by her tone. "I didn't think you could be this assertive."

"Not now. Sort it out." Sumia left the dining room, the door shut behind her.

With a sigh, Chrom sat down next to Lucina. "You know why I did what I did, right?" All he got from her was a small nod. "I know I was harsh. It's just... you've always been so well behaved, I didn't know what to do. I'm supposed to teach you right from wrong, but the last thing I want is for you to resent me for it." He carefully cupped her cheek in his hand to turn her head up and look her in the eyes. He was faced with tears rolling down her face and a quivering lip. "I still love you." He rubbed one of the tear tracks away and kissed her on the forehead. "There. Now give me a smile, please?"

Lucina pushed a tiny smile to her face, though it was very weak.

"I'm sure you've learned your lesson," he concluded. "You're not grounded anymore."

That night, Lucina lay awake as she stared blankly at the ceiling. She should have been content with her father's words, yet her heart still ached. She pressed her hands to her face. Maybe I'm just selfish...

Or maybe I need to make more mistakes.

Lucina froze at the thought. Of course, it all made sense. She never made mistakes, she always did as she was told. But, by not making them, she learned nothing. That's what Gerome said, making mistakes helps you learn! How could it have taken her half a week understand that? And if what she did was no big deal, then maybe that meant she should make a bigger mistake. Yes, that made sense: bigger mistakes mean bigger lessons.

But what to do?

There's no such thing as a horrible job. That's what Owain liked to think at least. Even he had to admit though that cashier wasn't by any means glamorous or brag worthy. Most days, he met impatient, rude, or down right angry customers, but he wasn't allowed to call them out on it. The best he could do was meet their negativity with a smile and wish them a good day (no, the best day they ever had!) and smile wider than necessary when they made it all too clear that they thought he was crazy. He wouldn't say he was being a smart ass, that would require a well place snark somewhere. No, he was totally trolling.

"Have a wonderful day, ma'am!" He told a woman as she stuffed her wallet back into her purse and her child threw a tantrum.

She fixed her hair. "Yes. Thank you." She then ushered the child to the door.

Owain glanced down at the paper bags on the counter and called out to her. "Um, ma'am?" He grabbed the bag of groceries she forgot in her rush and hurried over to her. "Here you go."

"Oh, thank you..." She laughed awkwardly. The child whined, her words almost incomprehensible at this point, and the mother cringed. She took her groceries from him and retreated from the store.

Owain returned to his register and was met by a very particular pair of twins from school. In Morgan's hands was an industrial pair of scissors packaged in one of those pain-in-the-ass-to-open plastic cases. He rung it through, though eyed them a little suspiciously. "How's it going?"

The way Marc scuffed his shoe against the floor and Morgan kept her gaze low immediately tipped him off. "Fine," Marc answered stiffly.

"Fine," Owain repeated and leaned forward. "Listen, can I talk to you two? It's important. Just wait for me outside, okay?"

Morgan finally looked up at him, fear in her eyes. "Okay."

They paid for the scissors and Owain went to his boss's office in the back. "Um, sir? Mind if I leave early today?"

His boss gave him a confused look. "Can I have a reason?"

"I... uh, I'm not feeling well," Owain lied. "I think I might be coming down with something."

"Do you need to call your parents to pick you up?" asked the elder.

"No, they're both at work. I can get home on my own." He assured. "Thanks." He never asked to leave work early like that before. Not once. He almost expected his boss to change his mind and say that he couldn't leave, but Owain clocked out without anyone protesting and left. That was much easier than I expected.

Thankfully, Marc and Morgan did wait for him. Morgan seemed to have composed herself during that time. "What do you want?"

He led them around back to talk, better not to have customers overhearing them. "I know what you two are planning to do, and I'm warning you, it's going to go badly. You could get serious trouble, so just leave it to the police, okay?"

Morgan scowled. "Let me guess, Inigo told you?"

"And if he did?" Owain crossed his arms and stared them down. "It doesn't make a difference. We worry about you two."

"Morgan, maybe we should-"

"Not now, Marc," Morgan snapped at her brother and then prodded Owain on the chest. "Look, you can't talk us out of it. So just leave us alone."

