Disclaimer: I don't own Eragon or anything associated with the Inheritance Cycle. Story and chapter titles are from the song "Undisclosed Desires" by Muse.
Claimer: I, SussieKitten, own this plot and the story. Borrow or steal my plot, my original characters (Aksel) or story and I will report you. I also own my version of Thorn/Saphira/Shruikan/Glaedr's human appearances.
Warnings: Male homosexuality. Female homosexuality. Heterosexuality. Supernatural creatures – there will be mainly elves (immortals), dragons (drakes), dwarves, vampires and werewolves (weres) in this. Mentions of ill intentions towards humans and humanoid creatures. Obvious bias against humanoid species. Politics. Murtagh's self-deprecating tendencies. Murtagh's humour. If any of this disturbs you, click on the "back" button. I won't tolerate any flames.
A/N Prepare yourself for this chapter. A lot of things are going to come to a head.
That being said! This is the last proper chapter before the epilogue is due, which is in about three weeks. So look forward to that. :)
Be warned. This is self-betaed.
Undisclosed Desires
Part Fourteen; Satisfy the Undisclosed Desires in Your Heart
"So you ran away in a hurry last week," Nasuada said.
It was less than a week until the full moon and Murtagh could feel it in his entire body. He tried not to look at the calendar and wonder whether this really was going to be the last full moon he ever experienced.
"There was something I needed to take care of." Murtagh held up a hand before Thorn could actually assault him. "I can't tell you for reasons I'm sure Nasuada would understand. Bullshit politics and outdated laws and all that."
Something flickered through Nasuada's eyes. It looked a lot like understanding.
"When your girlfriend comes clean about everything, to the entire world, then I can explain," Murtagh said. "Until then, just know I had to do it for my little brother."
He'd done as promised and reached out to Eragon, but he still wasn't sure if it anything had come out of it. He'd also called Saphira as back-up, in case Aksel needed to talk but wasn't able to make himself reach out to someone he barely knew.
Having done his part, now all Murtagh could do was wait.
"All right," Nasuada said. "We won't push."
Thorn looked distinctly unimpressed, but let the matter slide.
"So," Murtagh looked at them, "questions."
"You mentioned that you have a family you didn't know about?" Nasuada said before Thorn could say anything.
"Yeah." Murtagh took a deep breath before he began.
The whole conversation hurt. None of them were holding back anymore. This was a conversation he knew they should've had a long time ago, but there was nothing to do about it now. Nothing but pushing past all the hurt and try to make it out on the other side of it.
"Do they know why?" Nasuada asked once the worst of it was over. Her voice was hoarse.
Murtagh rubbed at his temples. All the stress had given him a headache and he had been longing for his bed for the last thirty odd minutes.
"Why I'm dying, you mean?" Murtagh said, ignoring that his voice cracked midway through.
A wave of sadness threatened to bring more tears to Nasuada's eyes, but she seemed to be able to hold them back this time.
Murtagh sighed. "No," he answered truthfully. His doctors had no idea and they didn't need to know that he was fully aware of the reason why. That was a road that lead nowhere.
Nasuada's hands shook before she clasped them firmly in her lap.
"The werewolf virus is...one of it's kind," Murtagh said. "If they knew how it worked, they'd know how to cure it."
Nasuada looked down.
Thorn was silent.
"I'm saying that for all of the people like me, with a death-sentence hanging over their head," Murtagh forced out. Just in case they still thought he hated the world or, hell, himself enough to hate people like him. "If people are happy the way they are, then I don't give a fuck about them. But the kids that get bitten and have less than a snowball's chance in hell of surviving...I'm thinking of them."
"We know," Thorn said roughly.
It was silent again.
"I haven't given up yet," he lied. "I can still pull through."
They both looked at him like they knew he was lying, but that was ok. Sometimes it was necessary to lie. At least they weren't calling him out on this one. Small mercies.
-;-
"You figured it out, didn't you?" Saphira said when she cornered him after work. Murtagh tried not to startle too much. He hadn't even heard her approach.
"Figured it out?"
"What's been bugging Aksel," she clarified.
"He talked to you?" The amount of relief he felt was just ridiculous. He wasn't even invested in Aksel's well-being. But not having to deal with Vanir's fucking drama would be nice for a change.
