Disclaimer: Don't own Trollhunters or any of its characters.

Hey! Back with a new chapter. Thank you for all the lovely reviews, favorites, and follows. I truly appreciate them. Shoutout to Vici and Charlie for helping me with the chapter. Also big thanks to moonlit for giving me some info on Eli, as I've never written his character before.

And holy cheese! Oh my gosh, thank you for the fanart! I can't post it on here without de-linking it, but if you'd like to see it go check out my tumblr tunafishprincess. I post both mine and others' fanart of the story there.

Hope you enjoy the chapter!


The Battle of Two Bridges (I)

Raindrops slid across the glass. Dawn broke minutes before. Not that anyone would have noticed. Dark gray, light gray, blue-gray—everything was muted to hell and back again. It brought back all his frustrations to the surface once more. Yey, Atlas inwardly grumbled, exactly what I need.

A voice disrupted his thoughts. His ears twitched at the sounds coming from the bedside table.

"Maybe you should stay in bed, Arcadia," the radio announcer remarked. " Looks like this storm may stick with us for a while. In other news, a local high school teen went missing last night. If you have any information on the whereabouts of Claire Nu—"

Thunder rumbled. The radio became muffled by static before shutting off.

His stomach churned. He ducked his head as a familiar smell entered the room.

"We'll rescue her, Atlas."

He nodded before turning away, choosing to nurse the cold pack on his face. A sprained wrist and concussion were nothing in comparison to the guilt racking him. How many times had she told Atlas that today? He lost count.

Didn't she understand the impossibility of it all? No, she couldn't'. This wasn't just any troll, this was Bular. How could Atlas ever hope to defeat the likes of him? Kanjigar certainly hadn't, nor had the previous Trollhunters before him.

He glared down at his claws. The human transformation only held up for a few hours, dissipating as the night drew to a close. At least he knew how to transform without the gaggletack now. Not that it really mattered. Neither his human nor changeling forms could ever hope to take on Bular one-on-one. Which meant he needed to think outside of the box.

The problem was, he would need a plan to do that, and right now, he didn't have the time to make one. Which meant he would need to wing it.

Oh sweet Pale Lady.

His mother arrived at his side within moments of his reply, flashing a light in his eyes before moving on to check the bandage at his head. "How's the swelling?"

"Minimal." He shrugged, knocking a light fist against the side of his head. "I'm a pretty fast healer."

Her fingers drifted downwards, tilting his head from side to side before smoothing over his cheeks. Atlas tried not to flinch. It felt too clinical, bringing back old memories he didn't want to deal with right now.

"Amazing," she noted, holding his face between her hands. "Even the scratches and bruises are starting to disappear, and it's only been a few hours. Does it only happen in this form? What kind of blood clotting do trolls have? Your skin is much cooler too. Huh. The texture reminds me of clay for some reason. What sort of epidermis do changelings have? Is it different than trolls? Are your father's people truly made of rock or is it some sort of specialized exoskeleton?"

Atlas threw her a look. "Mom."

"Yes?"

He rested a hand on her wrist, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Could you stop?"

Her eyes widened. Immediately she pulled away, face paling. "Oh! Oh dear. Atlas, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. It's just—"

"Doctor's curiosity?" He surmised, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "Well, you're not the first."

It was one of the reasons he avoided the Order's medical staff unless Stricklander forced him (which was rare). While the memories it triggered were only bits and pieces, the feeling behind them was enough to steer him away.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked, settling onto the bed next to him. She kept her hands in her lap. His shoulders loosened up, if only slightly.

"No," he said, following soon after with, "It's in the past."

"Is it? I noticed you have a lot of scars."

"Is that why you checked every part of me earlier?" He inquired dryly. "How sneaky."

She waved her hands frantically. "No, no, no! It's standard procedure. You were really beaten up back there. I wanted to make sure you hadn't broken anything."

"Oh, give me time, I'm sure I'll break something today," he chuckled darkly.

His mother didn't join him. Instead, her gaze fixed elsewhere, brows knitted in concern.

"Was it a doctor who did that too?" She asked softly.

She gestured towards the scar on his hand. At first he thought she was referring to the lightning scar, but the direction of her eyes was higher, focused on the inner portion of his arm.

It was old, faded into a jagged pale reminder of what happened when one smacked back at another changeling. Too late had he learned not to pick fights with certain people in the Janus Order.

