#PLEASE SOMEONE STOP ME FROM FORCING MY FAMILY TO WATCH DEAD BOY DETECTIVES | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

msookyspooky · 2 years ago

Text

Terrible Trilogy

Part 25 pt 2

wordcount: 7,563

Billy was the first to make a move. "...You know what? Screw this. I can't listen to this shit anymore. If I stay here any longer, I'm going to kill both of you and possibly myself at this point." He marched out the best he could, clearly forcing his leg to walk normally to save his already wounded ego. You watched him walk out, down the hall towards the back door before you heard it slam shut.

You stood there, lost for words because…In a way; maybe there was some truth to it all? You reasoned you just didn't want anyone dying unless you had to…But after this…Even you knew you could have gotten at least one head shot in when Stu peaked around the corner earlier to talk you down from shooting them.

Stu released a long exhale from his nose as he stared at you. You both stood there in silence before he spoke up. "You know…I understand why you never want to see me again. I fucked up. You just started trusting me and I scared you. I mean, yeah, it sucks you told that Detective everything. I mean, it's really screwed up man, especially considering what you did years ago but…" He sighed and ran a hand over his neck. "I don't know. I'm pissed but I'm just as pissed off at myself as I am you…I just know that I'm not the only one that feels like this and I'm sick of hearing you don't. I can't be the only one that gives a shit because you spared my life and freedom as much as I spared yours. I need you. Okay, I need you more than you need me apparently. Got it. But I think you secretly at least want to tolerate me too." He offered a slight hopeful smirk that wavered when he saw you wouldn't spare him a glance.

You didn't answer, rolling your tongue inside your cheek and looking away. Stu continued. "I…I'm…Oh shit. God, man, I'm sorry!" He exclaimed while thrusting out his arms before letting them fall to his sides. "You want me to say two words despite my pride? I will. I'm sorry for telling you I was trying to kill Randy. We all were thinking about it! Was I supposed to not name him as a suspect when everything at the time pointed directly to him?"

You stayed silent and it seemed to eat at him as he sighed dramatically and uttered." Okay fine…Maybe I am a little… Threatened…. Peeved that you have the relationship you do with him. Do you have any idea what it's like to give your best to someone and they still pick someone that just exists over you? I know what I did and what I am but come on. Haven't I proven I changed? Is one slip up enough to cut me off forever?…And he felt like the obvious killer at the time…What more can I do?"

You slowly looked back at him as he frowned. "Please…YN…I lost it. You want to know what changed? Why can't I kill you no matter how much I should? The threat of you actually being dead changed that. I'm not speaking for happy boy out there but when I saw you lying there, some guy with a gun over your dead body, heard you scream as he shot you…God baby, I thought you died." He visibly looked in pain. Brows up, mouth stretched back and eyes focused on you. His voice softened. "I thought the one girl I love was dead. I never want to feel like that again. I can't. I'll get caught because I'll lose my fucking mind…So I don't know about Billy but you have my word; no matter what I'm never going to make you a target again. I won't. And I'll kill Billy before he ever hurts you. No one's laying a finger on you."

"...Yeah, but what about my family? Or my friends? Not to mention, can you honestly say you'll never lose your temper and almost kill me ever again? What if Billy wasn't there, would you have stopped yourself? Can you really give your word you won't hurt someone I care about as revenge for something I said or did? Because I don't think you can…Stu, you betrayed whatever trust I was starting to have for you."

You stared at him, eyes flicking over his face to see if he was being genuine or not as you spoke. He went to step towards you and you instinctively took a step back. He paused mid step before staying in place. He frowned deeply before muttering in a heavy voice. "If you never want to see me again…I guess I'll leave. What more can I freaking do? It'll be like I never existed. Is that what you want?" He demanded.

You thought long and hard before slightly nodding your head to yourself. "...I think that's for the best."

Stu's eyes widened in surprise before he crumbled. His blue eyes seemed brighter as he rolled his lips and looked down with his own nod, hand on his hip as he said. "Okay…Um…Okay. Got it. " He looked up at your ceiling blinking as you bit your lip before speaking.

You unconsciously held yourself for comfort. Damning yourself for feeling bad. "...Do you think Ghostface will be back? That someone else will put on that mask and try to do what you and Billy did?"

Stu didn't look at you, voice flat and heavy as he shrugged. "Probably…I don't know."

You damn yourself but his words repeated in your head mingled with your own thoughts…It would never stop. You three were entangled whether you liked it or not. You and Randy would have never talked after High School had it not been for the Woodsboro murders; Hell, if it wasn't for Mrs. Loomis, you might not have ever spoken again after you moved away and he blamed you for Sidney's death. If it wasn't for Ghostface, Dewey and Gale both may not have been in your life either for the good or bad. Why would Billy and Stu be any different? Actually, they were more entangled with you with the huge secret than even Randy or Dewey were as other survivors. It didn't mean you needed to like them or hang out with them or be near them…But you didn't need something like this happening again either.

"Okay. This is what we're doing." You monotoned as you walked over to a notebook and pen on your side table. You sniffed and wiped your eyes before writing down a phone number."I don't want you on my property or hanging out with me ever again. I'm serious. I may only kill you if you give me no choice but bombarding my home unannounced like you did tonight might be that choice." You tore off the page and walked over to him as he looked perplexed. "So, I'm giving you this number just in case of Ghostface happening again. You list me as a different name or memorize this number. Nothing to lead back to me in anyway. That's the deal. And if Ghostface calls in that voice? You'll be my prime suspect because hardly no one has this number."

Stu scoffed. "Oh, of course me not-"

"Randy or Dewey?...I hate to ever admit I agree with anything from you but you're right. After Neil, the killer could be anyone. You just have more suspicion your way for obvious reasons."

"So…No talking or texting? Not even to just make sure we're okay or something?" He asked, frowning as he took the paper and already knew the answer.

You gave him a sad, tight lipped smile as you remembered what you told him when he left your house to go back to his motel before this all happened …But time changes things; especially after what you had been through. "No, I think that will open a door and we'll be back to where we started. This is what I want, Stu."

He stared down at you and you were surprised to see the raw emotion in his eyes. You stared up at him as he shook his head with tears springing up. "YN, please…You're all I have. I'm not asking to come over or hang out but I can't call you ever again? I can't talk to you ever?"

You gave a slight huff seeing he definitely wasn't serious about 'leaving you alone forever.' You sucked in a deep breath and shook your head. "No, Stu."

His lips rolled together as he frowned. It soon turned to a scowl and you instinctively felt nervous as he moved. Shoving past you before he walked over and grabbed the notebook and pen on the table. Right near your gun in its lockbox.

"Stu, what are you doing?-"

"Giving my number." He furiously wrote it before smacking the pen down on the table. "You know, just in case you change your mind. Incase Dewey is so up Gale's narrow little ass he doesn't think you exist or Randy gets a girl as dorky as he is and suddenly she tells him he can't hang out with you anymore because you're too close." He stood back up to his full height. Eyes glossy as he held a defiant glare.

"They wouldn't…" You didn't finish your sentence as even you knew either one; with Randy so obsessed with the 'geek getting a girl' narrative and Dewey so whipped for Gale was a possibility… Or God forbid if they found out the truth. You swallowed as Stu huffed with a humorless smirk. You both stayed in place, his glare barring down on you before he spoke.

"I'll give you what you want, YN. I'll leave you alone but just know the day you wake up and realize I'm here, it's me, it's always been me…Here's my digits." He started walking away. " If I change my number; I'll call you and only for that."

You stopped him. "Wait…I'm gonna go unlock the garage…I want to make sure you both leave." You went to a coat closet and got out an old trench coat to put on to keep yourself warm and dry enough. You paused before getting your gun back out of its lockbox just in case and heading out into the pouring rain before hesitating. You turned to him at the door. "Hey…Before I get the door unlocked; If you want to say bye to Cherri; she's in my room. Want to see her?"

He nodded as you went to go check on your dog with him following. It had been at least 10 to 15 minutes of her barking and worried about you.

The second you opened the door; she barreled past you to snap her teeth at Stu who nearly jumped against the wall. She barked viciously at him before you yelled at her to heel. She kept barking and trying to pin him to the wall until you snapped at her a second time to back down. She did, eyeing Stu with her neck raised as you saw the inside of your door destroyed and a bit of blood on the wood.

Stu breathed heavily, his frame against the wall as he eyed your dog.

"Oh Cherri…Let me see." You went to her, bending down to lift her paws and see she had a tiny cut on her front foot from digging at the splintering wood. "Oh, poor baby. You hurt your paw."

"Yeah, poor baby." He muttered sarcastically as she watched him.

You sighed and petted her head. "I'll have to check it when you guys leave."

"I-I can help." Stu gave, catching his breath and eyeing Cherri. Swallowing hard and easing away from your wall.

"There's not much to do but clean it. She probably won't allow a bandage…And she doesn't trust you."

You saw him falter at that before relaxing. "It-It's alright." He took a swallow before easing the tension in his body and getting away from the wall completely. "My dog once had a huge gash on the pad we had to doctor up. Her's isn't nearly as bad so…I can help. I'll just have to gain her trust again."

He stared at you while he said that as you looked away. You hesitated, not fully trusting him with your dog aka the only one you had out here by your lonesome self…But you nodded as he reached his hand out to her.

She hesitated, sniffing the back of his hand from a distance. Dark eyes never leaving him to see if he was a threat or not but he warily reached out to gently pet her head and she allowed it. You saw Stu smile down at her with a relief of air blowing past his lips as he bent down to pet her face to face. "You're alright, doggie. Just a lil cut is all. I get those every weekend. At least yours doesn't need stitches or antibiotics…My immune systems pretty fucked by now. Then again, maybe those Flintstone gummies our Mom's demanded we eat made our systems freaking nuclear or something?"

He chuckled to himself as he ruffled her fur near her neck before giving you a hopeful look. His blue eyes still glossy from earlier as you felt an uncomfortable feeling want to creep up. Stu was charming, beyond charming. It was easy for him to sucker you in and you forced yourself to remember the feral look in his eyes as he held a gun up to your face the week before.

Just like that, the allure was gone as you turned to go to the bathroom. You grabbed some neosporin, a gauze and a bandage and came back to Stu still crouched down with her.

"I highly doubt she won't chew this off but we'll try it…"

Stu took the supplies from you and motioned to outside. "Do us both a favor. Go tell asshole we're busy before he throws a babyfit. You can just stand on the porch and yell at him if you want to."

"Are you sure? She might bite you, Stu. I'm serious. Just pet her till I get back, okay?"

He smiled sadly at her. "Fine, but even if she did, it'll be a souvenir if she does…Might never see her again."

You wanted to scold him or point out a guilt trip would get him nowhere but you relented. You honestly just shook your head and readjusted your loaded gun on purpose in front of him. "Okay, wish me luck…Both of you be nice."

Stu barely rolled his eyes and you went to pet Cherri and tell her it was okay as you saw her relax more. You watched a moment to see her licking his face as he chuckled. You felt your chest ache because for whatever reason; Cherri did like Stu. She loved everybody but Stu babied her like no one else. However, even if she was a good judge of character in the moment, she was a dog. She was blissfully unaware of who and what Stu was; An unhinged murderer.

You forced yourself to walk out onto your back porch, slipping on an easy pair of shoes to go out in. Eyebrows scrunched in confusion when you didn't see Billy just right on the porch smoking a cigarette like you expected of him. An uneasiness rose up from your stomach as you put a hand on your gun in its holster in the pocket of your coat. Definitely not ideal but you didn't have the time to go get your belt. At least it was in its holster.

You eased around the side of your wrap around porch. Rain pouring down but lightning only seen in the distance. You eased your head out, fingers on your guns handle but looked confused when you didn't see him. You instinctively jerked around, hand still on your gun. You expected him to be behind you but…He wasn't. He wasn't on the porch.

You put your gun in your hand, cautious of WHY he wasn't on the porch. Did he leave? Was he in the house still bullshitting you so he could attack you? Was he planning something?

You creeped to your front porch; eyes scanning as your knees bent to run or dodge anything he had for you…He wasn't around front either. You saw something in your yard in the pouring rain. Your eyes widened as you saw him. Pacing the yard with his hair and clothes more soaked then they already were. Hands running over his head as he talked to himself. You could see from here the distraught look on his face…You almost called out to him that you were going back in but something stopped you. You watched him for a moment as you gently put your gun back in your coat pocket. It was a far cry from the sarcastic, intimidating, controlling Billy you had gotten used to. An even farther cry from the responsible, quiet but sweet Billy he portrayed himself as at Woodsboro…But the more you thought of it; this Billy pacing your yard was the closest thing to your friend you remembered. Especially on the off hand occasion when you did catch him off guard and he complained about his Dad or Sidney or ALMOST his Mom on one occasion before promptly telling you to change the subject.

'If only you knew the demons in his head he dealt with were really just him.' You bitterly thought, wanting to just turn around and leave him out there. But then you saw him slump against a nearby tree. Releasing a small yell as he smacked the trunk and stared up at your utility light. You saw his brows turned up and his teeth clenched as he was lost in his own thoughts. Thoughts you knew had to do with you and not killing you.

You stared for a long moment; considering your options before deciding to just confront this. You wish you had an umbrella but all things considered; being drenched in rain water at your own house was the least of your worries. You had your own questions and you were getting answers before Billy ran off and god knows if you'd ever see him again; Ghostface threat that wasn't him or not. You descended down the stairs of your porch and had your hand in your pocket with your fingertips resting on your gun.

He whipped around, his own hand going towards his pocket as well as he stared at you through the rain. You were a mere 10 feet from him…You could just whip out your gun and shoot him. Maybe Stu would have an issue or maybe he'd be relieved? Either way, Billy could be an example of what will happen to him too…It would be so easy to shoot him and even if you miss; hunt him down like he did Sidney and everyone else that night. Let him feel helpless like he made you feel.

You rolled your lips and got closer as he warily eyed you. He knew he was at a disadvantage with your gun in your pocket. He may have been dumb with details but he was observant enough to know what you had. Here he was, out in the open, with only a knife. On your property you knew like the back of your hand. You could just shoot him in the face and bury him in your backyard and not a soul would know nor care but Stu if you didn't kill him too. Unless digging happened, no one would know and your secret could be protected forever.

But the closer you got, you saw the redness near his irises. No matter the poker face he he gave you or how the rain soaked his face; you saw it clearly. Only seeing him like this the time you caught him by himself and he refused to tell you anything. Just shoved past you and acted like nothing happened the following day.

"What?" He snapped in a sharp tone.

You were momentarily caught off guard, the rain making you shiver slightly as you spoke." Uh…I came out here to tell you me and Stu are taking care of Cherri-"

"Who?" He demanded with a scrunched face.

"My dog!" You yelled over the rain. "We'll be 5 minutes max and then I'll get the garage door." You eyed him. "...I can let you into the garage now if you want!" Stu had the keys after all so unless he hotwired it, it should be fine.

"I'm fine." He growled out in a haughty tone.

You shook your head, hand still in your pocket over your gun in case. "We'll, you can come back in to get out of the rain-"

"I said, I'M FINE." He glared at you as he said it. "Now, go away. I'm done with you and every fucked up thing you drag into my life."

You started turning around half way before whipping back around. You had the upper hand here, you were the one with the gun, you were in the open under a bright utility light cascading everything in an orange-yellow warm hue. You glared back at him and got closer.

"Billy…Why can't you just stop being an asshole for once?"

He cracked a sarcastic, angry smile. "Oh? Am I being an asshole, Princess? Considering you're in one piece; I'd say I'm being a pretty nice guy."

You stared at him before shaking your head. Water dripping down your face, getting chilled and tired of his attitude towards you. "Whatever. Stay out here in the pouring rain pissed off at the world then!"

"I will. Most of all, at YOU." He remarked, glaring at you.

"Cool!" You gave with your own smart ass smirk his way and an A-okay hand gesture. "Have a nice fucking life."

You went to leave when he yelled at you. "Hey!" You turned to see him push against the tree to walk towards you. His hair slicked back with how wet it was. "I don't know what you think this is with me sparing your life but it's only to save my own ass from getting caught, alright?! So save your chummy bullshit for that simp in there."

"Sure. Whatever." You mumbled, going to turn around when he jerked you back towards him and you instantly gripped your gun, almost pulling it on him before he stared at it halfway out of your pocket then you. He raised his hand up in defense ever so slightly.

"...You gonna use that thing or just keep it as an accessory?"

"Same goes for you and that knife." You jabbed back.

"How about you remember who I am! I could kill you-"

You threw up your free hand. "I'm stopping you right there. I already heard this inside; I don't need to hear this again... God, at least Stu can be honest."

"Oh, and what's Stu Macher so honest about?" He mocked.

"He told me, Billy. He told me how he felt seeing me dead on the ground. I almost died and he was honest with me that that was what made him realize he gave a shit…But believe me, I'm well aware whatever you cared about years ago is ancient history. I was never a friend, I didn't know the real you, you had a minor crush and I was just a potential sexdoll for you to fool around with and leave had your plan went correctly. You don't have to give me a long rant as to why you don't care. I already know."

"Hey, who the fuck do you think you are to tell me how I feel or think?! Don't speak for me, ever!"

"So, what is it then?! Why suddenly is your knife not at my throat for every minor inconvenience? Why could you choke me last week but you grabbed my shirt instead tonight? That's all I'm asking before you go! We both know you keep dodging whatever reason it really is and I want to know." You gave him an even stare. "I'm smarter than that, Billy. We both know the media finding out and the risk of getting caught is only half of it. So, what's the other half?"

He scowled at you, his eyes burning a hole into you as the rain poured. "...I don't-"

He cut himself off as you stared back before he backed away, a slight panic in his eyes once more that you saw inside. His jaw tightened before he spat out. "I told you; it's not the right time so just drop it and head back inside before you get some fucking illness or something and die before I can kill you…Go!" He pointed to the house.

You stayed planted. "You aren't telling me what to do at my own house, Billy. You're not always in control whether you like it or not." He made a move and in turn you showed him half of your gun from your pocket just for him to walk towards you anyways. You went to raise it before he forced your arm down and stared back at you.

You glared at him, ready to kick him and shoot him if you had to…But nothing about his movements were threatening. He stared at you, seeming to want to say something. An open expression on his face rather than a glare.

You stared back at him and whispered. "You can't even control when I die. Why does my death have to be from you and only you? Answer that one for me. Isn't dead just dead? Weren't you happy to see me dead on the ground?"

He stared back, brows furrowed as he leaned in to whisper back. His dark eyes watching you intently, going back and forth in thought before said what was so heavily on his mind. "No…Because…I decided if I couldn't have you alive before you did what you did then I'd at least be the one to kill you…No one is taking the satisfaction away from me of finally watching that light leave your eyes. And your blood will be on my blade and only mine…You got that?"

Your eyes widened considerably at the admission before he shoved you away from himself. "Now get out of here. I'm done talking to you, to him-" He pointed to the house. "-And this entire fucked up situation…I'm coming for you one day, YN. When you least expect it. That's all you need to know. And for the record; no one you love is safe from me. I will make sure to save you dead last."

You didn't know what he expected of you but you couldn't help the dark chuckle escaping you as you fully put your gun back in your pocket. Clothes sticking to you with how wet they were.

He snarled in your direction before his features dropped as you spoke. "Ha, well!" You smiled a cold smile his way. "When that day comes, you know, the day you go back to being the guy I fought at Stu's that night; I hope you know I'll have a modest yet oddly human sized pond dug out back there. Might start tomorrow…. It'll be unfinished and I'm just going to decide halfway through to put all the dirt back and put a cement laid gazebo there instead. No one comes here. No one knows you exist…At least you'll have a burial plot in a sense. Mark deserves a plot, Sidney deserves a plot…Honestly, it's more kindness than you deserve. If I really was like you and Stu; I'd just dump you at a landfill." He watched you with a strange emotion as you lost the smile and shook your head at him. "Just because I might not want to kill you either doesn't mean I won't protect myself or my loved ones…The choice will be made by you."

You both stared at one another before you realized he wasn't going to ever give you a real reason. And maybe his logic really was the reason? Either way, you decided you had enough of the rain and him. "Goodbye, Billy."

With that, you left and made sure to be aware if he decided to try and attack you but he didn't. He just stood there in the rain watching you go.

Despite it all, the second you turned around you felt an uncomfortable pit form in your stomach. An uneasiness of how things were being left whether for your own safety or another reason. You weren't sure.

You went back up the stairs to see Stu watching you from the porch. You stopped mid step and said his name just for him to tell you. "....I think it's beyond time we get out of here. Got the keys?"

You faltered before checking your other pocket and nodding. You saw the look on Stu's face, how reserved he seemed as he uncharacteristically said nothing. Both of you walked before going past Billy to the garage. No one seemed to want to say a word as you unlocked the garage and opened it to reveal his car. Your CRV parked near the house for now.

Stu looked over at you and you saw the way he bit his inner cheek before shrugging as Billy got in the passenger side and shut the door. Clearly beyond his emotional limits to talk to you both.

"So nice of him to be a drowned rat soaking the seat of my car." He offered a smile that didn't reach his eyes before clearing his throat and looking down. "So…I guess this is goodbye." Stu quietly gave, sticking his hands in his pockets and frowning at the ground a moment.

"Yeah, it is…Goodbye Stu." You purposely made distance so he couldn't hug you. You didn't want his touch, you didn't want either of their presence; last week and every other memory too fresh in your mind.

He gave an accepting nod and got in as you watched him pull out before shutting and locking your garage back up. The rain dying down as it pattered off of his car. He waited in the driveway as you made your way to the house. Once you were halfway there, you heard his car's engine and tires going through gravel and water as he made his way down the road. You got to the porch and watched his tail lights disappear into the rainy night before heading around back and going back to your unlocked backdoor. The security system back up for the front one.

You got in and shut the door, quickly punching in your code to lock everything once more before using the deadbolt you rarely relied on this time as well. You slumped against the door and closed your eyes. You felt your lip wobble as you took a long shaky breath before seeing Cherri hobble in. Picking up her bandaged paw. To your amazement it was completely wrapped. You didn't expect her to let Stu do that and just figured he left it up to you while you argued with Billy.

You looked to see their wet and muddy shoe prints in the kitchen. Some vase on the ground in the hallway that was big enough to not worry about Cherri stepping on but still needed cleaned. It was bizarre to think 20 minutes ago you were all arguing in the living room and now they were gone and you may or may not ever see them again. You should jump up and down for joy but something in you just couldn't. You picked yourself up and walked to the living room to brush the vase pieces out of the way with your shoe and to take your coat off as you slipped off your shoes as well. You set your gun on the table and started pulling at your coat sleeves when you saw Stu's note.

You paused, staring at it and feeling your gaze soften.

'Think of me once in a while as much as I'll think of you.

I'll always love you ♡'

A crudely drawn heart and all. You rolled your eyes and scoffed at him throwing that word around so easily. At him not able to just leave a number like a normal rational person. Of all the bullshit and emotional manipulation he was constantly doing…And yet, you felt your eyes water. Because maybe if they hadn't done what they had, if they didn't have the horrible sides to them you saw last week, if you were honest maybe…Just maybe.

"I hate you." You mouthed to yourself as you felt yourself suck in a choked gasp of air. Cherri laid beside you as you crumbled to the floor in a wet heap. Face in your hands. Quietly feeling tears in your eyes as you just sat there to take it all in. "I hate you both."

———————————————————

"I hate her." Billy muttered to himself. Eyes still burning from earlier which just soured his mood even more. He flinched when he heard sniffling beside him. Slowly turning his head to see Stu furiously wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

"...Man, are you crying?"

"N-No!...Yes…Yeah, so what if I fucking am?!" He smacked his steering wheel and growled out low in his throat. "It's all your fault anyways, man. What genius idea was it to break in?! As if her trust in me wasn't bad enough!"

"Oh, as if grabbing her from behind was intelligent. Besides, we both had questions and we got answers. You actually think she would have opened the damn door for us?"

"Yeah, well maybe I didn't want to know those answer's. Ever think of that? No! You only think of yourself you Cold…Slimy…Pretentious Fuck." Stu sneered out as he sniffed hard and wiped his nose with his t-shirt.

"Didn't think you knew the word pretentious."

"Go fuck yourself."

Billy sat there a moment, staring him down as he drove on the curvy road down the hillside. Woods on either side of them. Stu went to say something but relented. Shaking his head with a bitter chuckle that died off in his throat.

"...What, Stu? What is it that you want to get out so badly because I'm not doing this shit the next 2 hour drive."

"Alright, I'll say it. I had a chance with her and you couldn't stand it. You didn't want to kill her until I admitted liking her, you were so pissed at me at Windsor for helping her after she helped me-" Billy shook his head with a humorless chuckle as Stu ranted. "And you've been a jealous, bitter bitch while we've been together this whole time. It eats you alive that me and her had something and you're fucking ALONE."

"Bite me. I'm not bitter-"

Stu didn't let him speak. "The hell you aren't, man! Just admit you love her too and get it over with!"

Billy finally felt his temper snap at that. "I don't fucking love her, idiot! Just because your desperate. She's nothing but a two faced, weak ass, nagging female that needs knocked down a few pegs."

Stu gripped the steering wheel tighter. "Don't say that shit about her man. Not right now. Not to me." He warned with an aggressive frown.

"Oh or what? You want to pull over and fight about it?"

Stu smacked his steering wheel again. "God damn it, Billy! Just fucking admit it! I saw your face! You were just as devastated as I was!"

Billy shoved back into his seat. "You didn't see shit. It was dark, cum rag."

"Not dark enough, douche novel." Stu mocked. "You can't kill her because you know just as well as I do that things are different now! Admit it!"

Billy grabbed the console and turned to fully glare at Stu. "Fine, will it shut you the fuck up the rest of the ride?! Things are different! I talked to her ass for the first time in 3 years and if we're being really fucking technical then 5 years since we had a decent conversation. She's changed. She's different. She's even more of a challenge now. When I saw her dead? Truly thought that stupid bitch finally kicked the bucket? I had no purpose anymore, alright?! For 5 fucking years my life was hunting her down and getting revenge and now I don't know what to do because for some dumbass reason after that I can't bring my knife to her and it pisses me the FUCK OFF because I'm that same pathetic kid that couldn't kill her in that backyard! Okay?! Is this what you want, cock jockey? Is this what you're all begging of me to get off my chest tonight?!"

Stu nodded throughout the rant as Billy barely took a breath. A strange laugh escaping Stu. "Yeah. Yeah, Billy. That's exactly the shit I want to hear so I can lay my head down tonight and know I was right and you give a shit about her too so we can finally just come to terms with things here!" He paused and added. "And you're a fine one to talk, cocksucker-"

Stu swerved the second Billy tried to hit him while trying to drive before shoving Billy off. His hand going right into Billy's sternum as a strangled cry escaped the brunette and he grabbed at his front with a pained expression. Stu gave an arrogant smirk before gasping as Billy smacked him in the ribs that were bandaged.

Stu stopped the car, groaning in pain before Billy spoke up again first. "My…Fuck…My god damn feelings towards this situation is none of your business, dickhead! None! Yeah, something weird has happened and I hate it but that doesn't mean I'm begging and slobbering for her like you are and I never fucking will. She's a pain in my ass that for whatever reason I can't kill right now. Maybe one day I'll get over it and do what needed done years ago."

Stu glared at him. "You touch her and I'll kill you. Because whatever friendship we had, if we had it at all besides relieving some tension once in a while, is nonexistent compared to how I feel about her…Despite her going to cops again, she's not being killed. I'm not letting you near her."

Billy eyed him. "Don't worry. You're still hyper fixated and the second she becomes boring to you; you'll be ready to kill her too...It's not anytime soon so stop showing your teeth. Your Master's safe for now…Now, put this shit in drive and take me to my town."

Stu glared at him while putting it in drive before looking back at the road. Driving away into the night to go their separate ways in a few hours.

——————————————————

"Dewey? Are you coming to bed?"

"Y-Yeah!...In a little bit, Gale."

Dewey sat at his desk, the door locked as he hunched over the desk with the lamp shining on what he was looking at. He stared down at it with scrunched eyes and a worried look. His mouth twitched into a frown under his mustache as he held it in his fingers.

There in his hand was a photo of you and two men getting out of your car. It was found in the motel next to yours where Neil was hiding out at. He confiscated it to preserve your reputation because as if the media needed to shame you more. Your private life was none of their business…It wasn't his either but he just couldn't stop staring at it. He didn't dare ask you either or show Randy.

It should have been nothing. You were a young woman but…He still didn't like the idea of plural men being in a car with you and he felt icky thinking of WHAT you were doing with them. Enough to make him drop the photo on the desk and grimace with a shiver. You were like his little sister and he'd have the same reaction with Tatum if she had two strange men in her car going to her motel room.

Then he looked at it again. 'No, YN wouldn't do that. She's too smart to invite two random men to her motel during all this…She wouldn't anyways…Would she?' He thought as he picked it backup to stare at it. He could only see a side profile of the taller one as you had on your shades and laughed at something he said…But the shorter brunette he had a clear shot of.

Medium dark brown hair half swooped back but stray bangs fell on either side of his face randomly, a scruffy goatee, high cheekbones on a slender and soft featured face and a small straight nose. What got him the most were the eyes. Distinctive dark eyes that observed his surroundings…They looked so much like.

He smacked the photo down and turned it over at the thought. He felt sick…No. Never in a million years. Billy Loomis and Stu Macher were dead and you would not have given them a ride even if they weren't!

He didn't like the idea of you being with two strange men that you didn't tell him or Randy about doing god knows what but he absolutely refused to entertain the crazy idea he and Gale used to argue so much about…'Maybe they just needed a ride?' He reasoned even though that wasn't much better. Especially with a killer on the loose. He knew you were only 23 and 23 year olds are still learning but he expected better of you.

He'd barely slept since finding this. The uncanny resemblance to Billy Loomis so strong and the talker one looking like that Dennis Rafkin guy that looked so much like his character as Stu Macher…What were you doing with Dennis? And who was the other man? What were you thinking in general and what other secrets did you have?

" Dewey, why is the door locked?"

Dewey jumped and quickly put the photo in an envelope and then inside a book he knew no one would read then in a drawer. Something about this ate him alive but he couldn't tell Gale. He felt horrible but he didn't feel right telling his fiance. Not after you both just made up.

"C-Coming, honey!" He gave, already pulling out the pet names before she wiggled the door handle.

"Dewey Riley, open this-"

He quickly opened it for her to be in a short, silky night dress with a raised brow.

"U-Uh sorry sweetie, I just needed to fill out some things."

"Like what? Dewey, I don't like secrets already in the relationship."

"Well, it's embarrassing but…Forget it."

"No, go on."

He rubbed the back of his neck with a cringe. "I was…Looking into joining the force again."

She looked surprised. "Oh."

"Forget it! It's dumb. Why would they want an ex deputy that's now a useless-"

"Hey, don't say that about yourself. Don't ever say that."

He sighed with a deep frown. "...That has more disabilities than what the average precinct is willing to put up with?"

She grabbed him and pulled him towards her. "Dewey, I think it's an amazing idea. You don't belong in Hollywood or Paris or New York…I think you should reapply at Woodsboro."

"...Really? But my record there-"

She smiled up at him. "Yes, forget it! You said it, Woodsboro feels real. I don't know what I was doing all these years chasing fame when the most important thing was right here."

Dewey smiled softly at her and brushed her hair from her face. "Gale…"

"Besides, I kind of like the idea of Deputy Dewey again. It's sexy." She smiled with hooded eyes, leaning into him as he chuckled.

"Yeah?" He quirked a mischievous smirk. "Are you a law abiding citizen?"

Gale giggled and stepped back to show off how short her dress was. "Me? Oh no. I've got secrets. I'm a bad, bad girl officer. What are you gonna do to me for being so bad?"

Dewey felt himself thinking of his own secret now.

"Uh, DEWEY?" Gale scoffed as he shook himself and grabbed her with a grin as she laughed.

"Well, sounds like you're under house arrest. Anything you say can and will be held against you in the court of law." Dewey went to pick Gale up and faltered. Gale gave him a sympathetic look but Dewey just sucked in a breath and forced himself to struggle with his bad arm to use all his strength for his good arm and leg to hold her up princess style. The nerve damage is not as bad but still very much there.

Gale gasped and wrapped her arms around his neck. "You're amazing, Dewey…Now, I believe the handcuffs for me are…That way." She motioned to the bedroom as they kissed while he quickly got her there as fast as he could before he might drop her.

The photo that was now a secret he wished he could ask you but couldn't. It was momentarily pushed aside but still lingering in his mind nonetheless.

…What secrets were you keeping from him and Randy?

#scream #stu macher #billy loomis #my writing #scream fanfiction #yn fanfic #she her yn #my stories #fanfic #scream 3 #terrible trilogy

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years ago

Text

If I Fell For You (Part 16) - Drowning

Summary: The reader’s night goes from bad to awful fast but thankfully Jensen shows up at the last second to stop things from getting any worse. But the guilt the reader feels over trying to end things with Jensen to protect him starts to become too much...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 5,600ish

Warnings: language, being drunk, minor violence, scary situations, angst, fighting, fluff, offscreen death of minor character, anxiety, panic attack, minor injury

A/N: This chapter is a whirlwind! Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

________

It was a close to an hour later and you were halfway through a bottle of bourbon, laying on the back porch of your mom’s house, staring at the rafters and debating finishing off the whole thing.

��Y/N?” you heard. Your skin crawled as you sat up, spotting your father at the other end of the wrap around. “Are you drunk?”

“This would be an appropriate time to tell you that yes, I am and I also have this,” you said, reaching behind your and picking up a hunting rifle. “I might be plastered but I think that’ll only improve my aim. I’ll be nice and shoot for your balls first.”

“You got so much wrong about me kid.”

You fired a shot near his feet and he held up his hands.

“Why don’t you go jump off a bridge or some shit,” you said.

“Y/N.”

You pulled the trigger as he took a step forward and he jumped when it hit the window nearby. You pulled again but it just clicked as he walked closer.

“Your new momma never taught you that kind of rifle only has two shots, did she,” he said. You tried to stand but got way too dizzy and fell down.

“Well I can still tear you apart with my teeth,” you said.

“You’re drunk and judging by your face, very upset. What happened to that boy you were with? I didn’t see him when I looked around.”

“Touch me and that boy will rip your head off.”

“This doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” he said, stepping far too close for your liking. You swung the rifle at him but he caught it and kicked the bottle away before you could get at it. “All grown up. Probably enjoy it now.”

You crawled back as far as you could, eyes darting behind him when you saw movement. You barely caught the brown hair and green eyes before your father was face first on the porch. You tried to stand but he yanked on your ankle and pulled you down hard. It took a long time to peel open your eyes again, your father now at Jensen’s feet. Jensen pushed down on his back while he talked on the phone to someone and it didn’t take long to hear sirens in the distance.

“For the record,” said Jensen as he walked over to you and crouched down, his belt around your father’s wrists, “I didn’t believe you for a second. Oh and you’re a dumbass but you’re my dumbass. Forever. Got it?”

“I couldn’t…” you trailed off. He nodded and took off his flannel, wrapping it over your shoulders. “I knew he would do something and I couldn’t have him near the kids or know they exist. I couldn’t-”

“I know, honey,” he said. “But don’t you dare ever do anything like that again.”

You put your head down sniffled, dizzy still as he rubbed your back before going back to watching your dad.

It took an hour or so before you could go home and you were sober enough to stand on your own.

“Can I ask why you made the executive decision that you did?” asked Jensen, holding your arm loosely as you got into his car to head back.

“Because I’m stupid,” you said dryly from the passenger seat as he turned on his SUV.

“I mean more so why didn’t you come to me if you were scared? Why make up a lie?”

“You did let me go. You must have believed me at least for a few seconds,” you said.

“No, I actually didn’t.”

“You let me go.”

He was quiet until you got close to the brewery, Jensen pulling off onto the plot of land he owned next to it. You leaned your head against the cold window and he turned off the engine.

“This whole, tired, don’t talk to me attitude right now? Been there. Lived it. I know it’s bullshit.”

“You let me leave so you did believe me so-” you said, Jensen pressing a finger to your lips.

“I am certain of very few things and you are one of them. I let you go so I could figure out what scared you so badly you’d lie, to me. There’s only one thing I can think of so before you even had a foot out of that house, I was calling people and I got put on with Detective Finn who worked your case as a kid and I find out that dick for brains sack of shit just moved practically down the street from us. It does not take a genius to put the pieces together.”

“Fine! I did it in some stupid attempt to protect you,” you said. You glared at him and he shook his head. “What?”

“I’m not gonna get mad at you.” You put your head back on the window and stared out to the dark trees, sniffling some. “Why do you want me to be angry with you?”

“Uh because I didn’t forget to turn on the washing machine or leave on a light. I lied. I lied so big that-”

“You lied to protect your family from a monster. Do I wish you had told me? Yes. But I fuck up so much and you’ve never once been angry with me for making a mistake and I’ll never be angry with you for making one either. I know you want me to be angry with you, feel like you should be punished for what you imagine is hurting me. But you didn’t hurt me, Y/N. You didn’t and I know you get that because so many times you’ve been on the other side of this and I know you’ve never once thought, oh yeah Jensen’s a piece of shit, let him really have it. No. Just no. So I’m not getting mad at you and I don’t know what to fucking say to make you feel better like you always do me and I’m so sorry he got so close to hurting you again. But I’m really good at fighting monsters in this family. So please next time, I don’t care if you’re scared of the bug on the wall or you think someone’s outside the house or what it is. If you’re scared, tell me and I’ll do my best to make it go away, I promise.”

“What do you do when you want to hate yourself for being an idiot?” you asked quietly. You heard him shift in his seat and you shut your eyes, the sound of a door opening and then another. Strong arms wrapped around you and you buried your face in his chest.

“I try to treat myself as kindly as she does. She would never hate me and she hates when I’m in pain. I see it all over her face. So I try to cut myself some slack and ask myself if she would hate me and when I realize no, I’m forced to forgive myself and it normally takes a few hours but it works pretty good. A lot of hugs and cuddling don’t hurt either.”

