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rmtndew · 5 years ago

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All I’ve Ever Known ~ Chapter 2

Summary: Fiona’s life is a shattered fraction of what it used to be. She’s trying to navigate her new normal when she meets Detective Marshall, who gives her something more to look forward to.

Pairing: Marshall and OFC.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Mentions of death, cancer.

A/N - This was intended as a short drabble but it got out of hand and became a multi-chapter story instead. It’s my first Marshall fic and the first fan fic that I’ve written in over a decade. The title comes from the song ‘All I’ve Ever Known’ from Hadestown: ‘I was alone so long, I didn’t even know that I was lonely. Out in the cold so long, I didn’t even know that I was cold. Turned my collar to the wind, this is how it’s always been. All I’ve ever known is how to hold my own, but now I want to hold you, too.’

Tag list - @hollydaisy23, @readings-of-a-cavill-lover, @onlyhenrys, @omgkatinka, @speakerforthedead0-blog, @gearhead66

If you’d like to be added to the tag list, let me know!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

Two weeks later, I was back at the police station with my delivery. Nick had gone on and on the week before about how much he’d loved covering for me and that two of the detectives had given him tips. He didn’t say how much they were, but emphasized that they were generous. I’d never been tipped before but I wasn’t jealous that Nick had been. He was good at small talk and being outgoing. That got noticed. And there was no ten or twenty dollar tip that was enticing enough for me to put myself through painfully awkward social interactions that I wasn’t good at. I wanted to do my job and do it well and Darcy didn’t hire me for my conversation skills. That was made quite clear when Officer Bates asked about Nick by name while still calling me Waverly.

Upstairs in the break room, most of the detectives were waiting for me when I arrived. They moved around me, grabbing their boxes as I placed them on the table. When I was done packing up the dolly, only a single box was left. Out of every person who had claimed their order, only a couple had acknowledged me with a thank you.

As I was leaving, I caught the wheel of my cart on the door frame. It yanked right out of my hands, falling over. I sighed and bent to pick it up. Before I could, a set of hands beat me to it. I swallowed thickly as my eyes followed the hands (with no wedding band) to their source: Detective Marshall. My mouth felt dry when I tried to speak and I had to clear my throat.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, setting it up straight with one hand like it weighed nothing. He looked at me, his brow raised slightly. “You weren’t here last week.”

I blinked at him. “I’m sorry?”

“Someone else delivered for you last week.”

“Um, yeah. I had to take my mom to a doctor’s appointment. My co-worker Nick covered for me.”

He nodded. “He talks a lot.”

I laughed. “Yes, he does,” I agreed. “It’s a talent that I don’t possess.”

He gave me a half smile and my stomach flipped at the sight of it. “Me, either,” he said. “Is your mother okay?”

“Yeah. It was just a check up with her oncologist. She has to go every few weeks.”

“Does that mean she’s in remission?”

“It does, yeah. She’s been clear for a few months now.”

“And you care for her?”

“I do. As much as she’ll let me, anyway. My dad died a couple of years back so she asked me to move in with her. She couldn’t bear to sell the house but she couldn’t handle being alone, either,” I said, then smiled. “She had a friend who offered to move in and pay rent but Mom said she was too noisy. Apparently I make a good housemate because I’m not overly talkative.”

“My daughter thinks I’m a bad housemate because I’m not talkative enough,” he joked.

I laughed. “How old is she?”

“Thirteen.”

“You’re just on the cusp, then. My parents were amazing and they still couldn’t do anything right when I was a teenager. But if your daughter’s biggest complaint is that you’re not talkative enough, that’s pretty good.”

He clasped his hands behind his back and raised his eyebrows. “It’s not her biggest complaint, just one of several.”

“Well, as long as she feels comfortable enough to voice her problems to you, it’s fixable. It’s when they shut down that’s the problem,” I said, then suddenly felt silly for sharing so much with him. The poor man was just being polite and I was keeping him hostage. He’d come for his lunch - not for my life story. “Um, anyway, I should get back to work. Thank you again for helping me.”

“No problem.”

“Have a good week.”

“You, too.”

That Saturday, despite every fiber of my being screaming for me to be somewhere else, I found myself at an overpriced bar with my friends Lena and Demi. Demi had gotten a promotion at her job and wanted us to go out to celebrate. I wanted to back out but they wouldn’t let me, so I tagged along knowing full well that it would be the same as always: I wouldn’t drink, I wouldn’t dance, they would get annoyed at me for being a ‘wet blanket’, then they’d meet some guys and ignore me for the rest of the night, except when they’d tell me how much fun I was missing out on. I knew what I was in for, and yet I still hated it when it happened.

That particular evening, Lena and Demi zeroed in on two guys while we were still at the bar ordering. They introduced themselves and invited them to sit with us. While the four of them chatted, I sat, listening and watching the clock, counting the minutes until I felt I could call it a night without offending Demi. But despite being the third (fifth?) wheel, I was comfortable being on my own. Unfortunately that comfort was kicked square in the teeth when a friend joined the two guys Demi and Lena were talking to. He was a squirrely looking guy with a severely receding hairline and he was several inches shorter than me. But there was an unspoken rule that if your two friends were talking to someone else’s two friends, you were now obligated to talk to each other. I knew that rule well because I’d spent a good portion of my adult life as the quiet third friend to two far more outgoing women.The only time I’d been excused from the rule was when I’d been dating my ex-boyfriend Ezra. So while they were chatting up guys they were genuinely interested in, I was usually left taking one for the team. I wondered how often they thought about talking to me in the same terms.

A lot of the times I was lucky and the guy would carry the whole conversation, talking about himself, and I didn’t have to do much more than nod and pretend to be interested. Every once in a while I’d get a guy who was a bit pushy at the end of the night, practically demanding my phone number, or, on rare occasions, something a little more intimate. I was pretty good at turning them down in a way that didn’t escalate the situation, but there were still those few that slipped through that didn’t know that no meant no. That night, unfortunately, was one of those nights. The guy I’d gotten stuck talking to, Adam, had started out self absorbed but otherwise okay, but I guess he took my quiet nodding and occasional ‘Yeahs’ and ‘Wows’ as extreme interest and as time ticked on, he became more bold. His conversation took on a more...personal tone. That’s when I decided to try to wrap it up. I wasn’t spending time with Demi, she and Lena were both dancing, and I wasn’t going to let some guy make me uncomfortable. But when I tried to end the conversation, he wouldn’t let me.

“Come on, we’re having fun,” he said. “You don’t have to leave yet.”

“I do, actually. I have to work tomorrow,” I lied.

“You could stay for another hour.”

I shook my head. “No, sorry.”

I moved to stand up and he put his hand on my leg, holding me still. “I think you can.”

“But I’m not, so move your hand.”

Instead of letting go, he squeezed tighter. “You don’t have to play hard to get, you know? It’s not attractive.”

“And neither are you. Now move your hand.”