He took hold of her hand. "What will your parents say? Your mom will probably feel even worse if she knows that her children are putting themselves in danger like this for her sake. And don't you think your dad's going through enough as is? Think, honest to Naga, think about them right now."

"We did, that's why we're doing this." Marc spoke up. "They tried to kill her, Owain. We're sure of it. And if they tried once, they can try again."

"Our parents might not like it, but we can't just sit here and do nothing," Morgan said. She pulled her hand free of his. "Even if it's illegal, we're going to stop them and there's no talking us out of it now. The only way you'll stop us is by calling the cops. Here and now."

"Morgan!" Marc grabbed her sleeve. "Are you crazy, what if he actually does?"

She frowned, but kept her eyes fixed firmly on Owain. "He won't. He's trying to keep us out of trouble."

Damn it... Owain rubbed a hand down his face. This little freshman actually cornered him. He could always call her on her bluff, but that would require bluffing too since he really didn't want to get the police involved. Seeing as she didn't think he would anyways, he doubted that Morgan would fall for it. "So you don't intend to stand down."

"No." Morgan affirmed.

"Then I guess I have no choice," Owain decided. "I'm going with you."

For a split second, the twins resembled stress toys with how much their eyes bulged. Marc stammered, "Y-you're...?"

"...joining us?" Morgan stared at Owain, as if unable to fathom the situation. "Wait, what was the point of trying to talk us down if you were just going to help us?"

"If I can't keep you from doing this in the first place, then I should at least steer you away from as much trouble as I can," Owain remarked. "I've got some ground rules for you though."

Marc arched his brows. "Ground rules?"

"Yes." Owain lifted a hand and counted each off on his fingers. "One: we don't steal anything. Two: we don't break anything either. We're just going in, looking for clues, and then leaving. That's it. Got it?"

Both twins nodded in agreement. But Marc piped up with, "If we can't steal anything, how do we get evidence?"

"Pictures and notes. The point is that any evidence needs to stay in her possession for the police to find." Owain explained. "Also, she's probably going to notice if something goes missing, so we better not take that risk."

With that, they set off to Aversa's house via city bus. Unsurprisingly, it being a Sunday afternoon, people piled on and filtered out by the dozen. The noise level was somewhere past outdoor voices but not quite shouting, not that the loud whirring of the bus and hiss of the door helped. The three of them took their seats at the back of the bus and quietly discussed their game plan while Morgan tore open the packaging of the scissors and cut a palm sized square out of the ridged plastic. She stowed both away in her sweatshirt pocket.

The twins' plan was to use said piece of plastic to open the lock on the door knob and hope that she didn't also bolt lock her front door. If so, then they'd have to look around and find another way inside. After that, it's just search the house for clues as quickly and thoroughly as possible, leave the wallet somewhere, and get out. This plan of their's was plotted out since Thursday, and they staked out her house all Friday and Saturday just to find a good time to try this. As shifty as it was, Owain was undeniably impressed.

After getting off the bus, they walked several blocks down to Aversa's house. Owain couldn't help but feel some relief that she had a clear need for privacy, and so had a high wooden fence around her lot. It gave them plenty of cover. Morgan scurried over to the garage and peered inside the window. She came back and informed, "Her car's not here."

"Perfect," Marc replied. "Now let's get in."

They went to the door and Morgan took out the plastic square. She slide it in between the door and the frame and tried the knob. "Damn. Bolt locked. We're going to have to look for another way in."

"Owain, you check the back and left side of the house. I'll cover the right and, Morgan, you get the front." Marc instructed. "Morgan and I will probably finish first, so we'll help you finish when we're done."

The Junior nodded and turned to go to the left side of the house and begin his search. Before he could round the corner though, Morgan stopped them both. "Guys, this window's unlocked."

It was the same window Morgan peaked into the garage through. Aversa actually forgot to lock all her windows...

Owain and Marc gathered around as Morgan opened the window and peered inside. "No alarm here either..."

"Maybe there's an alarm between the garage and the main house," Owain pointed out. "We should check for a different window."

Morgan sighed and slid the window shut. Another three minutes of searching brought them to find another open window on Marc's side. It opened into a bedroom. The three of them climbed inside. Once everyone was in, Morgan closed the window again. From there it was once again a matter of planning.