"Well, not exactly. Being part of the Janus Order is—was complicated. Everyone wants to be on top, but doesn't want to risk their position to get there. My entry into the ranks was because of Stricklander. Plus, some changelings didn't take too kindly to having a half-blood in their ranks. I hold—held my own," he explained.

"Where was Walt in all this?" She questioned, inching closer. "Did he allow this to happen?"

"You're thinking like a human does, mom. Scars amongst trolls and changelings are normal," he tried to stress.

"Do trolls allow their children to get maimed?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean, not according to Blinky, but—"

"Then it's not normal then." She grasped her fingers together, knuckles white. "This kind of thing isn't right, Atlas. You were—and still are—a child. Decent people don't hurt children. The fact Walt allowed it to happen makes me question his capacity to raise you in the first place."

"He did his best," Atlas said defensively. "Dad's…he's not a bad person."

Yeah, he couldn't protect Atlas from Bular or the others, but that was because of his position. As head of the Janus Order he couldn't show any weaknesses. Favoring Atlas would put himself in danger. So—

His heart clenched, words caught in his throat.

Why did the thought of it now feel so wrong?

"But he's not a good father either," she said as she pushed up her glasses, lips pulled into a tight thin line.

"You have no right to say that," he snapped. "You weren't there. You didn't suffer what I had to. Dad understood. He wasn't perfect, but don't you dare say he wasn't good." His eyes blazed. In a fit of anger, he added, "A fleshbag like you could never understand."

Shame filled him the moment the words left his lips. Her reaction was immediate, expression closed off from him.

Shit, he hadn't meant to—

"Fleshbag?" She said, eyes lowered. "Is that what you think of me?"

No, not it wasn't. He hadn't meant it like that. Paragraphs of words threatened to spill from his mouth, but all he could answer with was: "I'm sorry."

She nodded, standing up. The click of her shoes against the floor were deafening. Atlas wanted to reach out, however his hands stayed glued to his side. Sweet Pale Lady he was pathetic.

Her stride stopped at the door. Through the curtains, he saw her shoulders rise. "I see. Stay here until I get back. Most of the staff aren't here yet, so you shouldn't be bothered. I need to get a few things from my office, but once I do I'll drive you back to the house." She threw him a small smile. "We can figure out how to rescue Claire there, alright? Together."

"Yeah," he lied. "Of course."

She paused for a few moments before releasing a soft sigh. Only once she was out of earshot did Atlas get out of the bed. His body protested, muscles tightening and throbbing in reaction. Still, he paid them no heed.

His feet took him to the window. The rain pelted against it, a strong wind carrying the downpour in sheets. The radio announcer was right: this storm wasn't going anywhere.

He pressed his head against the glass.

Everything had gone to hell and he was still here. The Janus Order, Nomura, his dad—every connection severed, leaving him adrift in uncertainty.

Who was he now?

And who would he have to become if he survived against Bular? What if he had to fight his dad? No. He couldn't let it come to that.

Could he?

A tusk tugged on his upper lip. Stricklander was a devout follower of Gunmar. As much as he cared (well, used to) for Atlas, his mission was always his priority. And now, Atlas stood in between all of that.

He…wasn't sure how he felt about that in all honesty.

A small but growing part of himself wished he were human. Everything was easier for them. If only he could leave his changeling part behind.

Another visitor. His heartrate rose before falling once more as he recognized who it was. A familiar pair of footsteps entered the room, giving a courtesy knock on the door. "Howdy, partner."

He acknowledged the boy with a wave of his hand. "Tobes."

"Heard what happened from your mom," he said, approaching at his side. He leaned against the nearby wall. "You need to be more careful, dude."

"Easy for you to say. You're not the Trollhunter," Atlas grumbled.

The boy crossed his arms. "Yo, I get you're upset about Claire, but you don't have to be such a dick about it."

"I'm sorry, it's just..." He groaned, head tilting back. "Fuck. I got a message from dad this morning."

"Yikes. Can I hear it?"

Atlas tossed him the phone. He fisted the edges of his cloak as Toby played the recording.

"Master Atlas, you must listen to me very carefully. They've captured Lady Claire and I. They want you to come to the Bridge alone. Don't come! It's a trap—

"Gag him, Otto. Good morning, Young Atlas," his fathter said, voice devoid of any warmth or familiarity. The hairs on the back of his neck stood. "Or should I say, Trollhunter? The farce is over. Meet me in the alley beside the theater if you ever want to see your friends again. Alone. Refuse to come and I will take every action within my power to find you. The game ends here."

"No, don't open the Bridge! Get Vendel and the others! You have to—"

The line cut out.