He swore, calling me a name, but kept gripping me. I was sure he’d leave a bruise. “You’re not pretty enough to be this difficult.”

I felt a sudden surge of warmth behind me and could feel the presence of someone standing there.

“She told you to let go, I suggest you listen.”

My head snapped up at the sound of the voice. Detective Marshall was standing behind me. His pretty blue eyes were dark like an angry ocean as he glared at Adam, giving his already stern face a menacing look.

“Who are you?” Adam asked, too stupid to give up.

“Someone who will gladly break your hand if you don’t move it like she asked.”

Detective Marshall took a few steps forward, putting himself tight to my side. Adam was going to say something, he had his mouth open ready to do so, but Detective Marshall crossed his arms over his chest and Adam’s eyes went to his belt. His sweater had risen to show off his badge and gun clipped at his waist. The sight was enough to shut Adam up. He didn’t say another word. He let go of my leg and left.

“Are you alright?” Detective Marshall asked.

“Yeah. Thank you.”

He looked at me, his face softened. “This doesn’t really look like your scene.”

I shook my head. “It’s not. I’m here with my friends,” I said. His eyes glanced at the empty chairs around me. I nodded to the dance floor. “They’re over there.”

He looked to where Adam was talking to the two friends he’d come with. They were still with Lena and Demi, and were all staring at me. I was sure that Adam was telling them I was a frigid tease, and they were almost definitely confused by Detective Marshall standing next to me like a bodyguard.

“What about you?” I asked. “You don’t really look like this is your scene, either.”

He looked down at me. “It’s not. I’m working a case. I was asking the manager about the victim.” He looked at my friends again before letting out a breath. “Are you staying here or would you like me to walk you to your car?”

“No, I’m not staying,” I said. “But I didn’t drive. I rode with them. I was going to get an Uber.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re going to get into a car with a stranger by yourself at night?”

I nodded as I stood. I liked that I had to look up at him slightly. “It’s usually what happens when I let myself get talked into these stupid nights.”

I watched his face. It was like he had a million thoughts running through his mind at once and his eyes shifted, like he was actively trying to sort through them. After a moment he said, “Would you let me drive you instead?”

“You don’t have to do that. I can usually get an Uber here in about ten minutes.” I gave a faint smile. “You could talk to them before I get in, if you want?”

He shook his head and rubbed his neck. “I’d feel a lot better if I knew you got home safely.”

So much of me wanted to say no. I had a difficult time accepting help from people, even when I clearly needed it, because I hated the thought of being a burden on someone. But if he was there asking about a victim, there was a chance that they’d been at that bar, maybe even disappeared from there, maybe after taking a ride from someone they thought was legit and was later found dead. Maybe he didn’t want another case, especially with a familiar person, and that’s why he was offering me the ride. That’s what I told myself anyway. That was my excuse for wanting to accept his offer. It wasn’t that I was weirdly attracted to how protected he made me feel.

“Okay,” I relented.

“Yeah?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Let me tell my friends I’m leaving.”

I started walking towards Lena and Demi. They’d been watching me ever since Adam had drawn their attention to me. But before I could reach them, they came to me, meeting me halfway.

“What is going on, Fiona?” Demi demanded. “That guy you were talking to said you were having a good time and then you just started freaking out and making a scene. He said some guy heard you and threatened him if he didn’t leave you alone.”

I shook my head. “That’s not how it happened. He was making me uncomfortable so I said I was going to leave. He put his hands on me and I told him to let me go. He wouldn’t and yes, someone did step in, but he wouldn’t have if that perv had just let me go.”

“Why do you do this?” Lena asked. “Anytime a guy shows interest in you, you find some reason to run away.”

“That’s not true. And even if it was, that’s not what happened here,” I said.

“It is true. And I honestly don’t know why we invite you out anymore. You always make things awkward because you don’t know how to function like an adult woman. You’re like some little girl who’s afraid to even let a boy kiss her,” Demi said. “You need to grow up.”

I bit my tongue. I knew that she’d had a few drinks and that she always got catty right before she tipped over to drunk, but just because she was rude didn’t mean that I had to be, too. The evening had taken all the energy from me and I didn’t have the strength to try to be diplomatic. I chose to ignore her completely instead.

“I’m going home,” I finally said.

“I’m not taking you,” Lena said. “Not right now.”

“I don’t need you. Someone else is taking me”

Demi rolled her eyes. “Who?”

I looked at Detective Marshall. He was still standing by our table, waiting. “You guys think I need to get out of my comfort zone, so I am.”

“You’re going home with a man you just met? Do you know how dangerous that is?” Lena asked.

“First of all, you two do it all the time,” I said. “And secondly, I’m not going home with him, he’s taking me home.”

“I don’t believe you,” Demi said.

“I don’t need you to believe me. I just need you to know that I’m leaving. Whoever I go with, or however I get home, doesn’t matter.”

I walked off, feeling angry heat licking my neck and ears. My hands kept clenching tightly, pushing my fingernails into the palms of my hands. Detective Marshall could obviously tell that something was wrong because he tilted his head at me, his brow furrowing with concern.

“Is everything alright?” he asked.

“I have horrible friends, but other than that, everything’s peachy,” I said dryly.

He didn’t ask any follow up questions but I think he’d observed enough of the situation to not need to. He just nodded and waved for me to follow him.

The air outside was surprisingly cold and made my angrily flushed skin sting from the contrast. But the feeling worked like a grounding sensation, clearing my mind. I let out a breath and followed Detective Marshall to his truck. He went to the passenger’s side and unlocked it, then opened it for me.

“Thank you,” I said, climbing in.

He gave me a smile that somehow read more in his eyes than his mouth before closing the door.

I took my crossbody purse off, holding it in my lap, before pulling on my seatbelt. I watched as he walked around the front of the truck, unlocking his own door and sliding in beside me. He started his truck with one hand while reaching for his seatbelt with the other. As the truck came to life, the radio came on. A ZZ Top song was playing.

“Sorry,” he said, turning the volume down but leaving the radio itself on.

I noticed the station and smiled. “This is the same station I listen to in my car.”

He looked over at me, giving me another one of his eye smiles. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Shouting along to eighties rock music is a pretty good stress reliever.”

“It doesn’t hurt, that’s for sure.”

He asked where I lived and even though I was terrible at explaining directions, I finally gave him enough clues for him to piece it together. He said that his ex-wife had lived in the neighborhood just past mine when they were dating and he remembered seeing the sign for it. Once we pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street, I took my phone from my purse.

“Do you mind if I make a quick phone call?”

He shook his head. “No, go on.”

I called Mom but she didn’t answer. I wasn’t worried. She was more than likely watching TV and had her phone in her room again. I decided to leave a message. “Hey Mom, it’s Fi. I was just letting you know that I’m on my way home. You don’t have to call me back when you get this, I’ll just see you when I get there. Love you. Bye.”