“Thank you for stopping him.”

“Don’t.”

“Thank you. I owe you so, so much.”

“You don’t owe me a damn thing. We got each other’s backs and that’s all there is to it. I’m just sad I missed you trying to shoot his dick off.”

“How did you know where to find me?”

“Find my iPhone. Also I figured that was a good place to check,” he said. “I would have been here sooner if Jared didn’t drive like a tortoise over to the house to watch the kids.”

“I’m sorry I scared you...and you had to do that tonight.”

“Oh punching your father was a personal highlight for me. Trust me,” he said. He stroked your cheek and you turned into the touch, eyes squeezing shut. “You’re safe.”

“He’s going to get out on bail and-”

“And we have a very good lawyer. Oh, and I know the mayor so fuck his ass, he’s not getting bail.”

You buried your face once again and he put a finger under your chin, lifting it up.

“You’re still scared.”

“He’s gonna get arrested for what, trespassing? Attempted assault? I was drunk and shot at him. He can spin it. He can spin it and be out on the street like that.”

“I’m going to ask the lawyer to do something else, something that maybe can take care of that problem.”

“What?”

“Once a piece of shit, always a piece of shit. He’s been gone for fifteen years. I have this bad feeling you weren’t the only one. Or even before that.”

“Or maybe he just hates me.”

“You don’t have to be scared. I’m gonna take care of it.”

“Jensen, I know you don’t have to worry about the money but it might still not be enough.”

“It’s enough,” he said. “Or else next time I’ll be the one with the rifle.”

“You would kill him?”

“Honestly? Yeah if it came to it. I wish people like him died in car crashes, not innocent ones. We have every right to protect ourselves and our family and I’m not letting him touch the kids or you ever.”

“I should probably say that’s bad but I don’t disagree.”

“Money works a lot. A real lot. Maybe he did something super bad and he can rot in prison forever.”

“Maybe,” you said, spotting a cruiser pull up nearby.

“Stay here, sweetie,” he said. He walked over while the officer got out. He spoke to Jensen for a moment, Jensen’s face a bit blank when he turned around.

“What’s wrong?”

“Your dad had a heart attack in the backseat,” said Jensen quietly. You cocked your head and he shook his. “Your father. In the police cruiser that was taking him for booking. He was just pronounced.”

“He died?”

“He was really overweight and didn’t look to be in the best health. He probably got his heart rate up too high and...the officer said he’d escort us home, stay outside the house for the night, calm our nerves.”

“He’s really dead?” you asked. You looked over at the officer and he came over, giving you a quick smile. “He really died?”

“Yes mam.”

“What...happens now?” you asked.

“We’ll file the report but you don’t necessarily need to press charges anymore. You’re next of kin as far as we’re aware so the body…” he trailed off when he looked at you. “We can talk about this with your lawyer.”

“Thanks,” said Jensen. “We’ll be on the road in a minute.”

The officer climbed back in his cruiser, Jensen leaning against the doorframe. He tucked your hair behind your ear, letting out a deep breath.

“Y/N,” he said. He stroked your cheek, your head turning up. “What is it, honey?”

“I don’t feel bad at all. I’m actually happy. That kinda is freaking me out a little. You shouldn’t be happy someone died.”

“Most people you’re right, you shouldn’t. But there are exceptions. He tormented you. He harassed you. He came after our family. I’m gonna sleep just fine tonight knowing he’s never coming back in our lives.”

“Were you scared of him?” He ducked his head down and you took hold of his hand. “Jensen.”

“Put it this way, I’d protect my family by any means necessary. What scares me was what if I was five minutes later tonight. Ten minutes. My job is to protect you and especially from monsters like that.”

“I’m a big girl Jensen. You don’t have to protect me from anything.”

“Yes I do, just like if it were me in your shoes I know you’d have done the same exact thing. We protect each other. It’s not because I’m the guy or I’m stronger. You’re my family and that’s what we do.”

“Thank you for protecting me and forgiving me for being stupid earlier,” you said. He smiled and nodded.

“You’re my dumbass and I’m yours,” he said. “Want to go home now?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I really do.”

“He’s really gonna spend the night?” you asked half an hour later in bed, Jensen shutting the door after himself. “He knows there’s a cop outside, right?”

“What can I say, Jared...he thinks of you like a little sister,” he said. “I can’t blame him for being protective.”

“I’ll be right back,” you said. You climbed out of bed and went downstairs, the light dim aside from where Jared was reading on the couch, a blanket over his legs. He looked over the top of the book and set it down, sitting up.

“Everything alright?” he asked. You smiled and took a seat on the edge of the couch, pulling him into a hug.

“Thanks for staying,” you said, a pair of large arms wrapped around your back.

“Of course.”

“You do know there’s nobody to bother us now, right?”

“I know. Some peace of mind never hurt anybody though,” he said. “Go on back to your fiance. You guys had a rough night.”

“Yeah,” you said, closing your eyes. “Thanks.”

He kissed your temple and you returned to your room, Jensen pulling you under the covers. You let out a deep breath, turning into his side.

“Here,” he said. He started to take off his bracelet but you shook your head.

“It’s yours, Jensen. I feel safe, I promise.”

“You’re tense still, honey.”

“Still working on that not being so angry at myself thing,” you said. He smiled and kissed you quickly, laying an arm over your waist. “I know what you said but I still want you to be pissed at me for lying.”

“You didn’t hurt me.”

“But-”

“You didn’t hurt me, Y/N and you know what? Sometimes, you’re gonna hurt me and I’m gonna hurt you. We’ll have bad days and get annoyed with one another. I’ll leave dishes in the sink and make a mess of the closet. You’ll chew with your mouth open and never fill up your car with gas until it’s too low. We’re not perfect. But even if we do hurt each other, we forgive each other because that’s what you do. We’re not always gonna like each other and what we do but we’ll always love each other. I don’t want to be mad at you. I want you to feel safe and know that I understand why you did what you did. I do. Please try to let it go, for me.”

“I am trying,” you said quietly. You shut your eyes and turned away, his arm over you pulling you back against his chest. “You’re normal. I can’t just stop hating myself like that.”

“You think I’m normal?” he chuckled. “Me?”

“Did you ever have to punch Dee’s psycho father? Did you ever have to talk about protecting her? Did she ever put your family in danger? Did she ever-”

“Y/N.”

“Go away,” you said, pushing his arm off of you. You moved over farther on your side of the bed, tucking your covers under your chin. The bed shifted and you tried to move again but his arm pulled you straight back to his chest, fingers dipping under your ribcage and holding you in place.

“I might not have had to have done those things for her but I would have. For the record, you didn’t put anyone in danger. That fucking asshole did. It is not your fault he was an evil and vile person. All you did was try to protect us because you were scared and I know, I know you didn’t tell me because you’re so scared of that man and I don’t blame you. He made my skin crawl and I interacted with him for all of five minutes. Get it out of your system however you need to but you are stuck with me forever. There is nothing you could do to make me want you gone so get used to it.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with this,” you breathed out. You pulled your sheets over your head, taking deep heaving breaths. “You have so much to worry about already. You shouldn’t have to…”

“Did you think I couldn’t handle the news?” he asked. “That your father was so close by?”

“I thought you’d hate me,” you whispered. He tugged down your sheets and you squeezed your eyes shut as he turned you around.

“Look at me.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Now you’re angry.”

“Look at me.” You forced them open, meeting a soft face and sad eyes. “Why would I ever hate you?”

“My shit’s supposed to stay in the past. You don’t…” you said, Jensen furrowing his brow. “See, you’re mad.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Your shit stays in the past.”

“It means you’ve had the world’s worst fucking year and you’re in such a good place now and you need to focus on you and not have my shit come in and fuck that up.”

“Do you think I can’t take care of you?” he asked.

“No of course not.”

“It sounds like you’re saying that you think you can’t have problems cause I can’t handle it.”

“Well at least I got what I wanted with you pissed,” you said, glaring up at him, tears welling in your eyes. You tried to push away but he held his arm around you. “Jensen, let me up.” You pushed again and he glared right back. “Stop it. Let me out of bed.” He only glared and you tore your eyes away from his face.

“Do you think I’m weak?”

“No,” you said, keeping your head low.

“Then why-”

“Because you need a fucking break. I dealt with this shit years and years ago. I understand needing a fucking break and people need to take care of you, help you. You’re a different man than the one I met way back in January. You’re so happy and healthy and you have a different outlook on life again and that’s incredible. I’m so proud of you for that. But you’re just, just out of the woods and I’m not gonna be the one that sends you back in because of my fucking problems.”

“They’re our fucking problems,” he said. “Our problems. There’s no your problems or my problems anymore. It’s us together. Why do you think I’d hate you?”

“Jensen,” you said, pushing on his chest. “Stop.”

“Why?”

“I said stop!”

“Tell me.”

“Because I’m scared,” you said. He let his hold go lax and you sat up, getting out of bed. You walked over to the balcony door and rested your forehead against the cool glass. The bed creaked and you felt his presence behind you.

“You’re scared of me.” You scrunched up your face and nodded. “Why?”

“Because if you realized how fucked up I am, you wouldn’t come near me with a ten foot pole. I’m not supposed to cause you problems. I’m supposed to fix them, be there for you.”

“But I can’t be there for you. You assume I’m just a dick where it’s only me and my shit that we can work on right?” he said.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Relationships go both ways, Y/N. I don’t expect you to take care of me for the rest of my life. You are allowed to need help too.”

“You don’t understand.”

“No, you don’t understand,” he said, grabbing your arm and spinning you around. He was frowning, his voice an octave higher if you didn’t know any better. “Do you honestly think I would have been angry at you if you told me about your father being in town? Do you?”

“I put the kids-”

“For the last time, you didn’t put anyone in danger,” he growled. “What is going on with you?”

“How many times do I have to say it, I’m not supposed to cause any problems!” you said.

“Yes you are! You, me, the kids. We’re all gonna have fucking problems sooner or later. Why do you think I’d hate you for telling me you had a problem, sweetheart?”

You fidgeted with the bottom of your shirt, looking past him.

“Something with your dad, isn’t it. Something got triggered in you after that phone call with the detective, didn’t it.”

“Call Ray. Tell him to come over,” you said quietly. He nodded and grabbed his phone, sending off a quick message before he was guiding you to sit on the bed.

“Honey,” he said when you pulled away from him. “Okay, no touching. Can I get you anything while we wait for Ray?”

“Probably should tell that cop that we’re expecting someone,” you said, rubbing your hands against your thighs. “Fuck, tell Ray it’s the help thing. He’ll understand.”

“Okay,” he said with a nod. You rubbed your legs harder and he stared at you. “Y/N.”

“I’m trying not to have a panic attack,” you grit out. “I haven’t had one since I was eight.”

Your head was turned and you felt his hands on your cheeks, Jensen forcing a smile. You stared for a long beat before you took a breath, his head nodding.

“That feels better,” you said, your hands not rubbing so hard. You heard feet and the door open, glancing behind Jensen to catch Jared in the doorway. You could feel your heart rate pick up, Jared nodding.

“I get panic attacks too,” he said. You nodded and Jensen glanced over his shoulder. “I heard arguing.”

“Can you tell that cop outside Ray is coming by and to let him in?” said Jensen.

“Sure. Who’s Ray?” asked Jared.

“Her mom’s old boyfriend and foster dad. He was her therapist when she was little. Something’s not right,” said Jensen.

“I’ll send him up as soon as he gets here.”

You felt calmer by the time Ray was walking in fifteen minutes later in sweats and not much more.

“Hey kiddo,” said Ray, giving you a quick hug before he squatted down in front of you. “Doing okay?”

You shook your head and shut your eyes, Jensen holding an arm around you. He explained what happened, Ray staying quiet. You eventually opened your eyes to stare at the floor, Ray standing and pulling over the bench from the end of the bed to sit on.

“Y/N do you want Jensen to stay?” he asked. You nodded and he hummed. “Y/N.”

“Yes,” you said dryly. “Can I have some water?”

Jensen got up and retrieved a glass from the bathroom, the pair of them watching you chug half of it down before you sat it on the nightstand.

“Y/N, does Jensen know what triggered you?” he asked.

“Not specifically. Asking for help he figured out but not the reason,” you said, looking away.

“Well on the bright side, you didn’t have a panic attack, you worked through it, you trusted Jensen to help you through it even if he didn’t know why and some of your coping skills helped you out quite a bit. But this is something Jensen needs to know. You’ll need help in a relationship and I know this is the big one but he needs to know so this never happens again,” said Ray.

“What if he thinks I overreacted?” you said.

“I won’t, trust me,” said Jensen. “Secret’s safe with me.”

“Go on, Y/N,” said Ray. You took a deep breath and Jensen held your hand, stroking his thumb over the back.

“So you kinda figured out that me having a problem was the trigger and that I didn’t ask for your help earlier and kinda assumed a bad reaction if I did.”

“Yup and that’s all okay,” he said softly.

“It wasn’t because of you that I assumed you’d have a bad reaction. It was something that happened to me that sort of...default my head to react and anticipate things in a certain way in that particular situation.”

“So if you have a problem and ask for help, you assume the person you’re asking for help from will not take it in a good way?” he asked.

“Yeah, basically. If it’s a really big problem and if I anticipate that the problem would upset the person I’m asking then my head assumes this bad thing will happen. In that case, it assumes the much better option is to not reveal the problem at all and handle it myself because then the bad thing won’t happen,” you said.

“The bad thing. It’s bad isn’t it,” he said. “Really bad.”

“Y/N, remember you can share without the graphics involved,” said Ray. You nodded and leaned your head back.

“When I was six I broke something of my dad’s. A mug. His favorite mug. I picked up the pieces but I knew it was his favorite so I didn’t throw it out. I asked him for help putting it back together,” you said. “The amount of rage he had over a broken mug...I never experienced such a horrible day in all eight years as that one.”

He didn’t say anything and you tucked your feet up, holding one up to him and showing the bottom. He stared at it and cocked his head, narrowing his eyes. It took him a moment but you saw when he noticed the small little scars. His eyes flickered back to yours and you nodded.

“He hurt me badly,” you said. “All day long.” He stared at you and you told him exactly the way the scars came to be, Jensen shuddering and closing his eyes. “It wasn’t a good day.”

“Fuck,” he said, standing up and rubbing his arm. “You were six?”

He shook his head and went to the balcony door, taking a deep breath.

“Jensen. You alright?” asked Ray.

“No,” he said, turning around, looking to you. “That many times?”

“One for every broken piece,” you said. He ran his hands over his face and shut his eyes. “The worst thing was just that it went on all day. It was long enough for me to interpret it as conditioning for a result of an event rather than just a bad memory from everything me and Ray worked out back in the day. It hasn’t been a trigger for me ever really but we knew it could be someday for a big life problem potentially. I’m guessing with it involving my dad, it kinda sent me into overdrive earlier.”

“Jensen,” said Ray, shooting you a quick glance. “Y/N’s okay. I’m actually quite impressed with her behavior. There was no hesitancy or waiver in her voice. I don’t feel as though this will likely be an issue ever again now that it’s out in the open and her father is gone.”

“You’re the closest thing to a father she’s ever had,” said Jensen, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know every horrible thing that’s happened to her and, and you just...all you did was throw him out of the country for fifteen years?”

“First off, the law was different back then and it was a lifetime ban. Second of all, buddy, violence isn’t always the answer to violence,” said Ray, getting to his feet.

“You should have adopted her.”

“She didn’t want me to.”

“You were the damn adult. She was the kid. Act like one,” said Jensen. “I mean fuck, you adopted two other kids only a few years later.”

“If I had adopted her you wouldn’t even know she fucking exists,” shot back Ray. “Her father still would have come back and this would have happened regardless.”

“You should have done what you needed to the second he popped up again when she was a teenager.”

“I did not strike you as a violent man but I do not like it.”

“She was almost assaulted by that man again tonight,” growled Jensen. “He tortured her and tormented her and he got barely any time at all for that. I would have-”

“Why’d you call the police then?” he asked. Jensen swallowed and Ray shrugged. “Why back at the farmhouse did you call the police? You could have killed him, called it self-defense and been done with it. Why?”

Jensen looked down and Ray sighed.

“The price for being a good person is making hard decisions, Jensen. Would I have loved to have rid the world of that son of a bitch the second I learned all about him? Oh you don’t know the half of it. I’m a trauma therapist, Jensen. Mostly for kids and teenagers. Do you know how much fucked up shit I’ve heard in my life? The world has so much ugliness in it. But it’s got good too and that’s why you called the police like you were supposed to and that’s why she loves you. She needs a good man, not a violent one. I’m not saying don’t think about protecting your family. But don’t act on it unless you don’t have a fucking choice, kid. Understand me?”

Jensen nodded and Ray cleared his throat.

“Say it.”

“Yes, sir,” said Jensen quietly.

“Ray, don’t get mad at him. He’s not used to this stuff,” you said. You stood and pulled Jensen back to the bed, Ray crossing his arms and nodding. “If I ever feel this happening again, what should I do?”

“You could work on reconditioning instead,” said Ray. “Work on saying I have a problem to Jensen and ask for help, even if there isn’t a problem. If Jensen responds positively or even neutrally and you two work at it maybe an hour or so a day for the next week or two, I don’t think you’ll ever have to be afraid of that trigger coming back. All of your triggers Y/N have involved your father. I know similarities can set you off but they’re small, manageable. You never have to worry about anyone hurting you ever again.”

“I know. I should have trusted my partner to have my back,” you said.

“I don’t blame you. I didn’t before and I definitely don’t now,” said Jensen. Ray smiled and pulled the bench back over to the bed.

“Get some rest you two,” he said.

“Ray?” you said after he gave you a hug. “Why didn’t you adopt me?”

“Honestly?” he asked. You nodded, Jensen preening his ears. “You reminded me so much of your mother and I was devastated when we lost her. I should have been the adult and done what was right but after seeing her in pain for years...I didn’t have it in me to take on a grieving teenager that would have been just as angry back at me. She already was so angry then, I would have put fuel on the flames. I didn’t have it in me to be strong anymore and that’s my mistake for not trying.”

“You can adopt adults,” said Jensen. You both looked at him and he smiled. “Adults can be adopted.”

“Not sure if…” trailed off Ray as you smiled at him. “Y/N, we’ve only just started talking again.”

“Maybe if that keeps going well...maybe things could...work out…” you said. “If you wanted.”

“Yeah, maybe we can do that,” he said with a smile. “It’s getting late. Put her to bed. Don’t be surprised if there’s a nightmare or two tonight.”

“Okay. Thank you,” said Jensen as Ray started to leave.

“Take care of her kid,” he said. Jensen nodded and you lay back in bed, the house growing quiet.

“I’m so sorry,” said Jensen, his head lowering after a few moments. “I should have realized…”

“You did realize,” you said, sitting up. “Even when my head couldn’t come out and say I trust you and I know I’m acting a certain way because of what my dad put me through, you stayed calm and figured it out. You got nothing to be sorry for.”

“I’m sorry he hurt you. I got to pretend to be a cowboy and my dad read me stories when I was six. The worst thing I ever got was a few smacks but I know he regrets doing that,” he said. “Even then it was because I was acting out not…I just don’t understand why he would ever hurt you.”

“I stopped trying to understand him a long time ago,” you said, the door opening. You both turned, Arrow walking in with a pair of wet eyes. “You have a nightmare, sweetie?”

“I went…to the bathroom…” she said when you noticed her holding her wrist. Jensen hopped up and walked over, picking her up gently and setting her beside you. “I fell down off the step stool. It was wet.”

“Tell me what hurts,” he said.

“My hand,” she said.

“Let daddy see,” you said. She moved her hand back and you both saw her wrist was swollen and bruised. Jensen swore under his breath and guided her hand back on it. “Okay, you hold it if it feels better that way, honey. Daddy, I think Arrow should go to urgent care.”

“Arrow, why don’t you go get your dolly and we’ll bring her with us. We might have to wait a minute,” he said. “Be careful okay? I’ll come get you in just a minute.”

“Mommy?” she asked, staring up at you.

“Mommy’s really tired-” said Jensen when you stood up.

“Uncle Jared is staying over though, daddy. Go get your dolly and mommy and daddy will get dressed,” you said. She sniffled but climbed down okay, Jensen sighing when she left the room. “She wants me there and I want to be there. I’m going.”

“Alright but you’re going to try and get some sleep in the waiting room at least, please.”

“No promises.”

________

A/N: Read Part 17 here!

#spn #supernatural #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen x reader #jensen series #rpf #rpf series #spn fanfic #jensen ackles fanfic #supernatural fanfic

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jeromesxreader16 · 4 years ago

Text

Such a Joker (51)

Part 50 Here!

~o0o~

I scan through paint swatches, holding it up to the walls of the nursery contemplating the vast difference in the outcome. "I like this blue." Jeremiah picks up a swatch and tapes it to the wall. I smile as he narrows his hands focusing on the paint. He nods looking around the room. "We can put both the cribs against the wall here and place the changing station in the middle. Rocking chairs in either corner." He smiles with his accomplished plan.

"What do you think, boys?" He asks kneeling at my stomach. I scoff smiling, "How do you know these boys of yours aren't girls?" Jeremiah leans down pressing his ear on my swollen belly.

"Hmm. Yes. What was that? Of course, I'll let mommy know."

Jeremiah stands cupping my face. "You're children don't like the vitamin shake you drink." I roll my eyes walking away and taping a light pink swatch of paint on the wall.

Jeremiah raises a brow smirking. "Really, (Y/n)?" I shrug beaming. "You never know, Jer."

I look out the large window looking at the starved and rotten Gotham. I sigh sipping at my morning tea Ecco brought me.

"You're sighing again." I look over at her smiling. "You say that a lot." "It's because you sit there looking like a princess waiting for someone to come." I shake my head at Ecco laughing. "You're crazy, Ecco."

She hops in front of me smirking. "We could be bad, ya know? Sneak out. Just for a little." I narrow my eyes leaning in. "Keep talking."

Jeremiah POV:

Coming up the elevator into the late hours of the night to finally take rest next to my wife. "The tunnel is coming along nicely," Ecco says standing beside me. "Yes, there is much to do."

"Ecco, does my darling ever speak of life before this?" Ecco nods at me. "Mrs. Valeska always loves to spend time thinking of the good days." I hum reconnecting ways to make her happy. "I'll have to send her on a little trip out of our little Dark Zone."

I open the door to our room removing my tie and shirt and putting them away.

I walk over to my wife and rest my hands on her stomach holding my children. "We're not supposed to be here." I sigh resting my head against her. "I'm trying my best to get us out of here, loves."

She rolls to her side causing me to chuckle. I kiss her head cuddling into her in our sheets, dreaming of escaping Gotham with my family.

"Remember, love. Tonight is another graduation for the troops. It is still too dangerous. Care to take a trip to the Sirens today? I thought about sending you to have a full week of fun." Jeremiah asks as I cuddle into his side. "Yeah. I could use some girl time. If you're alright with having me away that long." Jeremiah holds my chin gazing into my eyes. "I love you so much, darling."

"I love you, Jeremiah." His smile warms my heart as he descends the elevator. "Behave yourself, loves."

I step out of the car smiling at the large buildings all so familiar. "Hello, Sirens." I grab the railing to step inside but am bumped by a force making me stumble.

"I - I'm so sorry, miss!" I look down at a little boy with bruises and scratches all over his body. I kneel gasping at his frame. "Oh, honey." He looks behind his shoulder gulping. "You have to help me, please."

I look up at the building thinking over my plans. Jeremiah told me to go here and only here, but it's not like he knew I was going to run into an abandoned child!

I nod at the small kid getting back in my car. "Come on, kid." He jumps in my car closing the door and gasping. "Thank you! Thank you so much, miss!" I smile sadly at the frightened little boy.

"Where are you going? Where can I take you?"

He looks at me with hopeful eyes. "The Haven."

I've heard whispers of the spot concealed in safety for a couple of weeks now. "I have an idea of where it is. I'll take you there."

He nods smiling, "My name is Will Thomas." He offers his hand.

"(Y/n) Valeska. It's good to meet you, Will." He smiles shaking my hand.

"Whoa." Will gasps as the large caged in the apartment corner appears. "Yeah," I say taking a look at all the people smiling. "Are you coming with me? I have to find someone who can help my brother and sister!" I nod turning off the car. "Yeah. I'm not sure who all lives here, but I can help you look around."

Walking in the small compound many of the people were friendly in this trying time.

I walk up holding Will's weak hand. "Excuse me, sir." He turns to me confused. "Yes?" "This boy needs your help." I try to usher him and scatter away but a hand reaches out grasping my wrist as I walk away from them.

I look up meeting my father's eyes through the shades. "(Y/n)?"

I smile removing the glasses. "Jim." he crumbles losing his balance. "Where have you been?" I shake my head tugging at my arm. "I-I can't be here."

I run away slipping out of the Haven untouched and back to my car as my father runs out screaming my name. I drive to the club again and entering as nothing happened.

"(Y/n)!" Babs screams running to me. "Oh, my! You've filled out!" I laugh pushing out my stomach. "Well, when you've got two fighting for space."

Jim POV:

That was her. My girl. My beautiful daughter walking right in and then scurried away faster than wildfire. "Jim, was that-" I turn to Harvey with a smile breaking my features. "Yeah. That was (Y/n)." Harvey pats my shoulder. "I know you're thinking you have to find her at this very second and trust me I do too, but we've got another pressing thing. Like this mystery kid." Harvey pulls me away from my thoughts.

"Right. What do we know?"

"His name is Will Thomas. Parents died in a home invasion a few weeks after the bridges came down. Guys that broke in took him to some sort of factory where he was held alongside dozens of other stolen kids, all chained together."

"God. Who are these guys?" "Call themselves The Soothsayers."

"You ever heard of them?" "No. But who can keep track these days?"

"Which district?" "Granton. Near the water, he said. Had them digging some sort of tunnel. Will broke free from his restraints last night and walked nine miles through the Dark Zone and found Mrs. Valeska in the Sirens block. She brought him here."

"What kind of tunnel?"

"Unclear."

"There's an abandoned waterworks by the old dock in Granton."

"Detective Gordon?" The small boy asks. "My friends. You'll save them, won't you?" I nod at him holding a smile. "I'll look into it."

"The Soothsayers won't be happy I escaped. They'll punish

the others for it. Please, Mr. Gordon. I promised them I'd bring help."

"Gosh, I can't wait until I can drink again." I laugh at Babara from behind the bar as she throws down a shot. "Oh, me and you both. Push those kids onto that pale freak and go wild!"

Feet away the crowd split and they still their ongoing conversations. None other than James Gordon walks over to Barbara. I duck under the bar hiding in plain sight.

"Barbara." She looks down at me before turning to ace my father. "Jim, what brings you crawling out into the open tonight? Come to join the party? One last hoorah before someone wastes you?" She smirks taking another shot before slamming it down.

"I'm here to ask a favor. Maybe some information if you have it."

"A favor plus info, right. Is this after you stood by and did nothing while my best friend on this Earth was stabbed through the heart?"

"I put him down."

"You restored his limp."

"HE SHOULD BE DEAD!"

Jim sighs, "Barbara." She cuts him off with her screams. "Everybody out! Now! I said move!"

As they file out and the music comes to a halt I shiver on my knees. Why am I doing this? Hiding from my blood.

"Planning revenge?" "Well, someone has to do something about that freak."

"He has an army. It would be suicide." "Look around, Jim. We're all slowly dying. Just some of us get to choose how."

"I'm sorry about what happened to Tabitha."

Babs brushes off the matter scoffing, "So, these favors?"

"I need transportation. Trucks, maybe."

"Where are you going?"

"It's a police matter," Jim says making me hold in a laugh. How could police exist nowadays?

"You know, they should really write that on your tombstone. They're downstairs in the basement lot. Knock yourself out. Drive right into this nightmare you created. You won't last a night."

He stays quiet for a moment before asking, "Have you seen (y/n)?" Barbara chuckles, "And if I did, what makes you think she wants to see her father who turned her own happiness away?" I peer over the bar watching my father's eyes drop and sadness fills his emotions. He turns away from the bar walking away. "Thank you for the trucks."

I pop up resting my elbows on the counter. "You didn't have to yell at him." Babs turns to me locking eyes. She breaks shaking her head with a sad smile. "No, I guess I didn't." I come around the bar sitting beside her. "You really think he won't last out there?" She turns to me smirking. "Not if he has some help. How long are you staying here?" I shrug, "Jeremiah doesn't need me around when the church graduates. He said the tension in the air is stressful for the babies." She scoffs laughing. "Right, because he's Mr. smartypants."

I sit on the couch watching TV as Babs strides through tossing my gun at me. "Load it and follow me." I stand following her. "Uh, why do I need a gun?" She turns back to me as walks into the garage.

"We're going to help Jimmy. You want to drive?"

I smile at her nodding. "Okay."

"Wait, slow down! I hear something." Barbara says causing me to stop the vehicle equipped with machine guns on the empty road. "I won't say it again, freak. Gordon comes with me."

I smile at her, "Jackpot!"

"I'll tell you what! I'll take his head, and you can have the rest of him!"

"NOW!" I scream as we whip around the corner and shoot down the punks. Barabra hops out fo the car walking towards my father.

"Hi, Jim. About our last chat... I may have been a little rash. This what got you all hot and bothered? They need a bath."

"Crazy bi-" I stand from my seat shooting the armed man aiming at Babs. As I hit the target, my father does as well.

He looks at me in shock. "(Y/n)?" I smile sitting back and cranking the car.

"Oh, lookie there. I found her. Not all square yet though. You're gonna help me do what we all know needs doing."

"Oh, yeah? What's that?"

"Kill Penguin."

I gaze and smile a all the happy citizens in the Haven. "This is amazing."

"Citizens are heading here in droves. This place will be full

by sundown." Jim nods looking around. "Then we'll find another."

I look up at him. "I figured you left when the evacuation was called." My father puts an arm across my shoulder pulling me to him. "You were still here. I was never going to leave without you. Especially now with these two." He says placing a hand on my stomach.

A woman walks up with her younger ones grinning at Jim. "I just want to thank you, Captain Gordon. My family, we've been drifting from one place to the next ever since the blackout. You've delivered us." She walks away beaming with joy, leaving my father with a raised head and confidence and honor beaming from him.

His moment soon ruined by Barbara scoffing, "Seriously?" She rolls her eyes looking at me. "You know he'll be angry with you if he finds you here. You're staying with me so my ass will be burned."

I look back at Babs and my father. He grabs my wrist looking me in the eyes. "You can't go back, (Y/n). Look at what he's done!" I close my eyes gathering my emotions. "Jim, please let me go so I can go home to my husband. This will end ugly if you refuse." He looks at me with shock and shakes his head. "No, I found you and now I'm going to keep the three of you safe from him." I rip my arm out of his grip. "I came to you! I understand you're upset, I do. But... Daddy's little girl is gone, I married him, he is the father of my children, and that won't change. You can either fight it and our contact will end, or..." I take out his pen from his pocket and grab his hand, writing my phone number. "You can accept me for the person I have become, and call me."

Jim nods sadly. He places his hand on mine. "I love you, (Y/n)." I nod smiling at my father. "I hope so." I back up walking next to Barbara.

"I'll see you around, killer. We have some unfinished business, you and I." She nods to him as we exit the gates.

"How was the day, darling? Have my twins kicked you anymore? I talked with them the other night." I giggle over the line laying on the big bed in the guest room of Barbara's home. "They've been fine, Jer. How was the first day of the graduates?" He sighs over the phone. "10 go in and only 4 complete the trial. It's quite disappointing." "I bet you'll have more tomorrow. It is a new day after all." "Indeed, love."

I snuggle in my covers rubbing my belly. "Get some rest, Jeremiah. I'll see you soon." He hums in the line. "I do hope so, darling. I love you." I smile feeling complete. "I love you too, Jeremiah."

As the call ends it suddenly rings again. I pick it up figuring it to be Jeremiah, once more. "Did you forget something?" I giggle over the line. "(Y/n)?" Jim's shaky voice comes through. "Dad."

He sighs and speaks, "Hi honey. H-How are you?"

At this time I talk to my father and open the door that has been shut so long.

"Hey! How about we meet up for lunch when we can?" I laugh at him, "You're going to act like everything's normal and grab a sub?" "Why not? I've got my family back."

A piercing giggle springs from the bathroom. Jerome walks out with sunglasses and posing in the mirror. "I'm going to tell."

I shake my head at him as my father talks. Jerome cackles and runs to the door making me chase after him tripping him. "OW! Workers comp!" He cries.

He stands up giggling. "Ole Jimmy. Always slithering around and shitting on our lives. Brother will be mad, (Y/n), you know that."

"Goodnight, Dad."

I hang up rolling on my side and cuddling into the sheets. "He won't find out, Jerome." He scoffs cuddling close to me. "Lying to your husband? You naughty girl."

I laugh into the pillow. "Goodnight, Jerome."��

#jerome #jerome x reader #jerome valeska #jerome valeska x reader #jerome valeska imagine #jeremiah valeska imagine #jeremiah valeska x reader #jerome valeska smut #Gotham City #Gotham #jeremiah valeska

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tokoyamisstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Betrothed Ch. 9 - Illumi Zoldyck x Reader

Epilogue: Beauty and the Beast

Summary: Leaving the Zoldyck estate to search for your husband, what will await you once you find him?

Warnings: Angst, Violence.

Words: ~2500

Story Masterlist

A/N: The plot is connected to the “Phantom Rogue” movie. In case you haven’t watched it yet (no spoilers don’t worry): The antagonist of the movie uses Nen to create puppets taking after real persons, which even possess their personaliy and memories.

All I ever wanted All I ever needed Is here in my arms Words are very Unnecessary They can only do harm

Depeche Mode - Enjoy the Silence

People tend to say you should be careful what you wish for. Apparently they were right.

At least it worked...somehow.

The last thing you knew was that you had sneaked into Alluka’s cell, wanting to free her just as much as you wanted to find Illumi. Of course her parents weren’t really fond of the idea, so you waited for an opportune moment and asked for Nanika to appear before the family could realize and act against it.

Your wish was pure and without any ill intend - so there would be no consequences.

“Please: Bring me to Illumi. I need to save him!”

So she did as she was told.

You found yourself having been teleported to an unknown place, at bright day even though it was night at the Zoldyck estate. That means you’d be at least on the other side of the world, gladly far enough away for them to quickly try and retrieve Alluka.

All you could make up in between miles of nature was an old building, almost like a chapel.

And in front of it stood Illumi.

“These eyes are strange” he thought out aloud, taking in his environment. “Everything looks so bright.”

“Illu-nii-!” You put a finger in front of Alluka’s lips, signalizing her to stay quiet. Gladly you had appeared in somewhat of an hiding, so no one had noticed you up until now.

Something was off. That thing was surely not Illumi - even if it painfully appeared so.

“Gon!” a blonde girl shoutet in visible distress, “Hang in there! Gon!”

And then it dawned to you: A Nen ability.

Cloning? But why and how? It should be impossible to make such a perfect image of another person, which even seems to think and act on it’s own.

“Give gon his eyes back!” Killua demanded, but got shut down by the clone through a proper kick in his guts. “I can’t do that, Kill.”

You were too late to stop the poor Killua from running away, instead of chasing him deciding to follow the spitting image of your husband - but he had detected you earlier than you anticipated.

“Weird...” he spoke with the voice you had missed so much, staring at you with an empty glare. “You don’t look different.”

A surprised “Huh?” was all you managed to get out at his weird assumption, defendingly standing in front of Alluka.

“Those eyes make everything shine so bright. But you look just as always” the clone statet, almost as if amazed by your sheer appearance.

“You’ve always shined to me, Y/N.”

And like that, he was gone.

There wasn’t much time to think about it, since the screams of that unfamiliar girl got you down to earth again.

“Please, Gon!” she encouraged him as he tried to leave after she wrapped a bandage around his empty eyeholes. “Don’t-”

But he was already gone, chasing Killua to god knows where.

“What the hell...” you mumbled, still holding Alluka firmly in your arms.

Now the girl, which appeared like a puppet as well given a second look, turned to both of you. “Just...who are you? And where did you came from?”

“Long story.” Your answer was short, not wanting to tell anyone about Alluka’s powers. “But I’m a friend of those children. And...I need to find the man from earlier.”

“That was just one of Omokage’s puppets” she explained, pointing towards the direction Gon and Killua ran off to. “I can explain anything on the way. But we need to find them!”

It was already night when you found those two, because even with your superhuman speed you still had a child to take care off.

Seemingly, the two had resolved whatever internal trouble they were having, and much to your surprise Leorio and Kurapika had joined them as well.

“You guys...”

“Y/N?!” All of them went into a defensive position, ready to fight you in case you were a puppet as well. You weren’t mad, though. It was the only plausible reason for them to have magically appeared in here.

“Killu-nii!” Alluka cheered, approaching her brother as fast as her small legs could carry her. You wanted to prevent a reunion like that, but well...

Of course the boy broke out in tears as he remembered his sister he was forced to forget about all those years, the weight of his guilt crushing down on him once again. “I’m so sorry, Alluka...I think I was still under Illu-nii’s influence.”

Your lip began to tremble at his words, having to bite it so they wouldn’t notice that you were about to cry.

“Y/N? Is everything alright?” Damn. Of course they noticed the shift in your aura.

“Come to think of it...” Gon said, unusual sharp intellect considering his usual, blunt nature. “How come you accompany Killua’s sister? Doesn’t that mean you would’ve broken in Kurokoo mountain and fight all the Zoldycks for it?”

“I...uh-”

“Wait a second!” Good for Killua that he regains his cool so fast after having been emotional, but you wish it weren’t like that. “Isn’t that my great-grandmother’s ring? Did you stole it?!”

“Wha- no! Of course not!”

That wasn’t his greatest concern: Did you know about Alluka’s powers, and wanted to have them for yourself? Was that the reason? But how could you ever just invade the Zoldyck property and take what’s theirs without dying at their hands?

None of it made sense, no matter how much he racket his brain around the matter.

“Illu-nii gave it to Y/N for their wedding! Isn’t that cute?”

