Her head was swirling. Dancing and parading around the building, everything a strange blur. She tried to focus on what was happening before her just to suddenly stop at a set of doors. Harsh whispers from behind the wooden pieces nearly beckoned her to enter.
With a strange force, the doors came open, showing her an array of history from all over the world. Ancient lands and historic documents with artifacts with stories of years before her to tell.
Yet the only thing that stood out was the painting of Oliver and a queen.
Heather opened her eyes blearily, adjusting to the early morning sun seeping through the blinds. That dream. That damn dream again. For the third night that week, it came to her. Almost as if it was giving her a haunting message.
She sighed, wondering what was trying to get her attention. She would've passed it off as a bad dream or memory until she found the doors in the large building. She asked Allen what laid within, but all he did was shrug and pull her away, as if a hidden secret laid within.
Maybe. Hell if she knew.
Heather tried to get up, only to feel arms entrap her tighter to the bed. She sighed, knowing how he loved to snuggle against her in the early morning.
She turned slightly to see him, gripping her as tight as he could, pretending to be sleeping, "Oliver."
Heavy breaths left him, giving her proof he was truly faking it. Grabbing her pillow, she thumped him over the head with the piece, jolting him upright.
"Hey!" he gave his sad puppy face, "I was being a good boy, hugging you, and didn't do anything to deserve that."
"I know you are but I need to get up as do you." she told him, shuffling herself away from the comfort of their bed.
"Oh poo, it's late isn't it?"
"Yes, Ollie, it is." she kissed his head, "You have a massive amount of meetings for the day over AlphaCom and what's happening in New London, and I have the new sale for the bakery and helping you organize that paper mess on your desk."
"It's not that bad." he retorted, getting himself ready.
"What are the dates to the top first three pages of the piles on your desk?"
He glared at her, knowing she was in the right, "Fine, you win. Just don't work yourself to death."
"Now, Ollie, don't think so low of me."
"Never."
Finishing up her hair and slipping on her coat, she darted down the stairs, freshening the counters and brought out all the trays in question. She checked everything over, more so than before. She saw the light falls of white as it gave a sweet ambiance to the day that was coming.
"Best not dawdle too long here, poppet." Oliver stated as he looked outside, "It may look nice now but it can come in with a vengeance."
Heather nodded, making sure the coffee and tea were brewed and ready, "Of course, Ollie. I watched the weather and everything. Nothing came about being a severe storm, quit worrying about me."
"But that's my job."
Heather paused. She watched him, every movement he made, every sentence he spoke, it was Oliver, yet it wasn't. Not the Oliver that found her those months ago, nor the Oliver that saved her and showed her the world, or the Oliver that loved her. He was still there, but ever since their first day of fully being together, he seemed slightly distant, like something bothered him. Yet she didn't know what was wrong.
"Alright, Ollie, I'll be careful and I'll write to you the moment I leave here."
Oliver smiled at her, "That's my girl."
He gave her a quick kiss and darted out the door. She knew well that he had to be there before Luciano threw a fit, no one dared to be late. Poor Lutz had found out that world the hard way, his scar the proof of the man's wrath. Shaking her head, Heather continued her routine as she opened up the shop, the pastries and cakes filled the air as the cookies slowly joined them in an ever swirl of home and comfort. She never worried about what people would say or do, there was never a negative comment or complaint to her and the bakery and she loved it.
The familiar bell chimed as the old perfume came to her, no doubt in her mind it was her favorite and regular customer, "Hello, Mrs. Wilkens."
"Hello to you as well, Heather." the old woman took her seat by the back, her smile never wavering from her, "You have an excellent presentation today, like usual. Anything new this time?"
Heather smiled at her, "But of course, 'tis the season, ain't it?"
She moved behind the counter, bustling around her trays of goods, setting a plate for Mrs. Wilkens. One after another, she placed everything on and decided to even add a new drink she decided to try with the patrons.
"Alright, I gave you a smorgasbord of samples. Fruits and cakes, a sweet and salty mix, and a new drink to the menu."
"Oh, Heather, they are delightful. This is popcorn with chocolate and sprinkles, yes? And the strawberries are little Santa's, my god that's so cute!" Mr.s Wilkens exclaimed, taking a small sip of the drink, "Oh my goodness, what is this drink?"
"It's a hot cocoa blend of cookies and creme with a hint of peppermint."
"You wouldn't think some things wouldn't work together like that but you and Oliver have a knack in doing so. My god, it's all so tasty."