I hung up and put the phone away. A few moments passed before Detective Marshall asked, “Is Fi short for something?”

“Yeah. Fiona. When I was a kid my dad used to call me Fi-Fi Bird, then he shortened to Fi when I was a teenager.”

“When did you lose him?”

“Two years ago. He was hit by a drunk driver.”

“Was your mum ill at the time?”

“No. I mean, she may have had her cancer then but we didn’t know anything about it. They found it at the beginning of the year.” I looked at him. “I’m a little surprised that you remember me telling you about them, to be honest.”

“Why?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ve barely spoken and I assume your job is mentaly exhausting, so the fact that you remembered it… I don’t know, I’m just surprised.”

“It is mentally exhausting. But peanut butter cookies help.” He looked at me briefly, giving me a smile that showed his teeth. “And you bring those.”

I laughed and felt my cheeks heat back up, but it wasn’t from anger that time. “And that makes me memorable?”

He nodded. “Absolutely.”

A few minutes passed quietly, but not uncomfortably, before I stole a glance at him. He really was gorgeous. I had no issues with Demi and Lena thinking that I was leaving with him for reasons other than an innocent ride home. They’d been more than snide about my lack of interest in men since my last boyfriend had broken up with me, never pausing to think that how he’d broken up with me - and more importantly when - had done a lot of damage.

“I really do appreciate you giving me a ride home,” I said. “I, uh, I don’t have anyone else to call. An Uber would have been my only option.”

“Yeah, it’s not a problem,” he said. “But next time maybe think about driving your own car. I’m not just against Uber; I’m against any rides that require you to get into a car with a stranger. Particularly women. And particularly at that bar.” He pushed his hair back from his face and let out a frustrated breath. “Their security cameras have been down since May.” He swore under his breath. “Sort of defeats the purpose of security cameras.”

“Does that stall your investigation?”

“Not necessarily. Other businesses in the area may have footage. It just delays things, at least for tonight.”

“Can I ask how long you’ve been working on it?”

“It’ll be two weeks tomorrow.”

“Is that long for a murder investigation?”

He didn’t say anything for a while and I thought I’d gone too far. Just as I was about to apologize he said, “They don’t really have typical timelines. It just depends on the case. Some are like a ripple effect and you just have to start in the center and work your way out.” He paused for a moment, licking his lips. “Others are like a pile of rope tangled up. You have to work your way through, trying to untangle it, but sometimes you’re working on a piece that’s a dead end, then you have to start all over again. Those take a bit longer.”

“And this case, it’s one of the tangled ones?”

He nodded. “Unfortunately.”

“I’m sorry.”

He glanced at me again quickly, a small smile at the corner of his mouth. “That’s the job.”

Another wave of silence filled the cab of his truck. I liked that he didn’t talk for the sake of it. He seemed to be at ease in the quiet and his ease spilled over to me. That was the only explanation for me being so calm sitting that close to a man as attractive as him and not having a total meltdown. And we were close enough that the body heat radiating off of him kept me from requesting that the actual heater be turned on, despite the chilly night. He was like a human space heater, but I was far from complaining. And I think the fact that he had been so protective of me fed that feeling of comfort. That night, he had stood up for me more than Ezra ever had in three and a half years.

“I can’t remember if I thanked you earlier at the bar or not when you helped me with that guy, but thank you for that, too,” I said. “I’m not usually such a damsel in distress, I promise.”

“It doesn’t make you a damsel just because I stepped in.” We stopped at a red light and he looked at me. “But if it ever happens again, all you have to do is ask them to move their hand once and if they don’t, take one of their fingers and shove it back towards their wrist. Make sure to break it.”

I smiled slightly. “Detective Marshall, are you giving me permission to assault someone?”

“It’s not assault if you’re protecting yourself, but yes, I’m giving you permission. Men have a hard time convincing police that their advances were wanted when it results in a broken finger,” he said. “And you don’t have to call me Detective, you can just call me Marshall.”

I smiled wider at that. “Well, Marshall,” I said, trying out the more personal feeling name, “I’ll keep that in mind. Although I think I’m done with nights like tonight. I’m too old to keep putting myself in situations that make me uncomfortable. But maybe I needed this to know that my friends and I really have grown apart. And maybe for the better.”

The light turned green and he looked back to the road again. “I take it you had a falling out over you leaving them?” he asked as we started moving.

“Not really over me leaving. More like why I was leaving.” I sighed. “Their idea of fun is drinking and dancing and flirting, and at one point, I saw the appeal in that, even though I’ve never been as outgoing as them. But when I lost my dad…” I shook my head. “I’m sure you see people in grief all the time with your job. You see how it changes people. How it can create a division. They never understood that. They thought that there should be a grieving period and then I should get over it and go back to being the same old Fiona. But that’s never going to happen.”

“Grief does change people. It’s natural. And sometimes, it never goes away. You have to adapt to deal with it, but it always follows you,” he said. “And there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I guess when you’ve never experienced it, it’s hard to really understand. I didn’t really understand it until my dad passed. And then when Mom got sick…” I trailed off. “Sorry, I told you that I wasn’t a big talker and I just keep going on about myself.”

“You’re fine. I promise,” he said softly.

I smiled at him. “Those peanut butter cookies really do buy me a lot of forgiveness, don’t they?”

He laughed. It was a low, beautiful sound. “They are very good.”

The rest of the ride home was spent in slow, quiet conversation. I tried not to unload anymore of my personal issues on him, even if he said it was okay. I was a little sad when he pulled onto my street, but I directed him to my house and he stopped in front of the driveway, unable to pull in because of mine and my mom’s cars.

He put the truck in park and turned to me. “I’ll watch you in.”

“Okay.” I unbuckled and grabbed my purse from my lap, slipping it back on. I reached for the door handle but before opening it, I looked at him. “I really do appreciate all of this. You have no idea,” I said. “Is there anything I can do to thank you?”

He twisted his mouth to the side, his eyes doing the thing they’d done earlier where it looked like he was actively sorting through his thoughts. After a moment, he nodded, then gave me a smile that made my heart flutter. “There is, actually,” he said. “Next time you deliver lunch, if I’m not there to get mine before you leave, could you bring it to my office again?”

I smiled back. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I could do that,” I said. “If you’re not there, do you want me to leave it on your desk?”

“Please.”

“Okay.” I opened the door and stepped out into the cold air. I already missed the heat of being close to him. “Goodnight Det- Goodnight Marshall.”

“Goodnight Fiona.”

Never in my life had someone saying my name given me instant butterflies until right then. I gave him a small wave and closed the door. I took my house keys from my purse as I walked to the front door, trying not to think about him watching me. After unlocking the door, I fought not to look back at Marshall one last time and slipped inside, closing and locking the door behind me. As I put the chain lock in place, I let my forehead fall against the door and let out a happy sigh. When I was able to gather myself, I went to find Mom. Just as I expected, she was in the living room watching some sort of Hallmark movie.

