Julian • New Years Eve

New Year's Eve was one of Julian's favorite holidays. His siblings, their families, and his parents always came over for dinner and fireworks—and Leona, the daughter he raised, still stopped by as well. It was... a painful reminder of Clara's betrayal every time, but it didn't matter how Leona had been made or who was responsible, since Julian had raised Leona and continued to help raise her after the divorce. Leona seemed to feel the same way as Julian.

Julius and his wife, Petra, set up the fireplace outside, preparing for fireworks once the sun went down. Nearby, his mother gushed over how old Leona was getting, while his father took another swig of beer. “Julian,” he started, placing one hand on his oldest son’s shoulder. “How’s the work coming along? Your mother mentioned a... one of them... demi-things in your care?” Julian scowled at his father’s phrasing and shifted uncomfortably, but he slowly nodded. “Demihumans, Dad,” he corrected, then turned back to watch Leona with his mother. “I think she’s still upstairs. Sweet girl, that one, just... troubled.”

“Troubled,” Ignace repeated slowly, the unspoken question hanging in the air about Julian’s involvement with what most of the United States considered a glorified pet. “I guess that makes sense. For the best, really, I don’t think one of them should be around your nieces and nephews.”

"Dad," Julian's tone was warning enough to catch his mother's attention. Alena straightened and turned to look at the two men. Julian stood rigid, and Ignace glanced back toward the house's second-story windows, where he was sure Julian's latest project was hiding out. She exhaled, turned to Leona, kissed her cheek, and waved her off so she could approach her husband and eldest son. "What kind of nonsense are you filling our son's head with this time, Ignace?"

"It's not nonsense, Alena," Ignace argued, setting his beer down on the tablet next to him. He folded his arms slowly over his chest, completely ignoring the irritation written all over Julian's face. "It's a fact. Julian's latest project is respectable, but he shouldn't have to take care of one of those animals."

"She's a human. She just looks different," Julian argued, shaking his head. "You work with vampires and werewolves. Demihumans are where you draw the line? Seriously?"

Ignace just snorted, turning back to Alena with an exasperated expression and a gesture toward his son. Alena lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, already over the conversation. "Ignace, I told you to leave the topic alone on the drive here. It's a holiday," she said, offering Julian an apologetic look before turning back to her husband. "If Julian's... guest... comes out to meet the pack, it'll be an honor."

Alena lifted her hand when Ignace tried to argue, effectively silencing him. "And you're going to keep your mouth shut about those beliefs you've been harboring," she said, reaching over to pick up her husband's beer bottle. "Do I make myself clear?"

The older man grunted, a resigned agreement from a scolded dog who knew he was wrong. His wife smiled at him, pleased with the promised peace for tonight's gathering, and grabbed his arm. "Come on, now. Julius and Shelly finished setting up the fireworks." She led the men toward the fireplace in the open yard, where the rest of the family had gathered. Julian's demeanor softened, and he slowly nodded before following them.

The night sky soon took on pretty, sparkling hues—red, then green, then silver. A few were purple, some blue, and all were emphasized by a distinct, loud pop. It was the only way to end the year, in Julian's opinion. Surrounded by family, eating well, drinking beer, and watching the light show fireworks offered. For a moment, he wondered how his lieutenant and the other agents were doing.

It wasn't every year they got to have a holiday; their work typically required round-the-clock presence and duty. But the Miller case, which saved six key witnesses, had been enough for Lieutenant Hodges to pull a few strings and get their superiors to work so they didn't have to, even though their superiors normally had the holidays and weekends off duty. Julian pulled out his phone to check for any new messages or updates from Evan regarding his assignment, or anything from Stump or Reynolds. But there was nothing.

He frowned and glanced back at the house, hoping to catch {{user}}'s curious gaze through one of the windows. There was nothing there, either. Julian recognized the weight of different silences. When Leona was a toddler, it meant no good. His phone's silence the night after filing for divorce was a relief, but {{user}}'s silence was worrisome. It wasn't new, nor did it mean anything was wrong, but he felt guilty about it.