Saphira let out a sigh that sounded just as relieved as Murtagh felt. "He did as soon as I mentioned a certain loop-hole," she said. "Thank the Gods the Immortal kind actually look up to someone other than themselves, huh?"
Murtagh couldn't help but laugh.
Saphira smiled.
"How is he?" Murtagh heard himself ask.
Saphira folded her arms like she was trying not to hug herself. "He's been better," she said, sounding painfully honest. "But I think talking about it helped." She sighed. "He's been keeping this bottled up inside ever since he found out. That certainly didn't do him any favours."
"I honestly have to say I'm surprised. He doesn't seem to be the type."
"To keep things to himself?" Saphira looked almost sad. "No, he rarely does. Only when it's serious."
Murtagh cocked an eyebrow. "That seems contrary."
"And yet, that's Aksel in a nutshell."
A moment passed before Murtagh could make himself ask the next question. "Do you think he'll reach out to Arya again?"
Saphira frowned softly. "Not right away, no," she said, "but definitely one day. It's been him and his mom for as long as he can remember. He'll want to reach out to learn more about himself and his family, if nothing else. Though the rest scares him, understandably."
"That's an understatement if I ever heard one," Murtagh deadpanned.
She gave a faint smile.
"Make sure you tell Eragon that Aksel is talking to someone," he said. "He was worried."
"That's what Eragon does," Saphira said with a wry smile. "He worries and worries, but never about himself." She looked at him pointedly.
"Point taken." He hesitated. "Look after him for me, will you?"
She smiled at him sadly. "Always."
-;-
The hospital called again as the full moon started to get closer. They kept reassuring him that it was all right to be nervous and that the observation wasn't nearly as invasive as it sounded. The tests were nothing to be worried about either.
Murtagh didn't care. He already knew he wasn't going back there. There was no point.
"I understand, doc, but I'm still reserving my right to refuse medical attention," he was saying as he let himself in the front door. "I'll be fine."
He only realised that he wasn't alone when it was too late to do anything about it. There were two people standing by the mailboxes. They were both clearly on their way out, though they appeared to have been delayed by his neighbour looking for something in her purse.
"I'll be sure to call if anything happens," Murtagh said and hung up before the doctor could even get another word out. Rude, probably, but also completely necessary. There was no way he was going to be able to continue the conversation for much longer.
Murtagh was almost ready to run past them and hope they didn't notice when Trianna looked up and clearly recognised him. Murtagh waved at his sanity as it flew by.
"Murtagh," Trianna said, tipping her head.
"Murtagh?" The man turned around, though Murtagh didn't need to see his face to know who he was. Why here? Why now? Hadn't Murtagh earned to go gently into that soft goodnight without constantly getting this guy's scent and face thrown into the mix?
"It's so good to meet you," he was saying. His smile was practically blinding. "Selena won't stop talking about you."
"Hello," Murtagh forced out because he could be polite if he absolutely had to, dammit. He could already feel the cold sweat starting to bead along his hairline. Maybe if he kept absolutely still he could fool them into thinking everything was all right and leave him to hide out in his apartment.
His smile took on a sympathetic edge. "I know it must be weird to talk to someone who knows so much about you but that you don't know anything about. Or a friend of your parent. Gods know I've been there myself."
Trianna cocked an unimpressed eyebrow. Clearly there was something Murtagh was missing.
He grimaced. "You're absolutely right, Tri. I should at least introduce myself before I start blabbing at people." He held out his hand. "Tornac Holme, nice to meet you." He paused. "I said that already, didn't I? Gosh, where's my head today?"
"Not on your shoulders," Trianna said, dry like the Hadarac desert.
Murtagh stared at the hand like it was going to bite him. Fuck. There was no way around it, was there? He had to do it.
"...Murtagh?" That sounded like Trianna. "Are you all right, boy?"
Murtagh forced himself to reach out and grasp Tornac's hand just before Tornac could pull it back. He felt it in his body the moment their skin touched, like he somehow hadn't gotten the memo who he was standing in front of and was touching for the first time.
Murtagh only had time to think a few choice words before the world wobbled and went dark again.
-;-
"I have known a few werewolves in my time," someone was saying as the world slowly came back into focus. "It's not the first time I've seen this."
Murtagh's thoughts were thick and slow. It took him a minute to realise he wasn't sleeping and that the voice he was hearing was very real. Real and belonged to someone he didn't know except for somewhere deep in his soul.