Everyone’s breath hitched at Alluka’s innocent words, and you could feel even those whose eyes were stolen widen in shock.

Before you could even defend yourself, Killua had tackled you down before sharpening his fingernails and pressing them against your neck, drawing blood.

“Why...?” Kurapika spoke the word that went through everyone’s minds, followed by Killua’s disappointed whisper “Traitor....”

“Because I love Illumi. That’s all.”

The boy then grabbed your shirt, shaking you as if to wake you up from a deep trance. “Love? LOVE?!? You know my brother, damn it!”

“Yeah!” Leorio joined the scolding. “You know very well what he forced Killua to do all those years, and that he tried to kill Gon!”

“I know very well what he’s capable of.” Against all resistance by your friends, you still remained calm and cheerful. “But he’s my husband, and I’ll fight for him until my dying breath.”

You’ve never seen Killua so furious and hurt in your life, and you could understand him:

The man responsible for all of his pain - and someone he considered a friend to fall in love with and defend him.

“Don’t give me that bullshit...” he growled as he let go off of you, tears of anger collecting in the rim of his eyes. “He obviously turned Y/N into a needleman!”

The only one to remain silent was Gon, knowing that he shouldn’t intervene until Killua was done having his rage.

Since the truth was simple, yet hard to accept for someone who had suffered under Illumi’s influence for that long.

“Don’t bully Y/N!” Alluka suddenly blurted out, softly punching her brother’s back.

Killua then refrained from interrogating you any further, turning around to hug his sister once again. You knew the anger he let out was not just against you or your husband, but also out of wdisappointment in himself.

“I’m so sorry, Alluka...I should’ve saved you. Instead, I tried to leave my past behind and also left you alone!”

Alluka was a smart girl, at least emotionally - her mind worked different than the other Zoldycks. She gently put her hand on her brother’s hair, consoling him even though she never really understood how severe the situation at hand was:

“It’s okay! I was’t alone!” she cheered, smiling all innocent from one ear to another. “Big brother Illumi played with me all the time, together with Y/N! We had such fun!”

You smiled gently at the naive girl, knowing everyone would believe her to speak the truth. Picking her up and on your shoulders as she always wanted you to do, you waited for everyone to just process her statement.

“Alluka has spent almost every day at home with us” you proudly declared, as if you were actually her parent. “He’s a bit reserved, of course, but he loves her very much!”

“...that’s so fucked up” Leorio declared as he thought back to the creepy Gittarackur.

Killua was at loss for words, only managing to get out a consensual nod at Leorio.

“Hey!” you snickered mischievously, rumpling up his hair. “I’m your sister in law now. A little more respect!”

“Anyway” Kurapika interrupted, “Where’s Pretz?”

Seems like changing the topic was easier for the group than to keep thinking about that almost impossible constellation.

“She’s a puppet” Gon revealed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, just for you to confirm his thesis.

“And you let Illumi steal your eyes just to follow the nen connected to them?” Giving him a head-butt, you added. “Still the idiot.”

That wasn’t fully true: Those kids sure grew since the last time you’ve met them at the Hunter Exam.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the situation, feeling like a stone was falling off your chest just by being with them.

“I’m glad to meet you again. I’ve missed you so much, guys!”

Leorio had volunteered to take care of Alluka, so she wouldn’t get dragged into the fight, while the others of you headed for Okogame’s hideout.

It was a giant church, so old that it was on the verge of breaking down.

Fitting place for a showdown, you thought.

“You don’t understand the beauty of my art!” was Okogame’s answer as Kurapika demanded for him to set his dead friend free.

“See?” he yelled dramatically as he revealed his puppets. “Pairo’s beauty together with Kurapika’s passionate eyes.”

To be honest, that wouldn’t revoke a reaction inside of you as your mind was always wandering off.

But then, he revealed his other creation.

“And Illumi’s madness, together with Gon’s pure eyes.”

“...”

“Still the damsel in distress, I see.” God, even his voice was just like him. “I thought I’ve teached you better than that, Y/N.”

“Here he comes” Gon stated the obviously, but you had something to tell Killua.

"This isn’t completely him” you whispered as the puppet slowly approached you. “I can sense it: He isn’t nearly as strong as the real deal. And do you know what? He’s influenced by our memories of Illumi. They shape this puppet. That’s why he’s so scary to you, do you understand? That’s just how you depicture your brother.”

Killua knew what you really wanted to say: As you were now, you could easily end this - but Killua needed to defeat his fears himself.

The puppet came to a halt in front of his younger brother.

“Emotions are obsolete.” Ironically, it seemed that the puppet couldn’t avert his gaze from you, only making you crave your husband more. “Don’t value any of those pathetic commitments.”

“T-That’s wrong.” You were so proud of Killua, because even though he was almost frozen in place out of fear he was able to talk back to his brother. “I made friends, and it’s a great feeling.”

“You’re being silly, Kill” he declared as he pointed at you. “Do you see Y/N over there? I tried it myself. And guess what: They betrayed me. Ran away from me, scared. And now I’m all alone again.

Ouch. Even the puppet was hurt by your actions back then.

“But killing is something we can always do. It gives us power, makes us feel alive. Fear is the only reliable way of controling someone. We don’t need friends. We can manipulate people. Otherwise they will only hurt and betray you. So if they disobey: Kill them.”

“S-Shut up!” both you and Killua shoutet in unison.

“Kill me, then” he whispered into Killua’s ear, “Come on. Prove that I’m wrong.”

So that’s the monster Killua saw in Illumi all those years...

“Lumi...” you couldn’t help but sob, “I didn’t want to let you down...”

“Don’t interfere” the puppet spoke, throwing several needles at you at once. “I don’t have any business with you anymore. This is a family matter.”

“I like the outfit!” you laughed it off, avoiding the needles as if it was nothing. “Feels just like sparring back then!”

“You’ve always been too careless, Y/N. Because I had a soft spot for you. But I’m not going easy on you now - my order is to leave none of you alive.

A few needles pinned you to the wall, making you realize you weren’t fully concentrated.

You didn’t want to fight your husband, even though that’s not really him, so you were unknowingly holding back.

“We knew it would eventually end that way” the puppet spoke, the dark void in his eyes reminding you of the Illumi you got to know before your marriage. “Even though I’m almost sad about it.”

Your head fell in defeat, too hurt to see the love of your life suffering for so long. May as well let him hurt you a bit, to punish yourself and feel what he felt.

“I’m so sorry, Lumi.” Your answer and lack of struggle actually made him taken aback for a second, until the mission that Okogame’s nen imprinted on the puppet forced him to continue.

“Hey!” Killua yelled as he kicked another set of needles out of his hand, “We are your enemies! You said it yourself!”

Of course they had their own intentions: Getting back Kurapika’s eyes, save Pretz, overcome the trauma Illumi had put on Killua...

But you were thankful that your friends tried to avoid you having to end Illumi’s life, even if only in a metaphorical sense.

The real fight didn’t even take a whole minute, with Gon and Killua only taking a few hits until they pierced the puppet’s heart with unified strenght.

Immediately, you rushed to his side, caughting the stiff body before it hit the ground.

“Why do you stay with me, Y/N...?”

You grabbed his hand, feeling honest compassion for the artifical being as you cried out “Because you’re being loved. By me, and Alluka and even Killua! I’ll find the real you, and save you no matter what!”

“I see...” The puppet robotically touched your cheek, movements not really different from the real Illumi at the beginning from your relationship. “Maybe I was wrong about trust after all.”

A small smile played on his face as your lips hesistantly touched, while you simultaneously pressed a knife inside of him to end it all.

“Rest now” you said what Illumi had always told you when you were upset. Okogame’s curse couldn’t force his will onto the puppet now that he wasn’t able to get up ever again.

And Illumi collected the last bit of strenght as his body slowly dissolved into nen.

At least in the end he wasn’t alone - until death does you part.

“I guess dying through your hands doesn’t feel all that bad.”

_____

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hardygalwrites · 4 years ago

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Game/Anime: Persona 4

Characters: Yu Narukami/Persona 4 Protagonist and Ryotaro Dojima

Synopsis: As long as the case dragged on, Dojima knew he always needed to be prepared for the possibility of another body showing up. But nothing could have prepared him for this...

Yu Narukami’s body is discovered hanging from the electrical wires at the edge of the shopping district.

Note: Originally written for Whumptober of 2020 - Day 1: Let’s Hang Out Sometime | Hanging

TW for depictions of grief and TEMPORARY character death

—

It was with a sick feeling of resignation that Dojima received the report that a body had been discovered hanging from the electrical wires at the outskirts of the shopping district. With how little progress he had been making in the serial killing case, it’s as though some part of him had been waiting for another body to show up, to remind him of how useless his efforts were proving to be.

“I’ll be there as soon as possible,” Dojima murmured.

Flicking his phone shut, Dojima robotically went about getting out of bed. He ended up skipping the coffee and was in his car, driving towards the scene, within five minutes. It wasn’t until he pulled up outside the slowly forming crowd of early morning civilians that he wondered if he should have made sure that Nanako would be safe on her way to school today.

Well, Yu always accompanied her partway while on his own school route. That boy really was a blessing that Dojima did not deserve. Nanako would be fine, as always. They both would.

Dojima quickly nudged his way through the crowd. It looked like Adachi was already there, surprisingly enough, conversing confidentially with a few officers. Since when had that man been so on top of things?

“Hey!” Dojima called as he approached.

The whole group immediately turned towards him, each of them looking rather alarmed.

“Have we identified the body yet?” he asked, already pulling out a cigarette in preparation for when he stepped away from all of this.

“Dojima…!”

Adachi rushed to meet him, looking strangely panicked. As he prepared to ask what the hell Adachi’s problem was, Dojima looked up at the body.

The cigarette fell from his mouth.

Dojima felt something inside him crack. Denial rushed to fill it, screaming that this could not possibly be real, that he must be seeing things. But there was no denying it.

That was Yu’s body hanging up there.

That was his nephew tangled up in the electrical wires.

That was his sister’s child, the boy he had promised to look after, the boy he had grown to love like his own son–

“What... the hell…?”

“Dojima,” Adachi said nervously, hands raised to turn the older detective away. “You shouldn’t be here–”

Dojima shoved him aside and rushed forward.

“Ow! Wait! Dojima!”

Adachi’s protests barely even registered in Dojima’s ears. He could not tear his eyes away from the sight of his nephew hanging above him, limp, unmoving. The officers that Adachi had been speaking to earlier hurried to intercept him, finally forcing Dojima to turn his gaze downward.

“What the hell happened?” Dojima demanded dangerously.

“Sir,” one of the officers started, “I don’t think–”

“I asked what the hell happened?!” Dojima snapped.

Adachi caught up to him, grabbing at his shoulder. “Dojima, wait…!”

“‘Wait’?! That’s my nephew up there!”

“I know! That’s the problem!” Adachi retorted as he struggled to pull Dojima away. “Listen, we know just as much as you do, but you have to step back…!”

“I will not step back, that’s my nephew!”

Throughout his time as a detective, Dojima had occasionally needed to hold back grieving friends or family members as their loved one was either retrieved or, under far more tragic circumstances, processed. It was an unpleasant task, often filled with screaming and tears, but it was a part of the job.

And then Chisato died, and Dojima understood - the lack of rationale, the grief, the desperation driving these people to their loved one’s side, as though somehow, by some crazy miracle, that could make everything better.

Dojima had felt it then and he felt it now as he fought against his partner’s hold. “Dammit, Adachi, let go!”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t!” Adachi shouted.

The officers present also began their attempts to hold him back. “Detective Dojima, please…!”

Dojima looked up again. He could make out Yu’s face now. The eyes were closed, facial features slack. It almost looked like the kid was sleeping. Dojima stopped fighting against Adachi and the officers. He could feel something inside him crack a little bit more.

Oh, god. What was he going to tell his sister…? What was he going to tell Nanako?

Dojima lowered his head.

Then, a shallow gasp, followed by a series of hoarse coughs. A few people in the crowd, now well formed outside the police perimeter, screamed and cried out. Dojima, along with Adachi and the officers, looked up in shock.

“Oh my god,” one of the officers gasped. “He’s alive!”

“He’s alive!” someone else echoed. “Someone get the fire department, we need to get him down now !”

Dojima could only stare. Just moments ago he had been struggling to believe that his nephew was really dead. Now, he could hardly believe his eyes as he watched that same nephew shake and cough before slowly opening his own eyes. The soft grey gaze was glazed and unfocused, and he appeared to be having trouble breathing, but there was no doubt.

Yu was alive .

“Holy shit …!” Adachi exclaimed. He began to tug at Dojima’s shoulder again, though less urgently than he had before. “Dojima, come on, we should probably step back–”

Yu groaned and started to stir in his precarious position. Dojima’s eyes widened.

“Yu, stop!” he shouted. To his relief, Yu did stop for a moment, looking no more aware of his surroundings but at least no longer moving.

“Listen to me,” Dojima continued urgently, choosing to ignore just how vulnerable he sounded. “You have to stay still, all right? We’ll get you down as soon as possible, but you have to stay still!”

He had no clue if any of his words were actually reaching the kid. Yu had stopped moving, but his eyes remained unfocused, and it looked like his breathing had picked up slightly. The breaths came out hoarse and halting. Dojima’s mind rushed with all the worst possibilities, and he turned to grab Adachi by the jacket.

“Has an ambulance been called?” he demanded.

“Y-Yes…!” Adachi confirmed. “They’ll be here soon, along with the fire department.”

The crowd was really starting to get riled up. No one was attempting to bypass the perimeter, thank god - they really did not have the manpower to hold back everyone - but they were all definitely excited. People talked to each other and shouted questions at the guarding officers. Those with photo capable cells were putting their equipment to use, and everyone was focused on the student who seemed to have just come back to life.

The area was buzzing with noise, but Dojima still managed to catch the groan that had him looking back up quickly. He cursed.

Yu’s breathing had not just picked up because he was struggling to intake oxygen, no, it was clear the kid was getting agitated. He began to stir again, legs and arm shifting in the tangle of electrical wires.

“Yu, stop!” Dojima shouted again.

There was no clear response this time. The crowd continued to buzz, and Dojima could hear the rapidly approaching sirens. Yu clenched his eyes shut with a gutteral whine, just as both the ambulance and fire department rolled in.

“Yu, listen to me!” Dojima called. “We’re getting you down! Just stay still!”

Adachi finally pulled him back, and this time, Dojima didn’t fight him.

The fire department worked quickly, sending up the ladder and one of their men to retrieve the student caught in the wires. Despite Dojima’s words, Yu still appeared deeply distressed, flinching when the fireman attempted to steady him. Dojima clenched his fists.

Dammit… Why Yu, of all people…?

The fireman was patient, speaking calmly and steadily to the agitated teen. Whatever he said must have gotten through at least a little, as Yu calmed down just enough to allow the man to pull him from the electrical wires. Dojima wondered how his nephew could be so tall and yet look so small as he was brought back down over the fireman’s shoulder.

Yu was quickly handed off to the ambulance crew, and Dojima rushed to his side.

“Yu…!”

God, he looked fine. Just like the first two victims, there wasn’t a mark on him. He was still wearing the same after-school clothes Dojima had seen him leave the house in yesterday morning. But the quick and shallow breathing, the way his eyes, more focused but still just as dazed, darted between the surrounding medical personnel like a hunted animal…

“Yu,” Dojima said again, the name coming out breathless.

Yu immediately turned his gaze towards him. “...Uncle…?” he whispered hoarsely.

“I’m here.” It was all Dojima could do not to laugh, or maybe even cry in relief. “Don’t worry, we got you.”

The grey haired teen did not appear to respond at first. He lifted his hand off the stretcher and grabbed blindly until his fingers snagged the sleeve of Dojima’s coat. It was like Dojima could actually see a light return to the kid’s eyes. A strange, cracked sound left Yu’s lips, and he tightened his grip on Dojima’s sleeve.

“Yu?” Dojima said in concern.

The one spoken to just closed his eyes, letting out that same cracked sound. It took Dojima a moment to realize that Yu was laughing, a weak but desperately happy, or perhaps desperately relieved sound that made his body tremble.

“Sir…?” one of the medical personnel spoke up hesitantly.

The laughter petered off, and Yu opened his eyes with a small smile. “Sorry,” he whispered. “Just kinda tired, is all…”

Dojima could not help but notice the tears pricking at the corners of the kid’s eyes.

“Detective Dojima…” The same medic looked at Dojima expectantly.

“He’s my nephew,” Dojima explained. “I’m coming with him.”

The medic nodded, and she and her partner began the process of loading the stretcher into the ambulance. Yu’s hand fell away from Dojima’s coat as he was wheeled away, and as soon as they were both in the ambulance, Dojima leant down to grip the fallen hand in his own.

“I got you,” Dojima murmured.

Yu looked up at him, a bit of surprise showing through the weariness. He smiled again, and Dojima felt his nephew return the grip. “Thank you…”

#posting from THE ARCHIVES #HA HA yes of course my first persona fanfiction would have me basically killing my favourite character #I don't regret it ngl but thats probably because he doesn't stay dead anyway #whumptober2020 #persona #persona 4 #persona 4 protagonist #yu narukami #souji seta #ryotaro dojima #fanfiction #persona fanfiction #HardyGal writes stuff #HardyGal writes fanfiction

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soft-sunflower · 4 years ago

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Flower of Evil Thoughts- Episode 12: Part 1

Okay, just when I think these episodes can't get any better than the last, I get CONTINUOUSLY proven wrong! How is this show SO amazing!? Okay, let's start with the recap and my thoughts.

WOW this episode really started off with a bang, didn't it?? I was floored how crazy unmother found out the real Heeseong, her real son, was a serial killer. I was legit creeped out by the fact that he kept commemorative photos of his kidnappings and killings, but what really fucked me up was the fact that he kept their fingernails. So NOW we know where the other sets of fingernails went... I guess Do Minseok kept the ones on the right hands and Heeseong kept the ones on the left hand. Just ughhh ewwww. This is seriously so disgusting. That really grossed me out. So, was unmother going to commit suicide? She held a blade to her wrist and then she looks out the window, and what does she see?? Heeseong... trying to bury a body in the rain. I mean what even??? This whole family has upped the evil factor. If there's any flower of evil blossoming? It's the Baek family.

And who's body is it!? None other than Do Hyunsoo! The man he just hit with his car! I mean REALLY!? He was going to legit BURY Hyunsoo alive??? This guy is the psychopath, this guy is the batshit crazy one, this guy is the serial killer. NOT Hyunsoo. It's kinda funny, I was talking to my husband and I said. "Well, the synopsis sorta got it right. Heeseong is definitely a serial killer, only it's the REAL Heeseong and not the fake Heeseong, which is Hyunsoo." We both were like "Yep. Heeseong IS a serial killer and did it right along with Do Minseok." Funny, that.

He’s so casual like “Oh don’t mind me. Just gonna bury this man I hit with my car alive. Go back inside.” So, ole Mommie Dearest over here goes all feral on her serial killer son and straight up stabs his ass declaring she’s scared of him. You know what, lady? I am too. He’s kinda terrifying. I swear if you gave that boy an axe and told him to go chop wood, he'd turn it around and do a Lizzie Borden on your ass. This family as a whole is a complete whack job.

Oooookay so we're back in the present now, and what do we have here??? Heeseong. Sitting up in his chair and guess what he's doing. SPEAKING. NORMALLY. None of that "I just got out of a coma and I'm slow" speech he'd been doing since last week. Yeeeeah I knew his bullshit he was pulling was a whole-ass act. Okay, so last week, when I saw the preview at the end of Ep 11 and they were all screaming about finding a buried body? I had a theory that it was going to be the maid's body they find, considering the way the crazy mother was freaking at out her wanting to know what all she knew. Now you have Heeseong being threatening with this lady. I'm getting death flags everywhere for her.

Oh look... creepy hospital trash dad is deep the blood cleaning Heeseong's car, phone rings and there we got trafficker man, Yeom Sangchul. Soooo, Heeseong owed him money and dad paid him off to cover his son's ass??? DUDE. What is WRONG with this family!? What is WRONG with these people!? They're legit messed tf up! And can they STOP trying to "take care of" Hyunsoo already?? The constant putting out a hit on him is getting frustrating. "Either Hyunsoo lives or we do." UM. You both are TWISTED old FUCKS who don't deserve life after all the crap you've pulled. Hyunsoo deserves life. He's more human than all of you. You don't, if that's how it's going to be. I'd love to watch them rot in prison.

YAY!!! There's our couple!!! Coming out of Hyunsoo's shop looking like a legit BADASS power couple!!! YASSSSSSSSS!!! And... what's this??? What?? Detective Choi wants a cup of coffee??? Weird... it almost seemed as if Jiwon WAS expecting some kind of Swat team out there to arrest her husband. Jiwon looks confused on what's happening, Hyunsoo is just quietly accepting it all. And when they go inside and Sunbae almost appears, reluctant and hesitant. He even thanks Hyunsoo for being the informant, which I did NOT expect. I knew there was a reason why I liked him from the start. He's redeeming himself.

Haesoo is really stunned over the fact that Jiwon knows the truth about Hyunsoo and who he is. And of course she's in a panic because she believes her brother left and so now would be the perfect time to turn herself in. Moojin tries his hardest to stop her, because obviousy he doesn't want to see her go to jail, but he's gotta stop being so pushy...

Sunbae has a great personality, but when he starts questioning Hyunsoo over the murder he doesn't waver. Hyunsoo straight up tells him he had no motive for murdering the village head, unlike Jiwon who's crying out that he didn't do it. That's right. Because he DID NOT. The look that the husband and wife give each other, Jiwon just looks stricken by the fact that after what they went through last night, Hyunsoo still won't tell the truth. That he was not the one who murdered the village head. Hyunsoo just looks at his wife calmly. His expression is unreadable. He may have just been silently pleading with her to please respect his wishes. This is what he wants. He doesn't want this for his sister.

Oh, Noona... not only was Hyunsoo's past so incredibly traumatic for him, but it was for you too. You've been deeply affected by this because of your overwhelming love for your brother and it's precious. It really is. It's heartbreaking watching him get thrown into repeated exorcisms at such a young age for something that was never even wrong with him. ALL of the adults in his life FAILED HIM. His father, the therapist, the villagers, and even his only friend along with his pack of cronies. They BRAINWASHED him into believing he was a bad person just like his father was, and it's HEARTBREAKING. It's so utterly HEARTBREAKING. I LOVE how strong-willed Noona delcaring she doesn't feel sorry for killing the old bastard who put this poor child through all of this.

They threw things at him, beat him, hurt him... And when they cut to Hyunsoo after being beaten, he just looks dead inside... it's so devastating knowing that they forced him into believing he was being possessed by his father's ghost, to the point that he saw his father's ghost. Now, maybe he really DID see his ghost, but the fact that he was so brainwashed into believing these things? My heart literally ACHES for Hyunsoo... Noona is right. Moojin is NO better. He turned his back on Hyunsoo when he needed him most. Tied him a tree, beat the crap out of him, stoned him. And every single person in that town FAILED Hyunsoo. Hyunsoo was the only real HUMAN out of all of them. And that is SO DEVASTATINGLY HEARTBREAKING. Because he was so unjustly and unfairly FAILED by people he needed most, EXCEPT for Noona.

Okay, Sunbae knows something is going on. He knows that Hyunsoo claiming he killed the old man and how easily the weapon was found was just TOO convenient. He knows. NOW, I'm DYING to know who this one another witness was that said Hyunsoo wasn't a bad person? Was it Noona? Was it someone else? Because every single person in that village ostracized him, that we know of, asides from Haesoo. So what gives??? I want to know who it was... I'm just gonna place a bet that it was Haesoo who had her brother's back because she was the only one who ever did.

Oh.. oh Sunbae... you are 100% and fully fledged redeemed. REDEEMED. Don't imprison an INNOCENT man!!! I think he KNOWS Hyunsoo is innocent, and the look on Hyunsoo's face... he knows the Hyunsoo and Haesoo's childhood tragedy. My heart just twisted. Sunbae. T_T Sorry, but the fact that Sunbae is letting him go, simply by saying he isn't interested in Do Hyunsoo anymore, and that Do Hyunsoo is a good person... I swear I had tears in my eyes because of the hope in theirs!!! I was smiling and had tears in my eyes just like Jiwon because FINALLY!!! He can live his life, he can be with his family, he can love his wife openly and happily, he can raise his daughter with no fear, and... wait, hold up... it's too damn happy. Way too happy. Something bad is going to happen... I can feel it. Yep. Something is coming to literally fuck up their happiness and it's stressful. It really is.

OH GOD this SCENE. This next scene!!! I cried during this scene. I found myself sobbing because of the pure innocence of this scene alone. Our precious baby girl, Eunha!!! She's back!! And she's running and crying in his father's arms... You can already see the emotion on his face as he stoops down for his baby, and he's crying too... It's like years upon years of all these emotions that were built up and hidden behind iron walls are spilling out of him now that the floodgates have burst. Like he just can't help itself, and it's a beautiful thing. It's so good for him, it's cathartic and just what he's needed for so so long. All the years he spent locked behind that wall, believing he was something he wasn't, it's all been set free. He can FEEL. And he show what he's feeling without being told otherwise. He's free to love.

"Daddy! I missed you so so so much!!"

Oh, little sweetie, he did too. He really did. So very much. All the years he's spent watching you grow and raising you, all of those memories and feelings for you, you precious little angel, are welling up inside of him and bursting out of him, on top of the fact that he doesn't have to say goodbye to his baby girl simply due to the fact that he's Do Hyunsoo. That's why he's crying. From the day she was born, to each one of her milestones and young triumphs throughout her life are so important because he sees it all so differently now. When Jiwon't mother says "She acts like they've been separated for years" and Jiwon remains quiet? Because in a sense, they have. Sure, he's seen Eunha almost every single day of her life, but he hasn't really SEEN her til now because he had a heavy, dark veil covering the eyes of his heart.

He's seeing Eunha for the first time and feeling her with his heart, and i find that so overwhelmingly beautiful. Jiwon assures her mother that it's nothing when she worriedly asks what's wrong, that she's never seen him like this before. And Jiwon just tearfully smiles so gently and so softly at her precious family while they cry and embrace because she loves them so much. It's sweet how Jiwon's mother is concerned for them though lol. I wonder if she'll find out...? And how ADORABLE was it when Eunha told her daddy not to cry again because he misses her? She's such a precious little angel and such a good little girl. His kiss on her forehead was the sweetest thing too. What REALLY made me melt in tears was the fact that Hyunsoo says:

"Eunha-ya, daddy loves you a lot."

And Eunha's arm heart... just... GOSH. T____T And even though she tells her daddy not to cry, you can see him tearing up again as he waves bye bye to his little girl off to preschool. It's so beautiful and refreshing to see him finally finding his emotions and finding his feelings and expressing them so honestly. And his little kiss on her forehead. Just end me. I can’t get over how precious the moments these two share truly are. It’s beautiful. ♥

Wooooowwww, so Jiwon was planning on quitting her job as a police officer??? But here we have Sunbae trying to encourage her to seriously think about this decision, because he's right. Giving up a job like that could have a huge affect on her entire life. And to get to work and work like crazy because they're mad busy lol. Ah, Sunbae.

And I just can't get over Hyunsoo and Jiwon's love. I really can't. I love how holds her hand and strokes it gently with his thumb. She asks "What were you thinking about in front of the store earlier?" And BAM! I was right! He was remembering the very first time he ever held Eunha. I'm sure he probably wanted to cry the first time he held her because his heart was likely overwhelmed with all sorts of feelings, but he didn't know how and he couldn't figure them out. And then he says when he met Jiwon, every single moment of his life was filled with first times and I just... I can't... Jiwon has been the most beautiful, welcoming, warming and positive force in his life. If it weren't for her, he may not have ever began his healing process from years upon years of trauma. I love the focus on their hands. I really do. Almost like he didn't want to let her go back to work, and even asking her if she'll be alright. Hyunsoo, you are such a wonderful husband to her. Goodness.

I do love how when Jiwon entered her workroom and the police chief snapped at her, Sunbae was quick to step up with the continued story of Eunha was sick and he sent her home, so she's not been made aware of the situation, which is half-true. Jiwon had NO idea that Yeom Sangchul busted loose and is on the run. Now, here's something interesting...

"How's your kid? Who's sick? Your first or second?"

WAIT... now why are they making it a point to show that Jiwon only has one child right now??? Is there... is that foreshadowing?? Could there maybe be a chance that Eunha might get a brother or sister in the future??? Or is that just my wishful thinking and overthinking it because the police chief just doesn't know enough about her as a person and that's what they're showing us? Hmmm... Well, here's hoping we get that happy ending with Jiwon pregnant and them having a new baby! *fingers crossed* lol Sorry. Just some Hyunsoo/Jiwon fanwishes. Anyway... I got a good chuckle out of the chief trying to cover his ass by passing out energy drink packets and of course Sunbae being his hilariously greedy self with wanting two and talking about the chief being cheap HAH! I laughed. And then Sunbae gets a call from Hyunsoo... WHAT!? What is going on now??? Wanting to talk where Jiwon can't hear?

So, Hyunsoo is still sitting at the front gate in his car and he's thinking back to something Yeom Sangchul said. "Think hard about it. Whom did you tell this secret to? Who do you think ratted you out to me?" Ooooo, I think Hyunsoo's onto something, though. I get why he doesn't want Jiwon to know, but hasn't he learned his lesson yet? Honey, things go south when you keep secrets from your wife. She's also a police officer. You do realize that, right? And she's a badass one at that. I get you're protecting her from knowing that someone is out to get you, but you gotta tread carefully love... you don't want to break trust between the two of you. You need her trust now more than anything.

Oh look, there's human trafficking trash man eating and the equal trash son laying in bed watching the news on his tablet. And her comes trash mom. Is he really still going to continue pulling off that whole fake slow talk "I just got out of a coma. Feel pity for me" crap? Please. We know he can speak just fine considering he did it earlier with the housemaid. Can he spare me the innocence? And why does he still seem to have himself convinced that Hyunsoo is going to kill him?? Hell, if anything, Hyunsoo will just want to help catch his ass and have him thrown in prison for the disgusting stuff Do Minseok did with him.

So, Moojin is going to play the noble idiot again once more for Haesoo by looking for Hyunsoo? Well, you don't gotta look too far, bro. He's a lot closer than you think. Also, the more I think about it, the more I'm with Moojin. Not because my heart is shriveling over him telling Noona to stop saying she'll turn herself in, but I agree. Sunbae let Hyunsoo go saying he has no interest in him anymore. If Noona goes to the police station now and outright admits to killing the village head all those years ago, there's also a chance that they'll all find out that Jiwon's husband is Do Hyunsoo. Sunbae might be willing to overlook that fact, but that doesn't mean the others will.

Side note, but Moojin, why do you think you deserve a SHRED of care from Haesoo after the shit you've pulled? Sorry but that got on my nerves. Stop comparing yourself to Hyunsoo and your importance to Noona. Hyunsoo is her little BROTHER. He's family. There's a HUGE difference. Jeez, Moojin. Stop being so pushy and clingy. She doesn't WANT to go home. She WANTS to go to the police station. You have no right to tell the driver where to send her. Ugh he's so frustrating sometimes. I have such mixed feelings about him.

Alright, so Hyunsoo and Sunbae are at a cafe now talking about the fact that Hyunsoo has a pretty good idea of who's put a hit out on him. That he'll give Yeom Sangchul a shit ton of money to kill him. And it flashes back to trash dad trying to talk Hyunsoo into leaving if he gives him 10 times the amount. WHY can't these people just leave him alone?? For fuck sake. Hyunsoo states it's just an assumption, but we know he's not wrong and he won't tell Sunbae who thinks the person is til he can confirm it for himself with Sunbae's help. This treading into some very dangerous waters.

Moojin, good grief why do you keep bothering her? We're all well aware you like Haesoo, but she isn't interested in a relationship with you or anyone else. She's at the police station, and it's kind of sad because she believes that Moojin is all Hyunsoo has left. She shows up and just about outs herself when Jiwon smoothly covers it up by claiming she's here to identify the human trafficking victims since it's connected to her father's serial killings.

Okay, so... I LOVE this scene. I LOVE their discussion on the rooftop. It's excellent because it's just what Haesoo needs to hear, no matter how harsh Jiwon came across, it was necessary. Haesoo wastes no time in admitting that she knows Jiwon knows everything, and that Hyunsoo had a very justifiable reason for living as Baek Heeseong. I do love how protective she is over her brother, and yet again, she admits to Jiwon that she killed the village foreman and not Hyunsoo. Haesoo, no... she does not think her husband is a dangerous person because they just spent the night before talking about literally everything. Hyunsoo told her everything he could possibly think of. Jiwon loves him unconditionally. She does not think her husband dangerous for a moment.

"Haesoo, Hyunsoo is no longer a little boy that you need to look after. He's the father of my child. He's my family. He's my person. Now, he has a wife who will stand by his side... no matter what happens. He told me his sister is a very kind person. Whenever something bad happened when he was young, he was always the first to be suspected. He told me you always went around telling people he's innocent. He didn't care what other people thought, but you were always the one who cried and felt upset about it. Because you're so kind, he thought you wouldn't be able to endure other people's criticisms. That's why he took the blame. He didn't care what other people thought about him. If you turn yourself in, he'll no longer be a wanted criminal. But he'll feel guilty and indebted to you for the rest of his life. I don't want that. So... please respect your brother's decision. And... you should be the one to feel guilty instead."

"I'm horrible, aren't I?" No, Jiwon. You are not. I won't lie, your words were harsh, but they had to be said. This was totally necessary. They absolutely had to be, because Haesoo needed to understand and know the importance in all of this. She needed to know that her brother is not alone. That he has a loving wife and family to stay by his side. Jiwon tells her that what they talked about today is that if Haesoo recognized any of the victims in regards to her father's crimes and that is supposed to say no. Noona cries and thanks Jiwon for trusting Hyunsoo. Because it's what he needs. A wife to love him, trust him and help him. Haesoo tells Jiwon that while she's still alive, she'll do everything she can to repay her... while she's still alive?? Is anyone else getting possible death flags from Noona...? I'm worried. Really worried about her. Like it has me nervous. If something happens to her after everything Hyunsoo did for her... I just don't even want to think about it.

#flower of evil #lee joon gi #moon chae won #do hyun soo #cha ji won #baek eun ha #lee joongi #moon chaewon #lee junki #lee jun ki #do hyunsoo #cha jiwon #baek heeseong #jang heejin #flower of evil episode 12 thoughts

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alisondepartedbear · 5 years ago

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Just Breathe

Everything is not what it seems in Swellview, a kidnapper is running amok while Henry faces some challenging trials in his life. The boy most overcome what is inside to deal with major life changes.

