HUGE Thank you to those who commented/reviewed on the last chapter! This is the last chapter of the Imperial Ball, and then we are REALLY going to get into the thick of it

Psy-kick: i'm so desperate to get to the finale, I actually cant wait for it. its the only thing keeping me going!

Elias Tobias: thank you so much for your kind feedback! I'll definitely keep that in mind for future chapters, and i hope that the next few chapters answer your questions! and yes we are not near the end yet (unfortunately?) but its going to be SO worth it, I promise!

DawnSpride: Thank you so much, im glad you enjoyed it!

.

.

.

.

.

"Damian!"

Dr Forger stepped quickly away, and Damian barely had time to lift his head to see who had called him, before he saw a flash of blonde in his periphery, and a heavyset male figure descended on him, bringing Damian into a crushing hug.

Oof , the air squeezed out of him. Emile's rugby practice had really had an effect on his strength.

"Hi… Emile," Damian wheezed, but he didn't have the strength to say anything more.

Emile seemed to sense this and stepped back, casting a concerned gaze over one of his best friends, while Becky and Alice caught up behind him.

"Boss, is everything okay?"

"Uh…"

Damian opened and closed his mouth, wondering what to say. He wanted to say ' yes I'm fine ', or ' I've got this, don't worry ', but it didn't feel right. It wasn't the truth, and Damian guessed that it was obvious just by looking at him that things were not okay.

He probably looked like shit. Uneven patches of sweat soaked his shirt, and Damian could feel his hair curling from the damp on his neck. Tear tracks clung to his face, which probably meant that his eyes were a bloodshot red, no doubt standing out from his chilled, pale face.

Damian gulped. He wouldn't be able to hide it for much longer.

"You guys… might not want to be seen with me anymore."

Damian's words must have shocked Emile so profoundly, that all he could do was stare at Damian incredulously, trying to piece together what he had heard, but while his brain was working, Becky stepped forward, sincere concern on her face.

"Desmond, what happened?"

Although Becky had always called Damian by his surname, at that moment, the word Desmond sliced through him, and he shuddered. He had had enough of his family name for one day.

Damian hoped that none of them could see his trembling hands. He shoved them in his pockets in an effort to hide them. Without planning to, Damian looked to Loid for support, and he nodded encouragingly.

Damian let out a slow breath.

"Something about my family is going to come out," he began. "It's not good. So. I would understand if… if you guys didn't want to be friends with me anymore."

Emile and Becky made startled eye contact, while Alice bit her lip, worried.

"When?" demanded Becky, startling Damian.

"I - I don't know," he admitted. He glanced up at Loid, unknowingly looking for answers.

"Tomorrow," said Loid, with more guilt in his tone than he had ever heard him. "I'm sorry."

Damian nodded absently, but the information had not yet sunk in. He felt like everything was spinning inside him, like a tornado had dived through him and ripped the world apart.

Even worse, the panic attack had completely exhausted him. His blood fizzed in his veins, made worse by the near-constant release of adrenaline he had from over the last hour or so, and though he had managed to get his breathing under control with the help of Dr Forger, he still couldn't relax. The night had taken its' toll, and all he wanted was to be close to Anya so that he could finally feel safe -

Damian's eyes widened in panic.

Anya .

"Where is she?" he burst, eyes frantically looking for her. "Where's Anya?"

Because, partway through realising that she was absent, Damian's worst fear also resurfaced in his mind.

What if his father knew who she was?

She could have been taken.

She could have been abducted again and it would be all his fault because he couldn't do anything except for panic and collapse and be an absolute fucking coward , and he barely even noticed Anya following his father because he had lost all connection to his senses. Sight, sound, smell - all of it had been completely overridden by the strange flashback, and the panic-inducing revelation about Demetrius.

Hands reached out to steady him, but Damian pushed them away, the panic once again mounting by the second, and he was so close to just screaming when he finally finally saw a movement of pink and green in his periphery.