"I'm glad you're liking it, Mrs. Wilkens." Heather beamed at her words.
She knew the woman wouldn't lie, witness that when Allen tried to feed her one of his vegan recipes. The woman barely took a bite to only glare at him and to get the crap out of her face and give her something better. Never leaving a trace of remorse with her harshness towards him.
Little by little, people came and went, devouring her ensemble of treats. Some even bringing new ones, never being in the shop before, gaining her new customers as they left with happy reviews. She loved the little world she was in, all the people she gained to know and serve in the bakery and even the group up over the way at the building. They all gave her a new outlook in life and how it really should've been for her.
Checking the display once more something caught her eye. Well, someone. Looking at the door, she saw a woman, half hidden away as she seemed to be searching for something, a look of panic coming over her as more and more people walked by her. There was something about her, something that screamed at her to talk to her.
Without a second thought, Heather made her way to the door, holding it open to her, "Excuse me, Miss?"
Aqua eyes looked at her, the panic slowly fading away. Dear god, she was fair. Heather had seen her share of pale skin but her's was beyond fair, even her hair was the brightest of blonde, almost a pale platinum. Heather was awed by her, unsure of what to think but bring her in from the growing cold.
"You look a little lost, want to come in and warm up and maybe find your footing here."
A small nod came from her, finally entering the bakery. Her eyes were wide in wonder as if she had never seen a place like this before. Gesturing a seat to her, Heather moved behind the counter, gathering a few things on a plate for her along with a drink. Mrs. Wilkens joined the two of them, giving the woman a bright smile.
"What brings you in the area? You look lost this street." Mrs. Wilkens asked.
"I have never been here before, the city itself. It's so big." she replied.
Heather paused, hearing her voice. Jesus, her voice was barely above a whisper but it was angelic, so gentle and soft. Innocence rolled off of her like mad, she was just too pure for this place. What the hell was she doing out there?
"Never been to New London?" Heather questioned, placing the items before her.
"Oh, no! I do not have money for that. I cannot eat or drink without payment. It is rude."
Wow, that was different, "No, sweetie, it's on me."
"I cannot though, I do not know what is all before me and if I do not know what it is, Mistress with be very displeased with me."
"Mistress?" Heather spoke aloud.
"Oh, you must mean a headmistress, a principle like that. I know there's a school for wayward girls outside of town." Mrs. Wilkens beamed, "Becoming a good citizen then."
"I guess, if that is what it means over here."
Heather shook her head, only hoping Mrs. Wilkens was right in that notion, "Don't worry about it. My boyfriend and I do this for a lot of people that seem lost or scared of what's around them. We help the community out, in more ways than one. Besides, these are just fruits with decorations on them and these here are lemon scones. It won't bite you, and I gave you a basic hot chocolate to wash it down."
The woman stared at her, unsure of what to think or do with the two of them. A mental battle rages behind her eyes, one that she wasn't sure would lead to good things. With a nudge from Mrs. Wilkens, she finally took a bite of her strawberries just for her eyes to go wide and devour the rest of them along with the scone.
"My lord, you act like you haven't eaten."
"These are divine! And adorable!" she exclaimed, sipping the drink, "And this, this is the most delectable drink I have ever had the pleasure of indulging."
Ok, there was no way she was from a wayward home, not with that kind of tone and speech. There was something about her, and Heather was going to find out what, "So what brings you over to our neck of the woods?"
The woman nodded, "Mistress needed something. She told me to go to a specific store to grab the item in question. I had a hard time figuring out the streets and roads, it's very confusing from home but I was able to find the item but ended up lost. I'm not too sure how to get back now."
"Well dear, what is your home called? We might be able to help you."
"Oh thank you kindly, really. I really don't know the real name of it, just the homesteads name of Willingham. but I have heard Mistress say something about living in Haven before."
Haven? There was no way she was from Haven District, James and the boys told her no one ever left the area. But if she was outside of the large community, what the hell was she taking back?
"Haven. I'm not sure if I've heard of that." Mrs. Wilkens shook her head.
"I have. James and Allen do as well, they told me about it." Heather stated, having a plan roll through her head, "Mrs. Wilkens? Since Ollie and I trust you so much and practically made you an employee when things turn sour, mind tending the shop as I escort our friend back to Haven?"
Mrs. Wilkens smiled, "And this is why everyone loves you, dear. Your heart is truly golden and you know I'll do anything for you and Oliver. You take care dear, it was lovely meeting you."
"It was lovely meeting you too! Thank you for your kindness and caring to speak with me and help me, it was a very pleasant thing to have happen." she smiled at Heather.