Toby patted him on the shoulder. "Oh shit. Does your mom know yet?'

"No." he sighed, glancing at the door. "I'm not sure I want her to know. I've listened to it a hundred times now, and I still don't know what to do."

"Hey, hey, hey. It's okay. You don't have to do this alone. You've got AAARRRGGHH!, Draal, your mom, me—"

"They said I had to be alone," Atlas interrupted. "If I'm not, what do you think they'll do to Blinky and Claire?

Toby's lips tugged downwards. Still, he persisted, "Blinky said you needed to get Vendel. Maybe if we gathered an army of trolls, we could take them on."

"And risk exposure? What do you think humans will do if they find out monsters like us exist, Tobes? People will die. You could die." Atlas pressed his forearms against the window, forehead resting against one. "Enough friends have gotten hurt because of me. No more."

"Well, it's your call," Toby mumbled. "You're the Trollhunter."

"Yeah," he replied, eyes closing.

Suddenly, a cold metallic object pressed against his cheek. He looked down, eyes widening.

"Here," Toby said, motioning the thing Atlas thought lost.

"You found the gaggletack?"

Toby shrugged. "I picked it up in the woods after they dragged you away."

A small ball of warmth developed in his chest. It seemed no matter what happened, Toby was there to cheer him up somehow. Were all best friends like this or was it just him? Considering all the movies Toby had shown him Atlas was beginning to believe it was the later.

Just as well. His lips turned upwards.

He took the gaggletack, placing it within the confines of his cloak. "Thanks."

"That's what best friends are for, right?"

Friends. Atlas's jaw clenched. How many times had he endangered Toby's life? Too many, he thought.

"I shouldn't have brought you into this. I've endangered you and your grandmother," he said.

"Hey, it was me who chose this, okay?" Without warning, the boy wrapped his arms around the other's middle. "I lost you once. Through thick and thin, we'll always be in this together."

"You sound so certain," he whispered.

Toby pulled back. He wiped his face with one arm before throwing a playful punch into Atlas's shoulder. "You gotta be more confident, dude. You're the Trollhunter. Plus, fighting against impossible odds is kind of your niche, you know?"

"The odds do seem pretty staked against us this time," he remarked.

His fingers flicked upon the window locks. Toby narrowed his eyes, throwing Atlas a calculating look.

"What are you going to do?" He asked.

"I'll fill you in later," Atlas said, pulling up his hood. "Right now, I need someone to distract my mom so I can leave."

"Dude, she's gonna be pissed as hell when she finds you ran away," Toby pointed out.

He shrugged. No way in hell was he allowing her to get into danger like last night. "I'll deal with it."

An idea hit him. Atlas's bottom lip dropped, turning his head to the side to complete the look. Toby rolled his eyes.

"Ugh, Fine. On it." Toby answered, shuffling back to the door. "But you owe me big time. No puppy dog look is worth your mom's wrath."

Atlas opened the window. "Hey, Tobes."

"Yeah?" Toby looked over his shoulder.

He lifted a fist.

"Thanks. You're the best."

Toby bumped it with his own.

"Yeah, dude," he chuckled. "I know."


Eli wished for a lot of things in life.

He wished he could be taller. That would make things a lot easier, especially at school.

As a little kid he wished he could be like Spock. Heck, he spent most of fifth grade imitating the Star Trek character, complete with blue shirt and pointed ears. In hindsight, that probably hadn't been his greatest moment (no doubt that was where the bullying began), but still, he had been dedicated, up until the MCU came out with the Avengers. Unfortunately, his mom put her foot down when he tried to give himself a moustache.

Right now, Eli just wished he could get home in one piece.

"Come on, Steve," he said, jumping at the bag. "Give it back."

Of all the people he could run in to today, why did it have to be Steve? The blond had terrorized him since the beginning of high school week in and week out. Most of the time Eli put up with it, but he had just gotten his new phone today. He adjusted his umbrella, reaching out once more for his backpack. The other boy held it higher. Eli groaned.

"Or what? Gonna cry to your mommy?" Steve mocked in a high pitched manner.

Eli frowned. "That's not funny."

"Wah, wah, mommy, mommy. I can't take a joke like a man," he continued, mimicking a crying baby.

"Are you two done? You're blocking the sidewalk," a voice behind them inquired.

Eli's face burned. Reluctantly, he turned his head in the direction of the newcomer.

Wow.