Part One / Part Two / Part Three

~~~~~

Chapter Four

"Good morning, this is Cheryl Gomez with Channel Six News." says the very attractive newscaster as she does every morning. I've had a huge crush on her since I was twelve. Every time I've been interviewed by her, being Kid Danger, I blush insanely under the mask and always have the biggest toothy smile.

"At 3:30 this morning, Elena Gilbert was reported missing. She was last seen crossing the street from Melbourne to Salvatore. She's five feet tall, dark brown hair-"

Piper gasps beside me when the photo of the girl appears on screen.

"She's in my grade! She's in my 3rd block!" Piper yells.

Oh my god.

"I saw her on Friday. She walked into the store." I whisper remembering her and her family.

"That would've been the day she went missing," She says. "You know, since it takes at least 24 hours to report a person."

A chill runs through my body at the possibility of her parents, Jasper, and me being the last people to see her. I have to go talk to Ray before school. Picking up my phone for the time I see its only seven. Ray couldn't possibly be awake but this was serious.

"Uh, Piper, I gotta go swing by work." I get up and grab my keys from the console table by the door.

"What do you mean? You're my ride!"

I spin back to her and tap my foot, putting my hands on my hips. "Piper,"

She rolls her eyes and looks to her phone. "Fine, I'll get a friend to take me."

"Thank you," I bow to her before walking out.

When I pull onto Thames street, I notice a cop car outside Junk'n'Stuff. I pull in behind them and park. Walking into the store, I see Ray, a cop, and an unknown man standing at the counter.

"Hey, kid," Ray says trying to conceal a confused face.

"Hey, what goes on?" I ask. My heart starts to speed up as I near the policeman. I always have this gut feeling that they know who Ray and I are.

Both men were dressed in the classic blue slacks and button up. Their badges shine from the lights in the room, almost blinding me. A man with thick framed black glasses and an Afro smiles at me.

"I'm Detective Shapiro," His voice was smooth and soft; trusting. "How are ya this morning?"

"Henry Hart, and I'm fine. What about yourself?" I can almost see the physical cringe when he clasps his hand onto my sweat soaked one. He shakes quickly before taking his hand back and wiping it on his shirt.

"Oh, just dandy. Do you know Ray or are you just a customer?"

"He's my second-in-command." Ray says with a smile that makes me beam. I get giddy when someone brags about me. It's like a dog wagging its tail; I almost always sit up and smile. "My left hand man,"

"Oh, that's great! Ray and I go way back, went to high school together."

I glance at his partner and know he's annoyed. This guy had a five o'clock shadow and tired eyes. He kept switching his gaze from his partner and the security monitors. He looked how I felt...dead. After my family's pity party yesterday, I couldn't help but create my own in my bedroom until late in the night. Standing here under the bright lights were making objects beat and pulse, I can't imagine what it'll be like at school.

"Oh, really," I force out. "Ray doesn't talk much about high school."

"There's a reason for it." I hear Ray say under his breath.

I look at him. He has his back turned to us doing what seems to be searching in a box. "Hey, Ray, can I help?"

"Yeah, do you know where the security tapes are from yesterday? For inside and outside."

I nod and walk behind the counter to get them.

"I can't believe you still use tapes. You're probably the only guy in town." said the unnamed partner.

Ray scoffs like he knows something magical about using tapes. "Well I guess we just like doing it the original way." He leans on the glass. "So have you guys got leads on the girl yet? Heard she was headed towards a bookstore on Salvatore,"

"There's not much to say." Detective Shapiro says shrugging. I turn back to them and set the four tapes on the counter. He picks them up. "But these tapes will sure help." He tapes them a few times with his fingers.

"Well, just hit me up if anything else is needed."

Detective Shapiro winks. "Of course, of course, let's go Parker." The silent cop follows after the Detective. That wink didn't help my nerves.

"Do you think they know who we are?" I ask Ray when the door shuts.

"No," He immediately says. Ray turns to me now, looking up and down. "You look a wreck. Why are you here?"

"For Elena! I just saw on the news. We gotta do something. This is the second kidnapping-"

"I know, and I got it. I'm just thinking." Ray makes his way to the back. I follow him.

"What are you thinking?"

Ray stops at the elevator and turns back. "Fine, I don't have any thoughts. But I did make an extra copy of those surveillance tapes." He says with a wicked smile.

"Good! We can go-"

"Nope," He grabs hold of my arm before I make it passed him. "You're going to school."

"I need-"

"I'll watch the tapes with Schwoz and make highlights. There's probably nothing on them. They said she was on Salvatore Street anyway."

"Ray, ple-"

"No, get out." Ray points to the front door sternly, eyebrows raised high.

I make it to school but not into the building. Something has me rooted to the seat. Glancing up at the school, I see our security man walking the perimeter, making sure no one was leaving cigarette butts in the parking lot, and that no kids were out smoking weed, skipping class, or having a panic attack.

A gasp runs through my chest with a sharp pain that makes me clench the skin above my heart. Closing my eyes, I try to breathe through my nose and out my mouth, but each release is gasps of air. My eyes squeeze shut and I lean forward. Without a thought, I recline the seat and lay back to curl into myself. Dad's words run through my head from last night, wondering how long he knew. The tears from last night return too. They fall harder when the images of Elena pops in my mind. Wishing I could go back and tell her parents to watch her all night. Last night I found the name of the boy that was kidnapped. Trevor Millton. He's only 11. I wonder how scared they are. How fast their hearts of beating from fear. If they're being feed. Trevor's been gone for almost five days. The body can't go without water for long.

I lay curled up and crying for a while, letting my mind slip into circle thoughts. Thinking about the kids dying, and about how I want to die. I wish it were cold enough to freeze me. I wouldn't need to deal with this if I were a ghost I think. But now, right here, my eyes burn and hurt. They feel tired from all the crying from the past twelve hours. Blindly, I reach in the back floorboard for a water bottle. After finding two, I take the cold bottles and press them on my eyelids. Some shuddering breaths come out from the sudden cold but I give in to the numbness it brings and sleep.

*knockknockknock*

...

*knockknockknock*

I peek with an eye over my shoulder to see Charlotte with a pinched face. Huffing a huge breath as I flip over, I raise the seat. When I open the door a warm breeze whips through almost shutting it again, Charlotte grabs a hold to open it wider.

"What are you doing?" She doesn't miss a beat.

"Taking a nap," The sun have risen a bit and I squint my eyes at her with a little smile. "What are you doing?"

"Checking if you're dead," She crosses her arms and leans against the door. "Officer Poke saw you and rather than yell at you, called for me to."

I snicker before letting my smile fall, remembering why I was taking nap. Charlotte sits on the concrete in front me. She wore jeans and a yellow shirt marked with little white sharks. Her hair was up showing off her dangling diamond flower earrings. I raise my finger to my ear and flip the lobe.

"Cute,"

She smiles and puts her hand to her ear too. I don't know if it's the heat outside but I could've sworn her cheeks looked tinted just then. "Thank you,"

I wave my hand at her, trying to be nonchalant. My fingers play with the frayed strings on the cut in my jeans. Another breeze comes through.

"What's going on?" She taps my shoes with her's.

I look down at her as I curl into my knees. "My-" I shield my eyes from her with my hand. "Things aren't great."

"I know, Henry. But I really believe that you and Ray-"

"Besides the obvious," I raise my voice. She's wrong. She's wrong.

Not wanting to get irritated, I close my eyes and try to control my breathing. Then the smell of orange blossoms come and I open my eyes again. Now Charlotte's standing in front of me, leaning against the door frame. Just a lot closer than before. Her doll eyes search over my face.

"What else is wrong?"

"My family," I could only manage a whisper. I didn't think she heard me until she reached with her hand and grabbed mine.

Squeezing my hand, she whispered back. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I shake my head. She steps back and lets go of my hand. Whipping my head up, not ready to let go, I see her with her arms a little open. "Hug me then,"

Stepping out of the car, my legs feel wobbly. She grabs my waist and pulls me close. I put my arms around her and lay my head against hers. My chest swells and I can't breathe again. I gasp and she starts to rub her hand on my back. With all my muscles I want to relax and let her comfort me, but a shake runs through my body and I let my head fall to her shoulder. My fingers grip her shoulders while I try to steady myself.

"Charlotte," I gasp out.

Charlotte holds me tighter, bringing me down further. "I know, I'm sorry." She repeats a few times. "I wish it wasn't like this."

A few minutes pass before I know I can look her in the eyes again. I pull away and sit back in the car. She looks down at me with soft smile and squeezes my shoulder.

"Please, talk to me when you're ready, even if it's super late. Okay?"

I nod.

"Alright," She steps back. "I'm telling Ms. Polly in the office that you need ten more minutes and then you'll be in. You cannot miss school. Ray will have you're head."

I nod returning the smile. "Thank you,"

She nods too before turning to leave.

That afternoon Charlotte, Jasper, and I went straight to Junk'n'Stuff. Jasper took his post upstairs while Charlotte and I headed down to Ray and Schwoz.

"We watched almost seventeen hours of footage, and found nothing." Schwoz says popping a cheese puff in his mouth. He looked very tired while he rested his head on the table with the couch.

Charlotte puts her hands on her hips. "You guys suck." She walks to Ray who was sitting at the computer.

"We have nothing to work off of!" Ray stands to pace about the front of the room. Charlotte takes her usual seat at the computer. "If we had all those security tapes the police do, we'd be golden."

"Well you don't." Charlotte logs into the computer and begins pulling up websites and programs.

"Little girl, we won't be friends if you keep talking like that." Schwoz snaps his fingers at her.

"Are we friends?" She asks putting an emphasis on the first word.

Schwoz scoffs in annoyance. I laugh at them as I sit next to him. When I steal a few cheese puffs, he pats my hand away. "So how was school?" He asks as he does everyday like the dad he is.

"Lame," I tell him shoving the puffs in my mouth, grabbing more.

"He's just saying that because he lost at HORSE twice." Charlotte doesn't even look back as she sasses.

"Why do you gotta tell him?" I whine. Ray passes me for a third time while pacing. "Why don't you ask your detective friend for help again? He seemed nice."

"Shapiro?" Ray scoffs. "No, he won't help. Too loyal to the force," He mocks.

"I'm not. Charlotte, you think you can get into police records?" I ask.

The phone on the desk rings. Charlotte picks up without answering me or the phone. She just sits and listens.

Ray walks up to stand behind her chair. "What are you doing?" He whispers.

She holds a finger up signaling him to be quiet. Silently, she writes a couple things on a piece of paper with her fluffy blue pen. Before too long, Charlotte puts the phone down.

"I got cop information." She says holding the paper as if it was gold. "There's a lead."

Ray snatches the paper from her to read. He smiles at Charlotte. "Good job. She found out about a tip. The person said there'd be another kidnapping at Swellview Park."

"How'd you do that?"

"There's a cop at the precinct that I pay to give me tips, as long as when he calls me I stay silent. He said there's a chance the line is recorded." She shrugs. I smile at her with pride. As always, she's three steps ahead of the rest of us.

"How much you pay him?" I ask.

"100 or 200 depending on the case,"

"That's smart," Ray nods then he whips his head to her. "Whose money are you using?"

"Yours," She says with a smile. "You don't pay me that kind of money to use my own."

"I know that's why I asked! You can't-"

"Shouldn't we go to the park?" I ask stepping in. "See if they need help,"

Ray gives up on yelling at Charlotte to grab his bubblegum. I do the same. We head to the tubes to leave.

"Wait, you need to be sneaky. He said they were planning to set up around the perimeter and put decoys in. So look for a big van or something they'd be in." Charlotte warns.

"What are you doing here?" The officer asks looking us up and down. He stood in the doorway of an unmarked black van parked near the back exit of Swellview Park. Two other cops are stuffed in behind him sitting at monitors.

"We figured you'd need the help and all." Captain Man says with a forced smile.

"Look, Captain Man," He leans against the door frame. "We don't need your help or your kid's. So go on back to the Bat Cave."

This happens a lot. We try to help and the police turn us away. They typically don't like us coming in and saving the day. Lately people have been gossiping about the police force and the hundreds of unsolved cases they set aside. Yesterday I even heard people saying Captain Man and Kid Danger were faster than the ambulances and the emergency teams. An elderly lady said we were the true heroes since we didn't get paid by the public. People in Bordertown and Neighborville were even chatting about wanting their very own Captain Man and Kid Danger.

Captain Man balls his fist before pointing a finger at the man. "Alright, loser-"

"Captain Man, how nice of you to join us?" Detective Shapiro says stepping out of an SUV. The car quickly speeds off after he shuts the door.

"Detective," He crosses his arms over his chest, looking up at the officer and smirking. "Just seeing how we could be of service,"

Detective Shapiro takes a sip from a Skyscraper Coffee cup. He smiles. "Of course, the more to help the better." He looks up at the van. "Evening, Officer Bladell,"

"Did you call him here?"

"No," Detective Shapiro pushes his glasses up his nose. "But we need the help if we want those kids back. You want those kids back, right, Officer?"

Officer Bladell says something under his breath as he backs into the van. Detective Shapiro hoists himself on the steps before turning back to us.

"How about you patrol the east side of the park near the woods? Also, if possible try to remain unseen. We don't want to tip this guy off."

Twenty minutes later, we're sitting in the woods. I found a fallen tree and took a space. We were at the edge of the woods and park, just barely hidden by low branches and leaves. For a moment I curse our red and blue suits for being so obnoxious and bright. I poke at the colorful fabric. To be honest, I don't think anything will happen tonight. The police department get tips like this all the time. But something must be different about this one. I wish Charlotte could get the written report instead of just word of mouth. We need a description of the voice. Was it a man, woman, or a child? Did they sound scared or cocky? Could they trace the call? Or was-

"Do you hear that?" Captain Man asks looking over his shoulder into the deep wood. I look with him.

Peering in the darkness, I see the over grown trees that have tangle together, vines, and even rope from old tire swings. I stare for a minute. "No, I don't hear anything."

Captain Man turns fully now to look into the woods too. I can see him really straining to mark out any noises that were animal, human, or vehicle.

"Hello," It was a far off echo. The voice was so faint I thought I made it up.

And then there's a wisp of white and I hear an echo of the word. I stand up, facing the direction. "I hear it now."

Captain Man begins marching to it and I follow him. I see another wave of white and start to move fasting.

"Hello," echoes around.

"Hello," I call back.

Branches break and another "hello" surfaces."

"Stay where you are," Captain Man calls. "Let's go, kid."

We run towards the noise and color. Thorns scratch my face and catch on my suit, I'm pretty sure ripping it harshly. My stomach feels bloated and large as I make it to a small meadow clearing. What was I expecting? I look around the area in excitement and terror. Then I notice a girl standing in a white gown near a black tree. Almost like ghost.

"Captain Man," She screams. The dark haired girl runs the remaining feet to crash into Captain Man. "Thank you. Thank you. I'm so cold! I've been running for hours."

"Shh," Captain Man hugs the girl back. "It's alright. You're safe with us."

She looks up to meet my eyes and smiles. "I knew you'd be the two to find me."

My mouth falls open and a lump forms in my throat. I force out words. "Elena Gilbert?"

Her smile doesn't falter. "Yes,"

Chapter Five

~~~~~

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syntheticpoetry · 5 years ago

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And the World Spins Madly On, Chapter 13

Summary: A few weeks after visiting Kurt in New York and confessing to cheating Blaine is attacked and left for dead, resulting in a traumatic brain injury. Burt finds him on his way home from work and calls Kurt to deliver the news. How will Kurt help Blaine pick up the broken pieces when his own heart is still so conflicted?

And The World Spins Madly On (ff.net link if you’d like to leave a review!) AO3 link

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12

“I do. He looks a little different, but I recognize him,” Cooper said quietly. Kurt stared at him through unfocused eyes. “What I want to know,” Cooper continued through gritted teeth. The anger rising off of him was palpable. It felt as though the cage of a lion had been kicked wide open and the beast was slinking out in search of flesh and blood. “Is why that piece of shit isn’t rotting in prison. And how you guys don’t seem to have a record in your database to match this against.”

“I don’t understand,” Detective Carson looked completely taken aback.

“He was one of the boys that attacked Blaine when he was fourteen. Two out of three of them were found not guilty despite the fact that they all killed someone after beating them both with a fucking tire iron. Surely, you must have heard of it, it was only four years ago.”

“Coop,” Kurt said warningly when Blaine had tried to bring one of his hands up to his forehead and cursed quietly when it collided with the front of the helmet. “He’s on our side here.”

“Sorry,” Cooper said strenuously. “But this has to be somewhere in your database, right?��

“Do you have a name? I can run a search when I get back to the station,” Detective Carson held his hand out to Kurt for the sketch. Kurt handed it back to him and scooted closer to Blaine, resting his palms on his lap while Blaine continued to shield his face. Despite the lighting in the room casting a distorted yellow tinge to his skin, up close Kurt could see just how pale he looked beneath a thin layer of sweat. ‘So much for calling this a good day,’ he thought bitterly as he stroked Blaine’s thighs slowly, hoping to channel some semblance of serenity into his trembling body.

“Logan Walker,” Cooper replied, struggling to keep the edge off of his voice. “They found him not guilty, along with Bailey Gibson, even though he was the one calling the shots. The only one they charged was Cody Byrne, his prints were the only ones on the tire iron. They couldn’t prove the other two were involved and this state isn’t exactly sympathetic about homophobic driven hate crimes.”

“Well, it matters to me,” Detective Carson responded, sounding rather reserved as he jotted down the list of names in a small notebook. “I’m gonna make sure we catch these guys and that they’re locked up for good this time. I give you my word.”

Cooper nodded stiffly and knelt down beside Blaine. “Hey,” He whispered, “You okay?”

Blaine let out a strained, strangled sound in affirmation and searched for Kurt’s hand while simultaneously fumbling with the clasp of the helmet. Kurt guided his fingers over to the proper spot and helped him squeeze the sides inward to unlatch it. At the sound of the tiny click!, Blaine forcibly pulled the straps apart and tugged the helmet off. He dropped it to the floor where it landed with a dull thud and proceeded to splay his right hand across his forehead now that the barrier was gone. “Are we done?”

“Yes, I know this has been very hard for you. I’m sorry, Blaine,” Detective Carson offered sympathetically. “I hope you’re able to enjoy the rest of your holiday.”

“Do you want to take some food with you?” Kurt asked. It had suddenly dawned on him that the reason Detective Carson was here now was because he was working instead of being able to eat at home with his own family.

“Oh, no, thank you––” Detective Carson proceeded to shove the small notebook into a small inner breast pocket of his jacket.

“No, please, I insist. You’ve been so helpful and understanding through all of this. Let me make you a plate,” Kurt interrupted him and motioned to pull his hands away from Blaine. Cooper stood up before he barely had the chance to retract his hands.

“Kurt, I’ll do it. Stay with him.”

Cooper disappeared before anyone could get another word in. Kurt turned his attention back to Blaine, who appeared to now be employing the breathing exercises Kurt had taught him over the previous days to manage his panic attacks. Kurt raised his hand up and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “You’re getting better at that, you don’t even need me to count,” he whispered, earning a solitary shaky laugh from Blaine that sounded more like a sharp exhale.

“I might need you to count,” Blaine dragged the fingers of his free hand across his forehead, and Kurt could hear how out of breath he sounded now that he was actually speaking more. “I keep losing track, my head is pounding.”

“Sure. You’re due for your medicine too, hopefully that’ll help with the headache,” Kurt spoke softly to avoid further aggravating his sensitivity to sound. The last thing he figured Blaine needed was another repeat of Monday afternoon. Detective Carson watched as Kurt proceeded to quietly count and guide Blaine through breathing exercises as though they were the only two people in the room. Cooper returned just as they were starting another round and furrowed his brows in concern. “Everything okay?” He offered a styrofoam plate covered in aluminum foil to Detective Carson, who had been too busy watching them to notice.

Kurt waited until the end of their round and spoke quickly while Blaine tried to continue on his own. “Yeah, can you grab his meds?”

“Yeah,” Cooper tapped Detective Carson’s arm to garner his attention. “Let us know as soon as you hear anything new?”

“Sorry,” Detective Carson quickly took the plate from him. “Yes, you have my word.” He waited until Cooper disappeared again and though Kurt was not looking at him he could tell he seemed to be hesitating for some reason. Within a few seconds he appeared to come to his senses and shuffled towards the front door. “I’m sorry again about dropping by like this. Thank you for the plate, enjoy the rest of your holiday.” He let himself out before Kurt could turn around and properly say goodbye.

“Mom, really, everything’s fine,” Cooper and Emilia’s voices grew louder as they entered the room together. He was walking in front of her, trying to shield Blaine from view but she pushed past him insistently.

“I just want to check— Oh, sweetie,” she had taken one look at Blaine hunched over in the chair before her forehead was wrought with wrinkled worry lines. “You don’t look well at all. Maybe we should get you home.”

This was evidently the completely wrong thing to say. Blaine’s head shot up so quickly it even left feeling Kurt dizzy and disoriented. He looked at Cooper, clearly alarmed, as the little remaining colour drained from his face. “Coop––”

“Relax,” Cooper said calmly, handing Blaine’s medication and a glass of water over to Kurt. “Mom, he’s not going back there right now.”

“Blaine, sweetheart, I came home to take care of you,” Emilia disregarded Cooper’s declaration and diverted her attention solely to Blaine. He squirmed uncomfortably as she continued to stare at him. Something about the way she looked at him made him feel as though he were under a microscope, waiting to be doused in chemicals just so she could witness the reaction. As far as he could remember, she had never shown this much interest in his well-being before.

“Since when have you wanted to take care of me?” Blaine blurted out. A mumbled curse beneath his breath let Kurt know the question had not been intentional.

Emilia stared at him with something of a mix between guilt and sorrow. The dull throbbing against his skull transformed into a steady pressure, forcing him to double back over and groan loudly. Emilia tentatively extended her hand towards Blaine, but Cooper had gently curled his fingers around her wrist to stop her. “Goddamnit. Fuck,” Blaine pressed his fingers against his forehead with such force the nail beds began to turn white. “Fuck.”

“Blaine,” Kurt nudged Blaine’s knee with his own. “Here, take these if you can.” He offered the two pills resting on his palm. Blaine squeezed his eyes shut and stomped his foot against the ground as the pressure began to peak. “I need a minute,” he mumbled strenuously.

“Let me get some ice,” Cooper released Emilia’s wrist and quickly dashed out of the room. Kurt set the glass of water down on the coffee table and closed his hand around the pills to avoid losing them. When Cooper returned, Kurt hastily accepted the ice pack and used his fist containing the pills to gently tap on Blaine’s fingers. “Honey, move your hand. Let’s try this,” Kurt pressed the paper towel clad ice pack to his fingers and Blaine tentatively withdrew his hand, releasing a quiet sigh as his forehead came in contact with the cold relief. “Helping?” Kurt asked softly. Blaine responded with a quiet grunt and closed his hand over Kurt’s, slowly rotating his forehead against the ice pack. Cooper had pulled Emilia aside, trying to continue the conversation in whispers, but Kurt was still able to hear every word.

“He’s not going back there—”

“Oh, honestly, Cooper, don’t be—”

“Did you even hear what he said about dad earlier? Did you know about that? Or is that something else you’re just pretending didn’t happen?” Cooper asked, his tone protective and resounding even at the low decibel he was trying to contain himself to.

“I know I haven’t done my best to stand up for him with the last time this happened,” Emilia replied. “But I’m not letting it happen again. It’s going to be different. I’m going to take care of him.”

“I’m not talking about that,” Cooper raised his voice slightly, agitated and impatient, and proceeded to guide her farther away, forcing himself to regain control. His voice was still shaking with the contained anger that had been impossible to weed out. “Didn’t you hear what he said about dad hitting him? Did you know about that? About him locking him up in closets?”

Kurt had to give her credit if she was acting, but he was willing to bet that her reaction was genuine. Her eyes darted over in their direction and Kurt could see the same wildfire that danced in Cooper’s eyes when it came to being protective over Blaine. And he also saw that she mirrored the same defeated expression Cooper had adapted just a few days prior when Blaine’s heavy confession about his father had finally come tumbling out. Cooper had a point though. Either she had completely disregarded Blaine’s accidental confession earlier or somehow did not seem to hear it at all. Both options weighed heavily on Kurt’s conscience currently as she stumbled her way through her reaction.

“No, he would never–– I would have noticed–– How long have you known?”

She had traversed through the stages of grief in the blink of an eye. Kurt turned his attention back to Blaine, who appeared to be oblivious to the entire conversation. He seized the opportunity to continue distracting Blaine and offered his medication again as the coating of the pills had begun to melt in the heat of his clenched fist. Blaine sluggishly leaned backwards until he could go no further but kept his hand over Kurt’s. Their fingers were clumsy and numb from the prolonged exposure to the ice. His eyes were still closed as mumbled his response, terrified any sudden movement would thrust him right back into the full force of the migraine that continued to ebb and flow. The throbbing had been subdued to a sporadic dull pulse on the left side of his forehead, but previous experience prevented him from being lulled into a false sense of security that it had fully passed. With some effort, he unfurled his fingers from around Kurt’s and relinquished his hand. Kurt set the ice pack onto the coffee table and flexed his fingers a few times before he was able to trust himself to grab the cup. “Here,” he prompted softly, pressing the pills against Blaine’s lips. Blaine allowed his lips to part just enough for Kurt to push them in one by one and took a small sip of water once he had tipped the cup against his mouth.

“Thank you,” Blaine’s voice had failed him, leaving him to helplessly mouth the words.

“You’re welcome,” Kurt encouraged him to drink some more water before setting the cup down again. “You look like you’re ready to crash,” he brushed his fingers lightly across Blaine’s forehead. Though the skin was now bright pink it was still cold to the touch. Blaine leaned forward into his touch and forcibly opened his eyes. “Are they fighting about me now?”

Kurt glanced over his shoulder and saw Cooper and Emilia had vanished. “I don’t think they’re fighting,” Kurt replied and slid his hand down to rest against Blaine’s cheek. “Do you want to go lay down?”

“Isn’t Isabelle coming soon?” Blaine closed his eyes again and gripped the arm rests on the wheelchair as a sharp throbbing above his left eye socket caught him off guard. “I know how excited you are to see her,” he tried to downplay the pain, but Kurt saw right through the charade.

“Blaine,” Kurt said softly.

“I wanted to meet her,” Blaine’s grip on the armrests slackened and he opened his eyes again. He somehow looked both disoriented and determined.

“It doesn’t have to be tonight if you’re not feeling well,” Kurt brushed his thumb gently over Blaine’s cheek. The tiny gesture had sent shivers down his spine.

“I’m okay, really,” Blaine insisted, continuing to lean his head into Kurt’s hand.

“For being such a great actor, you’re a terrible liar, you know,” Kurt smiled sympathetically.

“Don’t let me and my stupid headache ruin this,” Blaine said. Everything about his expression exuded desperation. “Please?”

“Fine, fine. If you say so,” Kurt conceded. “Shall we go join everyone at the table again?”

“What about Coop and my mom? Should I go talk to them?” Blaine seemed hesitant at his own suggestion. Kurt leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead. A gentle shiver ran through his body when his warm lips connected with Blaine’s cold skin. “They’ll know where to find us when they’re done. Sounded like Cooper needed to catch her up on a few things anyways.”

Blaine nodded a fraction of an inch and Kurt secured the helmet to his head once again before they returned to the table to find everyone had seemingly put their dinner on pause in their absence. Kurt took his seat beside Blaine and picked up his cutlery again, “You two really outdid yourselves this year, even without my help.” After that dinner proceeded like normal, each of them taking turns in conversation as though nothing had happened. Between encouraging Blaine to eat, despite the fact that it looked like the last thing on Earth he wanted to be taking part in, Kurt continued to text Isabelle beneath the table and had solidified a time for her to stop by. He had also given her an extremely hasty summarized version of events ending with Blaine isn’t feeling well but still wants to meet you. Cooper and Emilia returned as Finn and Carole were clearing the table. Their plates still remained in place, untouched. Both of their eyes were bleary and puffy with the untold story of a thousand secrets. Blaine’s eyes darted back and forth between them questioningly as Cooper took his seat and Emilia remained standing, her gaze unfocused.

“Mom, sit. Please,” Cooper pulled on her hand gently. She sank down into the chair beside him and dabbed at her eyes with the silky material of her powder blue blouse sleeve.

“What the hell happened? Why is she looking at me like that?” Blaine could no longer contain his thoughts. “Fuck, I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“Honey, I’m so sorry,” Emilia replied instantly, her eyes welling up with fresh tears. Cooper’s face contorted with what seemed to be disappointment as soon as she had spoken, as though she was a child who had betrayed a promise to keep a secret to herself. “Sweetie, I never knew.”

“Never knew what? Don’t tell me you never noticed anything,” Blaine said with an air of impatience. Kurt slid his hand onto Blaine’s thigh beneath the table in a gesture of comfort, but Blaine misinterpreted it as patronizing instead. “No, I wanna know why she’s looking at me like that. What were you guys talking about? Cooper,” Blaine narrowed his eyes at his brother suspiciously. He had completely lost control now. “What did you—” As he soaked up his brother’s guilty expression, a realization suddenly dawned upon him. “No. No, no, no, Cooper you didn’t.”

“Blaine, you have to try to calm down,” Kurt squeezed his thigh lightly. “Remember what we talked about—”

“Cooper, tell me you didn’t. You promised that was just between you and me. Tell me it’s something else. Tell me you didn’t,” Blaine asked urgently, ignoring Kurt. Snippets of one of the articles Isabelle had sent paraded to the forefront of Kurt’s mind— ‘Increased aggressiveness, increased anxiety, reduced self-control,’ — as Blaine remained hyper fixated, raising his voice. All of his sentiments were merging together like a train collision. There was no space in between for Cooper, or anyone, to get a word in against him. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” Blaine asked impatiently after what he must have perceived to be a long delay. In actuality, there had been maybe half a second between the question and his previous statement.

“Because I know you don’t want to actually have this conversation in front of everyone,” Cooper responded calmly. That seemed to force Blaine to come back to himself. One quick glance around the table and he suddenly realized Burt, Finn and Carole were still in the room with them. They had become ghosts in their own home, silently observing the Anderson family torturously ripping apart at the seams. “We were going to talk to you after dinner, wasn’t that what we agreed on, mom?” Cooper continued, still maintaining the same calm tone of voice. Emilia demurely nodded her head once. “But we can do that now if you don’t want to wait.”

The doorbell rang and no one moved. Kurt did not want to leave Blaine’s side, but knew full well who was at the door this time. “That’ll be Isabelle,” he said.

“I’ll let her in,” Burt offered, clearly desperate for the opportunity to leave the room. He left to answer the door and Isabelle’s bubbly voice carried over into the kitchen as she greeted him, completely unaware of the scene she was intruding on.

“What do you want to do, Blaine?” Kurt had not removed his hand from Blaine’s lap and continued to alternate between rubbing his thigh and squeezing it soothingly. He appeared to remain undecided, alternating his attention between Cooper and Emilia before he finally said, “Tell me yes or no first. Tell me that and then we talk later.”

Cooper sighed heavily and pushed his plate away. The silverware shook and clattered lightly against the porcelain in the silence. After what felt like eons crammed into the small stretch of time, he offered a simple, “Yes.”

Blaine clenched his fists together tightly and painfully tore his eyes away from his brother to look at Kurt. Whatever he was thinking, it was no longer evident in his expression. His tone had changed entirely. There was no anger or urgency anymore. Instead, he sounded almost confident as he asked, “So about that introduction?”

“Right,” Kurt replied numbly. Blaine the actor had finally made an appearance again. The one who had always been able to shove down his own emotions into the farthest depths as he prepared to perform for the world around him. The transition had always been so subtle. Something completely natural and unnoticeable. As Kurt’s body moved on autopilot to stand and navigate Blaine into the living room towards Isabelle’s faint laughter, he wondered how he had never been able to realize whenever Blaine managed to flip the switch between personalities.

‘Of course I’ve never noticed, he’s probably used the same trick on me a million times.’

In the living room, Burt was being completely steamrolled by Isabelle’s excitement as she jabbered away. Her face lit up when Kurt wheeled Blaine into the room. “Hello, my darling!” She glided over to him as though she was some ethereal being simply floating above the floorboards and wrapped an arm around Kurt in a one handed embrace. In her other hand she was carefully balancing an aluminum pie tin. She pulled away, positively beaming, and turned her attention to Blaine. “And you must be Blaine, I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Uh-oh, is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Blaine jested and smiled, extending his hand out to her. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“It’s a good thing. I’m a hugger, if that’s alright with you, darling,” she leaned over to give him the same warm hearted welcome she had offered to Kurt once he had lowered his hand and agreed. “Sorry, I’m late. You know how these family get togethers go. Put us all in a room and the sun will be rising if no one cuts me off.”

“I can see why Kurt gets along with you so well,” Blaine laughed. Kurt was finding it far more difficult than he was to slip into the idea of normalcy as the scene played out. He was roused from his daydreaming when Blaine had subtly reached out to touch his hand and smiled without missing a beat.

“Sorry, don’t mind me. Starting to slip into one of those post food comas,” Kurt squeezed Blaine’s hand gently, tethering himself back down again.

“I hope you’ve saved room; this pumpkin pie isn’t world famous for nothing!” Isabelle held it up as though it was an Olympic torch. “Do you need help setting anything out?”

“No, no, don’t be silly,” Burt interjected. “Make yourself comfortable, I’m going to help my wife bring out the rest of the desserts. Can I get you something to drink?”

“A coffee would be fabulous. Thanks so much.” Isabelle set the pie plate on the coffee table and took a seat on the couch as Burt disappeared into the kitchen. “Did you boys have a good Thanksgiving?”

“It’s been eventful, to say the least,” Blaine mumbled to himself.

“What’s that?” Isabelle asked.

“Nothing,” Blaine straightened up in his seat. “How are you liking being back home? Kurt said you grew up in Ohio.”

“It’s always nice to see everyone, but I would be lying if I said I missed actually being here. My heart’s still in New York. It gets too quiet here for me, I need the buzz of the city.”

“There really is nothing quite like it,” Kurt agreed fondly.

“Sounds like you both really miss it,” Blaine said. His act had betrayed him and the statement had come out sounding forlorn and distant. As Kurt opened his mouth to reply, Burt returned carrying a large platter with assorted cookies balanced on one hand and Isabelle’s coffee in the other. Behind him the rest of the family followed in line, Finn carrying some small plates, Carole with a homemade chocolate cake, Cooper with silverware and some napkins, and Emilia, who had managed to make herself appear more composed. After everyone had settled in, the remainder of the evening flew by in a whirlwind of laughter as Isabelle regaled them with stories of what she liked to call ‘New York Moments.’ Blaine contributed to the conversation, flawlessly falling into step with Isabelle’s ardor as though they were old friends. Kurt had been so caught off guard, he struggled to keep up with them. His mind still lingered on just how seamlessly Blaine had managed to transition into this character he was playing. A character that looked a lot like the old, ultra-confident boy who had taken hold of Kurt’s hand at Dalton and led him down a hallway towards a performance that literally had changed their lives. As he took the backseat and observed their interactions, some tiny part of his brain chirped quietly from his subconscious. ‘Which Blaine is the real Blaine?’

At around midnight though Blaine had seemingly exerted all of his energy and was struggling to stay awake. Every few seconds or so Kurt noticed him nodding off and waking with a jolt as his chin came down towards his chest. He would cross his arms and straighten his back, trying to sit tall and keep himself awake. After the fourth time it happened Kurt subtly leaned forward to whisper to him as Isabelle continued to entertain everyone else, “Time for bed?”

“M’supposed to talk to Coop and my mom,” Blaine drawled on sleepily and rubbed his eyes.

“There’s always tomorrow. Plus you have an early start, don’t you?” Blaine looked puzzled and Kurt continued. “Your follow up appointment and then you have that session with Dr. MacManus.”

“Oh, right. I forgot.” The words came stretched on the wings of a long yawn. Blaine rubbed his eyes again and Kurt patted his thigh lightly.

“Come on, I’ll lie down with you,” Kurt said.

“You can stay up if you want,” Blaine paused through another long yawn and pulled on the chin strap of the helmet. “I know you probably want some one on one time with Isabelle. Don’t argue, I know that you do,” He added before Kurt could protest. He was not wrong; Kurt did want to catch up with her away from everyone else. Especially after the performance Blaine had just given.

“Okay. You want me to help you to bed at least?”

“Yeah, could you, please?” He pulled on the helmet strap again. “Can’t wait to take this thing off.”

Kurt smiled sympathetically and stood up. “I’m just gonna help Blaine to bed, I’ll be right back.”

“I didn’t even realize how late it is,” Cooper announced in reply. “Mom, I should probably drive you home. We have to be up early tomorrow,” Emilia looked as though she wanted to argue, but thought better of it and nodded. “Burt, Carole, thank you for having me,” Emilia said sheepishly.

“Our pleasure,” Burt responded.

“Blaine?” She approached him tentatively and stopped just shy of arm’s reach. He looked up at her, his head heavy with drowsiness. “Can we talk tomorrow?”

Blaine nodded slowly in his sleepy trance and she smiled wearily before turning on her heel to approach Cooper. “Wait,” Blaine’s small voice drew her attention back to him and he shyly continued, “You’re not gonna hug me goodbye?” Something broke within her and it was evident on her face as she leaned over to embrace him. Kurt watched them sadly, knowing full well that he was going to stay up and wait for Cooper to return to press him for the details of their earlier conversation. When they finally broke apart everyone took their time saying their goodbyes before Cooper and Emilia left.

“Isabelle, could you hang around for a bit?” Kurt asked as he unlocked the wheelchair brakes.

“Of course, darling.”

“Kurt, I could help him to bed if you want,” Finn surprisingly announced. “If Blaine doesn’t mind, that is.” Kurt and Blaine simultaneously responded.

“It’s okay, I’ve got—”

“I don’t mind.”

Kurt yielded control of the wheelchair to Finn and gently patted Blaine’s shoulder. Blaine brought his hand up and placed it over Kurt’s, lingering momentarily before dropping it down onto his lap again. As they rounded the corner and disappeared he turned to Isabelle. “Wanna step outside for a minute?” They navigated their way through the kitchen and towards the garden table. The second Kurt had slid the screen door shut, Isabelle’s animated voice permeated the quiet air, “You’re positively smitten with him.”

“That obvious, huh?” Kurt’s shoulders slumped and he sank down into one of the dark green metal chairs. “I know you said to set boundaries, but I realized that’s all I’ve been doing since I got home. Setting rules and keeping my distance. It was exhausting. He’s apologized a million times and I really do believe him. I want to forgive him. I want to trust him again. I want him to trust me because it’s obvious to see now that he’s been holding so much of himself back. Does that make me crazy?”

“How did it feel when you kissed the other night?” Isabelle asked.

“It felt,” Kurt could not help but smile as he reminisced. “Like coming home.”

“I don’t think it makes you crazy, Kurt. But have you two talked more about everything since then?”

“A little,” Kurt replied guiltily. “Not really. Not as much as we should have. There are just so many other things going on right now, I’m waiting for the right time.”

“Can I give you my honest opinion?”

“Always.”

“It sounds like you’re avoiding some of the difficult stuff because you’re trying to protect him. Which doesn’t seem fair to either of you,” Isabelle said.

“So, what should I do?” Kurt asked desperately. “Everything is such a mess and I just want it to be normal again.”

“What’s keeping you from forgiving him?” Isabelle asked. “Are you afraid he’ll do it again?”

“I was,” Kurt replied automatically.

“And you aren’t anymore?” She probed.

They sat in silence as Kurt contemplated his response. Deep down, he really did believe Blaine had regretted his actions. That he had acted only out due to a combination of their miscommunication and his own mountain of insecurities. The more he was coming to learn about Blaine’s past through his accidental confessions the more he came to understand the complex machinery of his ex-lover’s inner world of twisted turmoil. Aside from Cooper, anyone Blaine had ever come to trust or rely on had completely betrayed or disregarded him. He had been singled out and bullied not only at school, but at home too. Two of out of his three previous attackers had been allowed to walk free from an assault and murder charge. And while Kurt had offered him his own trust and love, Blaine still kept himself guarded. He had only allowed Kurt to view tiny glimpses of his life, and even that appeared to be an act bred of his own need to please others while casting himself aside. He thought back to Blaine’s confession in New York — ‘I thought I was losing you’ — and felt his stomach lurch. He had let his demons fester and infect their relationship to the point of believing Kurt would abandon him the same way everyone else he had ever come to rely on did.

“He wouldn’t do it again,” Kurt said finally.

“Something is keeping you from forgiving him though. And until you figure out what it is, you’re going to be stuck in this same loop, sweetie. Where things sort of feel normal, but you’re still avoiding these major problems and they inevitably resurface,” Isabelle offered a sympathetic smile and reached over to the table. Kurt slid his hands into hers.

“I think,” Kurt said slowly, the wheels in his head still turning slowly as he continued, “What’s holding me back is that it feels like he can’t trust me enough to show me who he really is,” he exhaled sharply and tilted his head back slightly as his vision became blurry with the threat of tears on the horizon. “And if he can’t trust me to let me in, how can I trust him? That Blaine you just met in there? That’s partly him, but it makes me wonder how much of himself he keeps locked away when he isn’t trying to please everyone around him.”

“Well,” Isabelle said softly, “There you go.”