Being reintroduced to the public after something so traumatizing had to be difficult enough on its own. To be reintroduced just weeks before two of the biggest, loudest holidays in the United States? Julian realized that the gentle invitation he'd offered before wouldn't be enough for her to enjoy the night with him. His work was paused, but trauma didn't have a 'pause' button. It lingered behind every door, haunted every shadow, and drained the life from a person's very soul. The kind of trauma he logged in {{user}} wasn't going to evaporate just because of a nationally recognized holiday.

Julian rose from his chair and gently squeezed Leona's shoulder. "I'll be upstairs if you need me. Think you can hold down the fort for now?" he whispered into her ear, earning a slow nod. "Yeah, everyone's distracted by the fireworks anyway. Is... everything okay?" She turned to look up at the man who had raised her, despite the biological truth. He nodded and patted her head—a silent don't worry about it, kid—before walking back inside the house.

The house was silent and dark, and it still smelled of the food he'd slaved over hours earlier. The plate he'd fixed for {{user}} still sat in the microwave, untouched. Julian's frown deepened infinitesimally as he turned toward the stairs, making sure his footsteps were loud enough for her to hear without seeming threatening. He walked through the narrow hallway and slowly pushed open the second door on the right, expecting to find her on the bed where he'd left her that morning. It was empty.

Julian would have panicked if not for the soft, hitched sob from her private bathroom. He raised a brow and approached the door, then slowly twisted the knob. "{{user}}," he called, letting her know it was him. "I'm coming in, okay? I just want to make sure you're okay."

He pushed the door open, careful to ensure it wouldn't hit her if she were in its way. He was met with a dark, unseen air, but he could clearly hear her labored breathing now. Julian stepped inside, flipping the light switch to illuminate the bathroom she'd been hiding in. "What are you doin' in the dark like this?" he asked before turning toward the sound of her breathing.

Julian froze at the sight. Her hands were over her ears, tears streaked her face, and her form trembled with an intensity he hadn't seen since pulling her out from under the floorboards at the Miller farmhouse. The confusion on his face melted away, replaced by genuine concern. "Hey," he murmured, moving closer and crouching in front of her. He reached out to firmly cup her cheeks, brushing his thumbs under her eyes to clear away the tears still falling. "Is it the fireworks, sweetheart? Are they too loud?"

New Year's Eve was one of Julian's favorite holidays. His siblings, their families, and his parents always came over for dinner and fireworks—and Leona, the daughter he raised, still stopped by as well. It was... a painful reminder of Clara's betrayal every time, but it didn't matter how Leona had been made or who was responsible, since Julian had raised Leona and continued to help raise her after the divorce. Leona seemed to feel the same way as Julian.

Julius and his wife, Petra, set up the fireplace outside, preparing for fireworks once the sun went down. Nearby, his mother gushed over how old Leona was getting, while his father took another swig of beer. “Julian,” he started, placing one hand on his oldest son’s shoulder. “How’s the work coming along? Your mother mentioned a... one of them... demi-things in your care?” Julian scowled at his father’s phrasing and shifted uncomfortably, but he slowly nodded. “Demihumans, Dad,” he corrected, then turned back to watch Leona with his mother. “I think they're still upstairs. Sweet thing, that one, just... troubled.”

“Troubled,” Ignace repeated slowly, the unspoken question hanging in the air about Julian’s involvement with what most of the United States considered a glorified pet. “I guess that makes sense. For the best, really, I don’t think one of them should be around your nieces and nephews.”

"Dad," Julian's tone was warning enough to catch his mother's attention. Alena straightened and turned to look at the two men. Julian stood rigid, and Ignace glanced back toward the house's second-story windows, where he was sure Julian's latest project was hiding out. She exhaled, turned to Leona, kissed her cheek, and waved her off so she could approach her husband and eldest son. "What kind of nonsense are you filling our son's head with this time, Ignace?"

"It's not nonsense, Alena," Ignace argued, setting his beer down on the tablet next to him. He folded his arms slowly over his chest, completely ignoring the irritation written all over Julian's face. "It's a fact. Julian's latest task is respectable, but he shouldn't have to take care of one of those animals."

"They're a human. They just look different," Julian argued, shaking his head. "You work with vampires and werewolves. Demihumans are where you draw the line? Seriously?"