Even in the rain he looked so cool. His wet hair framed his face, emphasizing his too blue eyes. He wasn't conventionally attractive like the more popular kids at school, but something about the way he moved and acted made Eli's stomach flip-flop. Arcadia didn't get a lot of new kids and those that were never gave Eli the time of day. But Jim was different. He didn't know why, but something about the boy was special. Mysterious.

Eli wished he could be like that.

Of course, Eli still hadn't forgiven him for destroying his phone (and to a lesser extent his computer). While most of his data was paper-based, he had a decent amount of research on his electronics that was now lost to time, like the creeper picture he took. Man, he missed that photo. He even had it as his home screen.

"Jim? Where have you been?" Eli asked, moving away from Steve. "Ms. Janett has been looking all over for you. Everyone is."

The play was starting in a few hours and their lead actors hadn't shown up for rehearsals. Not that it mattered, since the lead actress went missing. Rumors had run wide through the entire student body.

"Yeah, you're in big trouble, Lake," Steve sneered, blocking the rest of the path.

Eli added, "Is it true you and Claire are getting eloped?"

"What?" Jim raised an eyebrow. "Where did you hear that?"

Mary and Darci, he thought.

"Around," Eli answered.

"I heard you kidnapped her. My d—" Steve coughed, "I mean, Coach might have mentioned it."

Jim pinched the arch of his nose. Eli couldn't help but take in his rough appearance. Did Jim get into a fight?

"I didn't kidnap her," Jim said. His eyes narrowed, gaze pointed past them. "Don't tell anyone you saw me."

Steve's shoulders rose. Ah oh. Never tell Steve he can't do something, Eli thought. Eli couldn't help but shrink away. The last place he wanted to be was between them if a fight broke out.

The idea of watching Steve get his butt handed to him like before did strike his fancy however.

"Or what?" Steve said, crossing his arms.

Eli followed Jim's line of vision. At the end of the road, an officer got out of his car, his expression mirroring Jim's. Eli gulped.

The policeman began walking towards them. Eli froze.

Jim swerved, fast-walking in the opposite direction. "I need to go."

Steve jogged to his side, leering, "Scared, Lake?"

"Hey you kids! Stop right there!" The officer yelled.

The teens looked amongst each other. Steve appeared torn between following the officer's orders and disobeying authority, at least in Eli's mind.

His heart pounded in his head. In a moment of bravery (or foolishness, his mind provided) Eli tugged on Jim's jacket, pulling him into one of the alleyways.

"This way, Jim!" He yelled.

Jim nodded, taking off. Eli followed from behind.

Holy moly, he was violating the law. How was he going to explain this to his mom? His face paled as he imagined the kind of grounding she'd give him if he got caught. He should turn back. Better to face the punishment now than later.

"Thanks," Jim said as they turned a corner.

Eli beamed. His heart thumped wildly in his chest.

Okay, so maybe the possibility of getting in trouble wasn't so bad.

"You know, you're really fast for a short guy," Steve remarked airily, pulling up to them from behind.

He couldn't help but gawk. What was Steve doing here? Eli thought they'd left him back on the sidewalk. Jim beat him to the punch however.

"Why are you following us?" Jim asked.

Steve began to pump his arms and legs, until he was neck and neck with Jim. "Can't let you have all the fun, Lake."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"Where are we going?" Steve said.

Eli frantically motioned his hand. "Take a left! Left! We can hide behind Stuart's Electronics!"

"Got it," the other two answered.

The second they came to a stop Eli fell to his knees. Exhaustion rankled his bones, muscles quivering. How strange. Eli might not be as strong as Steve but he wasn't a slouch either. Was he getting out of shape? Maybe he should have slept more last night. He'd been so excited about the play that he barely got a wink of sleep.

Jim brushed his bangs back over his forehead. Eli bit down on his lower lip. What was this feeling?

"Did anyone follow us?" Jim asked. He peered around the corner.

"I don't think so," Eli said between breaths.

Steve held his nose. "Ew, what's that smell?"

"Probably the trash," Jim responded.

Eli examined their surroundings. He had taken this route a few times, but something about the gray sky and torrential downpour gave the area a creepy atmosphere, like someone was watching them.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood. Yeah, definitely not normal. Paranormal then? He immediately began thinking of reasons for the strange shift.

Aliens? It seemed unlikely. Eli would have noticed if there were any extraterrestrial activity in Arcadia. He was an expert on them after all.

Creepers made the most sense, but he knew so little about them other than their strange stony skin and glowing eyes. Plus, they only seemed to come out at night.