“I keep wondering if he would still be keeping everything to himself if he was able to control it. I think about it a lot, actually. He’s become completely incapable of keeping secrets, and I’m scared he’ll just hide himself away again the second he’s able to,” Kurt sniffled loudly. “If he’s able to, I guess. Since they have no idea what kind of lasting damage there will be. God, this whole thing is just terrifying. I wish it never happened.”

“I'm sorry, sweetie,” Isabelle offered consolingly. “I find it best not to let my mind wander too far away from the situation I’m in. Otherwise the possibilities will never end.”

“It’s funny you say that because I’ve been parroting the same response to everyone else,” Kurt laughed sardonically.

“Time to practice what you preach then, my friend.”

“I suppose you’re right, as usual,” Kurt pulled a hand away to run his fingers through his hair.

“I know it’s difficult to think about, but what are your long term plans, Kurt? Say you forgive him and you boys make up, then what?” Isabelle asked with innocent curiosity. The way she posed her inquiries never felt like the interrogations that Rachel usually subjected him to. And he loved her for that. She had a sort of candor about her that could make anyone feel right at home.

“I really don’t know,” Kurt replied quietly. There had not been much time to consider the possibilities of reconciliation between them when everything forced him to focus on the moment. The scope of his vision had been reduced to day-to-day, measured in good ones or bad ones depending on how much Blaine had either regressed or accomplished.

“Just something to ponder and maybe discuss with him, don’t you think?” Isabelle cocked her head to one side and smiled half-heartedly. He knew she was right. Of course she was right. She had been right about everything already thus far.

“Yes,” Kurt replied, resigned. “I’ll talk to him this weekend. We need a mature heart-to-heart, that’s pretty evident.” Isabelle squeezed his hands and smiled. “So,” Kurt continued, shrugging his shoulders slightly. “What did you think of him?”

Isabelle laughed. “Well, he’s certainly a teenage dream, that’s for sure.”

“Yes,” Kurt laughed quietly. “Yes, he is.”

___________________________________________________

“Tell me again why we had to make this appointment so early?” Blaine drawled in the passenger seat and dragged his knuckles across his eyes in a desperate attempt to knead away the exhaustion overtaking his eyelids. Beside him Cooper spared a moment from scanning the road for the right building to roll his eyes.

“Since when is ten o’clock early for you?”

“Lay off, it’s not my fault,” Blaine responded grumpily and folded his arms across his chest.

“I’m only teasing,” Cooper smoothly navigated his way into a parking space and shifted the gear into park. The car lurched briefly as it came to a still and he twisted the key in the ignition, abruptly cutting off the song Blaine had been quietly singing along to. “Was last night as bad as the rest of the week?”

“You mean you somehow slept through all the screaming?” Blaine mumbled as he unlatched his seatbelt and slid it across his chest slowly.

“I only came back this morning to pick you up,” Cooper replied. “I stayed at home last night.” Blaine tugged at the strap of his helmet and spared a sideways glance at his brother. “Didn’t plan on it, but I kind of got into a screaming match with dad and then stayed up late talking to mom after. I just ended up napping there for a few hours before I came back to get you ready to go.”

“Oh,” Blaine offered quietly.

“I know you want to ask about it, I can tell,” Cooper responded. “But we’re gonna be late, so we can talk about it later. I promise.” Blaine nodded meekly and sent his mind into overdrive as Cooper exited and proceeded to help him out of the car. It was another conversation to add to the growing list ahead of them. He thought back to his outburst at dinner last night after Cooper and their mother had returned to the table and found himself lingering on the way she studied him with such pity in her eyes. He felt naked and embarrassed being exposed like this, constantly under observation from everyone. Despite their best efforts, he knew they were all walking on eggshells around him. He hated it. It made him feel fragile. One false move and he would crumble to pieces before their eyes, just like they all expected him to.

______________________________________________

“So how was your holiday?” Dr. MacManus asked. She was sitting opposite Blaine on a red leather, cushy armchair with one leg crossed over the other. Perched against her thigh was a yellow legal pad. Blaine propped his head up on the arm of the wheelchair and stared out of the window into the parking lot. The sky has become overcast in dark grey between his first appointment and the trip to her office, bearing the threat of an impending storm. The irony was not lost on him. “Your brother mentioned your parents came home.”

“I saw my mom,” Blaine stated tonelessly. “Not my dad. What else did he tell you?”

“I want to hear your version of events, Blaine. Not his.” She folded her hands atop the pad and waited patiently.

“What if I don’t feel like talking right now?” Blaine said bitterly. In actuality, he had come prepared with a million burning questions buzzing around his head until the news from his follow-up appointment earlier in the morning wiped everything away. While Cooper had already reminded him of the upcoming brain surgery they had scheduled for mid-December, neither of them were prepared for the news that Blaine’s knee might never heal properly even with the elective surgery to repair his ACL. At the mention of the word ‘cane’ Blaine had completely shut down and tuned out the rest of the conversation. While the vertigo had him worried for when he felt well enough to start dancing again the thought of never being able to dance again at all had been too much to bear.

“That’s okay too, if you don’t feel like it right now,” Dr. MacManus’ voice cut through the buzzing self-pity and he sighed heavily.

“This just fucking sucks. All of it. It’s not fair,” Blaine finally stated. He turned away from the window to face her and had suddenly adapted Kurt’s habit of speaking with his hands as he continued to lash out. “I just want it to stop. I want to stop feeling so useless and scared. I want everyone to stop looking at me like a pathetic broken toy. I just— Is it so much to ask for a fucking break? Just one.” He dropped his hands onto his lap and returned his gaze to the window. “Maybe I deserved it.”

“What do you mean by that, Blaine?” She leaned forward in her chair.

“What?” Blaine begrudgingly glanced in her direction, keeping his eyes downcast to pretend like he was not trying to notice her, before returning to gazing out at the parking lot.

“You said ‘maybe I deserved it,’ what did you mean by that?”

“Goddamnit, I didn’t mean to— I can’t even keep my own thoughts private either. Everything is just out on display for everyone all the damn time!” Blaine raised his hands up in exasperation. She offered a sincere, sympathetic half-smile in return. He dropped his hands down into his lap and curled them into fists, tugging at the fabric of his pants. Kurt would have a heart attack if he saw the wrinkles he was working into the material. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Alright, well can you tell me what kind of person you think deserves what happened to you?” Dr. MacManus asked politely.

“I don’t know,” Blaine replied, losing the edge in his voice. “No one.”

“If you believe nobody else does, then why would you think that you do, Blaine?”

“Because,” Blaine replied automatically and pursed his lips together to try to stop the remainder of the thought. As usual, it came tumbling out before he could stop himself. “I’m a bad person.”

“Why?” She pressed on.

“Stop,” Blaine whispered. He wanted to scream. Wanted to rip up the ugly beige carpet she had lined her office with and hide himself away like all of the secret things you kept away from the world beneath the floorboards.

“Why do you think you’re a bad person?” Her tone was gentle, but the alarm bells in his brain still told him it felt like an attack. She was interrogating him. Pushing him. Even after they had established he did not need to discuss anything he did not want to talk about.

“Stop,” Blaine repeated, louder this time. “Stop it.”

“Blaine,” She set the blank legal pad aside and uncrossed her legs. “I think you have a lot of anger and pain that you don’t know how to deal with any other way than turning it inward toward yourself. I know you aren’t going to exactly trust me after the one session we had at the hospital, but I am on your side here. I can’t help you if you don’t let me. Deep down past this barrier you’ve put up I think you do want that help, or else you wouldn’t have agreed to keep seeing me once you were discharged. I could guess at things. I could bring up all your brother’s concerns. But we both know unless you bring yourself to say what’s bothering you it’s not going to matter what I do or don’t know. It has to come from you.”

Blaine chewed on his lip and ran his fingers over the clasp of the helmet chin strap. “I think my dad hates me,” he surrendered quietly. “I don’t know when it started, but I think that he does. And for as long as I can remember, which— let’s be honest, that doesn’t mean much these days,” He added the small jab of self-deprecation as a joke. She did not laugh. “I figured there must be something wrong with me. Something I must have done. Because what other reason could there be? And on top of that, what do I go and do to the one person I love more than anything in this whole world? Cheat on him. Hurt him. So, yeah, maybe I deserved what was coming. Maybe it was just the universe fighting back to balance the scales again.”

“And I think truly terrible things happen to very good people sometimes, Blaine. There’s a lot to unpack here so let’s break this down a little bit, okay?” He nodded stiffly and took to chewing on his fingernails instead. “What makes you think your father hates you?”

“Before he started completely ignoring my existence?” Blaine said bitterly before he ripped off a piece of his nail between his teeth. He spit the fragment into his lap. “He used to hit me and lock me in closets. Would tell me I wasn’t his son. After the first attack he just took to flat out ignoring and avoiding me.” He moved onto another fingernail to gnaw on. After confessing this all to Cooper, Kurt and Finn the other day it seemed easier now to let the words come tumbling out to her.

“I’m very sorry to hear that, Blaine. Can you remember how old you were when this started?”

“I don’t know, maybe like 10? Things get kind of jumbled around when I try to think about it.”

“Can you remember anything before then?”

“Sometimes, but not really. Bits and pieces with Cooper, but a lot of it feels,” He paused as he wracked his brain for the right word. “Fuzzy? I don’t know.”

“Barring your physical injury, there could be a number of things attributing to that,” She said and pulled the legal pad back to her to finally begin writing on it.

“Like what?” He shifted in his seat to sit up and a sharp jolt reverberated from his knee straight down the rest of his leg. He grimaced and casually placed his hand over his knee as though he could press the pain back down into the synapses responsible for causing the painful response to his sudden movement. Dr. MacManus’ eyes were on the pad, focused on writing. She had not noticed.

“There’s a chance your brain could have repressed certain memories, sort of like a defense mechanism. Sometimes people are simply just unable to remember things past a certain age. Your recent trauma, coupled with the previous assault, has also had a profound effect on you and PTSD can cause lapses in memory or blackouts. There are some exercises we can try in later sessions, but right now I want to focus on things you can remember. You say you think you were around 10, do you remember anything leading up to the moment?”

“Not— No, not really,” Blaine ripped off another nail fragment and shoved his hands beneath his thighs to stop himself as Kurt’s voice sounded off in his head to dissuade him against the further mutilation. “I just remember him shoving me in. He was,” He squinted as though it would bring the fuzzy image into focus. “He was angry about something, I could barely understand him, he was screaming so loud. I couldn’t tell you what he said, it’s just this like… garbled static.”

“Was anyone else at home?” She peered up at him, her pen still poised on the pad.

“Cooper was gone by then, moved out to LA. My mom,” Blaine frowned and strained to recall. “I don’t know if she was there. I don’t think she was. I think it was just my dad and me.”

“Who would let you out again after he locked you in?”

“He would,” Blaine shifted and pressed his hands down against the seat to fight the urge to start chewing on his nails again. “I don’t know how much time would pass in between. Progressively, I think he kept me in there longer and longer. The harder he hit me, the longer it felt like I was in there anyways.”

“Can you remember any happy memories with him?”

“Some, I guess. Mostly the ones involving Cooper. Just me and him though? Barely. It’s been harder to remember things like that lately. I get… confused sometimes. This week has been kind of tough.”

“Do you want to talk about that at all?”

Blaine squirmed and caved in, resorting to chewing on his thumb nail. His words came rushed, just as they had last night, with very little space in between the sentences. “I’m guessing Cooper told you about it already. It’s been getting worse. I can’t sleep through a single night anymore. I forgot who Kurt was the other day. That’s never happened before. I wanted to die when they told me, because that’s what it felt like. Like I’d been kicked in the chest and my heart was going to stop. I’m terrified I’m gonna just lose it all one day. That everything will be wiped away and I’ll just be some helpless blank slate who can’t even remember his own name.” He seemed shocked at his own admission.

“Did you mean to say that out loud?” She asked.

“I think I did, actually,” Blaine replied. She smiled.

“It’s difficult to accept when things are out of our control. I have to imagine that constant fear makes it nearly impossible to concentrate, which can be why you have such a difficult time with your memories. Again, I’m sure the physical injury has something to do with it, but you saying it’s been getting worse since the nightmares and flashbacks have been progressively getting worse leads me to believe it’s more the anxiety you’re feeling than anything else. I want to give you a prescription for Zoloft, I think it can help with the panic attacks.”

“Great, more meds,” Blaine grumbled. He remembered the name from a television commercial. “Isn’t that for depression?”

“There’s nothing wrong with needing a little extra help sometimes, Blaine,” She smiled sympathetically. ““It can help with PTSD and anxiety too; it’s called an SSRI. If it’s the right medication for you then we’ll start to see a decrease in those panic attacks and feelings of fear and helplessness.” She cast a sideways glance on the clock above the door. “We still have a little more time; do you want to talk more about your recent break up? It seems to be weighing pretty heavily on you, based on your previous statement. It must be really hard being around your ex with completely different dynamics.”

Blaine hovered his palm over his mouth to hide the way his lips had tugged into a smile. He had no clue what to call whatever was happening between him and Kurt. The entire thing confused him to no end, but he worried bringing attention and talking about it would cause whatever good thing they had going to come to a screeching halt. No. He wanted to keep that for himself for now. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Sure, Blaine. Have you been practicing those relaxation and grounding exercises I passed along to your brother?”

“I try to. Kurt’s been helping me with breathing exercises too.” ‘I can almost do them without his help.’ The thought had remained contained within his own head for once. “I’ve been okay for the most part when I’m awake, but when I fall asleep,” He trailed off. The image of Kurt’s face from the other morning when he had forgotten him, terrified and absolutely devastated, had become ingrained into his thoughts. If there was anything he wished he could permanently erase, it was that pained expression. “I can’t control what happens then.”

“Are the nightmares about the recent attack?”

“Most of the time. Sometimes the first one. Sometimes,” Blaine swallowed hard and cleared his throat quietly. There had been more than a few nights when he could not tell which nightmares were actual memories or over exaggerated depictions of his darkest, deepest fears. “Sometimes it’s other stuff, but mostly that.”

“Extra stress can sometimes be an added trigger. It’s going to take some time for the Zoloft to kick in before we notice any changes. I know it’s a difficult thing to ask, may even seem impossible, but working on managing that stress and focusing on staying relaxed is probably the best thing you can actively do right now.”

“You’re right,” Blaine restlessly brushed his fingers over his lips. Their hour long session was starting to feel like a director’s cut version of a Lord of the Rings film. “That does sound impossible.”

“You mentioned breathing exercises, do you do those regularly or only in response to the panic attacks?”

“Usually after I’m already worked up or starting to feel really anxious.”

“I want you to try to incorporate it more throughout your day. I would try to do it right before bed. Or something you find relaxing. I remember you mentioned your love of music at our last session?” Blaine nodded once to affirm her recollection. “Do something you enjoy, make your bed feel like a safe place instead of treating it like somewhere you go to relive your worst memories.”

“And if that doesn’t work?” Blaine asked apprehensively.

“Then we’ll think of something else. One step at a time, Blaine.”

“Yeah, well I’m not exactly taking any actual steps anywhere anytime soon,” Blaine grumbled under his breath and tugged at the chin strap.

“I take it you got some bad news?” She inquired. By then he’d had enough. He could not remember what time they started, but there was no way they had not exceeded the hour.

“Can we end here for now? I just,” He shifted in the chair again. Within the last fifteen minutes he had grown progressively more restless and uncomfortable. “I’m really tired and I’m just really sick of talking about myself today.”

“Okay,” She smiled politely. “You did really well today, Blaine. I know it may not feel like it, but you are making progress in your recovery.” He returned her statement with a tight lipped smile. “Is it still okay that I talk to your brother? You still want him involved, correct?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Do I need to be in here for it?” His hands were already positioned on the wheels, ready to leave. At the first sign of her head tilting forward he was wheeling himself towards the door. With some effort he twisted the doorknob and maneuvered his way out into the waiting room where he had left Cooper at the start of the session. He was in the exact same chair, his legs stretched out in front of himself with his arms folded across his chest. His head was tilted down towards his chest. He appeared to be asleep.

“Coop?” Cooper immediately lifted his head and looked in his direction. He looked as exhausted as Blaine felt and the fragment of the early morning conversation came fleeting from the depths of the abyss to remind him that Cooper had also not gotten much sleep the night before. Blaine glided over to him and did not wait for a response. “She wants to talk to you.”

“Go okay?” Cooper unfurled his arms and stood up, stretching languidly.

“Yeah, I guess,” Blaine shrugged. “I’ll wait for you here.”

Cooper gave his shoulder a gentle pat and disappeared into Dr. MacManus’ office, leaving Blaine to sift through a pile of magazines. It was moments like this he wished he still had his phone. He made a mental note to talk to Cooper about getting a new one sometime soon. He glanced at a clock on the wall and was shocked to discover it was nearly half past four. After the events of the day he was not sure where he was supposed to muster the energy from for the conversation he was still meant to have with Cooper and his mother. If it was still happening. Cooper had not mentioned it at all yet. He took to wheeling himself around the table in the center of the waiting room to pass the time, trying to force himself to stop stealing glances at the clock. The more he tried to avoid it though, the more his head jerked upwards to see that the minute hand had only moved a fraction of an inch.

He sighed loudly and decided to go back to the pile of magazines. At first glance, they all seemed to be outdated copies of Psychology Today. At the very bottom of the pile, the last glossy booklet caught his attention. The words ‘DANCE’ was written across the top in bold yellow font, with ‘The world at your feet’ in smaller text beneath it. The text beside the man featured on the cover said ‘Andy Blankenbuehler’s Broadway.’ The subject, presumably Andy Blankenbuehler, was dressed in charcoal gray slacks and a long-sleeved white button-up dress shirt. Both the top two and bottom two buttons were undone, letting the shirt fall loosely over his clearly toned physique. Around his neck was an undone green and black checkered tie. Perched atop his head was a black felt bowler hat. He had been photographed mid pose that very much reminded Blaine of a scene straight out of Chicago, it was a classic sexy jazz pose. He had one leg bent at a forty five degree angle, the other straight out, as his torso twisted towards the camera. Only the profile of his face was visible, especially with the bowler hat tipped down. One hand was positioned near the brim of the hat, his ring finger resting comfortably against the accessory to tilt it downwards.

The image sent chills down his spine as he plucked the magazine off of the table and continued to study it in his lap. He knew this move. Had practiced and perfected it in his bedroom and the McKinley auditorium. Seeing it now had ignited something in the pit of his stomach. At first he thought it might have been jealousy or some rampant form of self-pity festering and bubbling up to remind him of the conversation from the doctor’s office earlier. But as he continued to stare, he recognized that it was not a malicious feeling. It was motivation. He was not going to sit and be told what was and was not to be expected of his recovery. They had repeatedly told him what a shock it was to see him awake from the coma with so many pieces of himself still intact. So why should he force himself to be resigned to the possibility of never being able to dance again just because some doctor had told him so?

He was still staring at the cover by the time Cooper had returned with Dr. MacManus at his side. “Ready to go?”

Blaine glanced up at them and nodded. “Dr. MacManus, can I keep this?” He held up the magazine.

“Sure, Blaine. Nobody usually reads them anyways. Enjoy it.”

They said their goodbyes and confirmed the next appointment set for Tuesday. In the car, Blaine had kept the magazine propped on his lap and silently continued to study the image as Cooper drove. The radio volume had been set so low the music was barely audible, causing a strange white-noise sensation to fill the space surrounding them. As Cooper pulled onto the highway, Blaine’s eyes were still on the cover as he spoke, “I don’t care what they say, I’m gonna dance again, Coop.”

“I know you are, Blaine.”

_______________________________________

This is the magazine cover

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thecleverdame · 5 years ago

Text

Caught - Part One

Sam x Reader

Summary: You're arrested and interrogated as an accomplice to the notorious Winchester brothers.

Warning: Talk of past violence, death of parents, rape and abuse.

Words: 3.5k

Beta: ilikaicalie

Part 2, 3 & 4 are available now on my Patreon for a monthly pledge of 2.50. This pledge includes early access to all my stories and Patreon exclusive content. >> CLICK HERE <<

“Y/N.” Detective Marlow says your name as if you’ve been sent to the principal's office, slapping a file folder on the table in front of you with the flare of a television detective. “I have to admit, I’ve been looking forward to the day I got to talk to you in person.”

“Well,” you sit back in your seat, holding out your hands for her to uncuff you. “I hope I live up to expectations.”

“I have no doubt you will.” She grins, unlocking the restraints. “I’d ask if I need to worry about you, but you’re not the violent one. Sam and Dean take care of the dirty work, don’t they?”

You try not to react when she says their names. The police don’t really care about you, but they’ve got a hard on for the Winchesters. Bringing in the famous brothers would make for a pretty sizeable notch in someone’s belt, commendations up the wazoo.

This bitch wants the big prize.

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to.” You blink and she snorts in response.

“That how you wanna play it?” She pinches her lips, nodding to herself. “You know, you don’t have to be afraid of me. I know what happened to you. I’ve got a pretty good idea of what you’ve been through and I want to help you.”

“Whatever you think you know, you don’t,” you spit back.

“Tell you what,” Marlow offers. “I’m just gonna ask you some questions and you can choose what you want to tell me. Sound good?”

“I don’t think I have a choice.” Shifting the chair you look around the windowless room, a touch of claustrophobia setting in.

“Did Sam kill your family by himself or was Dean with him?” She hits you with that one out of nowhere.

Your entire body goes stiff, closing your eyes for a brief moment and sucking in a breath to control your emotions. It’s been almost five years but it never gets any easier.

“Get fucked,” you grit, leering at her.

“I’ve got a theory about the boys,” she continues while you find a chip in the paint on the wall, a focal point to keep yourself grounded. “Everyone thinks Dean is the crazy one, a real piece of work. But I think Dean’s the only one who’s gotten caught. I think Sam is the real monster. He’s a sadist and murderer. Sam likes to hurt people.”

“Dean does have questionable impulse control,” you smirk, forcing any reaction other than crawling under the table. While you come off as having a tough exterior the truth is that you’re not good at this kind of thing, your anxiety is spiraling, heart rate picking up to a gallop.

“Let me tell you what I think happened and then you can fill in the details.” She flips the chair around, straddling it. “We theorize that Sam picked you out ahead of time. He stalked you, watched you for weeks. We have him on CCTV waiting for you to leave the gym, following you home from the grocery store. Sam watched you for a long, long time. He waited until the perfect moment and then he broke into your apartment and slaughtered your parents and the family dog.”

“You don’t know anything about what happened that night.” You swallow the grief that instantly bubbles up from your gut.

“But we do know. We know he dragged you out of the building kicking and screaming.”

She methodically pulls several photos from the folder, placing them in a line face-up on the table. They’re a series of still shots from the grainy black and white security camera in your parent's apartment building. In the first picture, Sam has you by the arm, both of you are covered in blood. His face is stoic but you’re in obvious distress. In the second you’re pulling away from him, trying to run. In the third, Sam has you slung over his shoulder.

“I know you didn’t want to go with him.” She taps the last photo of your ass in the air.

“You don’t know shit,” you murmur, clasping your hands together in your lap.

“Everyone thought you were dead. We assumed Sam used you for whatever he wanted and left your body somewhere. You were in the wind for almost five years. You can imagine how surprised we were when we ran prints from the museum B&E and it came back with three matches. Sam, Dean and you.”

“Honestly,” you shrug. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Five Years Ago...

You’re ninety-nine percent sure you’re having an out of body experience.

The car jerks as the big guy in the driver's seat hits the accelerator. The gears shift stubbornly, your body lurching forward against the seat belt. It’s a car he hot-wired a state back. It seems possible he might not even know how to drive a stick, but that’s not stopping him from pushing the speedometer past 90 miles per hour...then 100. You wonder for a split second what kind of damage there would be if you jumped from a vehicle at this speed. Visions of flayed skin and bloody pavement snap you back to the reality around you.

Please God, don’t let him be some kind of sadistic killer. You owe me.

You sit, hands folded tight in your lap, and watch the cityscape whizzing past. Squinting as the wind whips through the open window. The two of you are driving fast and far: destination unknown. The sun is beginning to set over the horizon, throwing a golden glow that would be picturesque if your mother’s blood wasn’t drying under your fingernails.

“Where are we going?” Your voice falls deadpan, flatlined like the rest of your dormant body that refuses to move. There are a myriad of questions that you know you should be asking; for instance, a simple:

Who the hell are you?

What the fuck happened back there?

Can you pull over so I can puke?

A whole other side of your brain whispers for you to be quiet. Maybe he’ll let you go if you just sit still and shut up.

“Who are you?” You let your eyes stutter to the side to cheat a look at him. His grip on the steering wheel is so tight his knuckles are turning white, skin ready to split like a cheap dress tearing at the seams.

After a moment his mouth twitches, followed by a cock of his head.

“I’m Sam.”

The dark aggression in his stare has vanished. The blood-chilling glare he wore standing in your home earlier that night is just a memory. Judging by the fact that you’re still in one piece you hope he’s not an immediate threat.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he confirms right on cue.

His voice is surprisingly soft for all the yelling he’d been doing at your house. Memories of his booming voice mix with bloody screams – your mother pleading, begging for her life. Then the gurgling sound when her throat was - you push it back out of your head. It’s too much.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the rearview mirror and it’s only then the realization hits that you’re having a panic attack. Your body feels like dead weight, calm as a cucumber; however, your reflection clearly shows your red, swollen face covered in tears and shaking violently.

This all feels like waking up from a dream.

Your body begins to hyperventilate and you’re powerless to stop it.

“Where are you taking me?” you plead in labored breaths. “You have to pull over, I have to…I have to call my aunt.”

“I can’t do that.” He chews his lip and looks at you with genuine concern. “You need to calm down, you’re gonna pass out.”

“My family…” your words are swallowed by your throat as you struggle for breath.

He reaches over placing a large hand on your thigh, squeezing to get your attention. “Hey, look at me...right here…I’m gonna make sure you’re okay, stay with me…”

He’s still talking when your vision goes hazy and you fall into an abyss. The last physical sensation you have is his hand violently shaking your arm and then everything fades to black. Out like a light in the passenger seat of a stolen BMW, next to a strange man with a destination yet to be determined.

Present Day

“He really did a number on you, huh?” The Detective places both forearms on the table, leaning closer. “I’m not even going to pretend that I know what you went through the last couple of years. I can only imagine the kind of horrors the Winchesters put your through. But I need you to think clearly now. This your chance to get your life back.”

She thinks Sam abducted you, they all do. The police are convinced that Sam murdered your family, kidnapped and raped you and then somehow brainwashed you into staying with him. You’ve read the police reports and seen the warrants for his arrest. They think he’s the worst of the worst.

“Sam would never hurt me.” You sit back in the chair. “He’d never make me do anything I didn’t want to do.”

“Oh really?” She pouts out her bottom lip, turning over her iPad. “I wanna show you something.”

She swipes her fingers over the screen, pulling up a video and turning it around for you to watch.

It’s a bloodbath right from the get-go. Dean shoots a man, the overnight front desk at a shitty motel, in the back of the head at point blank range. Sam not far behind and he’s got you by the arm.

You glance up at Marlow, shifting in your seat, unsure of what you’re about to watch.

The three people on the screen are not you, Sam and Dean. They’re leviathan that crossed the country on an interstate killing spree that nearly got you all arrested. But there’s no explaining that to the detective.

Sam stops to yell something at you. The video is silent but you can see Fake Sam in your face, pointing a finger before shoving you backward violently. When you stand up and shout back at him, he slaps you across the face so hard you spin and collapse to the ground.

Fake Sam pulls you back up as you fight him, grabbing you by the hair until you have to stand on your toes. He releases your hair as one hand curls around your throat. Your mouth opens and closes like a gasping fish, clawing at his hands. Once you’re compliant, he bends you over the desk, pinning your arms above your head.

You look away, unable to keep from sneaking glances as the Sam on the screen pulls your jeans down and rapes you.

If you didn't know better, you’d think he was a monster too.

“You wanna see the money shot or should I stop now?” she asks, tapping the screen to pause the video. “Toward the end, things get even harder to watch. You must have said something to really piss him off because he...well I’m sure you remember. But he’d never hurt you right?”

The leviathans did this on purpose, it was all part of a series of calculated acts to make Sam and Dean look like the worst possible guys on the planet. It did the trick, they’re still at the top of the most wanted list.

“We’re into roleplaying,” you retort, feeling the heat of frustration rise in your cheeks.

“Yeah,” she snorts. “I bet.”

Five Years Ago

Your father’s voice brings you back, calling out of the pitch black and beckoning you back to the land of the living. He sounds the same as when he woke you up for school when you were a kid. Every morning he’d whisper the same thing; open your eyes sugar, time to face the world.

When you come to, the pounding in your head hits you like a freight train. Then the immediate overwhelming odor of alcohol that makes you want to wretch. You squish a sour face, slowly opening your eyes after a series of painful blinks.

The big guy is still there. It was no dream.

Sam is still behind the wheel, but now the car is parked in the lot of a Walgreens. He’s pouring a bottle of rubbing alcohol over his bleeding knuckles like it’s no big deal. You watch in silence as he holds his arm over the pavement and pours again until blood washes away, his hand glistens in the night air.

A minivan pulls up beside you, Sam watches carefully as an intoxicated middle aged man stumbles toward the store. From the full moon overhead you guess it must be well into the night. You clear your throat and he looks back at you.

“You alright?” Sam asks.

He sounds half concerned and half accusatory. As if all this was an inconvenience, somehow your own fault. Like he hadn’t thrown you over his shoulder and carried you kicking and screaming away from your dead family.

“I uh,” you shake your head. “I don’t even know how to begin to answer that.”

“Fair enough,” he nods matter-of-factly and offers you a battered hand mirror from his lap. “I took care of your arm while you were out, you might want to do your own face.”

You glance down to the bandage around your forearm. The assailant sliced you open like melted butter. Lifting the edge of the bandage you can see a series of crude stitches as you cringe.

“That’s gonna be a really awesome scar, dude, thanks,” you huff, shaking your head. Whoever this guy is you should have known he wasn’t going to swing by the emergency room.

“You were out and you just kept bleeding. Sorry.” Sam’s tone is forced. He’s trying to remain cordial, but his non-verbals are howling ungrateful bitch.

The mirror is dirty, but clear enough to get a stomach churning look at yourself. You’re not surprised to find your right eye is swollen, a nasty shade of black. It almost looks as gruesome as the split in your upper lip. Your face inexplicably begins to throb for the first time when you see how bad the damage is.

“Here,” Sam hands you a freshly opened package of aspirin and a bottle of water. You sit in silence as you shift in your seat, wiping your eyes out of habit only to discover your cheeks are wet.

“I didn’t even know I was crying. Jesus Christ.” Your tongue darts to the cut on your lip sending a jolt of pain to every other battered part of your body. “I just, I need you to tell me what’s happening, I don’t…”

“You’re in shock, it’s totally normal after what you just went through.” He doesn’t look at you. You could be wrong but he sounds…irritated. “We can talk about the rest later, when you’re not so worked up.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for helping, or saving me or whatever that was.” You stumble to find the right words.

Sam doesn’t answer; instead he runs a hand through his hair and turns the key in the ignition.

Present Day

“She’s not talking.” Detective Marlow bites off the end of a granola bar, watching you through the one-way glass.

“Does that surprise you?”

“The Winchesters did a number on her.” Marlow’s eyes never leave you, running a hand over her jaw. “This shit we saw on the tapes is just the tip of the iceberg. She’s lived through hell, she survived with those two psychopaths the only way she knew how, she assimilated. You can’t blame her.”

“You’re probably right,” Buck nods. “Poor kid got passed around by two brothers.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” Marlow looks at Buck. “Sam Winchester doesn’t strike me as a guy who likes to share his toys. I don’t see him letting Dean anywhere near his little obsession.”

“Well, either way, she’s gonna be a tough nut to crack.” He hikes his pants up under his gut. “We opened her phone. Most of her texts have been erased, but there are a few videos on her Google Drive.”

“Videos of what?”

“Sex, sucking and fucking. Nothing out of the ordinary if Sam wasn’t a world class psycho. But watching these you’d think they were a couple of newlyweds.”

“It looks consensual?” Marlow nods. It doesn’t surprise her. After years of tracking the Winchesters and looking into your disappearance, she’s become convinced that you’re suffering from Stockholm Syndrome. It does make it harder for her to work her angle, she wants to turn you. Get you to talk and kill two birds with one stone. Put the Winchesters behind bars and rescue you from years of assault and abuse.

“You tell me.” Buck taps the screen and a series of moans float out from the speakers.

“Fuck, Sam, so good like that.” Your voice whines.

“Jesus,” Marlow takes the phone, watching a homemade porno of Sam’s face buried between your legs, two bigs hands hooked under your knees, keeping you spread open as he eats you out with unrestrained enthusiasm.

“Please,” you beg, two hands in his hair. “Fuck me.”

“Anything you want, baby.” Sam’s head pops up from between your thighs, smiling with a glistening chin as he crawls over you like a predator, thick shoulders flexing as he gets closer to the camera. “You need my cock tonight?”

“Need you so bad,” you pant, pulling him down into a kiss.

“I don’t need to see any more of this, not right now anyway.” Marlow pushes the phone away.

“That’s not even the good part.” Buck slides the video forward, stopping toward the end.

Sam’s fucking you from behind, curled over your back as you arch back to catch his mouth in a kiss. Your voice is clear as day as you mumble against his lips, “love you so much.”

“I haven’t watched them all yet, but it’s not the only profession of love on these tapes. However this started, she’s all in now. You’re gonna have one hell of a time painting her as the victim to the DA.”

“I think maybe we got off on the wrong foot.” The detective sits down across from you. “I understand you’ve been through more than most people would be able to handle. You don’t think you can trust me and I get that, I do. But all I want is to understand what happened to your family and what happened to you.”

“Stop trying to sweet-talk me.” You glare, clenching your jaw. You hate talking about your family. Sam’s been the only person who can get you to open up about it without falling apart.

“Help me understand why you’re protecting someone who would do such awful things to you?”

“I already told you,” you grit. “Sam isn’t this terrible guy you’re making him out to be.”

“We both watched the same thing.” She taps the iPad. “Look, no judgment from me. You’ve spent a lot of time with the guy. I think, given your circumstances, it’s natural to develop feelings over time. We can talk through this, help me understand what’s really going on here. Why are you covering for him?”

“You wouldn’t understand if I explained it to you.”

“Why? Because you love him?” she presses.

You can’t help your reaction, eyes darting up to look at her face.

You’re not entirely sure Sam is even alive right now. He was in the middle of a knock down, drag-out battle with the Devil himself when you were picked up by police. The last thing you said to you him was see you in a few and now you wish you’d picked a more profound choice of words.

“Because, it’s...complicated,” you shrug, staring at the table.

“Complicated like falling for the guy who beats you? Forced himself on you?” Her voice softens, leaning in. “You know Y/N, just because you’re having consensual sex with him now, doesn’t mean what he did to you back then wasn’t wrong.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. You know full well they must have hacked your phone. You should have deleted those fucking videos. “That guy, the one who hurt that girl in the video, that wasn’t Sam and it wasn’t me.”

“Oh?” Marlow nods, sitting back in her seat, crossing arms over her chest.

“Oh?” You parrot back, sick of her condescending tone.

“I think we need to stop.”

“Why the sudden change?” Your eyes narrow, senses on high alert.

“Full transparency,” she leans forward, sliding her chair back. “I’m going to ask for a psychiatric evaluation.”

“You think I'm crazy?” You snort.

“No, I think Sam and Dean Winchester did a lot of damage. And we need to know exactly how much.”

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester smut #Sam Winchester Fanfic

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antis-delete-your-blogs-pls-thx · 5 years ago

Text

Mouse’s Reclist (#2/?)

It’s time for a second reclist! Here’s the first, if you want. This is again in no particular order. Title, author, pairing, and fandom will be listed, as well as if it’s a WIP.

The first few are going to be Snarry, because my reading list recently has basically consisted of entirely Snarry. Why? Because I fucking love Snarry. Sue me.

Angels on the Moon by Writcraft - Harry Potter/Snarry - The aftermath of the war is almost as difficult as the war itself, Harry is a mess and Severus is a reluctant survivor forced back to Hogwarts to recuperate from his injuries. When a brick-bonding spell goes awry, Harry and Severus are forced to confront hatred, misunderstandings and a new and unexpected intimacy which takes them both by surprise. Notes: This is the classic-style Eighth Year!Fic, which has long been my favourite trope in the HP fandom. It’s an especially loved trope of mine when it comes to Snarry, too, as I am problematic filth, and teacher-student relationships are my jam. It’s also a classic bonding!fic. But the way it handles the tropes is just… *chef’s kiss*

The Man Underneath by maraudersaffair - Harry Potter/Snarry - Severus is a secret Auror and must always be disguised. When Harry Potter becomes his new partner, Severus struggles hiding his true identity and burning attraction. Notes: This is more bottom!Snape than top!Snape, which I know isn’t to everyone’s taste. However, it’s fucking fantastic, and as someone who has a cathartic and self-fulfilling love of “char A is ugly and has a shittonne of self-hatred and yet manages to score super hot char B” (something that I struggle with myself and still worry how I manage to keep my own gorgeous partner over), this is perfect. Not that I even agree with J.K.’s assessment on Sev’s ugliness. I like the “goth filled with churning angst” look.

a forest, dark and deep by bleedcolor - Harry Potter/Snarry - Once, many years ago (for that is when all great stories begin, many years ago; we never consider we might be in the midst of our own great story) there lived a boy. But wait, you might say, there is nothing special about a boy living, many people do and never amount to much of anything. You would be right, but you would also be wrong, because this story is not about a boy who lived, but The Boy Who Lived, and that is all the difference. Notes: Harry is cursed and must go on an adventure to the Fountain of Youth to find the cure. I cried. I cried a lot. I cried a lot a lot a lot a lot. Happy ending, though! Fairy tale fic. One of the best fics to read if you want magic in the HP universe portrayed more like magic in ancient medieval history tends to be portrayed: mysterious, Eldritch, Occult-like power that requires strange and sometimes dangerous rituals to harness.

you like making me work for it by bottlefamebrewglory - Harry Potter/Snarry - “Before what, Mr. Potter?”//Before Snape had looked at him, drunk and miserable without knowing why, and told him that he could change his future if he wanted. Before he had pulled Snape out of the darkness he’d been determined to drown in. Before the memories. Before he’d looked into Snape’s eyes and watched him die.//Harry didn’t often change his mind, not about people. He’d been accused by Hermione more than once of being stubborn, even prejudiced. And, once upon a time, he’d thought he’d known exactly who Severus Snape was. But that had changed and Harry was no longer that boy anymore, just as Snape could no longer ever be just his hated professor.//“Before,” Harry said again, more finally.//Harry was pretty sure the fact that everyone never thought he’d live past seventeen was at least half the reason becoming an actual adult was so goddamn strange. Severus just wanted to get on with his life now that it was free of controlling old men.//Or, five times Harry flirted with Snape and one time Snape flirted with Harry. Notes: @snapedefender‘s most recent masterpiece. Post-War!fic, one of the best of. Harry worms his way into Severus’ life, as he always does. Also he has a big crush. Their interactions are golden. Everything about this is golden, in fact. It’s just delightful. Read it, please.