“Hey Mom, I’m home,” I said.

She turned her head to look at me. “Hey, sweetie. How was it? Did you have fun?”

“Not quite.” I joined her, sitting on the arm of the recliner. “I think things are done between Demi, Lena and me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Some things happened and some things were said and I don’t think there’s any going back.”

She patted my knee. “I’m sorry. I hate that for you.”

“There was a bright side to the whole night, though,” I said, smiling.

“And what was that?”

“You know the detective that I told you about, Detective Marshall?” I asked. She nodded. “He was there asking the manager about a case he’s working on and noticed that a guy was bothering me so he stepped in to help me. Then he gave me a ride home.”

She looked at me with big eyes. “You got into a car with someone you don’t know?”

“No, I got into a truck with a cop, who I’d met before,” I said. “Look, Lena refused to take me home. I would have had to call for a ride.”

I could tell she disapproved but didn’t say anything else about it. Instead she asked, “What’s this detective like?”

“He’s a little quiet, gentlemanly, has good taste in music, and extremely not married.”

She finally broke down and smiled. “Well, maybe this is the start of something, then. You deserve to be happy.”

“Maybe but I don’t think he’s interested. He offered me a ride to make sure I got home safely; he wasn’t flirting. I just feel less guilty about being attracted to him now that I know he’s single.”

“Your father and I started off as friends first, too, you know?”

“I wouldn’t say that Marshall and I are friends, Mom,” I said, standing up. “But I’m appreciative of him and his handsome face all the same.”

“Oh, so you call him Marshall now? No ‘Detective’?” she teased. “That seems pretty friendly to me.”

I laughed. “If I ever get on a first name basis with him, I might agree. Until then, he’s just an acquaintance. That’s all.”

“One who doesn’t mind you dropping a very earned title.”

“Well, he found out that you call me Fi-Fi, so he probably thought it was fair to let me call him something a little less formal, too.”

“How did he find that out?”

“Because I called and left you a voicemail letting you know that I was on my way home and he asked what Fi was short for. I told him that Dad used to call me Fi-Fi Bird.”

She tilted her head at me like she finally had her answer. “If you’re talking to him about your father, he’s far more than an acquaintance. You barely talk about him to anyone other than me.”

“He’s...it’s…” I sputtered, trying to find the right explanation. I sighed. “Death isn’t a topic that makes him uncomfortable, like other people. He’s a homicide detective. That’s sort of his business. Bringing Dad up didn’t feel weird.”

She held up her hands, almost defensively. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it. I think it’s great. I just hope I get to see this handsome Marshall at some point.”

“I’ll talk to Darcy about a Bring Your Mom to Work Day and see if I can’t get you to the station to check him out. And hey, he might not have been flirting with me but you’re a single lady now, maybe you can lock him down. I always wanted a sister and he has a daughter, so it would be kind of perfect.”

She laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Love you, Mom,” I said, walking away.

“Love you, too!”

#Henry Cavill #Walter Marshall #Night Hunter #Nomis #All I've Ever Known #walter marshall fanfiction #Henry Cavill fan fiction #Night Hunter fan fiction #Walter Marshall/OFC #HenryCavillFanfic #WalterMarshallFanfic

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shelby-love · 5 years ago

Text

JAY HALSTEAD

“The start of something amazing”

Requested: yes

Prompts: none

Warnings: none

Authors note: This is my "most famous" work ig. I wrote this when I started this blog back in November 2019 and I've gotten MUCH better at writing so I thought why not edit it?

MASTERLIST

"Ambulance 61, truck 81, squad 3. House fire West Street Lane 54 45."

Upon hearing the announcement boom through the fire house, Gabriela Dawson found herself standing frozen. The sudden loudness made it clear of what awaited beyond those doors, getting the members of 51 on they feet.

Hopping to your feet, you made your way outside, though stopping in your steps upon noticing Gabby's posture. Tapping her shoulder, you gathered her attention. "Don't worry Dawson," You smiled reassuringly. "Casey and I will be right behind you."

Gabby was nervous, that much was obvious. Making it to truck took a lot of effort and strain on her part. She didn't want to feel so frightened, but she couldn't help the fact that every call gave her big nerves.

"Your boyfriend is the lieutenant," You joked casually. "You'll be fine."

You start changing into your gear, glancing up at Gabby as you do so. Clicking your tongue, you say, "Look, after shift. Tonight; you, me, Casey and Jay. A double date at Molly's."

She smiles and follows you into the truck, "Yeah, I'd like that."

Your friends settled inside, scooting over upon seeing you climb into the vehicle. Sitting next to Mouch, you leaned your head against his shoulder, listening closely to what was being said around you.

"What do you think?" Asks Herrmann, shifting his weight until he got comfortable in his spot. "Is this some kind of a oh-I-forgot-to-turn-off-the-stove call or is it something serious?"

You've been in stronger fires, burning 20 or more story building that sorta thing, making this something that was supposed to be easy peasy. It's a house fire. They happen every day unfortunately.

"I hope it's nothing serious. I barely slept last night," You tell him truthfully, remembering the toss and turning you had to go through.

Gabby nodded in understanding, "You feeling okay now?"

You nodded with a grimace, "Must be the Thai Jay and I had."

"Anyway," you began. "Isn't Street Lane like the fanciest part of Chicago or something?"

"Yeah that's where all the millionaires live," Otis replied, glancing behind the steering wheel ever so slightly in your direction.

You felt Mouch shrug, the sudden movement had your head rolling off his shoulder, though you were quick to place it back, Mouch tapping his palm against your head.

After 10 minutes or so, that ended up feeling like hours due to Gabby's constant taps against the floor of the vehicle, everyone jumped out of the truck, giving you the impression that the truck itself is on fire.

Outside, neighbors buzzed with anticipation, stepping out of the way when told to. "Everyone let's open up the roof! Y/LN you're with Severide on this one."

You gave Matt a nod of determination before running over to where squad is prepped to enter the burning house. The modern 3 story home on normal occasions looked mind blowing, giving everyone in passing envy to feel.

But at the moment each story was decorated with blazing fire, sucking out the luxury. "Y/LN there's a scared kid upstairs, her mom says she won't talk to us. We need you to try for us. "

You nod, "Yes Lieutenant."

Kelly gives you a rougish smile, one that used to make you week in the knees, "Good. Now go. Top floor."

With Mouch aiming the long ladders to the top window, you start climbing them. After climbing them up and down numerous amounts of times, the thought of doing so felt like a second nature now.

For a brief moment, you remembered how scared you were in the academy. You shook your head immediately, not quite understanding where the sentiment was coming from.

Was it just you or were you drifting off to memory land more often lately?

You grab the window by its sill, ignoring the flashing memories and throw yourself inside.

Your hands grasped your radio immediately, "I'm in chief. Fire department call out!"

There's no response so you put on your mask and make your way deeper inside the room. Glancing around, you assess the room for possible hiding spots.