"Still," the voice said, "am I ever glad Trianna was there. I am not a doctor or a specialist. I could easily have misdiagnosed you, and then Lena would never have forgiven me."
Murtagh tried to open his eyes, but they wouldn't comply. Everything seemed to be going in slow-motion; everything but that voice.
"Trianna recommended exposure therapy," he continued, "but I am not going to do anything you are opposed to." He chuckled wryly. "Still, I couldn't leave you alone. I hope you understand."
Eventually his eyes deigned themselves ready to open. Murtagh immediately wished that he'd kept them shut because there he was.
Tornac seemed even more handsome now, though Murtagh had no idea how. He'd taken off his jacket at some point and rolled up his shirt-sleeves. The buttons on the collar was open far more than what had to be considered appropriate this time of year. His hair was ruffled like he'd run his hands through them a good couple of times.
He barked a laugh that didn't seem nearly as loud as Murtagh thought it probably should have. "Gods, your mother is going to have my hide."
There was only one way to react to that. Murtagh threw an arm over his eyes and pretended to be somewhere else entirely.
Tornac sighed softly. "You're young, aren't you?" he said, sounding almost fond for some bizarre reason.
"I don't need you patronising me," Murtagh forced out. All right, so clearly avoiding the problem until it went away wasn't going to work. He took a deep breath and prepared to push himself up.
Murtagh saw Tornac hold up his hands out of the corner of his eye. "Not patronising. Promise."
Murtagh kept his eyes carefully away from the intruder in his apartment. He slowly pushed himself into a seated position and leaned back against the arm on the couch. It wasn't high enough to support him, really, but he wasn't in the mood to turn and face Tornac head-on either. He valued the small amount of sanity he had left.
"I have to ask you something and I hope you can forgive me for it."
Murtagh rubbed a hand over his face and pointedly didn't answer.
"Were you keeping this from me?"
Murtagh let the silence speak for him.
Tornac sighed again. "Why would you do such a thing?"
"Look," Murtagh forced out, hating how parched he sounded, "thanks for keeping an eye on me, but I don't owe you anything."
"I know you don't," Tornac said. "But you're clearly not well. Why -"
"I'd like to be alone, if you don't mind."
Tornac was silent. "All right," he said eventually. He stood slowly, the chair creaking softly at the shifting weight. Murtagh sensed him picking it up more than he heard it. He disappeared with it and Murtagh heard him put it back by the kitchen table like the annoyingly polite houseguest he probably always was.
When Tornac came back, he'd rolled down his sleeves and was buttoning up his shirt again. Murtagh looked away as soon as he realised he was staring.
"But if you kept this from me because of your father, then you shouldn't have bothered," Tornac said, sounding firm. "We both know you're hardly responsible for his actions."
Murtagh stared at the blanket he'd only then noticed had been draped over him.
Tornac gave a tired sigh. Murtagh heard him shoulder on his jacket and zip it shut. "Will you let me be a part of your life?"
Murtagh ground his teeth together to stop himself from saying something stupid.
Tornac audibly hesitated before opening his mouth again. "I want to help you."
"Good for you," Murtagh groused before he could help himself.
Tornac was silent again. "All right," he repeated. "I've left my number by your phone. If there's anything you want to talk about, or if there's something else, call me."
Murtagh bit his tongue to keep his mouth shut.
Eventually the silence became thick enough that Tornac took it as his cue and left. The door fell shut quietly behind him, leaving behind a thick cloud of his scent and a chill that hadn't been in the air before.
Murtagh stared at the opposite wall until his eyes screamed at him to blink. "Fuck."
Fuck his fucking life.
-;-
His apartment was saturated with Tornac's scent afterwards. No matter how much he kept the windows open, it wouldn't leave. Not completely. Murtagh dealt with it by spending as much time as he could away from his place.
But eventually there was no way around it. The calendar reminded him what day it was, like he couldn't feel the change coming in his bones. He spent that day preparing, calling in to work to let them know what was going on and getting his other things in order. Murtagh tried to feel like he was just getting this ready as usual, but it was impossible.
He'd never really been that good at lying to himself.
Walking down the stairs at sundown made him feel like a lamb being lead to slaughter. The irony of the statement was not lost on him either.
"Murtagh?"
He stopped, hand on the banister. He could feel the sun slowly sinking in the sky and knew Marian had to be aware of it too. If she was stopping him from going into the basement just yet, then it had to be for a good reason.