How the War Was Won by avioleta - Harry Potter/Snarry - Severus Snape should be dead. Instead, he wakes up after the Battle of Hogwarts to find himself quarantined in a house full of Gryffindors, waiting for Harry bloody Potter to save the world…again. And Severus must be going crazy because he can’t seem to stop thinking about Potter. (Or, where Harry needs a distraction, and Severus doesn’t refuse.) Notes: War Doesn’t End with The Battle of Hogwarts!fic. And it’s by avioleta, a longtime and well-loved Snarry writer. Well-loved for good reason! They know what they’re doing, and it shows. I’ve long loved “Harry and any number of Slytherins are holed up together and must get along” as a trope, and this nails it perfectly. Another fav was in my previous reclist, Hauntingly by ObsidianPen, where Harry is holed up with Draco, Sev, AND Tom! Fun times!

Chasing Ghosts by DictionaryWrites - Harry Potter/Snarry/WIP - “I guess I’m not ready to join the land of the living just yet,” Harry says. “Need a little more time here at Hogwarts, with all the ghosts. You know what I mean?”//In the aftermath of the war, Harry doesn't feel ready to leave the safety of the castle, and to go out into the world at large: he wants to stay. The Room of Requirement - with great reluctance - grants his wish. Notes: Adult!Harry wakes up in the Marauders Era and becomes a teacher, all while he tries to figure out the nature of spacetime. TIME TRAVEL!FIC! That’s in all caps because I love and adore time travel!fic with all my heart. Again, more of a bottom!Snape story. I used to think I preferred top!Snape, but bottom!Snape has come into my heart with a passion as of late and showed me I’m not always going to want Snape to nail Harry into his mattress. This also shows more of Snape’s backstory, with mentor!Lucius and all, which is a fav of mine as well.

OKAY! Enough Snarry, yes, sorry. Moving on!

Love Potion #9 by murderlight - Bleach/GrimmIchi - Gifted with a horrifying box of potion-laced chocolates from Urahara in the hopes he might feed them to somebody, Ichigo thought all the excitement for Valentine’s Day was done with. Then Grimmjow had to get snacky.//A story in which Ichigo is entrusted with the scientifically altered affections of his once-enemy, and might just discover some of his own. Notes: I love the goddamn love potion/love spell trope. This one highlights the dubcon nature of making someone fall in love with you (even on accident) a lot more, but still makes everyone’s feelings feel genuine and real. And of course it ends happily. And there’s no noncon, if that’s not to your taste. Ichigo is a good boy and does not stroke that pussy until that pussy is entirely free from Kisuke’s experimental serums. Yes, I made that pun.

The Edinburgh Problem by snorklepie - Sherlock/Johnlock - “A nice holiday, just a bit more...murdery. ” John said drily.//“Yes! The best kind of holiday!” Sherlock beamed. “So we won’t get bored!”//After he separates from Mary, John returns to Baker Street. Following a request for help from Sherlock's cousin Violet, the detective and his blogger take a trip to Edinburgh. John discovers more about the Holmes family and Sherlock than he bargained for, but tries not to run screaming. Notes: I fell in love with Violet immediately. I am so gay. If you are also attracted to women, you will probably join me in falling in love with Violet. She is amazing, and very Holmes. But a more balanced Holmes. Well, as balanced as a Holmes can be. I love case fic, I love Sherlock Holmes in general because of my adoration for murder mystery (yes, I am a forensics major, thank you for being able to clock me very obviously), and I love deep backstory and family bonding. It’s a long, long ride, but it is undoubtedly worth every single minute.

The Loss of Flesh and Soul by deuxexmycroft - Sherlock/Johnlock/Abandoned WIP - Five years after John Watson puts the murderous Sherlock Holmes behind bars, a vicious copycat killer emerges. A reluctant John is pulled out of retirement to seek the expertise of the only man who can help, a man who has developed an unsettling obsession with John himself.//Crossover with Red Dragon/Silence of the Lambs Notes: It’s Hannigram but Johnlock, what’s not to love? Sherlock’s characterisation in the TV show is already unsettling enough (well, in the beginning, but I like to pretend Sherlock doesn’t exist past S2), so adding in a little Hannibal Lecter is fantastic. Yes, it’s an abandoned WIP. Yes, that hurts like hell. But it’s so, so worth it anyway. Seriously, this is one of the best executions of serial killer!Sherlock I’ve seen in fandom, and given how fucking gigantic the Sherlock fandom is, hopefully you can see how big of a thumbs up that is imho!

Sinking the Land by emungere - Sherlock/Mystrade - Three weeks ago, Mycroft Holmes picked Lestrade up outside New Scotland Yard and made him an offer he'd been unable to refuse, despite his best judgement. Mycroft had sucked his cock, dropped him off at home, and Lestrade hadn't heard a word from him since.//Now, the door of the black car swung open as Lestrade drew level with it. He could just see Mycroft's profile, hawkish nose and shallow chin limned by the orange glow of the streetlight. Notes: Porn WITH plot! That’s the best way to take your porn, imho. One of the best ways I’ve seen the Mystrade relationship developed. It’s just so real. And Lestrade is so head-over-heels, which is my favourite way to take my Lestrade :p.

Clark Kent, of Krypton by TerresDeBrume - DCEU/Superbat - Batman crashes on Krypton a few days before the Turn of the Year celebrations, and Kal-El's life takes a sharp turn to the left, on a path that will, ultimately, lead him to becoming Clark Kent. Notes: Krypton Wasn’t Destroyed!fic is always, always, always my favourite. Sci-fi mystery again, yes. If you saw my first reclist, then you understand that I am always going to fall for a sci-fi mystery fic. This one develops Kryptonian culture beautifully, and equally-as-perfectly encapsulates what “Clark Kent Pretending to Be a Mild-Mannered Reporter, but on Krypton” would actually look like.

Q It Again by writerofprose - Star Trek/QCard - Picard thinks his position, as captain of the Enterprise, plays the largest role in Q's obsession with him. Q would like to take that bet, even if Picard wasn't making one. What say they try it again, from the start? Without the captain nonsense? Notes: A poignant take on Q’s weird fixation with Picard. Not that anyone can blame him. I mean, shit, the man is Jean-luc Picard. Anyone would be fixated on him. Q uses his Q powers to explore Picard in multiple alternate universes, and erases his own memories in order to come in unbiased. Picard gets to keep his original memories, and those of the AU. Does Q still like Picard as much when he’s not at the helm of the Enterprise?

American Outlaws by manic_intent - Red Dead Redemption/Morston - “Bounty’s for one ‘Jim Milton’,” Sadie said, as she got close to the man under the oak tree. “Wanted for murder, robbery, and unnatural acts.”//“Unnatural what?”///“Don’t got details on here.” Sadie passed the folded up poster to her hunting partner. “You all right?”//Arthur Morgan didn’t answer her as he smoothed open the poster. He was aggressively smoking a cigarette, his second, judging from the stub on the grass. Notes: I loved RDR and RDR2 so much that I wrote my own fic in the fandom, despite knowing jackshit about late 1800’s America. It was only a ficlet, in order to hide how little I remember from my contemporary history classes, but much more talented people than me took on the burden of whole-ass novels. Here’s everyone’s fav BNF manic’s take on a fix-it Morston, pre-RDR1 but post-RDR2. It’s excellent. Who doesn’t enjoy forbidden love historical romance? Especially with a delicious helping of age gap. If you’d like Vandermorgan or even Vandermorston, check out more of manic’s stuff, and also kriegersan, who is another long-time fav of mine.

Every Deckerstar fic by wollfgang. But especially a softer beginning, an amnesia!fic, and if you saw all of me, a true form!Lucifer!fic. You know, since angels are described as weird Eldritch beings in ancient texts. Both tropes are my favourite. Also that latter one has monsterfucking and we are all monsterfuckers here.

A Modest Proposal by ignaz - House M.D./Hilson - Tritter's case against House still depends on subpoenaed testimony from Wilson. To save House from losing everything, the doctors of PPTH decide on an unusual solution, which in turn leads to unexpected consequences. This is a story about the sacrifices we make that turn out not to be such great sacrifices after all. (Contains spoilers for everything up to and including "Merry Little Christmas.") Notes: Work 355 on the AO3. It’s that OG. And for an OG slash fandom, too. Well, not Star Trek levels of OG, but it’s a fandom based on Sherlock Holmes, and ACD did come before Star Trek! You’ve probably read it. It’s the OG Hilson Pretend Marriage!fic. But I had to rec it because when I get bored I watch House on Amazon Prime (or the thousands of clips they upload to YT nowadays), and I always am struck by HOW GAY HOUSE AND WILSON ARE OH MY GOD. I can never watch it with Mum in the room, though, because she was in the medical field before she retired, and the unrealistic nature of how House characters behave (and some of the medical procedures) make her SOOOOOO peeved. Though doctors, especially surgeons, were apparently huge egotistical dicks at times. Maybe not kill your own patient levels, though.

In A Place Where No One Appeared by Gefionne - Star Wars/Kylux - Following the destruction of Starkiller Base, General Hux is ordered to remove a wounded Kylo Ren to a place where he can recuperate. Knowing nowhere else to house him safely and discreetly, Hux takes Ren to his family’s estate on Arkanis. He anticipates adding this experience to the already long list of abhorrent memories he has of his childhood home, but six weeks in company with Ren turns out to be something quite unlike Hux expected. Notes: The imagery is so fucking vivid, I love it. The entire world of Arkanis is just lit up so beautifully in Gefionne’s words. This takes a little liberty with Hux’s backstory, given there wasn’t too much out at the time, but it’s so fucking good, I’d prefer its canon to the actual one, lmao.

all that you love will be carried away by coldhope - Star Wars/Kylux - Supreme Leader, the oscillator is failing. The collapse has begun. There is nothing that can be done.//Hux, sent to retrieve Kylo Ren from the dying Starkiller Base, has lost almost everything, and has little patience or tolerance left for anyone or anything--particularly not Snoke's pet pseudo-Sith and his amateur theatrics. But you do the job that is in front of you, to the best of your ability, and you hold on as long as you can. Notes: One of the first Kylux fics, and one of the best. Their relationship is just so real here.

London Calling by SectoBoss - Overwatch/WidowTracer - Recaptured by Overwatch, Widowmaker is sent on a mission to assassinate a high-ranking Talon agent in London. It should be an easy mission – get in, take the shot, and leave. But when Tracer’s your getaway pilot a lot of things can go wrong, and things like 'subtlety' and 'discretion' tend to be the first casualties. Now, lying low after the mission goes awry, the pair of them have to survive in the city until Overwatch can get them home. Notes: Written when OW was in its heyday. And before the fandom was qqqquite as bad as it became. A WidowTracer case!fic, with Amelie as the reluctant good guy, which is always the best trope and I don’t take concrit on this point.

To the Victor, The Spoil by Annakovsky - Hunger Games/Haymitch/Katniss - No berries, no mockingjay, no rebellion. Katniss killed Peeta in the arena, and now she has to live with herself like every other victor. Notes: An old fandom, an older fic, back in the day when nobody complained about fucked up dark!fic. And fucked up dark!fic this is. Rape, age gap, age gap rape, Katniss losing all hope about the future, etc. But damn, it’s good.

The Want of You by MKK - Star Trek/Garashir - Julian Bashir is not quite sure yet about his feelings toward his enigmatic new friend Elim Garak. So when they both show symptoms of a mysterious illness, it seems they'll now have more time apart to ponder the future of the relationship. Their symptoms worsen, however, and to their shock, they discover there's only one way to effectively and inexplicably ease the pain: getting physically closer and closer - and closer. Notes: A forced bonding!fic where Bashir doesn’t actually know Garak all that well. As in, set very early in the canon. Very early. Which is my favourite way to read this beloved trope, because the whole fun of it (imho) is characters who barely have a grasp on each other’s personalities being forced to learn them.

Timeshare by astolat - Harry Potter/Drarry - “It’s not for long,” Hermione said. “By the time we get back to Hogwarts, the Unfettering Brew will be ready.”//“Listen to you!” Ron said. “He’s got to get through a month with the Dursleys and a month at Malfoy Manor. With Draco Malfoy.”//“Yeah, thanks,” Harry said, because he hadn’t just spent the last week contemplating just how much more horrible his summer holidays were about to be than they’d ever been before. Notes: Another forced bonding!fic, this time by AO3’s own founder. I love it. I love it, I love it, I love it. Their interactions here are perfect.

Speaking of Drarry, here’s a Veela!Draco fic I’ve recced before, but I don’t believe was in the original masterpost.

Talk to Me by Saras_Girl - Harry Potter/Drarry - When the usual channels of communication are shut down, the most surprising people can find a way in. A strange little love story. Notes: Harry is temporarily deaf and blind thanks to a misaimed spell. Draco takes care of him, in secret. Identity porn at its best.

Semaphore by DevilDoll - MCU/Stony - "I’m trying to like you, Tony. You’re just making it very hard." Notes: I wanted to rec another OG. One of the first Stony fics in the MCU, and still one of the best. It holds up very, very well and is worth a read if, by some miracle, you haven’t already.

Prisoner’s Dilemma by AvocadoLove - MCU/Stony - After taking the airplane down in the Arctic, Steve wakes to find himself imprisoned as a human test subject. With no idea where in the world he is, his only ally is a fast-talking inventor in the cell next door. Something’s off about Tony that Steve can’t put his finger on, and it’s obvious Tony doesn't fully trust him either. But to escape they may not have a choice… Notes: IDENTITY PORN! And it’s by an author I adore. AvocadoLove has pioneered the MCU MattFoggy fandom, and also donated their efforts and words to Stony. It’s the best. And it’s canon divergence! Which is another favourite trope, and one I can’t ever seem to stop writing myself. I have a lot of appreciation for it.

Speaking of MattFoggy, all of theapplepielifestyle’s works for the pairing are amazing. And all of their works in general.

Belief Space by magicasen - Marvel 616/Stony - The Time Gem appears not when it is wanted, but when it is needed. Steve learns this the hard way.//(Or: an Infinity #6 AU where Thane refuses his birthright and the Avengers are doomed - until the Time Gem shows up within Captain America's grasp.) Notes: A 616!Stony fic, if you’re craving something in the comics rather than the movies. Still with Civil War angst and Stony angry tension, just this time it’s even more painful, because their friendship in the comics!verse was beautiful and their fallout even more devastating.

This time tomorrow (where were we?) by dorcas_gustine - Marvel 616/Stony - Tony goes to see Wanda, and suddenly Steve is alive and there are Skrulls! Or maybe Tony is just going crazy. Nothing happens in this fic, until the very end. Seriously. There's a lot of talking, mostly at inopportune moments, Tony's views on the acceptable gifts to give people are slightly different from everyone else's and he spends more time than would seem necessary being (half-)naked. What else is new? Notes: More 616 for your Stony needs! Tony time travels into a word pre-Secret Invasion and decides to fix things his damn self.

despite the threatening sky and shuddering earth (they remained) by praximeter (Zimario) - MCU/Stucky - “They really didn’t want the mask to come off.” Hill thumbed through the scans, and pulled out a film that she then handed over to Sam, face mostly expressionless but for the flat line of her pursed lips.//Sam accepted the film and held it up to the light, angling so both he and Steve could see it, squinting at the outline of the Winter Soldier’s skull, and the blips of unnatural white that showed up, God, in his brain, not to mention about half his teeth, plus the mask, with its thin protrusions—//“Those are pins,” Steve realized. He looked over at Hill. “The mask—it’s nailed to his face.”//Hill’s face was as unmoved as ever. “Like I said. They really didn’t want it coming off.” Notes: TWS Identity Porn!AU. Gore, given that the Winter Soldier’s mask is literally stuck to his face. But it’s excellent.

Simple by Osidiano - MCU/Stucky - Written for the capkink meme; "To the Winter Soldier, there are basically three kinds of people in the world: superiors, mission support, and targets. He doesn't have the context to understand things like friendship. So what he sees in the Smithsonian exhibit and what little he remembers or feels about his past, he interprets in that light. He thinks that Steve must have been his handler during World War II. That the reason he couldn't kill Steve and the reason he was smiling in the museum photos was because Steve was a good superior who treated him well (or at least didn't hurt him like Pierce and Rumlow, which to him might be the best he can imagine).//Thinking he understands the situation, he decides to report to Steve. Cue misunderstandings, confusion, and heartache for both of them." Notes: Bucky taking a while to snap out of TWS mode is one of my favourite tropes. This fic executes it perfectly.

Bridge Over Troubled Water by soniclipstick (veriscence) - MCU/Stuckony/Phlint - Ultron is destroyed, the Avengers are in disarray, and the Winter Soldier is still in the wind. Steve knows that he has to fix the ever-growing ocean of distrust between Tony and himself, so he takes a leap of faith and tasks Tony with the most important thing: finding Bucky Barnes. But it takes a pair of sexy but stolen hand warmers, several robots, Hawkeye and countless selfies before Steve realises the immensity of what he's set into motion. Notes: I would die for Stuckony as a ship. It’s one of my favourites to read and to write, and this fic here encapsulates it quite frankly in the best way.

Strange New Worlds by Leletha - Supernatural/Destiel/Sabriel - AU…THE FUTURE: Humanity survives everything, spreads to the stars, and finds it needs to know where it can land. Enter interplanetary explorers Sam and Dean Winchester…and sentient starships Gabriel and Castiel. Then ships and crews start disappearing out in the black and, as usual, all goes straight to hell. Notes: I corresponded with Le’letha when they originally wrote this fic, and my love for it has only grown in the years since. Sci-fi mystery, yes. Dude, Castiel is a sentient spaceship. That itself is premise enough.

In His Image by Anonymous - Supernatural/Sabriel - Kali can breathe life back into a corpse, but what exactly is Gabriel now? Gabriel flits around various centuries trying to work that out, Dean has another powered-down angel and a little brother to look out for, Castiel has forgotten how to trust, and someone keeps sending Sam annoying little notes on his laptop. Oh, and Bobby would like to remind you all that there’s an Apocalypse still going on. Covers season 5 from Gabriel’s death to the finale. Notes: My favourite Sabriel fic. God only knows why the author abandoned it. I have their original name, but it doesn’t feel right to reveal it when they made the conscious choice to anonymise. Let me just say that they were a favourite of mine.

If You Were the Last Woman on Earth by Vali - Doctor Who/Thoschei (Twissy) - Just because your best enemy accidentally destroyed planet Earth is no reason to refuse her hospitality. Written for the Only One Bed fanfic challenge. Notes: That last note doesn’t even begin to cover how wonderful this fic is. Tropes are irrelevant, this captures them perfectly. Still one of my fav ever Thoschei fics. Now just get me one where The Master calls our titular hero Theta Cubed Sigma Ex Squared Lungbarrow, please.

A Wealth of Sorrows by evelynwaaaaah - Dragon Age/Solavellan - Things are getting back to normal in Skyhold now that Corypheus is gone. Until the Inquisitor collapses in mid-conversation. Notes: Solavellan is still a ship I would die for. This fic will make you ship it, if the game didn’t already. And this is coming from someone who romanced Cullen on my first playthrough.

Reclamation by copperbadge - Harry Potter/Background Jily and Wolfstar - In an alternate universe, one man still struggles with a moral decision made many years before. Notes: What if Tom Marvolo Riddle wasn’t quite the same maniac of the canon!verse and was accepted to the position of DADA professor? By the esteemed copperbadge.