Only to find none.

The king sized bed, similar to the one at your own home, is on fire and so is most of the furniture surrounding it. You kick the door of the wardrobe with your leg only to find no one inside.

You walk outside and into the wide hallway, barely being able to see from the smoke and blazing orange flames. You call out again, though louder this time before kicking open the first door to your left. "Fire department call out!"

The voice that answers is so faint that if Gabby were inside, she would've surely missed it. But as someone with experience, the voice was recognizable and you knew that there was someone inside. "Call out!"

Somehow, while the furniture around the window, including the window itself, was being eaten away by fire, the furniture by the door being safe from the fire.

Not for long.

You spot a toy box in the only avaliable corner in the room, moving ever so slightly. Almost as if someone was trying to get out.

Toys of all shapes and sizes are scattered all around the box, urging you to slowly make your way to it before pushing it over the proper way.

A gasp leaves your mouth involuntarily.

The little girl looked around 5, her body too small and fragile to belong to a girl older than that.

She looked at you with bright blue eyes, catching you off guard with the electrical glow they had. A story of fear pushed through her irises, letting you know of the trust issues that colored her.

The girl shakes her head violently and coughs out whatever she can, breaking your heart with the actions. Without a second thought, you pulled your mask over your head, taking it off even when it tangled itself with your hair. "I need you to come with me, sweetheart. The fire is growing and it's not safe here anymore. Your mommy is waiting for you outside, come sweetie let me help you."

If you could describe her anxiety with words, you'd compare it with the fire. Overwhelming and strong. "Hey, hey sweetie it's okay...I'm going to help you, my name's Y/N."

She looked at you, giving you the impression that she was analyzing you. Eventually she did seem to come to a conclusion that she indeed was not safe inside.

After her nod, you didn't waste time by placing your mask over her head, pressing the button to release oxygen. After scooping her into your arms, the little girl wrapped both her arms and legs around you. Grateful that she trusts you, you ran into the hallway and toward the very window you came through.

But Wallace Boden stopped you before you could do so much as take a step toward the door. "Y/LN go down immediately! The house is going to blow!!"

You heart races for a tiny bit and you sprint to the staircase. You feel the girl shaking in your arms but you don't let that stop you for a second, the need to get out taking over. Brushing your hand over her dirty, smoke colored hair you whispered into her ear. "You're gonna be okay..."

The pressure the fire had on the upstairs floor finally gathers into an explosion. The force of the blow sends you flying down the stairs, urging you to wrap yourself tighter against the child, protecting her with every fiber in your body. You back hurts immensely but you manage to stand up, "Chief!"

Fire continues to grow, ignoring your whimpers and coughs. Your ankle seemed to twist in the process of falling but you bite down your bottom lip, chewing down on it until you drew blood and walk no matter the pain.

You spot the open window, and don't think twice before sprinting toward it even with an ankle being the way it was. The ladders are placed securely placed against window stills, allowing you put the little girl on them and let Hermann take her despite her whails of protests.

While waiting for her to be helped down the ladders, you turned around and slammed the door shut behind you. The pain in your back intensifies and you feel you lip bleed from both the inside and outside.

And then you see it.

The fire just under the door, you feel the pressure it has on the door. It's going to burst.

Without thinking, and in just the right time - you jump out of the window.

The moment you're out and flying in the air the explosion that was building up finally breaks, sending everything to chaos.

You catch the ladders by the cold metallic railing just in time, though it doesn't take a second before your fingers start to loosen their hold.

Knowing that the ladder will slip right through your fingers, you urged your arms to push you upwards but with no avail. The pain you sustained was intense.

"Y/LN HANG ON. WE'RE GETTING YOU DOWN!" You hear your Chief yell and true to his words, you were lowered down.

It was sudden, the feeling of losing consciousness. Everything that had happened while you were inside seemed to catch up to you with great speed. The pain in your back and ankle, your rigid breathing and tight lungs, busted lip and bruised face. 5 feet in the air and you finally lose the hold you had on the ladder.

You fall to the ground and before you could even reach it - you were out cold.

***

You wake up in the hospital, April hovering over you with a warm smile. You try to move but you feel sore all over, your attempts at moving being a twitch of your fingers. "Take it easy Y/N. I'll go tell them they can come see you now."

Your mind starts replaying images of what happened. You smile lightly. I jumped out of a freaking window.

"April, is Jay-"

Your eyes widen when you see Jay rushing in, before you could even finish your question. April points to him with a smirk, leaving you two be and giving you privacy by pulling the curtain closed.

"Jesus Y/N you freaked me out." Jay sighed, immediately leaning in to kiss you forehead. Your eyes immediately spot the badge around his waist, it glimmers under the light above you. "Did you ditch work for me, babe?"

"Damn right I did," Your boyfriend replied, quite proudly you noted, leaning toward your parted lips with his own. The kiss was sweet, filled with unshed worry that turned to relief after a moment. It felt as though Jay was reassuring both you and himself that you were okay. "I came here as soon as I heard what happened."

You squeeze his hand in gratitude, watching with teary eyes as he brushes a few misplaced strands of hair out of your face, tucking them softly behind your ears. Jay's brother Will, come in the room soon after. Behind him stood Jeff, a very close friend of yours.

"Hey guys." You greet them, rather brightly after Jay wiped a fallen tear off your face. "Jeff how's the med life been treating you?"

You missed seeing Jeff at work, daring to admit it felt lonely without him to a degree. "Eh, good enough. I miss the fire."

Will slapped his shoulder lightly.

"Yeah, I bet you do," You said with a chuckle, before gesturing to yourself and your body with a hand that wasn't held tightly in Jay's. "I mean, how could someone not miss this."

Everyone laughed at your words until Will deemed appropriate to speak up in regards to your medical condition, "Well, Y/N... You and your baby are going to be just fine. I'll get started on the discharge-"

Baby? "Baby? Will what did you say?" Jay asled, his face looking the same level of confused as yours.

"I said that Y/N and her baby are-"

"I'm pregnant?" You asked in disbelief. How?

"Yes Y/N you're 9 weeks along." said Will with a smile, "Congratulations you two."

We were careful, was your only thought. Not that the news were bad.

Just surprising.

"But I'm on the pill-" You started, only to remember the medication you took a few months ago as a way to fight away the sickness you were feeling.

You weren't a paramedic, nor an doctor in any sense. But it wasn't hard to put two and two together.

"Will...Can certain antibiotics dilute my birth control and stop it from working?"

Will creased his eyebrows, but deciding to answer nevertheless. "Yes. It depends on which ones you use but most of the time that's the case," Will confirms your suspicion. "I'm guessing you didn't know."

"We didn't," answered Jay for the both of you.

You didn't even feel the onset of tears that rushed down your cheeks, "I'm going to be a mom."

Happiness surged through your body, making it the moment you knew that you wanted this. Your pregnancy might have been unexpected but you wouldn't change it for the world. One look at Jay, who had his face nested against your twined hands and all was confirmed.