Or, as much as he would hate to admit it, he was being paranoid. Did he take his medicine this morning? He wasn't sure he did. Man, his mom was going to be pissed if she found out he forgot them.

"Eli," Jim said. "You okay?"

"Earth to loser," Steve added.

Jim sighed. "Do you ever shut up, Palchuk?"

"I guess this means we're fugitives now," Eli stated, brushing his knees as he rose to his feet.

Steve's face paled. Jim, on the other hand, appeared indifferent. In fact, he didn't appear to care at all. He began to walk down the alley, backpack slung around one shoulder.

"Wait! Where are you going, Lake?" Steve said, scrambling to stop him. "This isn't over."

"I'm meeting up with a friend. You don't know them."

"What's their name?" Eli said.

Jim smiled, placing an index to his lips. "That's a secret."

Eli drew closer until he was inches away from the other. "Oh! Can we meet them? Are they spies? How do you know them? What do they—"

Jim placed a hand on Eli's mouth. "Too many questions. And No. It's too dangerous. Besides, he likes to be anonymous."

He removed his hand. Eli touched his mouth, cheeks burning.

Unfortunately he didn't have time to wonder why. Steve pushed Jim, anger in his features.

"Yeah, right," he said in a drawn-out manner. "You're just screwing with us, aren't you?"

Eli grabbed the other boy's arm. "Stop that, Steve."

Steve pulled his limb away, turning his attention back to him. "Aw, are you coming to his rescue? Do you like him?"

His face heated up in embarrassment. He replied shakily, "W-wha—No! Let's just…there's no need to fight here, please."

He waved his hands in a peaceful gesture.

Steve growled.

Eli squeaked.

The other groaned, waving his arms in a dramatic fashion. He kicked a trashcan over, yelling, "Why does everyone think I want to fight? Can't you take a joke?"

Eli looked around, eyes widening. "Uh, Steve."

"Everyone treats me like I'm some sort of bully," he remarked, his voice devoid of his normal bravado. "It's not my fault people misunderstand me. None of you know me. None of you know what it's like to be—"

"Steve!" Eli exclaimed.

Steve let out a deep exhale then answered, "What?"

"Where's Jim?"

Indeed, while they had been talking Jim had vanished from the area. Eli was impressed. He hadn't even heard the other's footsteps.

Steve fell silent, mouth moving in a stupefied manner. Finally, he sputtered, "H-huh? He's…He was right there a second ago."

Steve picked up the trash can lid, looking inside. Eli was about to speak up, but his attention was soon drawn up above.

"Whoa." The word barely scratched the surface of the image before him.

Blue spheres floated across the roof. Where it was coming from however, was too high for Eli to see sadly. Without warning, a flash of light overtook the sky. Eli crouched, shielding his face. Steve huddled close to him. As his vision began to return, he noted a hooded figure leaping across the rooftops. His jaw dropped.

It was him! It was really him!

Steve pointed in the direction the creeper went. "Did you see that? I'm not just seeing things, right? You totally saw that!"

"It's the creeper," Eli said giddily. He couldn't help spring up and down on his toes. Holy moly, the Devil of Arcadia Oaks had been here!

"Oh my god," Steve cried. His legs crumpled underneath him. "I thought it was a dream. Everyone said I was crazy. But he's real. He's really real. I'm not crazy. I know what I saw."

Steve saw him before? Eli could feel the gears turning in his head. No one else ever believed his theories, but now, he not only had living proof but another witness to the fact!

"You know him?"

"Yeah, well," he scratched his nose, cheeks reddening. "Not exactly, but he saved me from this huge—why are you looking at me like that?"

Eli adjusted his glasses. "Tell me everything. And don't leave a single detail out."

"You really believe me?" Steve said.

Eli nodded enthusiastically. "Of course!"

"Hey, do you think—" He paused, rubbing the back of his head. "No, it's stupid."

"What is it Steve?"

"Well, Lake said he had a friend he was meeting, right?" Steve shrugged. "What if it was the creeper-dude?"

"Steve…" Eli said, awestruck. Why hadn't he thought of that before? "You're a genius."

The other boy staggered back, surprise written all over his face. "I…I am?"

"Of course! It all makes sense! Jim is friends with the creeper. He must be protecting his identity. That's why he destroyed my phone." Eli gasped. "What if it's related to why Claire's missing? Jim is in league with the Creepers!"

Steve stroked his chin. "But how do they know each other?"

"I don't know," Eli started, eyes roaming the skies. "But I'm going to find out."