Truth and Illusion by penny_dreadful - Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magica/MadoHomu/KyoSaya - “I’ve, um, been dreaming.” She closes her eyes because it’s easier to ignore Mami and Homura’s stares. “In, in my dream I’m still in bed, but I-I’m not alone, Sayaka’s next to me but she’s not breathing, she’s—”//She’s pale and cold and pretty in the same way the stained glass windows of Kyoko’s father’s church are pretty and she’s lying so still she can’t be anything but dead. But in her dream Kyoko still curls around her, soul gem in hand, keeping her warm, keeping her safe—//“—she’s dead, I didn’t even know her that well and she’s dead and in my dream I’m so, I’m scared that there’s nothing I can do.” She opens her eyes. “But there really is nothing I can do. She’s already gone, and we left her there.” She stares hard at her hands. “We weren’t really even friends.” Notes: Not really a fix-it for MadoHomu, but certainly one for SayaKyo. Homura does more spacetime bullshit. Kyouko remembers.

~~~

I think that should cover it for now! That took me ageeeees, and I have games to go waste my life on and fics to write now lmao. Let me know if you want a third installment!

#fic recs #recs #fic rec #long post

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ashfountainfanfics · 5 years ago

Text

“This is ridiculous,” Mike sighs in exasperation, “my friends and I had nothing to do with any of this.”

The detective at the other end of the table doesn’t seem to accept this. She’s a recent transplant from another state. Most of the Derry police department leaves Mike be, summing up his interest in police matters as a side effect of his fascination with Derry history. She doesn’t seem to be interested in giving that same assumption.

“You keep saying that,” she pushes, “but I think it’s strange that you show up to all the crime scenes and that two of your friends harassed one of the victims. Not to mention that Henry Bowers was found dead under your place of residency.”

Mike is growing more and more frustrated. It was surreal when the police showed up at dinner last night. The Losers Club plus the small group of cops nearly overwhelmed the small Italian place they’d been enjoying.

Bev, Ben, and Eddie are sitting in the lobby while Richie and Bill are in cuffs. Mike is somewhere between the two options or so he figures. He’s not sure he likes those odds.

Detective Lopez fixes him with a look that lacks any hint of retreat or gentility. She’s a no nonsense kind of woman. Her curly, dark hair is cropped in a pixie cut and her face is bare and set in a deadpan expression. Her blouse is a gray button up and the lanyard of her badge is tucked under her collar.

“It’s a small town,” Mike responds, “coincidences are everywhere.”

“Nothing is ever just a coincidence. Did you know Mr. Bowers?”

Mike calmly explains how Henry Bowers was the resident bully when they were children. How often that bullying went past simple pranks and low grade violence. To stop at calling Henry a bully was like trying to call Ted Bundy just an unfortunate date.

“You can ask Ben about his scar, that should give you a clue.”

“I understand that Mr Bowers had a history of violence and mental illness-“

“Being an angry white boy is not a mental illness,” Mike points out.

“Agreed,” Detective Lopez says flatly, “but that isn’t my point. My point is that several children and a man named Adrian Melon are dead and the escape of Mr. Bowers does not correlate with those deaths.”

“It doesn’t correlate with the arrival of my friends either. They weren’t here.”

“But you were.”

Mike is taken aback by the remark. All this time he’s been keeping watch, dreading the day that Derry needed saving but looking to save it nonetheless. Not that this town ever gifted him much beyond tolerance. He has no adult friends here, no significant others, only a series of routine faces that note his presence. Derry, Maine isn’t friendly or good. It’s not even scenic but he wanted to save it anyway. His jaw tightens.

“Of course I was here. I live in Derry. I’ve lived here most of my life, where else would I be?”

“You didn’t know these kids. You didn’t know Adrian Melon. Why did you visit the crime scenes? What business did you have being there?”

Detective Lopez is standing over him now with her hands planted on the table. She does this all calmly with very direct body movements. She never lets her frustration get to her. She harnesses it into orderly conduct and in a way it’s terrifying.

But she’s an outsider without all the facts. You can tell she comes from a big city by her demeanor and her thought process. Often a crime is committed by someone close to the victim or someone that makes themselves close. Contrary to the movies, the person most likely to kill you is the one in plain sight and right next to you. Monsters that hide in the dark and stalk you like prey aren’t the norm.

Mike is glad that he and his friends got rid of that norm for Derry.

“Detective Lopez? Have you ever seen someone die-“

“Of course I have. I’m a homicide detective.”

“I wasn’t finished,” Mike insists, “I was asking if you’ve ever seen someone die when you were a child?”

This gives her pause. Her elbows soften the smallest amount and her hesitancy is plain to Mike. She doesn’t sit. There’s no way she’s backing down that quickly but it’s clear she’s listening.

“I can’t say I have, why?”

“If you take the time to look into me a bit more you’ll know that my parents died in a fire and I was in the other room. I was too little to help them. I couldn’t save them.”

Now Detective Lopez sits down. Her posture is unnaturally straight and her gaze is still unwavering. This is either the best she can do to convey being receptive or it’s the most she’s willing to give.

“Can you imagine the sort of impact that has? I couldn’t even put down a sheep on the farm I grew up on. The idea of causing harm to anyone or anything, indirect or necessary or otherwise, still makes me sick. So please, Detective Lopez, don’t insult me with what you’re trying to infer.”

“Be blunt then. What were you doing?”

“Trying to see if there was a way to stop it. If you look at our history, you’ll see there’s a pattern. Every 27 years since the town was formed, a stretch of terrible things happen. That’s longer than I’ve been alive. Longer than my family’s been in Derry.

I thought maybe if I could pay attention for the next phase I could find the connection. I could save them.”

Mike can see that she’s regarding him as an absolute looney but Mike hopes it’s the harmless kind. She can picture him tinfoil hat and all if it means she doesn’t see him as a murderer.

“And what did you find?”

Mike decides that this is as good a time as any to tell one last lie. It’s not like she’d understand the truth of the matter. She’s the type to only accept hard facts and indisputable evidence. There isn’t anything he can show her to back the truth. Nothing but a lot of rubble on Neibolt street.

“I found nothing. Whatever makes this town the way it is, it’s not for me to understand.”

It’s not entirely a lie. Pennywise was just a part of what made Derry the way it is. Its death isn’t going to cure Derry of its bigotry overnight. There will still be small minded people, violent people. Mike will never understand that.

“So you’re giving up? Just like that?”

“I almost died because a literal living relic of my past broke out of an insane asylum and tried to kill me. I think that’s a sufficient wake up call that I’ve wasted too much time on this town and my own baggage.”

Mike can’t tell if she’s buying it or not. Detective Lopez gives away nothing. She’s an absolute professional to the core. Mike respects that. Derry could use someone on the force who can’t be swayed.

“I may need you to call you back in to corroborate a few stories so don’t skip town,” she gives him a curt nod, “You’re free to go.”

Detective Lopez opens the door to Mike’s freedom. Mike has a feeling that the others have been given similar instructions or that they will be given them. He wonders briefly if they should have thought ahead to confirm a set story with each other but he thinks better of it. None of the Losers are crazy enough to tell the truth.

“Hanlon, wait,” the detective stops him as soon as he’s out of the door frame, “tell your comedian friend that making jokes isn’t going to work with me. It’s not endearing and he’s digging a much bigger hole for himself.”

“Ma’am, with all due respect, trying to get him to stop is a joke in and of itself.”

—-

“Her first name is Jennifer!” Richie shouts as if wounded, “Last name Lopez! What did you want me to do?”

Richie can tell that his lawyer is not amused. His voice sounds really far away and it is. He’s driving to Derry as fast as he can.

“Richie, this isn’t your usual legal trouble. This isn’t stolen material or a damaged room-“

“That was one time and I was still a baby! How was I supposed to know what ecstasy looks like? You’re about to see the podunk town I grew up in, man.”

“They’re talking homicide!”

“I still cry over Bambi, for fuck’s sake. Do you seriously think I’d kill anyone for fun?”

“Of course not.”

Roger Clemming has been Richie’s lawyer since the start of his career. He’s a cousin of his manager and normally Roger has no qualms about representing Richie. Most of his legal cases aren’t even his; the man doesn’t write his own stand up so he can’t exactly be held responsible if it’s stolen. Richie Tozier is an easy client.

“I didn’t even mean to kill him. He had Mike and it was clear that old Bowers was totally batshit. I reacted. I don’t know.”

“So we have a witness. That’s good. The more witnesses the better. I just wish you hadn’t pissed off the Detective.”

“Yeah yeah I’m an asshole but I didn’t say anything about the case. And I stayed away from ass jokes!”

“I’m sure that’s what will save you.”

The Derry police station is not a big place. The holding cell is visible to the front lobby and there’s only two private rooms; the sheriff’s office and an interrogation room. Richie can see Eddie, his arms crossed and his face looking like he bit into a lemon.

Stressed out, Eddie spaghetti? You’re not on this end of the station.

“Be honest with me, Roger, am I going to jail or not?” Richie clings to a rare moment of seriousness.

“You defended someone from an escaped convict. If you sit back and don’t make an ass out of yourself we may not even go to court.”

Richie sighs and he wishes he could telepathically share this news with Eddie. He stares down Eddie in the hopes that somehow they do share a psychic link. Eddie remains pissed at some very specific wall instead.

“And, uh, my friend? Bill?”

“I’m not sure a trial can be avoided on that, but as long as there’s no physical evidence then the best they’ve got is circumstantial with no real motive. They’ll be grasping at straws if they charge him. Dead kids do make for angry parents though and sometimes they’ll pull a guy to trial because they’ve got no one else to blame.”

“So 50/50 chance?”

“40/60 of an arrest being made and I can’t begin to estimate the odds on him being found guilty. That all comes down to the kind of town your Derry, Maine.”

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuck!” Richie groans and buries his face into his free hand.

“Watch it, Tozier,” the nearby cop warns him.

Richie apologizes and feigns composure.

“Sorry kid,” Roger’s using his turn signal given the soft ticking in the background, “I’ll do my best but I make no promises.”

Richie mutters a sentiment of gratitude before hanging up. It would still be the better part of a day and a half before his representation gets here. Technically he’s not even sure if Bill wants Roger to represent him but Richie figures it couldn’t hurt to arrange it. After all, do either of them really want to trust whatever a Derry lawyer looks like?

---

Bill settles in for the night. To be honest, he’s slept in far more uncomfortable places than a holding cell. He wasn’t always a big famous writer. He remembers when he had to sleep in his shitty, used Toyota back in the early days. Now he’s got two houses, a celebrity wife, and a second movie deal. None of which he’s particularly sure he wants anymore.

It’s startling how unconcerned Bill is about the charge against him. He’s been taken in on suspicion of murder but Bill knows damn well he didn’t kill that kid and Detective Lopez doesn’t have much of anything on him except that he was seen yelling at the child earlier at the day and had been spotted at the carnival.

Bill didn’t want to seem entirely unhelpful though despite knowing they were never going to catch what killed that boy. He offered an account of what he thought was an animal attack but it was difficult to make out. Richie’s lawyer probably won’t like that he talked without him present but Bill doesn’t really care.

Bill blamed the yelling on a mental breakdown. His hometown memories were complicated and a failing marriage and work pressure wasn’t helping. When he saw a kid about Georgie’s age living in his old house, he lost it. It was easy to sell this because it wasn’t really a lie. Detective Lopez did make a comment to Bill about how childhood trauma seems very convenient in this town but Bill didn’t know how to respond outside of confusion.

“All right, everyone,” a tired cop announces into the lobby, “Y’all should get yourselves to bed. Visiting hours are over.”

The other members of the Loser’s Club are essentially draped across each other in the lobby and half asleep already. Ben is in the middle like some sort of handsome centerpiece. He has an arm over Beverly and Mike is leaning on his free shoulder. Meanwhile, Eddie is sitting on the floor at Ben’s feet looking tense and irritated.

They gather themselves up except for Eddie who continues to sit on the floor.

“Eddie, honey,” Beverly says softy, “it’s time to go.”

“Richie and Bill didn’t do anything wrong. I will leave when they do.”

Bill chuckles a bit at this and looks over to Richie on the other side of the holding cell. The look on his face gives him pause because it’s not what he was expecting. Eddie looks genuinely frightened in here. He’s also watching Eddie as if looking at the last boat on a sinking ship; one that’s just too far out of reach. Bill isn’t sure what to make of that.

“They’ll be okay,” Mike assures the sulking man on the floor, “I know these cops. They’re decent.”

Eddie doesn’t respond.

“Sweetie,” Bev is getting a hint of irritation to her voice, “we can come back in the morning.”

“I refuse to get up. This is a protest.”

Bev sighs and looks to Ben.

“We’re going to have to force him.”

“Force him?” Ben asks back incredulously, “Force him how?”

“Ben, he weighs 90 pounds soaking wet, what do you think?”

“Oh Lord,” Mike immediately understands the implication.

Ben thinks about it for a second and it dawns on him the same exact time it dawns on Eddie. Ben is briefly horrified by the idea.

“You wouldn’t” Eddie challenges him.

Ben looks helplessly at Bev who shrugs as if to say that there’s no other way. Eddie recoils as Ben clearly accepts his orders and approaches Eddie with strong arms ready to lift him. His stance is that of someone attempting to capture a wild animal.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t you fucking touch me!” Eddie screams while rapidly kicking his legs to slide away.

Bill again turns to get Richie’s reaction to all this. He’s pleased to see Richie desperately stifling a chuckle. The cop stationed here for the evening seems to be frozen in disbelief as one grown man is trying to catch another and that other fully grown adult man is essentially crab scuttling his way to safety.

On reflex, Eddie sends a hard kick and gets Ben right in the shin. Ben stops his pursuit to cradle it.

“Eddie! What the hell!?” Bev scolds him.

“Now that’s enough!” the cop finally sees fit to reanimate, “I’ve seen some bull shit in my day but I won’t have a brawl in the station! Sort yourself out or I’ll put you in holding! Got it?”

Eddie gets up from the floor.

“Oh no,” Richie says quietly.

Bill’s confused but looks back to the scene playing out before him. Eddie looks apologetic and humbly confronts Ben.

“Sorry, Ben” he says meekly.

“It’s just my shin,” Ben responds, “It’ll bruise but it’s fine.”

“No, I’m sorry about this.”

Eddie uses his whole body to send a punch right into the side of Ben’s scruffy and very shocked face. Eddie’s fist retreats just as quickly as it had departed and he’s shaking out the pain of contact. Ben cups his cheek, obviously not very wounded. The man’s essentially built like a brick house for fuck’s sake. This does get the cop moving though.

Eddie is escorted into the holding cell with Bill and Richie. Richie looks in awe of Eddie either because he was so reckless or stupid Bill can’t figure which. He does have sneaking suspicion however that Eddie’s little stunt has more to do with Richie than with Bill himself.

Eddie is still pouting and sits square on the floor all over again.

“The little guy will be free to go after he cools down, unless you want to press charges,” the cop asks Ben.

“What? No. No… it’s fine.”

Mike quietly exits as quickly as possible. He’s clearly done with the nonsense that just played out. Bev and Ben stay behind a minute as Bev checks his cheek over again. Bill can make out the soft conversation they’re having but just barely. She’s apologizing for her plan, saying she didn’t think Eddie would fight that much.

“No no, it was a good idea,” Ben assures her.

Bill can see the way that comment washes over her. Ben was always full of a certain sincerity and purity that none of the other Losers ever really had. He’s soft and probably the only one of them that didn’t end up with a ridiculous amount of paranoia or cynicism. Bill doubts that Ben is unscathed but it looks like he at least had the good sense not to unleash his unknown trauma on anyone else.

Unlike Bill and his marriage to Audra.

It’s painfully clear to Bill right now just how much Audra looks like Beverly. They’ve got similar frames, similar facial structures and they’re both redheads. Granted, Audra’s red comes from a salon but it suits her as naturally as it does Bev. They could be sister’s.

‘Why can’t you be how I want you to be?’ Bill remembers saying to Audra not long before he took off to Derry. He’s disgusted with the comment now. He’s disgusted with the fact that he kissed Beverly and it meant more to him than his entire marriage. He’s disgusted with himself.

“See you in the morning, boys,” Bev waves to everyone in holding.

She doesn’t give Bill any special treatment. No lingering eye contact or wistful gaze. It’s as if she never had a crush on him at all, as if they’ve never shared anything. Before it always felt as if she was looking to Bill and now she’s looking at Ben.

Despite a sense of heartbreak, Bill takes comfort in that difference.

---

There’s only two beds in the holding cell. One of which is already taken up by Bill who is sound asleep. Eddie is still sitting on the floor and up against the wall. He watches for the cop to doze off. Sure enough, he’s starting to snore in his chair.

Eddie quietly and carefully scootches over to Richie. Richie’s been lying on other cot, entertaining himself with some sort of impromptu, silent puppet show. He breaks from it as he notices Eddie encroaching on his personal bubble.

“Hey,” Eddie whispers.

“Hi…” Richie answers.

Eddie isn’t sure of how to move forward. Originally he had mapped out exactly what to say after the gang’s celebratory dinner. He was going to apologize for kissing Richie, explain again that he had panicked. He would ask that they move forward from this and go back to normal. He wanted to reassure him that he is very alive and not going to die anytime soon too. He wanted to know how much it meant to him that Richie cared so much. He never knew he was that important to anyone.

Eddie did not plan on embracing his inner chaos and landing himself in a cell for the night. He still isn’t entirely sure what came over him in that moment. The idea of leaving just hit so hard and quickly that he couldn’t do it.

“I went to jail for you,” he glares at Richie.

Well that’s not a good start, Eddie mentally notes.

“I see this. I’ll file it under your list of uncharacteristically brave fuckery.”

“I mean that I want to talk. We need to talk.”

“Oh.”

There’s a pause between them. That pause grows into a prolonged period. That period slinks into awkward silence. Eddie is aware since he brought up the conversation that he should actually start it but his head is empty. All he can think about is how the stab wound in his cheek hurts and how flustered Richie looks.

“Look, man,” Richie gives in, “We don’t have to talk. I get it. You panicked. Case closed. Mystery solved. We both deserve a Scooby snack for that epic conclusion.”

Eddie realizes for the first time that Richie is hiding behind his humor. He feels like an idiot for not noticing sooner but his eyes are a dead give away. Richie is making more eye contact now than usual. It’s like he’s forcing himself to present a put together facade. He’s watching Eddie to make sure he believes it.

Eddie wonders if it might be prudent to look at Richie in a different light. In childhood, he was always just that asshole friend. He liked to pick on him but never past annoyance. You’d think trying to steer clear of Henry Bowers would have made Eddie resistant to a friendship built on teasing. In retrospect, Eddie’s not sure what did open him up to it. By all logical accounts, Richie shouldn’t mean much of anything to Eddie and vice versa.

“Why do you do that?” he decides to approach it directly.

“I’m a comedian, Eds. Cracking a bad joke is as natural to me as breaking wind.”

Eddie could easily feed into this but he doesn’t want to. He physically sits up straighter and takes a calm breath in. It’s tempting to write Richie off as immature and continue down the rabbit hole of humor at Eddie’s expense but he refuses. Richie is keeping a secret of some kind which seems painfully obvious to Eddie now. If he’s ever going to move forward from recent events he’ll need to know what it is.

“What are hiding?” he leans in close.

Richie’s face loses all color. He stammers for a moment and Eddie is secretly pleased with himself. He’s so used to Richie getting at him that it is deeply satisfying for the tables to turn. Eddie tries not to stay in that mentality though. He wants answers not revenge.

“Bill’s the one with the stutter,” Eddie points out, “fess up. You’re hiding something from me and you’re using your crap jokes to do it. I won’t go to sleep until you tell me what’s going on.”

It seems a little overkill but Eddie is feeling the dramatics today. They saved each other’s lives earlier. They should be able to talk. Eddie debates their closeness as he waits for an answer. Sometimes it felt like they were the closest two people in the room and other times they were the furthest. Eddie wants to know why.

“I- uh,” Richie is sweating at the forehead, “I want to say first that- shit no. Okay, growing up I- fuck no that’s going to take forever.”

Eddie continues to glare down his friend. It’s not that he wants to force the truth out of him but rather his concern is growing. Showing Richie his soft side doesn’t come naturally though. So here he is trying to be a good friend but acting like a displeased asshole.

“Okay, here goes,” Richie takes in a breath of confidence, “Dinner.”

“...dinner?”

“Yes.”

“What about… dinner?” Eddie says bewildered before getting accusatory, “I swear to God, Rich, if this is a set up to a mom joke I’ll-“

“Dinner!” Richie says again a bit too loud.

The guard stirs. The two men freeze. A few seconds later a loud snore emerges. Eddie sighs in relief. He’s done just enough to end up in here. He doesn’t want to get in enough trouble to stay.

“You and me. Dinner. Us. Dinner. Together. Y’know, dinner?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and relaxes his shoulders. So it’s not a joke about his mom but a joke nonetheless.

“Oh. I get it. Ha ha, very funny. Like a date,” Eddie comments sarcastically.

“Yes.”

Richie isn’t grinning. He not casually avoiding eye contact either as he does with a usual set up. Instead he’s looking directly at Eddie with everything he’s got. It’s the ‘please believe me’ look from before but in an entirely different context. It’s sincere.

Jesus Christ, I think he fucking means it, Eddie panics.

“Okay,” he finds himself saying even as confused internal screaming fills his insides.

“Shit. Really?” Richie is as shocked as Eddie is.

“Yeah.”

“You’re going on a date.”

“Yes.”

“With me.”

“I guess.”

This is all on the premise that Richie is released in time for a date. He may end up in real jail. Then what would they do? A prison dinner date doesn’t have the most enticing ring to it.

Eddie feels like a part of him has detached from his own brain. Whatever his body is doing is past his control now. The surrealism of this unexpected direction broke him.

“Move over,” Eddie demands quietly.

Richie backs up as far as can, looking absolutely befuddled. Eddie climbs into the small space left on the cot. He’s tired. There’s only two cots and one is taken. It makes direct sense to share at least when you’re not entirely in your own body anyway.

Eddie remembers briefly about how the two of them would often share the hammock as kids. Eddie unceremoniously plopped himself in and fought for space so often that it became customary. He never did it to anyone but Richie though. He was the only one.

Richie braves putting an arm around Eddie and at first Eddie’s spine goes rigid. He’s not ready to think about this, not even sure if acting on it is right yet. He still feels far away from all this even as he Richie’s body heat cradles him.

Something about the way Richie’s hand cups the small of his stomach feels...good. Eddie’s body relaxes and he realizes how fucking exhausted he is. It’s been an exceptionally long 48 hours. A little shut eye and a cuddle isn’t so ludicrous. Even if it is with Richie Trashmouth Tozier.

“Just keep it in your pants,” Eddie yawns before falling asleep.

#it chapter 3 ff #ich3-2 #i really wanted to mimick the scene where richie sets eddie's arm in chapter 1 #like I love that chaotic energy #billverly #light #reddie #benverley

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honeypiehotchner · 5 years ago

Text

Trust -- part thirty-eight

It’s Best Man Speech time! Also, I’m a liar. This chapter is not the last. The next one is. Oopsies! ;)

“Pray silence for the best man.”

You squeeze Sherlock’s hand as he stands to his feet, buttoning his jacket and smoothing it down. He really is nervous.

But to be fair, you’re a little nervous, too. He wouldn’t let you hear the speech—He wouldn’t let anyone hear it, actually. This is brand new to everyone. And while that should be exciting, since it’s Sherlock, it’s a little nerve-wracking.

John is beaming, though, grinning from ear to ear – possibly a little buzzed. But he does really love Sherlock, and you know that, even when he doesn’t want to admit it. You know those two have a bond like no other. The Baker Street boys, as Mary calls them.

“Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends. And, um…others.”

Sherlock’s stuttering continues, prompting you reach up and thread your fingers through his. He glances down, smiling a little.

“Telegrams,” you hear your brother mutter, and then Sherlock is back.

“Right, um…” Sherlock picks up the cards. “First things first, telegrams. Well, they’re not actually telegrams, we just call them telegrams, I don’t know why. Wedding tradition. Because we don’t have enough of that already, apparently.”

“Sherlock,” you whisper warningly.

He settles again, nodding. “To Mr. and Mrs. Watson. So sorry I’m unable to be with you on your special day. Good luck, and best wishes, Mike Stamford.”

Ah, Mike. You chuckle.

“To John and Mary. All good wishes for your special day. With love and many big…big squishy cuddles from Stella and Ted.” Sherlock sighs. “Mary, lots of love—Oh.”

John looks up at him. “Yeah?”

“…poppet.”

Mary snickers, leaning forward to catch you stifling your own laughter.

“Oodles of love and heaps of good wishes from Cam. Wish your family could’ve seen this.”

You lean forward at that, giving Mary a look of sympathy as John takes her hand in his, comfortingly.

Sherlock carries on, not missing a beat. “Special day…Very special day…Love…Love…Love…Love…Love. Bit of a theme, you get the general gist. People are basically fond.”

Here we go, you think, wanting to smack Sherlock in the arm, but you decide against it.

“John Watson. My friend, John Watson. John. When John first broached the subject of being best man, I was confused. I confess at first, I didn’t realize he was asking me. When finally, I understood, I expressed to him that I was both flattered and surprised. I explained to him that I had never expected this request, and that I was a little daunted in the face of it. I nonetheless promised that I would do my very best to accomplish a task which was, for me, as demanding and difficult as any I had ever contemplated. Additionally, I thanked him for the trust he placed in me and indicated that I was, in some ways, very closed to being moved by it. It later transpired that I had said none of this out loud.”

The room erupts with laughter, especially coming from John. You laughed loudly, too, because that definitely wasn’t the story you remembered John telling you.

Sherlock begins rummaging in his coat for some cards. “So…done that. Done that. Done that bit. Done that bit.”

He takes a deep breath. And continues.

“I’m afraid John that I can’t congratulate you.”

Your eyebrows furrow. Odd start. Maybe you should’ve forced him to practice the speech in front of you.

“All emotions, and in particular love, stand opposed to the pure cold reason I hold above all things. A wedding is, in my considered opinion, nothing short of a celebration of all that is false and specious and irrational and sentimental in this ailing and morally compromised world. Today we honor the deathwatch beetle that is the doom of our society and in time, one feels certain, our entire species.”

The room stills. You stare down at your hands, a little bit worried for the rest of this, and still regretting the fact that you never took a peek at his speech before today.

“But anyway, let’s talk about John.”

“Please,” you hear John clear his throat, shifting around in his seat.

“If I burden myself with a little helpmate during my adventures, it is not out of sentiment or caprice, it is that he has many fine qualities of his own that he has overlooked in his obsession with me. Indeed, any reputation I have for mental acuity and sharpness comes in truth from the extraordinary contrast John so selflessly provides.”

You tilt your head. That was an insult, wasn’t it?

“It is a fact, I believe, that brides tend to favor exceptionally plain bridesmaids for their big day. There is a certain analogy there, I feel.”

Is he…serious? He absolutely has to be kidding.

“And contrast is, after all, God’s own plan to enhance the beauty of his creation. Or it would be if God were not a ludicrous fantasy designed to provide a career opportunity to the family idiot.”

The room rustles again, and you clasp your hands together, willing yourself to keep listening.

“The point I’m trying to make it that I am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant, and all-round obnoxious arsehole that anyone could possibly have the misfortune to meet. I am dismissive of the virtuous,” Sherlock pauses to look down at you, nudging your arm so you’ll look at him. “I am unaware of the beautiful.” He smiles only softly, then turning to Mary and John. “And uncomprehending in the face of the happy.”

You smile sadly.

“So, if I didn’t understand that I was being asked to be best man, it is because I never expected to be anybody’s best friend. And certainly not the best friend of the bravest and kindest and wisest human being I have ever had the good fortune of knowing.

“John, I am a ridiculous man. Redeemed only by the warmth and constancy of your friendship and the love from the woman sat to my left.”

Your breath hitches. You weren’t expecting him to mention you at all.

“But as I am, apparently, your best friend, I cannot congratulate you on your choice of companion.” Sherlock pauses, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Actually, now I can. Mary, when I say you deserve this man, it is the highest compliment of which I am capable. John, you have endured war, and injury, and tragic loss. So sorry again about that last one.”

You chuckle softly. He’ll forever be apologizing for the time he was ‘dead.’

“So know this. Today, you sit between the woman you have made your wife and the man and woman you have no doubt saved. In short, the three people who love you move in all this world. And I know I speak for Mary and Y/N as well when I say we will never let you down and we have a lifetime ahead to prove that.”

You reach up and wipe a stray tear away from your cheek, chuckling a little when Sherlock doesn’t seem to notice he’s gotten the rest of the reception hall crying as well.

“Ah, yes. Now on to some funny stories about John…” Sherlock frowns. “What’s wrong? What happened? Why are you all doing that? John? Y/N?”

“Love…” You shake your head, smiling despite your own watery eyes.

“Did I do it wrong?”

“No, you didn’t,” John mutters, pushing his chair back. “Come here.”

The room applauds while the two of them hug, Sherlock still not understanding anything at all as he tries to continue over the noise. John pats his shoulder and says something to make him stop, but you don’t hear.

After John is settled back in his chair, Sherlock continues.

“So, onto some funny stories about John. If you could all just cheer up a bit, that would…be better.” Everyone laughs. “On we go. So, for funny stories, one has to look no further than John’s blog. The record of our time together. Of course, he does tend to romanticize things a big, but then, you know, he’s a romantic.

“We’ve tackled some strange cases. The Hollow Client. The Poisoned Giant. We’ve had some frustrating cases. Touching cases,” Sherlock rolls his eyes. “And of course, I have to mention, The Elephant in the Room. But we want something very particular for this special day. The Bloody Guardsman.”

Ah, you remember. The unsolved one. From wedding planning weeks ago.

“Private Steven Bainbridge had written to us with a concern about someone possibly stalking him. A bloke, no less. Private Bainbridge had just come off guard duty. He’d stood there for hours, plenty of people watching, nothing apparently wrong. He came off duty and within minutes was nearly dead from a wound in his stomach but there was no weapon. Where did it go?

“Ladies and gentlemen, I invite you to consider this: A murderer who can walk through walls. A weapon that can vanish. But in all of this, there is only one element which can be said to be truly remarkable. Would anyone like to make a guess?”

Good lord. You definitely should’ve looked at his speech.

“Come on, come on. There is actually an element of Q&A to all of this.” Sherlock clears his throat. “Scotland Yard, have you got a theory?”

“Don’t pick on Greg,” you mutter.

“Yeah, you. You’re a detective, broadly speaking. Got a theory?”

Lestrade crosses his arms over his chest, deciding to entertain Sherlock. “Er, um…If the uh, if the blade was propelled through the um…grating in the air vent… Maybe a ballista or a catapult, uh, somebody tiny could crawl in there. So yeah, we’re looking for a dwarf.”

“Brilliant.”

“Really?”

“No.”

You shake your head.

“Hello, who was that? Tom.”

Sure enough, Tom stands from his chair, Molly sending a frightened look your way. This is going to end badly, it always does when Sherlock gets in one of these moods.

“Got a theory?”

“He attempted suicide with a blade made of compacted blood and bone. Broke after piercing his abdomen, like a meat…dagger.”

“A meat dagger?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Tom sits back down, and Sherlock continues, clearly annoyed. “There was one feature and only one feature of interest in the whole of this baffling case and quite frankly, it was the usual. John Watson. Who while I was trying to solve the murder, instead saved a life.

“There are mysteries worth solving and stories worth telling. The best and bravest man I know and on top of that he actually knows how to do that. Except wedding planning and serviettes, he’s rubbish at that.”

Everyone chuckles at the slight joke.

“The case itself remains the most ingenious and brilliantly planned murder or attempted murder I’ve ever had the pleasure to encounter. The most perfect locked-room mystery of which I am aware.

“However, I’m not just here to praise John, I’m also here to embarrass him so let’s move onto some—”

“No, wait. So how was it done?” Greg interrupts.

“How was what done?”

“The stabbing.”

“He never solved it,” you chime.

“Yes,” Sherlock nods. “I never solved that one. It can happen sometimes. It’s very…very disappointing. Embarrassment leads me on to the stag night.”

Oh, dear Lord.

This night was the night you, Mary, and Molly got together and had dinner before having essentially a big sleepover at John and Mary’s. Because John was out with Sherlock all night, apparently doing something along the lines of having a beer at every place they’ve solved a murder.

It’s okay, you found the idea weird, too. But Molly said she calculated everything correctly, so they should be fine. Even if it was odd that Sherlock asked her to calculate anything in the first place.

But anyway, while the three of you were drinking wine and sharing idiot stories of your significant others, John and Sherlock were getting absolutely pissed.

“‘Course, there’s hours of material here, but I’ve cut it down to the really good bits.”

Apparently, they were only out for two hours before returning to Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson said she nearly had a heart attack when she walked out with her trash to find them snoozing on the stairs, drunkenly mumbling to each other.

And then they had a client. Of all things, they had a client that night.

“The Mayfly Man.”

They also got arrested, which Lestrade wasted no time calling you about and starting off with saying, “You’re not gonna believe this shit.” You thought it was going to be much worse than what it was, but at least Lestrade was able to get them bailed out with no problem. And thankfully, it never turned up in the papers.

You still remember after that when Sherlock continued investigating. You were sat in his chair when he had probably six or seven laptops open, talking to all of these women who had encountered the Mayfly Man. John was here as well, helping with the case on his day off.

Apparently, Sherlock had asked a question to the women and immediately every single one of them signed off. You had warned him to let you help, but he didn’t want you to. He didn’t want to come off as too knowing.

“Why? Why would he date all of those women and not return their calls?” Sherlock slams the laptop closed, straightening up and buttoning his blazer.

John snorts. “You’re missing the obvious, mate.”

“Am I?”

“You are,” you nod. “He’s a man.”

Sherlock still doesn’t get it. “So? I’m a man.”

“You’re a different breed,” you chuckle.

“But why would he change his identity?” Sherlock asks the rhetorical question to the wedding guests, not noticing their lack of interest. “He was married. Obvious, really. Our Mayfly Man was trying to escape the suffocating chains of domesticity and instead of endless nights in watching telly or going to barbeques with the awful, dreadful, boring people he couldn’t stand, he used his wits, cleverness and powers of disguise to play the field. He was—” Sherlock stops, suddenly surveying the room and seeing their tired faces. He turns to you and you shake your head, motioning for him to stop the story.

He nods. “On second thoughts, maybe I probably should’ve told you about The Elephant in the Room.

“However, it does help to further illustrate how invaluable John is to me. I can read a crime scene the way he can understand a human being. I used to think that’s what made me special. Quite frankly, I still do. But a word to the wise: Should any of you require the services of either of us, I will solve your murder, but it will take John Watson to save your life. Trust me on that, I should know. He’s saved mine so many times and in so many ways.

“This blog,” Sherlock gestures with his phone, “is the story of two men and their frankly ridiculous adventures. Of murder, mystery, and mayhem. But from now on, there’s a new story. A bigger adventure.”

You watch with a smile as Sherlock glances to the happy couple, and then you watch in surprise as he looks to you.

“Ladies and gentlemen pray charge your glasses and be upstanding.” You stand with your glass in hand. “Today begin the adventures of Mary Elizabeth Watson and John Hamish Watson. The two reasons why every single one of us is—”

Sherlock freezes.

His glass falls from his hands, but no matter about that. You know that look in his eyes. He’s gone. Albeit for a split second, but he’s gone.

It’s almost like he’s gone to his mind palace.

The glass shatters as it hits the floor, the noise startling Sherlock back into the real world. He blinks, looking down at the mess he made and tries to brush past it.

“Oh, sorry, I—” He shakes his head, clearing his throat.

“Another glass, sir?”

“Thank you, yes. Thank you. Now, where were we?”

“Sherlock…” You whisper.

He looks to you briefly before continuing on. “Ah, yes, raising glasses and standing up. Very good, thank you… And down again.”

You sit down quickly, casting a worried glance in John and Mary’s direction. The rest of the guests follow, confusion coating their faces.

“Ladies and gentlemen, people tell you not to milk a good speech. Get off early, leave them laughing. Wise advice I’ll certainly try to bear in mind, but for now…”

“Sherlock!” You hiss as he jumps over the table.

“Part two!” He walks down the middle. “Part two is more action based, I’m gonna walk around, shake things up a bit.

“Who’d go to a wedding? That’s the question? Who would bother to go to any lengths to get themselves to a wedding…? Well, everyone!” Sherlock turns around, clapping his hands. “Weddings are great. Love a wedding.”

Mary leans forward to look at you. “What’s he doing?”

“Something’s wrong,” you whisper back. “I don’t know what.”

“And John’s great, too,” Sherlock points back to the front. “I haven’t said that enough, barely scratched the surface. I could go on all night about the depth and complexity of his jumpers. And he can cook, does a thing – A thing with peas, once. Might not be peas, might not be him, but he’s got a great singing voice – Or somebody does…

“Too many, too many, too many, too many!” Sherlock screams. He stops himself, turning back around. “Sorry, too many jokes about John. Now, uh… Where was I? Ah, yes. Speech! Speech. Let’s talk about…murder.”

“Christ, Sherlock,” you smack your forehead.

“Sorry, did I say murder? I meant to say marriage. But, you know, they’re…quite similar procedures when you think about it, the participants tend to know each other and it’s over when one of them’s dead. In fairness, murder is a lot quicker, though.”

You watch as Sherlock pulls out his phone and begins texting behind his back – something you hate when he does, but now it’s only worrying you further.

“Jeff, the gents.” Sherlock looks at Lestrade.

“It’s Greg!”

“The loos, please.”

“Why?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe it’s your turn?” Sherlock nods toward the door as Lestrade’s phone beeps. So, Sherlock was texting him. You wish he’d text you to let you know what the hell is going on right now.

Lestrade looks at his phone and his eyes widen. “Yeah, actually, now that you mention it.” And he disappears through the doors.

“Sherlock,” John calls out. “Any chance of an end date to this speech? We’ve gotta cut the cake.”

“Oh! Ladies and gentlemen, can’t stand it when I finally get the chance to speak for once – Vatican Cameos.”

Your eyes widen. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

“What did he just say?”

You scoot over to Sherlock’s seat next to John’ careful of the broken glass. “Vatican Cameos,” you murmur. “It means someone’s going to die.”

“Not you, not you, you,” Sherlock points to John. “It’s always you. John Watson, you keep me right.”

John stands to meet Sherlock. “What do I do?”

“You’ve already done it,” Sherlock whispers, glancing to you. “Don’t solve the murder. Save the life.

“Sorry,” Sherlock inhales sharply, turning back around. “Off-piste a bit, back now, phew! Let’s play a game. Let’s play murder. Imagine someone’s going to get murdered at a wedding. Who exactly would you pick?”

“I think you’re a popular choice at the moment, dear,” you hear Mrs. Hudson say, bringing a small smile to your face.

“If someone could move Mrs. Hudson’s glass just slightly out of reach, that would be lovely. More importantly, who could you only kill at a wedding?”

Your eyes widen. They lock with Sherlock’s. There’s a brief moment where you wonder if it’s you. After all, this morning was the only time you traveled without Sherlock in a long time. But it doesn’t make sense, you don’t fit. He’s here with you now, and no one was close to you when he wasn’t.

Sherlock shakes his head slightly. You’re safe.

“Most people you can kill just any old place,” he continues. “As a mental exercise, I’ve often planned the murder of friends and colleagues. Now, John, I’d poison. Sloppy eater, dead easy. Y/N is a different story. To poison her would ultimately insure my own death sentence. Lestrade’s so easy to kill, it’s a miracle no one’s succumbed to the temptation. I’ve got a pair of keys to my brother’s house, I could easily break in there and asphyxiate him…if the whim arose.

“So, once again, who could you only kill here?”

Sherlock’s eyes lock with yours again and you mouth, “Isolated.”

“Clearly, it’s a rare opportunity, so it’s someone who doesn’t get out much. Someone for whom a planned social encounter known about months in advance is an exception. Has to be a unique opportunity. And since killing someone in public difficult, killing them in private isn’t an option. Someone who lives in an inaccessible or unknown location, then. Someone private, perhaps, obsessed with personal security. Possibly someone under threat.”

�� When Sherlock looks to Major James Sholto, you sigh, letting your eyes fall closed. You should’ve known from the minute your brain told you it had to be someone who is truly isolated. Major Sholto is the only one true fit to that statement.

“Or, a recluse,” Sherlock speaks, now obviously filling the time as he writes something on a card. “Small, house hold staff. High turnover for additional security. Probably have all signed confidentiality agreements.

“There is another question that remains, however, a rather big one. How would you do it? How do you kill someone in public? There has to be a way. This has been planned.”

Your eyes widen. “The Bloody Guardsman,” you blurt. “The killer that can walk through walls. The weapon that vanishes.”

Sherlock stares off when he hears you, Major Sholto standing and leaving in the meantime. Sherlock nods to you. “Not just planned, planned and rehearsed.”

He slides back up to the front, grabbing a random glass. “Ladies and gentlemen, there will now be a short interlude. To the bride and groom!”

Everyone stands for the toast, but Sherlock whirls around, leaning down to the table. “Major Sholto’s going to be murdered. I don’t know how or by whom but it’s going to happen.” Sherlock abruptly kisses you on the forehead before turning and moving his way through the crowd. “Excuse me, coming through, consulting.”

John gives Mary a kiss before standing, looking to the both of you and saying, “Stay here.”

As soon as he gets around the table, though, you and Mary look at each other and nod. You stand, linking arms and pushing your way through the crowd, careful not to trip on your dresses as you search for where Sherlock and John went.

You round the corner just as your brother is laying into Sherlock for not remembering Major Sholto’s room number.

You roll your eyes and say, “207,” as you and Mary push between them.

The four of you bound up the stairs and to the left, Major Sholto’s door right at the end of the hall. Sherlock immediately begins banging on the door, trying the handle.

“Major Sholto!” Sherlock yells, hitting the door with an open hand.

The Major speaks from behind the door. “If someone’s about to make an attempt on my life, it won’t be the first time. I’m ready.”

“Major,” John steps forward. “Let us in. Or I’ll kick this bloody door down.”

“I really wouldn’t,” he calls out. “I have a gun in my hand and a lifetime of unfortunate reflexes.”

“You’re not safe in there. Whoever’s after you, we know that a locked room doesn’t stop him.”

“Yes, I know. The invisible man with the invisible knife.”

“I don’t know how he does it, so I can’t stop him and that means he’ll do it again.”

“Solve it, then.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re the famous Mr. Holmes. Solve the case, on you go. Tell me how he did it, and I’ll open the door.”

Sherlock shakes his head, stepping away.

“Please, this is no time for games. Just let us in, you’re in danger!” John’s voice cracks on a matter of urgency, and the knot is your stomach is twisting dangerously tight.

“So are you, so long as you’re here,” the Major counters. “Please, leave me. Despite my reputation, I really do not approve of collateral damage.”

“Solve it,” Mary blurts.

“Sorry?”

“Solve it and he’ll open the door, like he said.”

“I couldn’t solve it before, how can I solve it now?”

“Because it matters now!” Mary cries.

“What are you talking about? What’s she talking about? Get your wife under control.”

“She’s right,” John replies, deadly serious.

“Oh, you’ve changed!”

You smack Sherlock’s arm harshly, finally succumbing to the urge you’ve had all evening. “Shut up!” Sherlock looks back at you, dejected and holding his shoulder where you hit it. “She’s right. You are not a puzzle solver, you idiot, you never were. You’re a goddamned drama queen. Now, there is a man in there about to die, the game is fucking on, solve it.”

Sherlock’s eyes widen, though you can’t tell if it’s in shock or realization, but then he turns to the door, and you hear he’s solved it. “Major Sholto, no one’s coming to kill you. I’m afraid you’ve already been killed several hours ago.”

“What did you say?”

“Don’t take off your belt.”

“The belt,” you mutter. “Of course.”

“Bainbridge was stabbed hours before we even saw him. But it was through his belt – tight belt, worn high on the waist. Very easy to push a small blade through the fabric and you wouldn’t even feel it.”

“The belt would bind the flesh together when it was tight. And when you took it off…” John trails away.

“Exactly. Delayed action stabbing.”

“Neat,” you mutter, then realizing what you’ve said, you grimace. “Sorry.”

“You’re supposed to open the door, Major, he solved the case.”

Silence.

“Whatever you’re doing in there James, stop it, right now, I will kick this door down!” John yells.

“You and I are very similar Mr. Holmes,” the Major continues. “There’s a proper time to die, isn’t there?”

“There is.”

“And one should embrace it when it comes. Like a soldier.”

“Of course, but not at John’s wedding!” Sherlock screams. “We wouldn’t do that, would we, you and me? We would never do that to John Watson.”

Sherlock steps away from the door, and right as John is getting ready to ram his foot through the door, it opens.

John and Mary disappear into the room, leaving you and Sherlock in the hallway. He suddenly picks you up by your waist and spins you around, setting you down to press a firm kiss to your lips.

“You’re a drama queen, too,” he pouts.

“Shut up,” you shake your head, pulling him back into you for another kiss.

#bbc sherlock #bbc sherlock fanfiction #bbc sherlock fanfic #Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock Holmes fanfiction #sherlock x reader #Sherlock Holmes x Reader #the sign of three #best man speech #female!reader #watson!reader #half-sibling!reader #soft #john watson #mary watson #wedding day

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raywritesthings · 5 years ago

Text

Wrong Road to the Right Place 20/?

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Oliver Queen, Laurel Lance, John Diggle, Tommy Merlyn, Helena Bertinelli, Quentin Lance, Moira Queen, Malcolm Merlyn, McKenna Hall, Thea Queen, Walter Steele, Raisa, Lucas Hilton Pairings: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: Laurel finds herself curious about the marks Oliver showed her that night in his bedroom - and the tattoo on his left shoulder stands out in particular. When she discovers its meaning, she finds herself questioning everything she knows about the man she doesn’t want to admit she still loves. *Can also be read on my AO3 page*

Helena wasn’t sure what to think about the card that appeared on her bedside table one morning. Mandragora’s, 1:30. Lunch on me.

A quick search on her phone showed that Mandragora’s was in fact a restaurant in Hub City, where she’d made her camp the last couple of weeks. It was close enough to Starling should new information about her father surface, but far enough away that she wasn’t recognized. Clearly, however, someone had recognized her.

She wouldn’t know who unless she went to this meeting. So Helena packed a small pistol in her clutch and went to lunch.

“Can I help you, miss?”

“Yes. I was, uh, invited to lunch, only I wasn’t made aware of the name under reservation.”

The woman looked her over. “I’m guessing you’re with the party of four in the back. If you’ll follow me.”

Party of four, was it? She was outnumbered. Interesting.

Yet as Helena was led around a corner to a booth near the back, she couldn’t help a disbelieving laugh.

“You really have to be joking.”

“Helena.” Laurel Lance looked up with a perfectly pleasant smile. Beside her, Oliver was grimacing. “Glad you could make it.”

“Considering the last double date went so well,” Tommy Merlyn added with wry humor. “Have a seat?”

She did so next to him against her better judgment and accepted the wine list. “And here I thought you all wanted nothing to do with me anymore. There must be something you want,” she said, eyeing Oliver over the menu. He wouldn’t be here unless she had something he needed.

“We have a situation back home, Helena. Mob situation.”

“Which mob?”

“Bratva.”

“Then why come to me?” She set the menu down and leaned forward. “Unless this has to do with my father, I’m not interested.”