"Okay, so all three of us look around first so we know the layout. Then, one of us goes on watch duty in case Aversa comes home." Marc walked to the door and pushed it open.

"That's if she doesn't live with anyone," Owain pointed out. He followed Marc out of the bedroom. The self-guided tour of the single floor house didn't take more than a couple minutes, but once it was over, they all regrouped in the living room. "I'll keep watch. You two know what you're looking for?"

Morgan nodded. "Yeah, of course we do. Come on, Marc, we'll check the bedroom first" She led Marc back to Aversa's bedroom.

For the next several minutes, the twins searched the bedroom. Morgan poked through the planner on her desk while Marc went through the dresser drawers. The planner had mostly dates and meetings written, generally what you'd expect an adviser to jot down. Nothing truly incriminating, as far as Morgan was concerned. She put the planner back on the desk and turned to check the nightstand.

Meanwhile, Marc pulled a DD sized bra from the dresser, the cups almost completely composed of lace. "Whoa." His cheeks blushed a light pink as he gawked.

"Would you put that away and focus?" Morgan chided.

Shaking himself, he replaced the bra back with the others and started to shuffle through them. Whether that be out of need to search for clues or curiosity is anyone's guess.

Then he discovered a metal box hidden towards the back corner of the drawer. He opened it, and a small song began to play, startling him. He dropped the box and several rings fell out. "Oh, crap!" Marc dropped to his hands and knees and looked for all the rings.

"You klutz." Morgan scoffed as she went back to work.

"Sorry," Marc grumbled and found the last ring and put them away in the box. He wasn't sure exactly which ones went where, but hoped Aversa wouldn't notice. He almost put the music box back, but realized the felt ring display had partially popped out too. Normally he would have dismissed this, but he could actually see something underneath and so removed the felt entirely to reveal a secret compartment. Inside was a tiny notebook about as long as his fingers.

Morgan glanced back at him. "What'd you find?"

"Hold on," Marc said and opened the notebook. Inside, dense script thoroughly covered almost each page. Marc caught names, dates, times, addresses in these notes. In some spots, it was pages listing contact information. On the back seven pages, there were pictures of people taped inside, most crossed out, with tiny letters written across their faces. "I think I found her contacts list or something."

"Take pictures of all the pages, I'll keep looking." She instructed before returning to the nightstand.

So Marc set the little book on the dresser and flattened it out on the first page with his fingers so he could take a clear picture with his phone. He then flipped to the next page and took another picture. Then another on the next and so on. At some point, he stopped trying to skim over the words and focused solely on making sure he could see the images clearly.

Behind him, he heard the flicking of a lighter and glanced back. "What are you doing, Morgan?"

She held a key in one hand, the lighter in the other. "Making it a little easier to get back in here if we have to."

He sighed. Of course she was. He then got back to snapping pictures of the book.

Almost ten minutes later, Marc finished with the book and returned it to the music box. He carefully popped the ring holder back in and replaced the box behind the haphazardly stacked bras. He left the bedroom and met up with Morgan so that they could continue their search of the house. Beyond what they found in the bedroom, the most "incriminating" things they found were some empty pill bottles (with her name actually on the label) and ammunition stocked up in her hallway closet and a kitchen cabinet. Neither of these were necessarily criminal, but they took pictures of them just to be on the safe side.

Marc, who had been going through a box they found in one cabinet, stood up from the dining table and returned the box to its original place. "I think that's all we're going to find here. We should get going."

Morgan nodded and closed a different cabinet, filled with drinking glasses. "We probably should. She could be home at any minute."

They told Owain it was time to go, and it was more than clear how relieved he was to hear it. Just to be safe, they all crawled out the window them came in through, Marc shutting it behind him. Then they ran away from that house as fast as their legs could take them. Marc was sure that they'd been running for three blocks straight when the three of them finally slowed down.

They were a panting mess for some time until they finally caught their breath and pressed on to the bus stop.

There was always a lot to be done, but Aversa liked to have at least a small moment to herself every now and again. She returned home, only to immediately gravitate to the sink, where she poured herself a glass of water. Just as she brought the cool glass to her lips though, her eyes came to find a black smudge on the side. She lowered the glass to inspect it. "Is this... soot?"