You pull yourself up into a sitting position, kissing his head until he rose his head to meet your eyes with the same amount, if not more tears in his blue eyes. Jay pulled you in for a passionate kiss, not caring about the company. "A mini us."

Your smile reached the sky and you put a hand to your belly as a result. Something so beautifully pure and innocent grew inside of you, being the gift of love.

You're having a child with the man who loves you like the night sky loves it's stars.

But then, so suddenly guilt washes over you. The air around you changed, making Jay furrow his brows. You could've lost the baby today. A baby you didn't even know you were carrying. If you knew, there was no way in hell you would've walked into that house and continued working no matter how much you loved your job.

"Your mommy and daddy love you." You whispered, running your free hand over your slightly swollen stomach, "Your mom is so sorry for what happened today."

Jay kissed your temple, reassuring you that none of what had happened was your fault. A moment later, you found yourself smiling. You met Will's eyes. "Will you're gonna be an uncle."

The older Halstead shrugged, but the pride and joy was flickering in his eyes as he scanned the monitor. "You bet. I'm happy for you two, man really I am."

"Don't worry bro. Your time will come too," Jay told him before he stood up and hugged his brother. You wouldn't be surprised, him and Natalie are an adorable couple.

"I'm happy for you Y/N. Congratulations." Jeff rubbed your shoulder. You beamee at him. "I'll go and get them."

By them he meant your colleagues; family.

Silvie and Gabby were the first ones to be rushed in, followed by the rest of the fire house until the trauma room was crammed with pure muscle. "Y/N are you okay??"

Jay, who had left the room with Will to sign some papers pushed through to stand by your side once again, "They're okay."

You tried your best to not laugh at their confused expressions, barely even holding it in when Kelly muttered something about how Jay wasn't even injured.

On que Will turns on the ultrasound (perhaps because the brothers talked it through in the hallway) and gasps are heard all around, filling the small room with emotions that ranged from surprise and disbelief to pure joy for you and Jay.

With gel on your belly, Will starts moving the transducer and soon a small baby can be seen on the screen, a really small baby, but a baby nevertheless. Tears in your eyes piled up once again and you squeeze Jay's hand joyfully. You could hear Silvie say, "I think I'm going to faint."

Life just became a hell of a lot more exciting and you couldn't wait to experience every part of it with the man you love most on this world.

Rounds of congratulations happen after that, each and every one of them saying different things once they're left alone with you.

Mouch asked Jay to send a kiss to Sargeant Platt; Hermann got Cindy and his kids on video chat, continously welcoming you to the family life; Severide actually had gloss in his eyes because he was so happy, though he did everything in his power to not admit to it.

Gabby and Casey canceled your double date at Molly's because they want you on bed rest. They said they'll bring takeout to your shared place instead.

"Just no Thai, please."

#chicago pd fanfiction #jay halstead #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagine #chicago fire #chicago pd #chicago med #chicago fire imagine #chicago

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multiverseofmiracleshq · 4 years ago

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1/3 of the Reality Stone fragments remained with its host, Ripley Ryan, in the hospital. Determined to finish what they started, the Black Widow and Winter Soldier headed to the Intensive Care Unit along with a team of mutants who were sent by Wanda Maximoff to cast a reality binding spell. Once their goal was achieved, there was nothing standing between them and Zemo at the Town Hall.

These events come AFTER the INN and MUSEUM and before the TOWN HALL.

THIS IS THE OFFICIAL CHAT LOG COVERAGE OF THE IC

BUCKY BARNES: Bucky pushed through the hospital doors with both hands, metal clinking against the acrylic outer shell and double paned panels. He was hot on Natasha's heels, having made a pitstop for the both of them at the museum before the rest of the crew could cause too much of an issue. When he caught up to her just before she hit the stairwell, he slid her a twin set of guns and then readjusted the strap to his AR. "Sure we can't just shoot first and ask questions later?"

NATASHA ROMANOFF: Although not in her suit, Natasha had clicked on the two Widow’s Bites that Barnes had taken from the Museum. The two guns were a gift from a poor S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who was now weaponless, but Natasha accepted them from James all the same. “You want to risk shooting the wrong person?” Checking how much ammo she had, the Widow shook her head. “Personal mission. Maybe bad form, but family first.” Knowing that Taskmaster was in the building - and still sore from their last run in - Natasha quietly pushed the door open and raised her gun while she rounded the corner, coming face to face with a crying girl in scrubs. “Too easy.”

BUCKY BARNES: Bucky clicked his tongue at that. "Fuck form. I would've taken more, but I know how much Barton is attached to his bow." he was only mildly joking, using it as a way to fill the space so he didn't spiral into his own mind. "Think we should've accepted back up?" And now he really was joking, mirroring Nat with his own weapon. He stopped short when they came around the corner and he instinctively tightened his grip on his gun. "It's never that easy."

NATASHA ROMANOFF: Eyes rolling, Natasha quickly checked over her shoulder. “Easy to say when it fits the situation,” she hummed. “We do have back-up. Bobbi’s here and changing. She’s got the codes. Psylocke is somewhere looking for her friends. Apparently, Wanda is helping the mutants.” Whatever helped them through. Lowering her gun slightly, Natasha glanced from the sniffling young adult to the name tag she wore. “Hey, Astrid. Sad day at the hospital?”

YELENA BELOVA: Caught up in her own moping, ‘Astrid’ started at the sound of the woman’s voice and sat up as she quickly wiped at her eyes. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. No. I mean -- yes. It’s a hospital. But our patients usually are cured. Just bad dating experiences. Dumb, I know.” She nudged her magazine closed. “Are you here to visit someone?”

BUCKY BARNES: "Bad dating experiences?" he couldn't keep the question out of his tone, the laughable disbelief. He cocked the gun single handedly before dropping it back in his grip. "In fact we are. Wanna tell me who it is you're crying over?"

YELENA BELOVA: Although his tone was a little snide, the brunette didn’t notice. It was lonely at the front desk if she wasn’t making rounds and her friends were fine but the recent dumping had taken a toll. “His name is Jim. He’s a nice guy. Was a nice guy. We went on a few dates and he went all two-faced. Completely ghosted me. That was three days ago.”

NATASHA ROMANOFF: Natasha wracked her brain. “Helmut,” she swore under her breath. “Astrid, have you talked to ‘Jim’ since?”

BUCKY BARNES: Bucky just...blinked at her. Then, all of a sudden he barked a laugh, shaking his head. "How mad would you be if I took out all of S.H.I.E.L.D.?" he asked, voice lower, only for Nat to hear. "Yeah, 'Strid, we just wanna talk to him. He's like family, you get it."

YELENA BELOVA: Finally really taking the guns in consideration, Astrid slowly stood and reached around her scrubs for her buzzer. “I should call Chris. He’s head of Hospital security and he can help you figure out where you’re headed.”