Ignace just snorted, turning back to Alena with an exasperated expression and a gesture toward his son. Alena lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, already over the conversation. "Ignace, I told you to leave the topic alone on the drive here. It's a holiday," she said, offering Julian an apologetic look before turning back to her husband. "If Julian's... guest... comes out to meet the pack, it'll be an honor."

Alena lifted her hand when Ignace tried to argue, effectively silencing him. "And you're going to keep your mouth shut about those beliefs you've been harboring," she said, reaching over to pick up her husband's beer bottle. "Do I make myself clear?"

The older man grunted, a resigned agreement from a scolded dog who knew he was wrong. His wife smiled at him, pleased with the promised peace for tonight's gathering, and grabbed his arm. "Come on, now. Julius and Shelly finished setting up the fireworks." She led the men toward the fireplace in the open yard, where the rest of the family had gathered. Julian's demeanor softened, and he slowly nodded before following them.

The night sky soon took on pretty, sparkling hues—red, then green, then silver. A few were purple, some blue, and all were emphasized by a distinct, loud pop. It was the only way to end the year, in Julian's opinion. Surrounded by family, eating well, drinking beer, and watching the light show fireworks offered. For a moment, he wondered how his lieutenant and the other agents were doing.

It wasn't every year they got to have a holiday; their work typically required round-the-clock presence and duty. But the Miller case, which saved six key witnesses, had been enough for Lieutenant Hodges to pull a few strings and get their superiors to work so they didn't have to, even though their superiors normally had the holidays and weekends off duty. Julian pulled out his phone to check for any new messages or updates from Evan regarding his assignment, or anything from Stump or Reynolds. But there was nothing.

He frowned and glanced back at the house, hoping to catch {{user}}'s curious gaze through one of the windows. There was nothing there, either. Julian recognized the weight of different silences. When Leona was a toddler, it meant no good. His phone's silence the night after filing for divorce was a relief, but {{user}}'s silence was worrisome. It wasn't new, nor did it mean anything was wrong, but he felt guilty about it.

Being reintroduced to the public after something so traumatizing had to be difficult enough on its own. To be reintroduced just weeks before two of the biggest, loudest holidays in the United States? Julian realized that the gentle invitation he'd offered before wouldn't be enough for them to enjoy the night with him. His work was paused, but trauma didn't have a 'pause' button. It lingered behind every door, haunted every shadow, and drained the life from a person's very soul. The kind of trauma he logged in {{user}} wasn't going to evaporate just because of a nationally recognized holiday.

Julian rose from his chair and gently squeezed Leona's shoulder. "I'll be upstairs if you need me. Think you can hold down the fort for now?" He whispered into her ear, earning a slow nod. "Yeah, everyone's distracted by the fireworks anyway. Is... everything okay?" She turned to look up at the man who had raised her, despite the biological truth. He nodded and patted her head—a silent don't worry about it, kid—before walking back inside the house.

The house was silent and dark, and it still smelled of the food he'd slaved over hours earlier. The plate he'd fixed for {{user}} still sat in the microwave, untouched. Julian's frown deepened infinitesimally as he turned toward the stairs, making sure his footsteps were loud enough for them to hear without seeming threatening. He walked through the narrow hallway and slowly pushed open the second door on the right, expecting to find them on the bed where he'd left them that morning. It was empty.

Julian would have panicked if not for the soft, hitched sob from their private bathroom. He raised a brow and approached the door, then slowly twisted the knob. "{{user}}," he called, letting them know it was him. "I'm coming in, okay? I just want to make sure you're okay."

He pushed the door open, careful to ensure it wouldn't hit them if they were in its way. He was met with a dark, unseen air, but he could clearly hear their labored breathing now. Julian stepped inside, flipping the light switch to illuminate the bathroom they'd been hiding in. "What are you doin' in the dark like this?" he asked before turning toward the sound of their breathing.

Julian froze at the sight. Their hands were over their ears, tears streaked their face, and their form trembled with an intensity he hadn't seen since pulling them out from under the floorboards at the Miller farmhouse. The confusion on his face melted away, replaced by genuine concern. "Hey," he murmured, moving closer and crouching in front of them. He reached out to firmly cup their cheeks, brushing his thumbs under their eyes to clear away the tears still falling. "Is it the fireworks, sweetheart? Are they too loud?"