Where did that come from? She put the glass down and checked the other glasses in the cabinet. Several others were also smudged, though the origin of them remained a mystery to her. Given the choice though between formulating an answer that may be wrong and not worrying about it, she decided on the latter. Removing the glasses from the cabinet, she set them off to the side to be rewashed later and turned to leave her kitchen.

That's when she spotted her wallet on the floor by the couch. She swiped it off the ground and checked, finding all its contents still there. "It was here? Damn it. Now I have to call the credit card company."

It was Wednesday afternoon when Owain next saw Inigo outside of class. Inigo stopped him on the way to club. It wouldn't take a psychic to know what was on his mind. "Did you talk Marc and Morgan out of it?" Despite Inigo's calm expression, his voice betrayed his concern.

Owain looked up at the ceiling lights, as if he could find the answer there. Up inside one, a wasp was trapped and hopelessly bounced against the panel. If this is some half-assed attempt at symbolism, Naga, then I don't appreciate it. "No, I didn't." He caught Inigo's brows shoot up with alarm. How does someone say that they committed a crime?

"So they went through with it?" Inigo asked.

Owain rubbed the back of his neck. "We should probably get to club."

"Oh no, we're discussing this," Inigo insisted. "What happened?"

"Here's not really the best place..."

"Owain." Impatience edged Inigo's tone.

He wasn't sure if he should be anxious or annoyed. "What?"

"You're dodging the question," Inigo stated. "Did they break into her house?"

Owain closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Yes, we did."

With that answer came a long pause as Inigo processed this. He stared at him as if Owain grew a second head before he finally stammered out, "'We?' Y-you said 'we'."

"Yes, we. First person plural subject." Owain retorted.

"So you... you helped them break in?" Inigo questioned. When all he got from him was a stiff nod, he raised his voice slightly. "Are you crazy? I thought the idea what to keep Marc and Morgan from doing it in the first place?"

"No, you're right, it was," Owain agreed. "I confronted them about their plan, but they refused to back down. So I joined them. It's the best I could do. I know how cops work, so I could steer them out of trouble, at least for a while. And if I can keep them from being destructive, then maybe we can avoid getting caught all together. It's stupid, I know, but it's the only thing I could think of at the time." A pause, Owain chewed the inside of his cheek before the silence ate him alive. He continued in a haste to kill the quiet. "Listen, you don't have to help. You can walk away if you want. It'll be like you were never involved to begin with. I understand if you want to."

Inigo, oddly enough, gave a forced chuckle as he dropped his hand onto Owain's shoulder, "I'm not walking away. If this is the right thing to do, then I'm with you guys."

"You sure?" Owain asked.

"Yeah." Inigo affirmed.

Owain grinned, though all it did was accentuate the dark circles under his eyes. "Come on, we still need to get to club." The two walked on to the classroom, where they were met with stares from Laurent, Ricken, and Noire (who quickly turned her head down). The only one there who wasn't eyeing them suspiciously was Cynthia, who was very much oblivious to the other three. Owain and Inigo took their seats and then came what felt like an eternity's wait for Marc and Morgan to show up. The twins arrived about eight minutes later, but no one spoke a word. The two sat down and Owain decided to just move on. "Alright, so on with today's session."

"Owain," Laurent cut in, "before we begin, might we address something?"

A chill rattled down his spine. "Sure. What's up?"

Laurent adjusted his glasses, the light glinting off the lenses for the briefest of moments. "Some of us couldn't help but overhear your conversation with Inigo. What exactly did you mean by a break-in?"

Suddenly, Owain's heart rapidly slammed against his ribs. He knew it. He knew he shouldn't have discussed it in the open! Looking around, desperate for help, Owain found Inigo devoid of color, and the twins with similar looks of shock. Everyone else, with the exception of Cynthia, waited expectantly. Owain sincerely wished he could run. "I... uh... ..."

"Whoa, whoa, wait!" Cynthia cut in, confused. "What are you guys even talking about? What break-in?" She was mostly ignored.

It was Inigo who spoke up. "Morgan and Marc believe that someone wants to kill Robin. They want to find whoever's responsible."

"So... I helped them break into someone's house to search for clues," Owain added, nervously shifting in his seat.

"This is a matter that would be best left in the hands of the authorities," Laurent remarked, "something you should know."