Throwing on her coat and bidding her usual customers farewell, she led the woman out the door, "You're very welcome. I love to see new faces come in and leave happy. Plus I know what it's like to be lost on the streets, it's pretty scary."
Heather lead her down the main drag, watching as people mingled around and eyes became noticeable on her and the woman, "Best we take a small detour in Crimson Alley."
"That sounds bad, wouldn't you think?" she asked, following tightly behind her.
"Not unless you know the right people."
Shimmying down the familiar space, she made it through on the other side, tapping the small code the boys taught her on the pipes, letting them know she was in the alley. Grasping the woman's hand, she was off. Weaving and turning in multiple directions, where most would get lost, she followed the clues on the wall. Each a mark of the men and women of the group. Setting out a signal of who worked where at times or where they found certain things. Now, she was going to find something for herself out.
"I swear I'm not leading you to get hurt, I just know these ways and the people that run it. Don't worry, you're actually safer back here with me than on the main drag." Heather reassured her, "Besides, what were you getting your Mistress if you don't mind me asking?"
She felt the woman give a small shiver, "I'm really not sure if I can but since you seem to know so much, maybe you can help me gather more for her when needed. The man I had to see to gather it bothered me ever so. But I'll do whatever I have to, to please Mistress."
For a second, she paused, making Heather stop and look at her. The woman reached in her coat pocket to pull out two vials full of the same yellowish liquid she found in the Chamber with the boys that day, "She called it Mirage. It's to help her somehow, but I do not know how."
"That's very interesting." Heather felt her mind run to the boys and what she learned, "I have a friend that might know how to gather more. I'll see if he can help."
"Really?" she beamed, "You really are a lovely person. I'm glad to have met you, Heather."
"My pleasure. Yet I didn't gain your name."
"Oh, goodness, apologies." she curtsied before her, "I'm Laine."
"Laine. That's a really pretty and rare name."
"Why thank you. Your's is very regal and beautiful in my opinion."
Heather smiled at her, hearing the same thing out of Oliver at times when he would whisper in her ear. Moving along, she finally came to the edge of the city and alleyway, and there before them was the large wall.
"You were right, you did know my home." Laine started to merrily jog toward the lower gate, "Thank you ever so much. How can I ever repay you?"
"Don' be a stranger and tell people about The Lion's Sweettooth. I'll be perfectly tickled with that." Heather nodded to her, "Take care, Laine."
"I truly shall, and to you as well!" she waved to her, running to the small gated door.
She watched as Laine gave the door a set of knocks just for it to open and the woman disappeared behind the wall, and to add to Heather's wandering mind. She was able to leave and return, plus gain the drugs from the Chamber that the group was still working on, there was something extremely strange going on, and it lied within Haven District.
Turning around to head to the building, she nearly slammed into an old beggar, "Oh my god, I'm so sorry."
"Not the first to run me over, nor the last." he said.
"I apologize, I'm normally more alert."
He humphed at her, only to turn his head in wonder, "Hey, aren't you that girl at the bakery?"
"I may be. Why?"
"Is there a man of red hair and blue eyes, his clothes really bright and out there?"
"Possibly, why again, are you asking?"
The old man nodded, "My thoughts are correct, it is him."
Heather started to get agitated with him, "Why are you asking?"
"I'm asking because I've seen him before. Had another bakery in another town over. Seems my hunches were correct to him." he chuckled lightly as he pulled something out.
"That really didn't explain any-" she paused as he held up a picture of black and white.
The photo was wrinkled and stained yet the faces were clear as day, a young man smiling brightly outside a bakery, proud to be working within, but what set her off was the man with him.
"You see, that same man is the one that hired me over sixty years ago. Never aged, never changed. I believe he dabbled in the craft, kills people for their blood to stay young forever. He's not human, you know. Nobody that is around him is."
She just stared at it, the doors within the building coming back to her mind as she finally looked at him, "You wouldn't happen to have another one of these would you?"
He smiled, "My mother was so proud back then, she took about five. The photographer that she was. Take it, show him and see what he says. I'm telling you, witchcraft. Be wary."
Heather nodded to him, just to take off and run to the building. It felt like hours she ran Crimson Alley, her footfalls echoing the stone surroundings. She had to get there, had to know what was really doing on, and pray that the old man was wrong. She ran past people as she busted out the side of the streets, running up the hill as the dark loom of the headquarters beckoned her closer. She flew through the doors and listened, she waited to see if any of them were around, ready to pop out and frighten her for a second. The loud voices and arguments being thrown around gave her the proof that they were all still in the meeting, giving her the advantage to get to the doors.