“The Bratva arranged a hit on a family two nights ago. Mother, father and a little boy,” Laurel told her. “We were able to help them, but if the Bratva has their way then all of them will be killed.”

Her grip tightened on her clutch. “So?”

“So I think this matters to you, Helena,” Oliver said, picking up smoothly from Laurel. God, it was almost sickening how in sync they were. “You got into all this in the first place because you were trying to stop your father. You wanted justice.”

“And now I want vengeance,” she hissed, more because the waitress was approaching than anything. Helena turned to her and said, “I’ll have the house red.”

The waitress left again, and surprisingly it was Tommy who spoke up next. “Look, far be it from me to dissuade someone from hating their own father with every fiber of their being. I understand, really I do. But we’re asking you to think about the end goal here.”

“The end goal?” Helena echoed dubiously.

“What happens after your father? Now that he’s been captured, have the crimes he was known for stopped? No, because the other mobs keep vying for control and they’re all just as bad.” He leaned closer to her, eyes boring into hers, clearly trying to fit all of his words in before the return of their waitress with her wine. “What matters more to you, seeing him dead? Or making sure no one like him gets to hurt innocents again? No one has to lose the person who matters most to them.”

Helena turned away from him and towards the waitress to hide her swallow. She made the mistake of briefly making eye contact with Laurel across from her, who definitely saw it.

It was after they ordered their meals and the waitress left them that she had a moment to ask, “Why do you really need me? I know Oliver. He wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t desperate.”

Oliver grimaced but didn’t deny the accusation. “There’s another situation that requires our attention. Time-sensitive.”

“What is it?”

He remained silent.

Helena leaned back. “If you’re not willing to be honest with me—”

“This situation affects hundreds of people, Helena. That’s how sensitive it is,” said Laurel. “If we’re not careful, we put all those people at risk.”

She glanced around at them all. None of them were cracking.

“Well then, that’s my price. You don’t share your information with me, I don’t help you.”

There was a tense moment when the friends all looked around at each other. They were communicating without words, and it was hard for even her to follow.

At last, Tommy said, “You’ll have to come back to the Verdant with us. It’s not a lunch conversation.”

“You’ll smuggle me in under cover of darkness?”

“What other way to do it?”

She studied his eyes behind the cheeky grin. There was something decidedly quick about Tommy Merlyn, and she was pretty sure most people missed it. But it seemed he was shedding the devil-may-care playboy facade for good. “Fine. This should at least be interesting.”

She had no idea how right she was.

“Your father’s going to sink this whole side of town so he can replace it for a shopping center?” And she thought her own father was a bastard! He still was, of course, but this took the cake.

“We don’t know what his future plans for the land are and they don’t matter, because we’re not letting them happen,” Laurel told her. “As soon as we find the second device.”

“Which you might not.” Helena shrugged and studied each of them, which now includes Oliver’s bodyguard and partner John Diggle who had joined them in the base. She was pleased to note he was eyeing her just as warily as before. “So why don’t I just take care of him? If none of you will.”

“Look, he’s sick in the head, but let’s not get into the premeditated crimes,” Tommy warned them.

Oliver shook his head. “It’s not a question of wanting. It’s a question of ability. Merlyn is the copycat archer who sought me out at Christmas. He is on a level I can barely match. A crossbow isn’t going to cut it, Helena.”

She hadn’t slacked in her training in the months since they’d parted ways, but even she knew she’d be hard-pressed to beat someone who could best him.

“So the Bratva?” She asked instead.

“Haven’t made their move yet since Rasmus’ hitman was taken in by the police. But I know where they’re located out of. What we want to start off with is monitoring them.”

“Figure out their schedule so we can hit them when the most of them are there,” Helena summarized. She’d played this game before.

“Right. For now, we’re going to focus on the Undertaking,” Oliver said.

“Which starts with me stopping by dear old dad’s to see if I can spy a little and see where he’s planning to put that second device,” Tommy added. Helena smirked. She’d used her own closeness to her father to organize her attacks on his organization often enough to appreciate the tactic.

“You’ll need to be careful,” Laurel cautioned him. “Even if your father is acting nicer than usual, we don’t want to find out what happens if he knows you know his plan. He’s proven willing to kidnap and murder his own friends, and I can’t see him stopping at family.”

Helena thought she saw Tommy swallow heavily, but he rallied and replied, “I’ve been pretty sure my father would kill me on plenty of occasions, Laurel. Consider careful my personal motto.”

Judging by Oliver and Laurel’s shared doubtful look, Helena wondered if Tommy even knew the definition of the word.

“I’ll be speaking to my mother, as well,” Oliver revealed.

“What makes you think she’ll talk this time, Oliver?” Asked Diggle. “Even if you confront her with the files, she might just burn those like she burned the other copy of the list.”

“I won’t be taking the files with me,” was his answer. “You’ll have them. And I’ll tell her that if she doesn’t turn her back on Merlyn now, then those files will be going to Detective Lance and the SCPD.”

Helena’s eyes widened. She knew Oliver let little get in the way of his precious mission, but this felt like a line she’d cross while he’d be trying to stop her.

Clearly she wasn’t the only one who was shocked. Laurel reached for his arm. “Ollie, are you sure? I know you didn’t want her getting in trouble.”

“There’s too many people she’s putting at risk by complying with him. If she forces my hand, I don’t have a choice.” He looked down and swallowed. “And truthfully, I haven’t forgiven her for what she tried to have done to you.”

Laurel bit her lip. “I didn’t want to tear you apart from your family like this.”

“You didn’t. She made the choice.”

Helena knew she had to be missing something here — and something big, judging by the serious expression even Tommy wore — but for once she didn’t feel comfortable interrupting with some remark. She knew the look in Oliver’s eye when he spoke about what his mother had nearly done.

It was the same look she’d worn ever since her father had had Michael killed.

Diggle came forward with two small boxes that he passed out to her and Tommy. “These are comms so we can all get in touch with each other at any time. Do not use anyone’s real names on here, because there’s been enough compromised identities,” Diggle warned.

“Fine. So, Hood, Huntress,” she listed off, pointing to Oliver and then herself. “Who are you three?”

“Black Canary,” Laurel answered promptly.

Helena smirked. “Cute.”

Diggle was frowning in thought. “Spartan.”

Laurel, who had narrowed her eyes at Helena’s remark, immediately brightened back up. She really was a sweet little bird. “Military, right. It fits you.”

There was a pause as they all turned to Tommy. “I don’t really have one,” he admitted.

“You’ll have to come up with something we can use,” Oliver said.

“Well, what’d you all call me before you knew who I was?”

Helena watched in some amusement as Oliver, Laurel and Diggle all glanced around at each other. “Mostly the guy with the questions,” Diggle finally answered.

“So, Question then?” Laurel offered.

“You could be Q,” Helena suggested dryly.

“Hey, I’m not the guy that sits in the basement and makes all the stuff. I have the look, the style, the ladies a lot of the time. That’s Bond,” Tommy protested. “I am at least like Brosnan-level Bond, give me that.”

Helena turned away rather than let him see the smile that was starting to form on her lips. God, he was so strange.

Laurel was taking her phone out of her bag. “I’ve got some missed calls. Dad mostly, from the looks of it. And my landlord.”

“If you need to take that, we should be fine,” Oliver told her.

“Thanks. I’ll try and make it quick.” She pecked her boyfriend on the cheek and then walked up to Helena for some reason. “Helena, I do want to thank you for agreeing to help us.”

“I’m doing this for me.”

Laurel frustratingly looked undeterred. “Still. Thank you.” Then she left the base. Probably thought this made them girlfriends or something. Helena hadn’t had friends, period, in years.

She glanced over at Tommy who had taken his comm out of the box and seemed to be fiddling with it. “So, uh, how does this work?”

She shook her head and went over to help him. It would make her job harder if he didn’t know what he was doing, that was all. The winning smile he gave her was just his choice.

—-

Quentin was having a week, to put it lightly. His focus was being pulled in so many different directions it was making his head spin.

His investigation into the Verdant had been a dud, true, but the Queen family was still full of surprises. Walter Steele’s unexpected return yielded little aside from the Hood’s apparent involvement, and Quentin had a feeling if he tried calling the vigilante to ask about it he wouldn’t get much out of him.

Then there was the break in at Unidac Industries, owned by the Queen family. The Hood’s rival had apparently made a visit to the labs and left a trail of bodies in his wake.

But a janitor at the facility had a different story.

“There was a man that came in, but he didn’t have any arrows. He had some kind of gun that fired knockout darts or something. I locked myself in the supply closet to phone the cops, so I didn’t see what he was after,” the older man told him with a shrug. “By the time the first responders came through, that copycat from the holidays had been there, too.”

So he’d been following up on an earlier break-in, just like he’d followed up on Adam Hunt and some of the others the Hood has started out targeting last year. But why?

“And what did this first guy look like?”

“Didn’t see much. He wore dark clothing, had on a helmet of some kind that covered his whole face.”

The Hood and the Helmet. Just great. What sort of headgear would pop up next?

“And you’re sure you don’t know what he was after?”

“That’s all above my pay grade, Detective.”

Quentin sighed. “Alright, thanks.”

Now he was stuck trying to puzzle through that scant amount of information, and alone since Hilton was busy interrogating the guy that had been picked up outside of Laurel’s clients’ house and Hall had taken it upon herself to drive out to Merlyn Manor in order to follow up her lead about Robert Queen’s curious property investments before he died. There really was just too much going on in this city.

It didn’t seem like Helmet and the copycat archer were in league, but why come to the same place on the same night? And what had been the original goal that was now covered up by a massacre? A cover-up was something. Maybe the copycat had had his eyes on Unidac for something, something Helmet’s break-in would have exposed. But what?

He’d need to make another visit to the Queen Manor for answers. Just great.

Before he could even leave to do that, however, Hilton called out to him. “Quentin, I just got off the phone with the fire department. They got a suspected arson.”

“Alright, well—” He began, trying to think of who to delegate to. Even he was willing to admit he was juggling a lot right now.

“It’s at Laurel’s apartment.”

He froze. “Was she—?”

“No one was home.”

He let out a breath. “We’ll head over.”

Quentin called his daughter twice on the way but received no answer. Where was she?

The fire itself hadn’t been so bad. A flaming rag tied around a rock had been tossed through the window, and the sprinklers had taken care of things for the most part. But someone would have needed to climb up three whole flights to even reach her window. This had been deliberate and motivated. What was his girl getting mixed up in now?

“Could be someone working for Rasmus,” Hilt suggested. “That’s who hired the hit man, according to his statement.”

Jesus, it wasn’t enough for these people to be rich, was it? They just had to keep throwing their weight around! He almost couldn’t blame the Hood for doing what he did behind a mask — but that was going down a dangerous road.

Hurried footsteps and a voice outside alerted him to Laurel’s presence. “Yes, I understand and I’m checking the damage for myself right now. I know, it’s a lot to pay for.” His daughter ducked under the caution tape and entered the living room. “I’ll make time to stop by your office as soon as possible. Thank you.” She hung up and looked around with a sort of hapless chagrin. “Well, there goes my security deposit for sure.”

“You’ve still been staying in that basement at Queen’s place?” Quentin asked straight away. When she nodded, he said, “Good. Don’t give anyone else your address.”

“Is this all the stuff from the hall closet?” Laurel asked, pointing to a pile of smoky-looking linens and a couple boxes with blackened sides. She took off the lid and started going through one.

“We’re looking at Edward Rasmus as the mastermind behind this stunt,” Hilton told her. “He sent a hitman to visit the Moore home last night. He was stopped by a masked man in black, and one other unseen assailant.”

“I heard. And you’re probably right. Rasmus has connections.”

“What kind of connections?” Quentin asked her. “And why do you know about them?”

“I hear things.” Laurel frowned as she continued digging through the box. “I hope it wasn’t damaged — Oh, good,” she said with relief as she lifted an old plush shark toy out. Quentin’s throat closed up for a moment. He hadn’t seen that old thing in years.

But eventually he cleared his throat and said, “Laurel what connections?”

Laurel’s tone was carefully light as she replied, “Mob.”

He knew it. He’d just known it had been way too good to be true that she’d dropped all of that. Everything Merlyn has said about her looking up things about the Triad, their strike at Malcolm Merlyn hitting her instead. Something was going on.

“Can you give us a minute?” He asked his partner. Holt nodded and stepped out of the apartment. “Laurel.”

“I know, dad,” she said with a sigh, finally setting Sara’s old shark down.

“I begged you to get yourself out of this.”

“But I can’t, dad. Rasmus would have sent that man after the Moore family whether I knew about his ties to the Bratva or not.”

“Who’s your guy with the Bratva. We can get him immunity. Witness protection.”

But Laurel was shaking her head. “He doesn’t want that, he wants to stay. He has to stay, dad, or so much worse is going to happen than this little scare tactic.”

Laurel waved her arm around her apartment, but Quentin’s mind was going a mile a minute. The way she talked about him… it couldn’t be. But nothing else made sense.

“The Hood’s ex-Bratva.”

Laurel drew back. “You know I can’t answer that.”

“Can’t or won’t, because those are two very different things.”

She only kept looking at him. Quentin sighed. He’d known for a while now that she was in support of the Hood. It was only a matter of time before she would’ve started working with him, and especially after the vigilante had taken such a keen interest in her cases.

She was flouting the law doing so, but then could he really condemn her when he’d traded — or attempted to trade — information with the man himself? The Hood has caught the Savior when known of them could; he had cleared the path for the officers to make it into Vertigo’s warehouse to arrest the drug dealer; he had even rescued Walter Steele, a man who based on income fit the Hood’s usual target profile. His kills had decreased dramatically. If this was a man trying to turn away from the life of a mobster into something else, was he truly the phantom evil Quentin had hunted for months? Was Laurel wrong time reach out and help to rehabilitate him, when rehabilitation was what a society claimed to do?

He hated having these questions with no simple answers. All his life he had believed in the law and the good it could do — but the law had never wronged him the way it had some.

His cell rang, and Quentin elf up a hand to indicate they weren’t yet done before answering it. “Lance.”

“Detective, it’s Kelton,” the CSU tech said. “I’ve been looking at the ingoing and outgoing communications from Unidac the night of the massacre, and I found something interesting. One of their head scientist’s last known calls shortly after the initial break-in was to a number at Merlyn Global.”

“Merlyn? But Unidac’s a Queen property.”

“It is, but that’s who received that last call.”

Something wasn’t right. First that false wall in Merlyn’s penthouse office, now this call to his company. “Hall’s out his way now. I better meet her up while she’s got his time. Thanks for the tip.”

“Everything okay?” Laurel asked as he hung up.

“Different case. Look, we’re gonna talk about what you meant by ‘so much worse’, alright? Just once everything’s calmed down a little.”

Laurel nodded. “Yeah, dad. That’s fine.”

He raised an eyebrow at that. He hadn’t gotten that easy of an acquiescence from his eldest since she learned the word no. It’s how he’d known she’d make a great lawyer one day.

But one thing at a time. A whole laboratory of scientists was dead and Malcolm Merlyn seemed to know something about it. That had to take priority. When Laurel followed him out of the apartment with only the one box under her arm, however, he gave her a look.

“Most of my stuff was already with Ollie’s. I’m coming back tomorrow to break my lease with the landlord.” She leaned in close to give him a one-armed hug. “Stay safe, okay?”

“I should be telling you that,” he said, his lips pressing to the side of her head for a moment. Then they both pulled away.

Once he had this whole Merlyn situation squared away, he’d be taking a good, hard look at the Bratva. If they thought they could leave a threatening message for his daughter without any sort of repercussions, they had another thing coming.

And his daughter had another thing coming if she thought he was just going to drop all this after.

—-

Despite having Walter back, Moira felt at perhaps her lowest point.

Malcolm was, at the very least, wary of her. It was clear for whatever reason this Hood had some sort of interest in her family; he’d rescued Oliver from the men she’d hired to question him and now he’d returned Walter safely home when all the resources law enforcement had available had been unable to find anything. And, if she thought about it, the Hood had been the one to bring down that dealer who had made the drug Thea had taken before crashing the car on her birthday.

But Malcolm also knew Moira hadn’t asked to be the benefactor of this vigilante, much less had she arranged for her husband’s rescue. Even still, she and her family were under closer scrutiny than ever, and she wondered if perhaps her family could tell.

Walter was acting distant, claiming often that he needed to rest when she entered the room. Thea seemed to be watching everything with a wary gaze. And Oliver — well, she wished she knew what was going on with Oliver, but aside from that brief moment he’d returned home and shown up at the hospital, he was keeping separate from her.

And she knew exactly why.

Moira sat in the sitting room, turning the pages of one of their many photo albums. She used to look upon these photos fondly, even when Oliver had been presumed dead. They had reminded her of simpler, happier times when her son’s life had been full of potential.

At one time, she’d hoped the young woman at his side in the picture would show him how to harness that potential. Now looking down at the smiling couple filled her with a mixture of frustration and shame.

Laurel had clearly went against everything she had asked of her and told Oliver the truth of what happened that night at the award ceremony. She may have told him everything she knew about Malcolm for all Moira knew. And as a result, her son had shut her out of his life so effectively he may as well have never returned from that island.

Moira had hoped for Oliver never to find out, though Laurel’s survival had made that always a possibility. She had assumed if he did find out that he would come to her and beg her to tell him it wasn’t true, anything other than this cold silence. She felt she didn’t know her own son anymore.

And now, with the Undertaking so close, Moira was sure one of two things would happen: either Malcolm would find out about the leak — Laurel, the man who had stolen her computer files, all of it — and act to eliminate it, or his plan would succeed with some of her family aware of her role in it. Either way, she would lose her son for good.

The front door opened, and Moira stilled at the sound of heavier footfalls coming towards the sitting room. She didn’t need to look around to know who stood in the archway. “Mom.”

“Oliver.” Moira closed the album and stood. “To what do I owe the rare pleasure of your company?”

“We need to talk.”

Now? He wanted to talk about this now, after days and nearly weeks? Moira touched the pearls she wore around her neck and turned slightly from him. “Talk about what, sweetheart?”

“About what was so important that Mr. Merlyn has to pull you away from your husband at the hospital.”

“It was a private conversation.”

“A private conversation that is going to affect hundreds of not thousands. Mom, I need to know.” He took two steps toward her, and not for the first time Moira could see what an imposing figure her son cut these days. “Where is he going to put it?”

“Put what?”

“Don’t make this a game. The Markov device, the second one.”

The devices. Lord help her, he knew about the devices. Moira’s hands shook.

“Did Laurel have you hire the man who broke into my office?” She asked, still doing her best to keep her tone carefully light. “She needs to stop telling you these things, getting you involved.” Didn’t she have to see the danger by now?

“I would have figured out on my own.”

“How would you—” But then she stopped. Because it was so obvious.

Oliver was not the innocent boy being led into danger by a woman he cared for. He was the vigilante who had brought Laurel into his world.

Moira sat heavily on the couch. The enormity of everything her son had done since he had returned hit her, and she could hardly grasp at it. He has fought Malcolm’s associate at Christmas. That was what had so badly injured him. He could have been killed, with her none the wiser.

“When I came home from the island, I had one goal,” he told her quietly. “Dad asked me to stop the people that were poisoning this city, and now I know what he truly meant. This Undertaking.”

“Oh, Robert,” she moaned. Why has she been so insistent he do something? If she hadn’t said anything, he wouldn’t have interfered and he’d be with them still. Oliver would have never gone through that terrible time away or be carrying this burden his father had placed on him.

“We can do this together, mom. We can stop Malcolm. But you have to stand up to him.”

“I tried, but Frank said we had to take care of the leak. That’s why I- I let him change the target to Laurel,” she said, her voice quavering badly as her breath came our ragged. “He’ll have Walter killed this time. He’ll kill you, he’ll kill Thea.”

“I can stop him before it comes to that.”

She shook her head. “Even if the SCPD stormed Merlyn Global and had him arrested, his associate—”

“He is his associate, mom. The Dark Archer is him.”

She froze. “Malcolm?”

Oliver nodded. “I’m going after him tonight.”

Moira stood. “You can’t! If this is all true, he nearly killed you—”

“I’ve been training since then, but it doesn’t matter because lives are on the line. And more than just mine or Thea’s,” he snapped. “Those children in the Glades have mothers who would do anything to protect them, too, and just because they don’t have the means we do doesn’t make it our right to let them suffer for our sakes!”

“I never wanted them to—”

“Then tell me where the second device is,” he demanded coldly. There was nothing of her son in him.

“What the hell is going on?”

They both looked at Thea in the archway, staring at them in clear confusion and fright.

“N- nothing, baby,” Moira said. “Your brother and I are in a slight disagreement.”

“Slight? You’re crying.” Her daughter’s gaze shifted to Oliver. “What did you do?”

“Thea…” Oliver hesitated, and Moira let out the slightest breath in relief. He wouldn’t continue this interrogation while his little sister was here. He couldn’t. Then his gaze hardened again and he said, “I have to go make a call.”

“To?” She asked, hardly expecting an answer.

But he stopped in the archway and said, “Mr. Diggle. He’s holding onto some files for me that I need delivered to the SCPD right away.”

Moira’s mouth fell open. “You wouldn’t!”

“What files? What’s going on?” Thea demanded again.

Oliver ignored them both, walking out into the foyer. Moira followed.

“And what if I should go to the police about my discovery of my son’s actions as of late?”

“You won’t. Because you’ve done all this to protect me, and Thea.”

“I’m finding I may have to protect you from yourself,” she argued. He was going to destroy them; everything she and Robert had built to give their children the lives they wanted. He would open them up to attack from any number of enemies, Malcolm most of all.

“I was proven innocent, mom. And I’ve picked up enough from Laurel to know we could just claim you’re using defamation to stop an investigation into the files.” He turned to look back at her fully. “I don’t have to do this. I don’t even want to. But you have to make a choice, mom. Your family, or your security.”

“The security of this family has always been my choice,” she stressed.

“I don’t understand. Will someone just please say what’s going on!” Thea shouted.

“I believe I can.”

Moira’s heart stopped at that voice.

Walter continued down the steps towards them all. “I can at least say there’s a lot your mother hasn’t told any of us, though Oliver seems to have figured it out.” He looked at Oliver. “It was murder, what happened to Robert, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

Thea gasped.

“But that’s not what’s important to right now. If we don’t act soon—” He cit himself off, one hand going to his ear. Belatedly, Moira recognized a small earpiece sitting there. “I have to go,” he said, expression grim.

“To where? The police station?”

He didn’t answer either of her questions, and the front door slammed behind him.

“Dad was murdered?” Thea asked, her voice tiny in the otherwise silence.

“Yes,” she finally admitted. There was very little she could do to convince either of them otherwise at this point. “And your brother seems determined to follow him. Raisa!”

Her head maid emerged from the kitchen a few moments later. “Yes, Mrs. Queen?”

“I need the staff to make preparations. We’ll be going on a trip, and I can’t say how long.”

“Wait, who’s we?” Thea said.

“All three of us. If Oliver does as he’s threatened we will all be in danger. I can’t stop him, it seems, but I can keep you safe.”

“Except I haven’t been very safe the last few months at all,” Walter interrupted. He withdrew some papers and handed them to her. “I’m sorry, Moira, but I won’t be staying here or going with you any longer.”

Her breath caught in her throat as she took the divorce papers.

“Raisa, you need only call me a cab, if you would be so kind.”

“Yes, Mr. Steele.”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere either,” Thea decided. “I have community service, a boyfriend—”

“None of which mean more than your life,” Moira insisted.

“But it is my life! I’m an adult, you can’t decide stuff like this for me anymore!” Her daughter fled up the stairs.

“I would suggest you listen to Oliver, Moira,” Walter told you. “You’ve lost enough over all these secrets as it is.” Then he, too, returned upstairs, likely to finish his packing.

Neither of them understood. She had made sacrifices already, yes. But she stood to lose everything. Why couldn’t her family see that?

Walter and Oliver we’re lost causes, perhaps. She’d never really gotten her son back from that shipwreck after all. But Thea… Thea was her baby. She had done everything the five years before Oliver had returned for her daughter, and if she could save just one thing, she would.

She would need to speak to her head of security, first.

—-

McKenna took in the sight of the expansive Merlyn Manor as she drove up the gravel drive. She’d never quite made it here in the past; Tommy had always said his house wasn’t the place for a party. It was big enough to hold four, though.

She drove around the circle drive in front of the house o leave plenty of room for anyone else coming through, pulling off to the side slightly. Then she walked up to the front door and knocked.

A maid answered. “Hi, Detective McKenna Hall. I scheduled some time to ask Mr. Merlyn a couple questions about a cold case.”

The maid nodded and showed her through to a sitting room as big as her whole apartment. Mr. Merlyn stood and shook her hand. “Detective Hall.”

“Mr. Merlyn. Thank you for agreeing to speak with me,” McKenna opened with as they each took a seat across from each other.

“I always do my best to make myself available to this city’s public servants,” the businessman said. “Though I’ll admit, I was surprised when you mentioned Robert’s name over the phone. It’s been some time since we lost him, I hardly see how any case involving him could be active.”

“Admittedly, this is less of a case and more of an inquiry. I recently uncovered a disturbing trend regarding property acquisition in the Glades, and I believe he might have known something about it.”

“Disturbing is a strong word, Detective. But I should have asked if you might like something to drink. Some water or coffee?”

He half-rose from the couch, but McKenna shook her head. “No thank you.”

The front door opened and shut, a voice she knew calling out, “Dad? You home?”

“In the sitting room, Tommy,” Mr. Merlyn answered.

Tommy entered a few moments later. “What’s with the police car out front —

McKenna! This is a surprise. What, uh, what are you doing here?” He held up his hands. “It wasn’t me, whatever it was.” His laugh sounded forced and she wondered if he really was worried she was here to rat him out to his dad about something.

“I just had a few questions for your father about a cold case relating to Robert Queen.” Tommy had always been close with the family, McKenna mused. “Mr. Queen wouldn’t have spoken to you about any property purchases, would he?”

“Me? Uh, no.”

“Tommy has only recently discovered an aptitude for business,” Mr. Merlyn added in a way that McKenna thought he believed was kind. “I assure you, my son would know very little about Robert’s expenditures.”

“Yeah, you know, I’ll just swing by tomorrow,” Tommy said to his father. “Don’t want to interrupt whatever this is.” He left as quickly as he’d come, not without looking back at them once with a far more serious expression than was customary for him.

“I’m sorry, Detective. You seem to keep getting interrupted,” Mr. Merlyn remarked once they were alone again.

“It’s fine. But, about the investigation, shortly before his death Mr. Queen made a number of property purchases in the Glades. None were advantageous to his company or his personal finances. They would almost seem to be random, except that he seemed to be grabbing up any and all land that wasn’t already owned by someone else.”

“I see. And this is the disturbing trend you saw?”

“Not exactly,” she told him. “But I think he was trying to prevent it. Did he speak to you about his financial decisions at all? Was there any indication from him in the weeks leading up to his death that something was amiss?”

Merlyn frowned, his eyes closing for a prolonged moment. He finally looked back up at her. “Robert’s death — and Oliver’s disappearance for those five years — was one of the most difficult periods of my life. Second only to the death of my wife. You’ll forgive me, but I don’t remember very much from that time aside from the suddenness with which we lost him.”

“I see.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Detective.”

“It’s understandable. It would have been more helpful to speak to Mr. Frank Chen, but as you know he was killed just a couple weeks ago.”

“Yes. Another regrettable loss.”

McKenna watched him, but his face reflected nothing but quiet sadness. Yet she still couldn’t help that feeling in her gut telling her there was just something off about all of this.

She stood, making to leave through the foyer, but intentionally paused.

“Oh, I nearly forgot to ask, but has Merlyn Global ever done business with a company called Sagittarius?”

It was very slight, but the line of Merlyn’s back straightened, tensed. Interesting. He took his time looking over his shoulder at her. “No, I can’t say that we have. May I ask why that is relevant to your investigation?”

McKenna shrugged. “Sagittarius is the parent company that bought up all the properties Robert Queen purchased in the Glades. Along with nearly all the rest of the property. Their CEO is proving elusive, and the same could be said of all their other employees. I suppose I was wondering if you might have an inside track to whoever makes the decisions over there.”

“It sounds as though you’ve stumbled upon a shell company, Detective Hall.” He stood to his full height, a tactic she was well-used to from tall men. “I’m afraid Merlyn Global doesn’t make it a habit of partnering with those.”

“I wouldn’t think so. Just thought I’d ask while I had your attention. Thank you for your time, Mr. Merlyn.”

She left then, still pondering over what she’d observed from the man. On the one hand, the Humanitarian of the Year; on the other, the rumor she’d picked up thanks to her invite to Tommy’s birthday party that his father had been trying to close the Rebecca Merlyn Health Clinic in the Glades. Even further, the things she’d heard over the years from Tommy about his father. In her youth, she’d dismissed them as any teen or young adult complaining about their parent. Yet now, it seemed to paint a picture of a strict authoritarian, cold and distant. She thought she’d seen glimpses of that during this very interview.

McKenna stopped on the front steps as her phone rang. She checked it, seeing Lance’s name on the caller ID. “Hall.”

“Hey, are you still with Merlyn?”

“Just leaving his home, why?”

“Needed to ask him something about a case.”

A different one? The many mysteries of Malcolm Merlyn. McKenna glanced back over her shoulder.

“He shouldn’t have anything else going on right now. I could always go back and ask for you.”

“No, I’m heading over that way. This case is pretty serious and I want whoever’s approaching him to have all the facts straight about what went down at Unidac the other night.”

“Unidac? I thought the Queens won the bid on that one.”

“They did. That’s what makes this all the stranger. There was a call placed to his company, and I want to know what he knows about it. So just wait in your car, make sure he doesn’t run off.”

“Sure thing.” She hung up. Something happening at Unidac. She hadn’t been made privy to those details yet, but she’d definitely head in with Lance during his questioning of Merlyn to get all the information she could. It would be a stretch to presume the cases were related — Walter Steele had been the one to purchase Unidac Industries, not Robert Queen. Then again, tragedy had momentarily befallen Steele after a property acquisition the same as his predecessor.

McKenna gave herself a little shake to snap out of her thoughts. Loitering on Merlyn’s doorstep would likely only put the man on edge, which they wouldn’t want if they were going to get his cooperation on this new case. If she’d known that was happening, she might have held back on pushing him a little bit. But that was in the past now, and too late for her to change. She started down the steps and across the drive to where she’d parked at a leisurely pace, since she had no plans of leaving just yet. It was strange, used to the city as she was, being out here with all the beauty of a well-kept front garden and all the silence of a tomb.

As she drew up to her car, she noticed a looming figure in the reflection of her side mirror. At the very last second, she ducked and yelled out as an arrow pierced into the mirror, ripping it right off the car.

With another gasp, she rolled under the vehicle, watching as a second arrow embedded itself in the ground where she’d just been. McKenna crawled time the other side to get a better view of her black-clad attacker. The copycat archer from Christmas. What was he doing here?

Nevertheless, this archer was known to kill even more infamously than the Hood was, so McKenna drew her sidearm, using the car as cover. He seemed to know where she was because a third arrow just narrowly sailed over her head.

McKenna returned fire, watching in amazement and mounting horror as the copycat seemed able to dance around her shots with ease. He still had an arrow drawn on his bow, clearly waiting her out until she took a break or needed to reload to fire down on her again. She wouldn’t have any time to call backup at this rate!

A squeal of tires caused her to look round as a car that looked like it belonged in some 70s cop show suddenly spun stop alongside her. The passenger door opened on a man behind the wheel in a suit and mesh mask with a white bib over his head. When he spoke, she recognized the modulated tone.

“Get in, Detective!”

#lauriver #laurel x oliver #laurel lance #oliver queen #arrow #black canary #green arrow #my writing

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fluffy-marshmallow-heart · 6 years ago

Text

Secret Studies ch.20 -Hell Cave

The Elementalist au

Beckett x MC (Oriana)

Words: 2939

Warnings: Violence

First they hid their relationship. Now they have to fight for it.

Master List (Catch up here)

There is only going to be one, maybe two more chapters to this series. Thank you all for sticking with me :)

Also, a special shout-out to

@dancetothestoriesinyoursoul and @drakewalkerfantasy for the brainstorming assistance!!

Oriana’s heart was pounding, ready to jump out. She was standing completely still, unable to move a muscle in her tense body, the goosebumps travelling all over her, and she audibly gulped, unable to look away. Everything in her screamed to run, to disappear, but she stood still, frozen in place. It became difficult to breath, difficult to stand, and she could feel how her body started to fall, getting closer to the floor. It seemed hours had passed since she stood there, looking into the merciless eyes of Mrs. Harrington, unable to fight back, when in fact it was only seconds that flew by until she hit the floor with a thud.

Beckett’s eyes widened, watching his fiancé hitting the floor. His heart dropping to the pit of his stomach, but he knows she is not ready to give up, and neither is he. He immediately went to step out from behind the column, but Shreya stopped, mouthing the words “NOT YET”.

He listened to his mother cackle coldly. “You really are quite the fighter, Jessica. I would have expected…”

“MY NAME IS ORIANA!!!! YOU KNOW THIS!!!!” Oriana shouted, starting to get up before being knocked down again by an invisible force.

“Your name is irrelevant! Haven’t you learned your lesson yet? Why do you still fight? I was positive you were finished last time, you weren’t even moving, your blood spilling all over the floor. I could barely detect your heartbeat. After ridding that ridiculous protection spell my son attached to you, I honestly have no idea how you managed to survive. My accomplice was unable to inform me. You do know Griffin Langley, yes? He has been quite helpful to my cause.”

With a snap of her fingers, Griffin suddenly reappeared, looking frightened.

Oriana gasped, and Beckett felt his blood boiling. He couldn’t believe Griffin ruined things yet again. He sold them out. His fists clenched, his knuckles white.

“Griffin? How could you do this? How could you do this to us, again??” Oriana cried.

Griffin shook his head vehemently. “I didn’t…” But then his body went rigid, as though frozen into a statue. Unable to move, unable to speak, only able to watch the events unfold before him.

“Foolish child. You really expect me to believe Griffin sent you here all by himself? He’s not clever enough to think of that. No, this has my son written all over it. BECKETT!” Mrs. Harrington barked. “Show yourself this moment!”

Pausing, Beckett nods slowly to Shreya, giving her a signal to stay there. Taking a deep breath, he came from behind the column, revealing himself to his mother.

“My only son, going behind my back and disgracing the Harrington name by frolicking about with the likes of her. She is nothing. No one! And Harrington is a respectable name. I will not allow either of you to ruin this!”

“Mother, how could…”

“Enough!” She flung him across the room and he groaned as his back hit a wall.

“NO!” Screamed Oriana, trying to stand up and get to Beckett, her eyes wide with fear. “Why are you doing this? What have I done to you to make you hate me so much?” She could feel the hot tears stinging her eyes, but she’s too stubborn to let them run down her face. She turns to Beckett, watching him struggling to stand up before falling back on the floor, groaning.

“You don’t belong here. You did not grow up around magic, your parents are dead. You’re an orphan, and orphans have no place at Penderghast.”

Oriana gaped at her. “Well, excuse my parents for dying. I see how inconvenient that must be for you.”

“HA! For having such a high academic standing, you are truly ignorant. Your parents’ death was of no inconvenience to me. And why must I repeat myself? I already explained this to you.”

“You’ve told us nothing.” Beckett spat, finally reaching Oriana’s side.

Mrs. Harrington’s eyebrows rose. “Nothing? I have explained everything to this…this heathen.” She gestured at Oriana, who was shaking her head.

“No. You didn’t.”

Beckett’s mother looked between the two young lovers before bursting into hollow laughter. “Oh. Ohhhh, oh this is truly priceless. You can’t remember the last attack, can you?”

Oriana swallowed as the woman in front of her smiled menacingly. “Allow me to refresh your memory then.”

With a flick of her wrist, Oriana was on the floor and bound again, unable to move against the hot stone beneath her. Beckett frantically tried removing the invisible ties to no avail.

“I have to admit, my son, I was extremely impressed with your protection spell. You made your mother proud. For once.” She snarled.

Beckett’s glared at her. “You choose now to finally be proud of one of my accomplishments?”

“It was a brief flash of pride. I’m disappointed you’re squandering away such power on someone as useless as her.”

“She is not…”

“Stop talking back to your mother.” She snapped. “Do I need to bind you as well?”

“Beck, stop.” Oriana told him quietly.

“Do not ever address my son as ‘Beck.’ This is not a brothel.”

“Tell me, then.” Oriana looked into her eyes, seeing nothing but disdain.

“Your mother. Your trashy, know it all, good for nothing mother. And the man that fell in love with her. Ha! Not even a man. Just a boy ruled by hormones. Much like my son is, at this very moment. This school as changed so much. The admissions are so very lax now, the professors lacking in every category. It’s a pity what has happened here.”

“Seems fine to me.” Beckett muttered under his breath.

“What does my birth mother have to do with anything?” Oriana asked, shooting Beckett a Look.

“Your parents attended college here. Did you know? Your father and I knew each other our entire lives. We were destined to be together.” A far away look appeared in Mrs. Harrington’s eyes. “We were supposed to be together. We were high school sweethearts, that turned into college lovers. That is, until your mother showed up. One day she just strolled onto the campus and laid her sights on my Jonathan.”

Oriana couldn’t believe what she was hearing. All of this, stemming from an event that happened so long ago, and by a woman she never even knew.

Beckett watched a deep scowl form on his mother’s face. “I never understood how he fell for Theia so quickly. She was talented, no question, she took my spot at the top of the class within weeks. As soon as she reached the top, Jonathan left me, and immediately began dating her. She bewitched him. Just as you have bewitched my son. Being a whore must run in the family.”

Oriana’s eyes flashed in anger. “So, you pin the sins of the mother onto the child? Does that mean Beckett should be held accountable for your actions?”

Oriana screamed as a deep gash appeared in her wrist, blood flowing freely.

“Moth…AUUGGHH!!!” Beckett cursed loudly, doubling over in his own pain. “Why?” He gasped breathlessly.

“Because you have defied me one too many times! And for this trash?? I thought I would never hear the Miller name again. But now here she is, strolling onto the campus and replacing you at the top of the class, just as her mother did years ago. The difference is, I knew what Theia was back then, and I know what Oriana is now. The Miller name will not destroy my legacy again!”

A bloodcurdling scream rang throughout the cave as multiple wounds appeared on Oriana’s body, as though she were being slashed by an invisible force repeatedly.

“STOP SCREAMING!” Mrs. Harrington bellowed, and a second later the screams were muffled, Oriana’s mouth closed shut, unable to open.

Beckett watched helplessly as his fiancé’s tears streamed down her face, matching the tears he could feel on his own. He needs to hurry, or all of this will be for nothing.

“Please stop.” He begged. “Your hurting her hurts me. I’ll do whatever you want, please”

His mother turned her cold gaze back to him. “As long as she lives, you will be in her grasp. I will not allow it. I should have finished Theia back then. I won’t make that mistake again.”

She turned her laser like focus back to Oriana, her eyes narrowing in hatred.

“Wait!” Beckett cried frantically. “Does she deserve to die? You claim to have attacked her multiple times, this whole year! You admit having attempted to murder her a week ago. But you left before she took her last breath. Will you leave her to die again? Alone? Here?”

“Her body will turn to ash by the lava. This is actually a perfect location. I should thank you, Beckett, for providing us with this venue. Perhaps it will give you some comfort to know that this time, I will not leave before her heart stops beating. I will ensure she no longer breathes. I will ensure there is no body to ever be found. To be honest, last week I was quite careless, leaving her in the library like that. I should have planned better. When Griffin told me she was in Hell Cave, I immediately knew it was your idea. Just know that I’m doing all of this for you. For us. Once Oriana has disappeared, I will set up a dinner with you and Victoria again. You will court her. Eventually, I’m sure you’ll come to love her, as I came to love your father, and our social status will never dwindle. It is a perfect match between the two of you. She is smart, but not too smart. She’s quite pretty, you’ll enjoy looking at her. And she’s more than willing to provide you full access to her body to use however you wish.”

Nausea coursed through Beckett’s veins, causing his stomach to hurdle. “You think that after watching my fiancé die, I will touch another girl?”

“Of course, I do. Men have primal needs. She’ll fulfill all of your fantasies. You like whores so much, treat her like one. Do whatever you wish. If you’re angry, abuse her. I really don’t care. But you will be together. It has already been promised.”

Oriana’s muffled screaming had subsided, and a smirk appeared on his mother’s face. “I guess someone no longer has the energy to cry.”

With another flick of her wrist, Oriana was finally able to open her mouth again, but only whimpers came out. She was pale, her eyelids heavy.

“Don’t think I didn’t catch that you called her your fiancé, either. You may as well stop calling her that, now. She’s almost gone.”

“You really do plan to kill her.” Beckett said sadly. “I don’t even know who you are. The mother I know would never have done this. You’ve always been strict, always been cold. But you love me, I know you do. You should want what’s best for me.”

For a brief moment, he saw his mother’s eyes soften. “I do want what’s best for you. And what’s best for this family. This is why Oriana must die. My killing her will ensure our legacy continues. It will ensure the best bloodlines. Say your goodbye.”

Beckett shut his eyes a brief second. They did it. They have everything they need. Taking a deep breath, he re-opened his eyes and looked directly into his mother’s.

“You’re right. It is time to say goodbye. But, not to Oriana. To you.” He heard the soft click of the video camera as Zephyr pressed the red button. Shreya stepped out from her hiding space, and bound Mrs. Harrington’s wrists together.

“What is this?” She gasped. She turned back to Beckett, leveling him with her gaze. His hands flew to his head as it felt like it was being pounded. He sank down onto the stone, still clutching his head, when he heard the faint whisper.

“Beck”

He tore his eyes away from his mother and turned to face Oriana. His eyes went wide with the realization that she probably didn’t have much time left before falling unconscious. Trying to ignore the throbbing pain he was feeling, he crawled over to her, his hands traveling as he healed her wounds slowly.

“I need help.” He groaned, and Zeph appeared at his side a moment later, joining in the healing.

As they worked, a bright flash appeared, and everyone was back in the thief stadium. Magical police were swarming the area, and Shreya was momentarily distracted by the commotion. The bonds containing Mrs. Harrington faltered, and with a loud shriek she launched herself at them.

“SHE WILL CEASE TO EXIST!!!”

Beckett watched in horror at a trail of blood starting to form across his lover’s neck. “Oh my god, stop!!!” He shouted, his hands pressed to the bleeding wound. “Ori, stay with me!! Don’t give up!”

At that precise moment, he could feel a shift in his surroundings. Paramedics were now attending Oriana’s lacerations, and his own head was no longer stinging. Shreya and Zeph gently pulling him away, so the medical personnel could take over. Finally letting himself look around, he saw his mother in a magical holding cell, unable to use her powers. Sheer emotion crashed through him, and a single tear trickled down his cheek as he made his way to his mother’s cage.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered. “I’m so sorry it came to this. If you could’ve just been happy for me. If you could have seen past your hatred…I know you would have loved her. She’s so amazing. I’m your only son, why didn’t you trust me to make my own decisions and forge my own life?”

“You are no longer my son.” She responded curtly, and Beckett’s hand went over his heart, as though it had been pierced, as he took an involuntary step back.

“How can you…”

“I don’t have a son.” She repeated chillingly, and Beckett felt a shiver run down his spine. Feeling numb, he turned away, his feet carrying him to a somewhat quiet area of the field. Collapsing on the ground, he allowed himself to feel all the hurt and anguish he’d pent up inside while trying to stay strong for Oriana. He buried his face in his hands, breathing in and out, letting hot tears flow freely from his eyes where no one could see them.

“Mr. Harrington?” A voice eventually called from behind him. “Beckett Harrington?”

“Yes.” He replied sullenly. “That’s me.”

“I’m Chief Anderson. I’m afraid I need your statement.”

“You have the recording.” Beckett’s voice cracked,

“I know this is difficult. It sounds like you and Ms Miller have had quite the year. The way she described the events your mother confessed to on the tape, it’s a miracle that…”

“Wait.” Beckett cut in. “Oriana? You were able to speak to her?”

The man in front of him grinned. “Yes. She’s looking good as new.” He nodded over to where Oriana was now sitting up, conversing with Zeph and Shreya. Beckett looked back at the man in uniform.

“Sir, if I may…can we do this after…”

“Of course. Go.”

Beckett bolted to his true love’s side. “Ori!”

“Beck!” She cried out happily as he dove into her arms.

“Oh, Ori.” He began kissing her frantically before she let out a laugh and pushed him gently away.

“We did it.” She told him, cupping his face in her hands. “We really did it! We’re free of this!”

He smiled widely, before it slowly fell away as he watched his mother being led away, her head still held high.

“I love you.” Oriana’s voice drifted into his hearing.

He squeezed her hands. “I love you too. And Shreya, Zeph…thank you. We couldn’t have pulled it off without you.”

“This was the most exciting thing I’ve ever done in my life!” Zeph exclaimed. “Spying on people is so much fun, I definitely see more of this happening in the future…”

He trailed off seeing the expressions on his friends faces. “I mean as an investigator! In the future! I’m so sorry about your mom!”

Beckett gave him a halfhearted smile and a small nod but didn’t say a word. Now that the danger was over and their lives were safe, he was becoming overwhelmed with sadness over everything his mother had done, and the fact that it was his idea that put her behind bars.

“Guys?” A quiet voice approached. The friends looked up and saw Griffin, accompanied by another officer. “I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am for all of this. I should have seen the monster she was becoming…the monster I was becoming. I…I just need you to know that I didn’t tell her anything about this. I was really trying to help.”

The group stared at him a beat before Oriana finally broke the silence. “We know. Thank you.”

As he walked away with the officer, Beckett turned back to Oriana. “I still have to give my statement. But I don’t want to leave you.”

She gave him a soft kiss. “I’m not going anywhere. Just get it over with so we can all go home.”

Sighing, he turned around. “Chief Anderson? I’m ready now.”

He nodded. “Come on over here, son.”

Beckett felt like he was stabbed in the heart with those words, as he slowly went to tell the tale of how his own mother tried to murder the love of his life and didn’t even care if he was hurt in the process.

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