Damian's feet moved without him even being conscious of it, pushing through the exhaustion and the panic and the fear because she was there and he was sorry , so sorry for ever leaving her alone with that man -

"Anya!"

Desperately, he reached for her, and then finally pulled her into a crushing hug.

"I thought -" his voice shook. "I thought they took you again - I thought -"

He tried to speak through his gasps.

"I was so scared he took you," he whispered hoarsely into her hair. "For a second - I really thought -"

"It's okay Damian, it's okay," Anya whispered back, stroking the back of his head in a soothing motion. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

Anya couldn't see much beyond Damian's broad shoulder, but her father's stern face stared back at her.

"You shouldn't have gone on your own, Anya," he admonished her. "Damian's right. You have to think of your own safety here."

She nodded softly, but she didn't let go of Damian. Or rather, he really didn't want to let go of her.

And then, beyond her father's worried face, was everyone else. Becky, Emile, even Alice were there, and Anya's hand tightened in Damian's hair.

She had planned to clean herself up before being seen by any of her friends. After running through the corridors, and fighting and taking down two full grown men, Anya was all too conscious that her once-pristine appearance no longer met the standards of the Eden College elite.

Torn fragments of chiffon hung by a thread on several parts of her dress, and her hair fell out of their secured place in loose strands, curled by the sweat she had worked up from all the physical exercise. Not to mention that she had managed to stain her shoes, and parts of her dress, although she hoped that the movement of the material would make it less noticeable.

But she couldn't do anything about it at that moment, so she held on tighter to Damian, grateful that he was safe, and that he was back from whatever stupor had come over him. Anya had never known that was something to be afraid of. To even guess that he would be pulled into a flashback like that - it was unthinkable.

She saw the white lights, the clinical background, and it made her hate Donovan even more.

What she went through at the lab… it couldn't have happened to Damian, it just couldn't . Damian was too kind, too pure, too removed from the original horrors of it all. To think that he was ever there… that he had ever suffered at their hands…

Anya wanted to cry for him.

"It's alright," she whispered again to Damian, hoping that only he could hear her. "They didn't take me. I'm right here."

But she didn't say anything else, because it was too much. She knew it was too much, but they would have more time to talk about it. Later.

"Alright everyone, let's head back inside," Loid addressed the group of teenagers that had somehow all appeared at the same time, and he held his hands out to them, in an effort to corral them back to the Ballroom. "There's still the night ahead of us."

Anya, stay with Damian. And clean yourself up, you look too suspicious.

She held herself from rolling her eyes at her father's message.

"You guys go on ahead," said Anya, indicating to Ewen, Alice and Becky. "I think I'm going to stay with Damian for a bit to recover."

"No, it's okay," Damian put a hand on hers in reassurance. "I'll go back."

"Are you sure?" said Becky. "I've got to be honest Desmond, you don't… look so good…"

Her voice faded once he looked up at her, tired.

"Maybe you should just sit down?" Alice suggested, once again just trying to be helpful. "You look like you've just had a big shock, and, er-"

"Alright, fine," Damian conceded. "I don't want Anya to miss out…"

It was sweet of him, but Anya took his elbow firmly, knowing that if anything were to happen to him on the way over, then she would help him no matter what it took. She didn't quite trust that he would remain upright for the rest of the night.

"Anya, what happened to your shoes?" said Alice, and Anya glanced down quickly at her heels, as if she had only just noticed them, too.

"Mud," she said confidently, and then kept walking.

"Really?" Alice looked surprised. "But it's so…" she trailed off.

Anya tried to look nonchalant, but she wasn't sure if she pulled it off. "It's not a big deal."

It wasn't until they actually returned to the safety of the Ballroom, with the noise and the music continuing like they had never left, that Becky pulled Anya aside, with barely an apology to Damian, who still looked a bit dazed.

"Hold it right there!"

Becky dragged Anya by her elbow into the shadow of the Ballroom.

"I told you right," she lowered her voice to a meaningful whisper. "You don't have to do things yourself any more!"

Anya stared at her confused.