BUCKY BARNES: That wasn’t really part of the plan. “Yel-Astrid, Jim’s a little more important right now.” With a sigh, Bucky aimed the AR, barrel directed at ‘Astrid’. “We don’t need head of security.” A red dot appeared at the center of her scrubs, the buzz of the scope a sound only he could hear. “Just give Jim a call, yeah?”

YELENA BELOVA: “He’s not gonna answer,” she huffed as her eyes welled up again. “I just told you -- he’s not interested in me. I think it’s my thighs. It has to be.” Nearly crosseyed, she stared at the light on her scrubs and the demanding man. Fumbling for her phone, Astrid dialed with shaking fingers. Ring. Ring. Voicemail. “See? Thighs.”

BUCKY BARNES: Bucky clicked off the scope, the red light disappearing before he lowered his gun. ”I’m just gonna hit her. You good with that?” he asked Natasha.

NATASHA ROMANOFF: Watching the entire exchange, Natasha had shouldered past Yelena at one point to rummage through the cabinets behind the desk. They needed as much info about the Database as possible, and there a possibility some of Ripley’s medical records were there. At Bucky’s question, she glanced up. Yelena would be pissed, but the two of them had come for a reason. “Only if you’re done hearing about Jim.”

BUCKY BARNES: “Ha ha.” Bucky came over, keeping Astrid’s eyes on him as he came around the desk. “Hey, ‘Strid-“ he employed the same method he had used on the Wyngarde sister, slamming the side of his gun into her temple just hard enough to shake around some loose change. “You have great thighs.”

NATASHA ROMANOFF: “Oof.” Natasha exhaled as the gun connected with her sisters temple. Deftly moving to catch Yelena and ease her to the ground, the spy crouched down and inspected the welt that was already growing. It still didn’t look like Yelena, but she had stopped crying. “You could have been a little bit more graceful, but I’ll take it. Grab her.” Natasha rose. “We’re not leaving her for Taskmaster to find.” Best to let him think ‘Astrid’ had just abandoned her post or was doing her rounds. The S.H.I.EL.D. pager Bobbi had given her buzzed in her hand and Natasha pocketed it. “We’ve got a room. Intensive care unit, Room 8-1. You know, I always said Clint married up.” Grabbing Astrid’s badge for good measure, Natasha clicked the safety off on her gun. “Let’s go.”

KWANNON: Elsewhere, Psylocke and Laura had waited quietly in the shade of the building. The telepathic signal being emitted led the newly arrived X-Men to the hospital. Raven head tipped to the side, Psylocke held a hand out to gesture that Magik, Synch and Nico should enter the hospital. The door swung closed between them, faces flushing from recycled air. “Intensive Care Unit is the top floor. You know what to do?”

BUCKY BARNES: "Graceful?" it came out more as a scoff and Bucky crouched down, adjusting the AR to lay flat against his back again so he could sling Yelena's fake body over his shoulder. She hung limply, swaying back and forth when he stood. "When have you ever known me to be graceful." he said just as he twisted around, narrowly clipping Yelena's head on the edge of the counter. "ICU? What are the chances he'll be in a coma and I can just smother him."

EVERETT THOMAS: Synch followed Magik and the other witch into the hospital, trying his best not to let himself get too wrapped up in everything around him. This whole thing was pretty messed up of SHIELD, but his main focus was Laura. Even if she didn’t remember any of it, he still felt bonded to her in ways he could barely describe. And making sure she was safe was definitely high on his priorities. “Yeah, we’ve got it.” He responded to Kwannon, making sure to keep on high alert as he scanned their surroundings.

NATASHA ROMANOFF: The sneakers that she had worn as Lulu Gordon were more for show than actual practical use, and the treads were nearly nonexistent. Nat couldn’t actually remember working out in Pleasant Hill, just posing on her yoga mat for selfies instead. It was hard not to slide around with no traction but she pushed open a door to another stairwell and held it open for Bucky, watching to make sure he didn’t smack Yelena’s head into the wall. “You would have failed the Red Room,” she hummed. Presentation begets perfection, after all. Natasha had been the best. Yelena had been better. “Zemo’s at Town Hall. That’s not why we’re here. Ripley’s intubated upstairs. They’re making a play for the Infinity Stone. Did you read your file?” Stopping abruptly, Natasha flattened herself against the wall by the doorway of the next level. She could hear footsteps in the hall, and that felt deliberate in the quiet hospital. Gesturing with her chin towards the door, Nat pushed it open and raised her gun. She moved quickly to turn but still found her face connecting with a fist.

BUCKY BARNES: "I didn't care to read pages and pages of documents beyond who was who and what they were capable of." Which was a delicate way of saying, 'did you really think I would?'. Somewhere along the way of climbing flights, Bucky stashed Yelena's unconscious body in a medical supplies closet, knowing that she wouldn't wake up for a while and that he needed both hands. As soon as they both went into alert, hands moved too fast for Nat to dodge and him to barely skid to a stop and back up, gun immediately raising. He fired off a few rounds, the spray of bullets disoriented in the ambush.

NATASHA ROMANOFF: Wiping blood off her nose, Natasha dropped her gun and kicked it to the side. Bullets never tended to work with Taskmaster. She’d keep it for backup. He had his shield and a collapsed bow. Claws in his gloves. Basically, he was as tricked out as ever. “Still sore about last time?” The ( former ) redhead squared her shoulders back. “Zemo can’t be offering you enough for this.” But he was silent, like always, and a moment later the two were locked in hand to hand combat.

ILLYANA RASPUTINA: Sword pulled off of her back, Illyana cast a wary look around the hall. “I hate hospitals,” she muttered. Wanda’s spell was complicated but she had drilled it into the sorceress and witch. “It would be easier if we could teleport out after, but apparently we have to walk. No mutant left behind.” Lorna, Gabby, Rogue.

LAURA KINNEY: As the mutants made their way through the hospital, Laura paused and narrowed her eyes. There were more people in the hospital than their should have been. “Take the back.” She instructed Kwannon. “James Barnes is moving to the southern wing.”

BUCKY BARNES: Bucky dropped the gun, the strap catching on his shoulder before it banged against his hip. It was only Taskmaster, the asshole with the psuedo copycat style and a piss poor attitude. "Less talking-" he kicked at Taskmaster, just hard enough to diverge his attention and have him focused on both of them. "Glad I dropped our nice office secretary off, huh."

NATASHA ROMANOFF: He had got in three good hits but Natasha was at four. “Nursing student,” she huffed as she dodged a kick. “This is a dead end. He won’t quit. It’s called a distraction.”

EVERETT THOMAS: Everett followed closely behind, trying his best to keep close to Laura without making her feel like he was suffocating her. He didn’t want to make things weird in any way, but God was it hard. “Hey uh, are you okay?”

BUCKY BARNES: "So in all those times you've fought him, you never figured out a way to beat him?" They parried some more, moving this way and that. "I'm not going to leave you here to get your pretty yoga instructor face punched in."