Making her way through the halls, Heather finally came to the doors, their heavy wooden frame and decor called to her, the dream running through her mind more and more. She pulled out her hairpin, getting eye level with the lock and fidgeted with the tumble until it came undone.
"Thank you, Allen, for showing me that." she breathed out, pushing the doors open.
Entering the room, she felt a melancholy overcome her. The sadness that laid within was deep as if they wanted to remember but the hurt was too much. Paintings and artifacts blessed the room, scrolls and weapons scattered the huge area, yet that wasn't what she wanted to find. She needed the portrait. Walking around everything, she found nation after nation within, all dusty and aged, proof that no one had been in for years. Finally turning the last corner, she found it.
There was the portrait from her dream. Tall and gleaming with a queen, and beside her was Oliver, donned in old apparel of the age. She touched the painting, feeling the dust and age upon it as she tried to find any indication of its age. She could feel the artist brushes as they ran across the canvas, bringing it to life with the two of them and suddenly, on the back, she found it, "Devis, 1802."
"It can't be." she muttered, staring at the portrait again.
She could tear her eyes away, it was Oliver on the canvas, nobody had those blues like him, the smile, his face, his hair, any of it. But how? She suddenly bumped into a trunk, making it topple and items falling out. She quickly went to pick it up, praying no one heard her, only to pause. More picture of Oliver laid before her, clothes of centuries long passed as Francois stood by him in one and whom she believed was little Allen and James, yet the picture was old and faded, the clothes and home nowhere near what today was. Everything within was his, and she didn't know what to do as a book came to her. Opening the pages, she found a journal of his, one that outlined the wars of years ago, how things should be and how they were horribly wrong about things. There was just too much on her as the truth laid before her.
Heather ran out of the room, afraid of what else she would learn yet wish she never did. She made her way to his office, pressing herself into his chair, catching his sweet scent. How? How on earth was he some sort of immortal? How could he and why didn't he say anything? What else was he hiding from her? So many things ran through her head, she was lucky to even think at that moment. Tears slid down her cheeks, no possible way for her to stop the worry and hurt in her chest. She just wanted to know what was real before her.
"Heather?" a voice caught her off guard.
She flew out of the chair to see Oliver standing next to the desk, surprise written on him, "I'm sorry poppet, I didn't mean to frighten- why are you crying?"
Heather felt her breath hitch in her throat, knowing it would spill over any moment. She saw the anger radiate off him, the pink swirls claiming his blues, ones of trouble and death.
"Who hurt you, Heather? Did Drake come to the bakery? Do I need to go down there and put an end to his debauchery?" he demanded, "Heather, tell me right now, who-"
"What are you?" she whispered out.
His demeanor calmed down, "What?"
She swallowed past the lump in her throat, "I asked, what are you?"
Oliver just stared at her, mouth open and eyes confused, "Poppet, I don't-"
"Don't call me poppet." she said, "Don't call me that or love or darling or anything until you tell me the truth about you and all of them in here."
He stood there before her, unsure of what to say or do, "I really-"
She held out the photo to him, praying he would tell her. He took the aged piece, glancing over it again and again, "Where did you get this?"
"What are you?"
"I asked-"
"And I asked first." her voice cracked, "I even went in the room."
"What room?!" he shouted.
"Devis, 1802. Explain that one to me then. Or the pictures in the trunk or the diary that depicts wars that nobody alive today could give details to. Explain that first!"
She waited. Waited for him to explain everything she had found and learned, praying it was all in her head, but the more she looked at him and how he reacted, it gave her the truth already.
With a defeated sigh, Oliver placed the photo on the desk, rubbing the back of his neck, "They're not wrong. Everything you see before you is real."
"How?" her voice broke.
"I...I...I'm..." he stumbled over his words.
"You're what? Oliver, please tell me."
"I am immortal." he confessed, his eyes forlorn, "I am the personification of the nation England. And the rest of us within here are personifications as well. Each person representing a nation is that nation. And I mean everyone."
There was no way. It couldn't be possible. Hell, she'd believe him to be a vampire if he turned into a bat, but that. That was just too much. There was so much hidden from her and still was as he continued to explain, yet she heard not a word. Her heart clamped up within, everything she believed in was a lie. There was no real tomorrow with him, no happy ending. Just a lie that brought her out of a hell she lived.