"The police can't help." Morgan's statement grabbed the attention of the entire group. "We know it was the Grimleal behind it."

"Back up, what do you mean the police can't help?" Owain questioned.

Marc spoke up, "Because we looked through that book we found and she made several mentions of moles in the police force. Any new information on them is leaked back to the gang and then these moles compromise the investigation."

Noire, who nervously toyed with her pen, pointed out, "The Grimleal are very dangerous too. They kill people who get in their way."

"Believe me, we know that," Inigo replied.

"So why would you go through with this?" Laurent questioned. "You do realize you're breaking the law and could be arrested for it."

Morgan's brow twitched downward, practically shadowing her eyes. Frustration tugged at her lips as she clenched her pencil ever tighter. It was a miracle that it hadn't snapped. "Of course we realize that! We're not stupid, Laurent. Answer me this though, what's better: the zero percent chance that these guys will be tried and punished for their actions, or the low chance that they will if we work to bring them down despite the risks involved?"

No one had an easy answer, or even an answer at all.

Cynthia raised her hand to speak. "If I'm following this right, then basically we gain a small chance of these guys being brought down if you work against them."

"That's what I just said."

"So what about if more people help?" Cynthia asked. "Would your chances go up?"

Realization flashed in both twins' eyes and Marc turned to Laurent. "How about it? Would our chances go up?"

Laurent gave a weighted sigh, seeing where this was going. "One could safely assume that they would."

"Alright!" Cynthia pumped her fist into the air. "Then I'm helping!"

"This isn't a game, Cynthia," Inigo reminded. "You could get hurt."

"I know that!" Cynthia shot back, determination in her eyes. "But I want to help however I can."

Noire put down her pen, her hands shaking. "I-if it's okay with the rest of you, I'd like to help too."

Everyone looked to Laurent. What's it going to be? "You don't have to if you don't want to." Owain was surprised by his own voice, sounding much stronger than earlier.

"Insane as this is, I see your point," Laurent said, pressing his fingers to his temples. Under his hand was an unnerved smile. "I cannot believe I'm saying this, but I will assist you however I can."

So then that just leaves... "Teacher, are you...?"

"Oh please don't tell on us!" Noire suddenly wailed.

Ricken gaped at them for a few seconds before he snapped out of it. He clasped his hands in his lap. "I... uh... I really didn't decide what to do here..."

"Then help us," Owain insisted. "Please, there must be some reason to."

Ricken looked to each of the students, and slowly the bewilderment melted away to seriousness. "You're right, there is," the teacher agreed. "Robin and Henry are both friends, same with a lot of your parents. There's not a lot that I can do, but I definitely will keep your secret."

Cynthia shot up to her feet, "Alright! Now we're really The Justice Cabal!"

Marc laughed. "Yeah, I guess we are, huh?"

With a quivering lip, Morgan turned her head down and rubbed at her eyes.

Her brother turned his attention to her and rested a hand on her shoulder. "What's wrong, sis?"

"Nothing." She sniffled and looked up, tears in her eyes and a small smile on her face. "I'm just glad you were right."

Before anything else, I'm going to address something that came up in the comments. No, I didn't intend to write a concert scene. I've never been to a concert and had zero ideas about what I would do for it. Feel free to fill in the blanks there. Heck, comment with your idea of what happened at the concert! I'd love to hear it. [And if I really like it, it might be mentioned in story. ;) ]
As always, thanks so much. You guys have been a great crowd and I look forward to when I can get the next chapter out.

Now, time for another round of "Name that Bad Decision!"
1. Making mistakes on purpose: The insane leap in logic here aside, there's a reason a mistake is a mistake. If you're doing stupid shit on purpose then that's you just being stupid.
2. Not calling the police: Seriously, this plot would be a lot shorter if these characters would take the sane route of letting the police handle this.
3. Break-in: Do I even need to spell this one out?
4. Vigilantism: Again, taking the law into their own hands.
5. Becoming an accomplice: It's probably not smart to aid criminals. You know, that's kinda how you get in trouble too.
6. Viva la Resistance: They're high school students. Fighting a gang. Unarmed. What could possibly go wrong?

Alright, so Happy Holidays, I'll see you next chapter!