She approached him and held out a paper bag.
Murtagh frowned. "What's that?"
"Just a little something to tide you over this month," she said with a soft, almost sad smile. "Roran tells me you've been having a rough time lately."
Murtagh hesitated before reaching out, like he was afraid of the bag attacking him. He tried not to cringe when the paper crinkled unusually loudly – well, at least to his ears. "Thank you."
Marian just smiled at him. "I hope you feel better soon."
"Thank you," he repeated. He didn't tell her how futile those words were, no matter how thankful he was to hear them.
The trek down to the werewolf-proof rooms took forever and yet was somehow over in the blink of an eye. Murtagh stared at the door leading to his room and wondered if what he was feeling was what all people on death-row felt before they walked over the last threshold of their life.
He opened the door, turned the handle and stepped inside, letting it fall shut behind him. He leaned back heavily and forced himself to turn the lock. The sound seemed oddly final.
Murtagh closed his eyes and stayed there for what felt like hours. He would probably have stayed there if not for the tug in his abdomen, letting him know it was almost time.
Undressing went on autopilot. The clothes were put aside and then all that was left was to sit down on the bare mattress and wait for the inevitable change. The bag crinkled again when he sat it down.
Murtagh took a moment to just look at it. He had no idea what was inside of it. He didn't know if he wanted to know either. But there was nothing left for him to do. He'd updated his will and left a copy in his apartment with a few letters. He was as prepared as he was going to be. All that was left was curiosity.
He reached out and opened the bag. There was nothing inside it except a clothing garment, he realised immediately. Murtagh pulled it out and stared at it. It was a soft and worn cardigan, obviously old by the scents that had become ingrained in the fabric. There was no doubt who it belonged to.
Murtagh closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. He was so calling Roran when the full moon was over.
-;-
When Murtagh opened his eyes, his entire body was sore and felt like one big bruise. But he was alive.
The cardigan was balled up under his chin. Murtagh could feel it against his skin. He closed his eyes and nudged it until he could bury his nose in the fabric and breathe.
He stayed there for what felt like hours before he finally forced himself to get up and get dressed. He left the room wearing the cardigan his wolf had already claimed as his and made for the stairs. He had a phone-call to make.
-;-
"I don't know whether to say thank you or fuck you for what you did," Murtagh said the second the call went through.
"I know which one I'd prefer," Roran said dryly.
Murtagh pinched the bridge of his nose. He still hadn't taken the damn cardigan off and he knew exactly what that said about him.
"How much am I going to hate myself if I ask you how you pulled this off?"
"So much," Roran said with far more glee than Murtagh thought the situation called for. "Tornac came to me and asked if I could do him a favour and return something you had apparently left at Aunt Sel's place, even though it only smelled of him and if it hadn't, then why was he the one asking me to do it? Honestly, the man wouldn't know subterfuge if it bit him in the ass."
"Colourful," Murtagh deadpanned.
"So he's your mate, huh?" Roran audibly clicked his tongue. "Not sure how I feel about that. I mean, the age difference alone is -"
"I am aware, thanks," Murtagh interrupted.
"But if he helped you, who am I to judge?" Roran followed that with. "It's not like you can control who your mate is."
Murtagh tried not to roll his eyes. "I'm also aware of that."
"So then why are you avoiding him?"
"Now that's personal," Murtagh said.
"I'm going to do you a solid and pay back your favour," Roran said then. "I call BS. He's your mate. There's nothing you can't work out to at least have a platonic relationship."
"I don't know how much you know about my father, your aunt's first husband, but let's just say he's the reason why."
Roran was silent for a full minute. "Bull. Shit," he said finally. "And even if that did play a part, you're just scared. And before you protest, remember who you're talking to. I literally moved to a cabin in the woods because I was scared shitless."
Murtagh had to give him that, even if a tiny part of him now wanted to regret helping just so Roran wouldn't have been able to throw that back in his face.
"I think it's an understatement to say you deserve a break," Roran continued. "Why can't Tornac be that break?"
"Well, to quote you, the age difference alone -"
"It's not that much, I don't think," Roran said like he hadn't been the one to point it out in the first place. "Fifteen years maybe? I've heard of worse gaps."
Murtagh rubbed at his forehead. "I think the conversation got a little derailed," he said dryly.
"Feel free to blame yourself," Roran said bluntly. "I know I do."