"Heather, please, I held that from you for good reason, believe me." he begged her.
"Believe you?" she glared at him, "You just told me you're a nation that is hundreds of years old, and you want me to believe you?"
"I did it to keep you safe, I swear. If anyone knew what was really before them, then a massive hunt would be out for us. It was-"
"Don't you DARE say it was for the best!" she cried, "I trusted you and you all lied to me just because I give you all a good feeling. How long will that last, how long will the vibe be there until it dies and you all toss me aside like garbage."
"No, Heather, it's not like that, please listen." he came towards her.
"No! You stay away from me!" she backed away.
"Heather please, just because I am this doesn't mean that I don't love you. Please listen to me."
She shook her head, afraid of what was real and what was a lie, "How can I believe you with even that? You lied about yourself so much that I don't even believe those words anymore."
She might as well have kicked him in the gut with the look he gave, "Poppet?"
"No. No more."
"Poppet, please." stray tears left him, "Pop- Heather!"
She ran out of the office, ran down the halls and out the main doors. Ran away from everything she thought she knew, ran as fast as she could away from it all as her heart broke even more. He was a personification, an immortal. He wasn't human. She ran until her legs gave out from under her, her knees hitting the cement as her hands tried to catch her. She just stayed like that, letting it all sink in. He wasn't human, but he felt it. Spoke like it and smelled like it. Everything was human like to him, yet he wasn't. What would they do with her when she was no longer valuable, what would they do when she was too old to work for them and help them, what would...she couldn't think anymore. Sitting on her knees, she cried in her hands, her words echoing in her head of what she said to him. How hurtful and wrong she was. She was afraid of what was before her and reacted worse than the actual truth, but who could truly explain what an immortal like himself was doing with her and others? What would he really want in her? There was so much there that needed to be answered, yet she didn't know if she could face them again.
She felt someone standing behind her, "Not now boys, I need a moment from it all."
Suddenly a rag was shoved in her mouth, a solid arm pulling her against someone. She fought against the intrusion until his voice hissed in her ear, "Got you now, Heather. Time to talk to your dear friend all about Luis and where the fuck you've been hiding."
Heather panicked, trying everything she could to escape Drake until the pain ravaged her head and the world went dark around her. Her last thoughts on Oliver and how she wished she never reacted the way she did.
"You mean to tell me she knows what we are?!" Luciano hollered from the hall.
"Well," Allen sighed, "He's taking that well."
"You alright?" James asked him.
He could see her, frightened and hurt by the truth, but hearing her speak like that, god he could've taken a knife to the chest and had felt less pain than her words. He looked over all she had found, pictures from the wars and his journal, the uniforms within and the portrait she found. God, he was stupid for not telling her.
"I warned you."
He launched the knife at Francois's head, "If I hear that from you again, I won't miss."
"And nor will I with you." Luciano stated as he came into the room, "Well, now we have a bigger issue on our hands, don't we? She knows we're nations, she now either a threat or a liability. So which is it? Will she speak to people?"
"Are you mad? Oliver glared at him, "She knows no one. We were all she really knew except a few in the bakery. She wouldn't tell a soul, not with the fear of Drake and what he did to her."
"Then you need to go out there and get her back here so we make sure she never talks."
That surprised him. Well, all of them actually as he saw the rest of them stare at Luciano, "Che cosa?"
"Did you say to bring her back and keep her alive?" Kuro spoke for them all.
Luciano looked to the floor, "As much as it would go against all we do, she is of value to us. Plus she keeps you all in check when I'm not here, so I will admit, it's...nice...to have her here."
"Wow, history is made today." Taito's voice joined them.
Looking to the door, the Finnish man stood there, a bored yet worried look crossed him, a piece of paper resting between his fingers. Something seemed off, and it was making a hell of a pit in his stomach.
"Funny." Luciano snipped, "What do you have?"
"A very big issue for our little girl." he walked over and handed Oliver the piece, "Seems we aren't the only ones keeping our eye open for her."
Opening the paper up, Oliver's heart nearly stopped as pure rage filled him. There was no way, he made sure that there was no way he could follow her, taught her all the safe routes home and more.
'You had my prize for quite some time, now it's my turn to have her back. Unless you think you can take her from me, Mad Baker.'
The paper crumbled under his hands, the very knowledge he had of him and his sick ways made him boil as he could envision Heather reliving her nightmares again. There was no doubt in his mind what was going to happen next, and he was going to go all out to get her back.
"You boys can handle the dogs he'll have around his little hideout. But that bastard is mine!"