"I know but -" She tried to think of what she wanted to say. "This wasn't about me - it was Damian who needed-"

"I know that!" Becky huffed. "But, I thought, y'know, if something was going on, if you needed me to cover for you-" Becky grabbed Anya's shoulders and forced her to face her head-on. "I can do it! An intervention, distraction, an accomplice, whatever you need! You don't even have to ask!"

Anya's throat tightened with gratitude.

How could she have forgotten? Didn't she tell Becky because she didn't want to keep secrets anymore? Didn't she want to not have to hold back anymore?

But at the same tie… the whole situation was so much bigger than Becky could ever know. It wasn't just about Anya and her powers - there was also Damian, and his family's involvement in Project Apple. And even without speaking to Damian, Anya was pretty sure that Damian would prefer to keep that little detail under wraps.

"Thanks, Becky," she said quietly. She could at least appreciate that even though there were some things she still couldn't tell her best friend, that she could afford to trust her a little more with the secret that they already shared.

"Okay," Becky sighed, seemingly happy with Anya's response, but then she geared herself up again, and Anya involuntarily took a step back.

"So are you going to tell me what that was all about?"

Anya blinked. "Er-"

"And why your shoes look like - that -"

Becky gestured helplessly to Anya's stiletto heels, which remained bloodstained, even when Anya tried to hide them with her skirts.

"Those were designer , you know!" Becky blurted, exasperated.

The pure relief from being able to embrace Anya didn't last long.

The adrenaline from the night still raced through him, to the point that Damian definitely couldn't concentrate on anything else. Students and scholars and guests danced in the Ballroom, but to him, they were merely faceless figures. Nothing more than animatronic mannequins. Muffled music played as if he was underwater. Even the smells of the food were dulled, which he knew were delicious. Colours shifted and faded around him, until it was all shades of black and grey.

"Damian, are you okay?"

The one spot of colour amongst everything. Delicate pink and emerald green blazed out at him, and he honestly could have been blinded from it.

"Fine," Damian exhaled, but even he could hear the tension in his own voice.

Anya creased her brows in worry.

"There's still time to dance if you like?" she said quietly, glancing at everyone around them. "I know that's what you wanted… before everything…

"No," Damian cut in, but he realised he had spoken too sharply.

Anya pursed her lips. She followed his gaze to where all their friends had gone back to their dancing, oblivious of the true nature of the disaster that they had just witnessed.

Damian watched Anya's shoulder slump, and the guilt took over him. He had no idea what was going to happen, or what the next day would bring, but Anya was trying hard for him, and that had to count for something.

Damian pulled her hand towards him without thinking for a second longer.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to snap. I only meant…"

He sighed and lowered his head onto her shoulders.

"No. you're right. I shouldn't stay here anymore," he said sadly. "Will you walk with me?"

Anya nodded once, and took his hand, leading him into the night.

Damian couldn't feel how cold it was, he couldn't feel anything through his shock, but he still gave his jacket back to Anya, brushing her shoulder with his thumbs as he set it around her once again.

"Th-thanks," said Anya, and just by the tremor in her voice, he realised that it must be much colder than he thought. He curled his arm around her, pressing her body close to his.

They walked in silence, Damian holding her as close to him as possible, in an effort to give her some of his warmth.

Damian sighed, watching his breath billow into plumes of clouds into the night air.

"I'm not ready," he whispered, his voice heavy with exhaustion. He felt like crying, but his tears had run dry. There was nothing left.

Anya wordlessly pulled him into a hug, her arms tight around his torso, and Damian couldn't help it. He crumbled into her.

"I'm not ready," he said again, even quieter. A whisper that only she would be able to hear. "I - I'm not -"

He choked on his words, unable to finish the sentence, and he buried his face in her hair.

"Anya," he choked. "I don't know what to do."

"I know," she murmured, and returned to stroking his hair softly. "And I'm sorry, maybe I shouldn't have told you-"

"No. You should have," he leaned further into her, pressing against the space of her neck. He just wanted to surround himself with her, with the way that she anchored him into the world.