"And I blame you for blackmailing my wolf, how about that?"
Roran was silent. "All right, fair," he said. "But you both needed that. You sound better than I've ever heard you."
Murtagh paused. He did?
"If you need to get used to the idea of actually having a mate, that's one thing," Roran said. "And by all fucking means, take your time. But if you're trying to spare him from something, he'd be the first one to tell you to get over yourself. He's not delicate, so don't treat him like it."
"In other words, I should let this be up to him?" Murtagh drawled.
"In other words," Roran echoed, "he should also be allowed to have his voice heard. That's what Katrina said to me when I finally crawled back with my tail between my legs." He sounded like he was quoting someone, most likely that girlfriend of his. "It takes more than one person to make up a relationship and everyone deserves to be heard."
"Go figure that the one profound thing you actually say is something you're quoting," Murtagh said dryly.
"My girlfriend knows what she's talking about. So sue me."
"Don't tempt me."
They were both silent.
"I'll think about it," was the last thing Murtagh said before hanging up.
His fingers had started to rub at the fabric of the cardigan. Murtagh didn't know when that had happened. He sighed and lay back on the couch. Suddenly he understood why 'may you live in interesting times' was a curse rather than a blessing.
-;-
Murtagh spent a long time just thinking. After everything he'd been through, he felt that he deserved that much.
Then he grabbed his phone and made a call.
If Katrina was surprised to hear from him, she didn't sound it. And if she was surprised that he wanted to meet up and chat, she didn't sound it then either.
Murtagh scented Roran on her long before he saw her. He didn't need to know how she looked like either, thanks to that. He just had to follow Roran's claim until he found her on the other side of it.
Katrina smiled when she saw him and stood. "It's nice to finally meet you," she said.
"Likewise."
They sat in silence for a while. The wind was rustling through the trees, soft and barely cold, but the dog park was empty despite the mild weather. Maybe it was during some odd off-hours? Murtagh had no idea.
"I know our situations aren't exactly the same," Murtagh finally made himself say, "but I wanted to ask you what it's like to be mated to a werewolf."
"I had my suspicions on why you wanted to meet," Katrina said, smiling faintly. "So you've met them."
"That's one way of putting it." Murtagh didn't know if he owed Roran for not telling Katrina the identity of his mate. Probably. Well, what Roran didn't know wouldn't hurt him.
"It's different," Katrina said. "I was with him before this, and I will say our relationship changed when he did." She looked at him. "But it didn't change for the worse, if that's what you're worried about. We're closer than ever. I wouldn't trade him for the world, flaws and all. He may be a stubborn idiot, but he's my stubborn idiot."
"I'm happy for you," Murtagh said and tried his best not to sound sarcastic.
For a minute, she just looked at him. "You're worried your mate won't like you."
"That's one way of putting it," he repeated.
Her brows rose slightly at his answer. Her mouth curled slightly, almost into a smile. "Setting the relationship aspect aside," she said, "I can't imagine that anyone would regret getting to know you."
"You don't even know me," he pointed out.
"No," she conceded, "but Eragon does. Roran too. And anyone that can bug Roran as much as you can is worth keeping around."
Murtagh chuckled. "It almost doesn't sound like you like Roran all that much."
"I don't have to like him every day to know that I love him with all my heart," Katrina said simply. "He has his moments and I have mine. And that's all right. Nothing in life is perfect. There's no use in pretending otherwise."
"You're..."
She gave him a pointed look. "Not what you were expecting?"
He tipped his head at her.
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"You should," Murtagh said. "Though I don't know why I thought differently. It would take one hell of a person to put up with Roran that much."
Katrina laughed, voice soft and almost bell-like.
"So in your opinion, I should ask them what they think about the hand fate has dealt us?" Murtagh said however many minutes later.
Katrina, who had been watching a bird hop around pecking hopefully at the ground, looked at him. "Yes," she said plainly. "It takes more than one person to make up a relationship – platonic or otherwise."
"So I've heard," he said dryly.
Katrina's lips twitched. "Then maybe you should follow the advice."
Murtagh looked away, watching the wind wash away the top layer of snow in the distance. The crystals danced along in the wind until they eventually fell back down somewhere far out of sight.
"Maybe."
-;-
Angela looked surprised to see him.
"I need any boosters you have on hand," he told her. "Whatever you think can help, I'm buying it."