When everything else around him was black and grey and lifeless and tasteless, somehow Anya was still the only source of colour floating in his vision. Somehow she still smelled of strawberries and mint. Somehow, her green eyes still shone, even though everything else around him had dulled.

"Yes, okay. Part of me wishes that you didn't tell me, and that I didn't know about - any of this - but that doesn't matter. I'm glad that you did, because-"

Damian took a steadying breath.

"Because I don't want you to feel like, like you have to protect me from all this. I want you to be honest with me - okay?"

Damian's voice shuddered as he spoke.

"I want to be there for you. Even when it's hard. Especially when it's hard, because that's the whole point, right? We take it in turns. So whatever burden you're carrying, you can tell me, no matter what. I can take it.

He looked her in the eyes.

"Alright?"

He expected Anya to nod and agree - because why wouldn't she? - but she had frozen completely, staring at him with shimmering eyes.

Damian's stomach dropped. "What's wrong?"

"I…"

Anya swallowed. Closed her eyes.

And then she raised her hand to caress his face.

"Thank you," she whispered, and brushed her lips against his in the gentlest of kisses.

I love you.

I'm sorry.

Flashes of images permeated his dreams - of a place with bright white lights, and welts on his wrists, but it wasn't long before the images changed once again altogether, and instead his father loomed over him with his hollow eyes.

You can't trust anyone.

Damian wanted to shout back, but he couldn't.

His sleep was fitful and feverish, and when the sun finally broke through the clouds, Damian was already awake, staring into the void of his ceiling. He didn't have to look into a mirror to know that heavy circles dragged under his eyes.

A knock at the door, and at Damian's assent, the door opened, and he turned his head to see the nervous and concerned faces of Ewen and Emile.

"Boss," said Ewen. "I think you're gonna want to see this."

Damian's stomach dropped. Somehow, he knew what had happened.

He did not feel ready.

He would never be ready.

Damian followed them to the common room, where a significant crowd had gathered in front of the television that blared from the corner of the room. Keeping himself to the back, Damian tried to stay relatively out of sight of the other boarders of the school, but he needn't have tried, because no one turned his way.

No one gave him any accusing looks, or pitying stares, because every student, every staff member, every person in that room, all had their attention trained on the same thing:

Damian's father being arrested on live television.

All across Berlint, and further into the outer reaches of Ostania, the news channels showed the same picture. The same story. The same names and faces and words and TV hosts and presenters and interviewers and journalists and photos.

Anya Forger's face turned pale and ashen as she watched it, and guilt twisted in her stomach. Her mother, Yor Forger, put a hand on her shoulder. A futile attempt at comfort, despite her apparent hangover.

Becky Blackbell watched it with tears in her eyes, holding onto Martha's sleeve to keep her upright.

Bill Watkins watched it with a tense jaw in the common room of Wald Hall. His friends and classmates watched with wide eyes and worried faces.

Alice Paulette grabbed onto Charlotte's hand out of instinct, and some sense of horror. The girls didn't know why they held onto each other so tightly.

George Glooman stood in the shadowed corner of the Cecile Hall common room. Watching the scene, watching Damian. Notebook at the ready.

Twilight watched in Handler's office. She put her cigarette down, extinguishing the smoke.

Yuri Briar watched it in his home, white knuckled, his own emotions too complex to parse, while Adrian slumped against the wall, heavy with relief.

Professor Henry Henderson watched it, head bowed in solemn respect and condolences to his student.

The Elman's, the Watkin's, the Paulette's - along with all the other mothers and fathers of Eden College. The teachers. The staff.

All of Berlint. All of Ostania witnessed it.

That moment in history tied them together, and together they watched in funereal silence.

.

.

.

.

.

Just wait. *Trust the process.*

Is this the end of Operation Strix? Yes. Is it the end of the story? Hahaha no

On AO3 this section of the story is called "The Scion's Devastation", and, well, its not called that for no reason...

Next chapter Wednesday!