Something softened and glimmered in her eyes. "Of course." She stepped around the counter and brushed past him, walking through shelves Murtagh hadn't dared to explore before and probably never would.
The beaded curtain twinkled softly as something stepped through them. Murtagh was ready for Solembum to jump up on the counter and was more than a little surprised when a boy stepped around the counter instead.
Murtagh had only seen Solembum's human form once before. He looked as unimpressed now as he had then and always seemed to radiate in his feline shape.
"Hello Sol."
Solembum wrinkled his nose. "I don't see it," he said snootily before turning on his heel and disappearing again.
Angela laughed softly as she came back with her haul. "I told you he liked you," she said, eyes sparkling.
"I still think the jury's out on that one," Murtagh said dryly.
Angela said nothing. She pulled a hemp-bag out from under the counter and started to put everything into it.
"What, no instruction manual?"
"You can read, can't you?" she said as she handed the bag to him. "It's all there on the labels."
Murtagh grabbed his wallet and started to pull out all the cash he'd withdrawn for the trip, but Angela only shook her head. She grabbed two tens and pushed the rest back at him. "Repay me by getting better."
"I can't -"
"And by bringing him along on your next visit," she interrupted, eyes aflame with her own unique glow.
"...I don't want to know, do I?" he said dryly.
Angela only smiled at him and really, that was all he needed to know. And, ultimately, the last bit of courage he needed to grab his phone and send off the text that had been lingering there for the past couple of days.
-;-
The silence felt oppressive, but Murtagh had no idea how to break it. Something told him his guest didn't either.
"You look better," Tornac said finally and Murtagh tried not to wince.
"Thanks," he said dryly.
Tornac chuckled. "I'm sorry. I'm not very good at this."
That makes two of us, Murtagh thought to himself.
The tea had to be getting cold, but Tornac didn't seem to care. Murtagh sipped his half-finished cup and closed his eyes as he swallowed. Angela's new blend was more...potent than the previous one. But apparently it was working, so who was he to judge?
"I think we can both agree that this is not ideal," Murtagh finally managed to say.
Tornac chuckled wryly. "I think that's a common school of thought where lycanthropy is concerned."
Murtagh paused. "...Do I want to know what you do for a living?"
"I'm a teach at -"
"Of course you do." Murtagh rubbed a hand over his face. "I was shoved into doing a job I don't have the education for because the government hates Beings and you're an actual functioning adult -"
"Mostly functioning," Tornac interrupted, "if my friends are to be believed. Which, ah, they are not. They don't know what they're talking about half the time."
Murtagh gave him a deadpan stare. "One of those people is my mother."
Tornac opened his mouth and closed it. "Well, you've got me there," he chuckled.
Another silence.
Murtagh thought about his life, his friends and family and all the things he hadn't gotten a chance to do yet. He looked at the man sitting opposite him and wondered...how it would be.
They didn't have to be romantic; not at first and maybe not at all. Murtagh certainly wasn't ready for that and Tornac probably wasn't either. But...that didn't mean they couldn't try. Start small and go from there. All he had to do was grab that break he was being offered for once in his fucking life.
He had no idea how it would be. He had no idea who Tornac was, after all. He had no idea who he was without death constantly nipping at his heels. But maybe, just maybe, he was willing to find out.
"I'm...willing to try to work this out," Murtagh said, voicing each word out carefully. "If you are."
There was something that looked oddly like relief on Tornac's face as he smiled. Murtagh felt his breath catch.
Tornac's expression disappeared however when something seemed to occur to him. He buried his head in his hands and groaned. "Oh Gods. Now your mother is really going to kill me."
Murtagh could guess why and couldn't resist the temptation of making it worse. "Then you might as well do something worth getting killed over."
Tornac groaned again.
Murtagh smiled into his disgusting tea.
It wasn't anything yet, but it was the potential for something. A new beginning. Murtagh figured he'd earned one of those.
(Stay Tuned for the Epilogue)
A/N And that is it for the main storyline, I suppose you could call it. The epilogue will be set in the future, but I don't want to say too much it. I can say it'll be about where these guys are at that point, though. :)
I'm sussiekitten over on Tumblr if you want to keep up with my writing and any general life-posts I occasionally make. I mostly just reblog whatever I like, but Tumblr is where I talk about any fics I'm currently writing or are planning to update shortly.
But that is all for now. See you again next time!