BOBBI MORSE: One of the doctor’s personal offices had always been stocked for agents -- as a safety precaution. It was working well in their favor. Her locker held a spare uniform and set of staves that she gratefully hooked into their holsters before grabbing three disruptors. One went onto her own neck and her body shuddered in relief as her appearance twisted back to its regular self. She broke out in a sprint until she found Barnes and Romanoff, and Bobbi tossed them each a chip before kicking off the wall to strike Taskmaster with a baton. As she should have predicted, his bow separated into staves of his own. “What’re you guys still doing down here?”

NATASHA ROMANOFF: If she hadn’t been focused on not getting slashed in half with a sword, Natasha would have rolled her eyes. “It keeps evolving. More new heroes, more moves. We haven’t killed each other yet.” The elastic she had tied her hair up with was falling out, but then Bobbi was there. Nat caught the small chip and quickly fastened it on the back of her neck. There was a second before her body was her own once more, clothed in the uniform she had entered the town with. Even though she was lacking any of her weapons other than the Widow’s Bite, it felt good to see her own hands again. “How about my normal face getting punched in?”

BUCKY BARNES: "That isn't obvious?" Bucky said, arms coming up to cover his face when Taskmaster slammed a fist down. Jumping back, he caught the chip, using what he knew from the file to revert his appearance back into something a little bulkier, steadier, familiar. "It's not exactly easy to get to the reality stone harboring mad woman when there's 600 tons of body armor in the way."

LAURA KINNEY: Lips twitching, Laura pivoted on one heel. “I look like a cheerleader.” She had gone to pep rallies with pom-poms and enthusiasm. The whole nine yards. The worst part was that she had fun, on some level. That pretty much summed up how she was. “I want them to cast the spell so we can get out of here. No more Vaults, no more Pleasant Hill’s.”

BOBBI MORSE: “I have complete and total faith in this woman.” Bobbi held a hand to her temple to stop her vision from swimming after a hit. “But we need to keep moving. Nat, you said you’re old friends. I don’t want to ruin the reunion.” When the redhead nodded, Bobbi arched a brow at Bucky before running into the nearest stairwell and taking the stairs two at a time.

EVERETT THOMAS: Everett couldn’t help his soft chuckle at the cheerleader comment as he nodded at her. “I mean, it’s not a bad look. Definitely not you, though.” He pointed out, nodding solemnly at her next words. But unfortunately, they were X-Men and this was probably not going to be the last Pleasant Hill. Or Vault. Before he could say much else, a scalpel flew through the air and stuck onto the wall next to them, revealing Bullseye standing down the hall. “Shit..”

VIVIAN VISION: Vivian followed alongside the mutants as they made their way through the hospital, careful to be attentive to their surroundings. As they all rounded the corner, a scalpel was flung through the air, nearly hitting Viv in the face as it struck the wall and they were face to face with Bullseye. “We need to divide. We can’t let him keep us from the stone. Magik, Nico, I can phase us into her room? I think we’re close.”

BUCKY BARNES: "Shitty reunion." he looked over at Nat, only falling back from Taskmaster when he saw the confirmation in her steady gaze. Breaking off, he followed Bobbi up the stairs, finding no other obstacles before hitting a floor with double doors that read: Authorized Personnel Only: Intensive Care Unit. He slowed, weapon coming back around to rest in his grip. "They powered a whole town by putting a girl into a coma." he said it with a mix of disbelief and frustration. "S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't exactly convincing me they shouldn't become a government section lost to time." The room was empty when they entered, the doors clattering behind them. He wasn't sure keeping quiet had any point anymore. Gun poised, he scanned the empty beds, not even noticing the low beep of the monitor and the occupied bed because his eyes landed on Yelena, seated and scanning through...something. "Didn't I leave you in a broom closet?" he said a little breathlessly, grip tightening on the weapon.

YELENA BELOVA: Was she mad? Yes. At Bucky and Natasha? No. At S.H.I.EL.D.? Of course. At Zemo, at the situation. Yelena had been pissed when she came to in a broom closet, tossed to the side like a basic cleaning supply. She remembered Astrid Massey, but her face wasn’t her own. Bullseye had met her in the hallway. He had given her the device Zemo was passing around to his teammates, the disrupter returning her to her former form. As Benjamin headed down the hallway to meet the ‘heroes’, Yelena moved to the ICU and found the Database. The codes were already unlocked from whatever doctor had run away mid scan from the intruders, and when the door opened Yelena glanced back over her shoulder. “Seemed more fun out here. I saw Taskmaster downstairs, but this was a better opportunity. They never let me up here. Now I know why.”

BUCKY BARNES: “Natasha is handling it.” Bucky remarked, lowering his weapon just a little bit. “I know what you’re doing, and it sucks to say this, but it isn’t helping. We can handle the database later, we need to deal with Ripley now.” he spoke pointedly at her, knowing that any form of coddling or soft spoken words didn’t apply here. Not that it ever did. Bucky could never imagine babying Yelena in any situation. “Just trust me on this.”

VIVIAN VISION: Vivian quickly grabbed onto Magik and Nico, not wasting any time as she phased the three of them past Bullseye and through to Ripley’s hospital room.

LAURA KINNEY: At his comment, the arch of a brow broke Laura’s deadpan. “Debatable taste.” She commented offhandedly. At the sight of Bullseye she crouched, lunging towards him without claws. Kwannon could follow Viv and the spellcasters. Laura had no problem being a distraction.

YELENA BELOVA: “Natasha is getting her ass handed to her. Again.” The sisters had a messy history with Taskmaster. She hit a key and the code flashed red, the page turning to a simple box for an access code. “We have to shut down the Database.” Yelena straightened up to look at him, her own gun holstered. “We can’t let them do this anymore.”

BUCKY BARNES: Bucky worked through the tic in his jaw, leveling his voice. By now, his nerves were frayed. “Do you Yelena?” he lowered the gun even more until the barrel was pointed at the floor. “Do you trust me?”

YELENA BELOVA: For a long moment, she just stared. Did she? It wasn’t easily answered. “I want to.” Yelena replied honestly. A finger hovered above the key before she moved, body tightening and constricting as she fell.

BOBBI MORSE: Running behind due to having to disable to alarms on the floor, Bobbi skidded to a stop as she lowered her stun gun. “--She was going to hit the key, right?”

YELENA BELOVA: “Fuck. You.” Yelena hissed from the ground, fingers digging into the tile as she tried to pull herself up. She wasn’t going to hit the key.

BUCKY BARNES: “Seriously?” he hissed, the metal plates clamping into place audibly as he tightened his grip. “Seriously, Bobbi?” he was pissed, clearly. “No wonder you’re a fucking S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.” Bucky snatched the stun gun from Bobbi’s grip on his way past her, throwing it to the ground and stomping on it until it was in a bunch of little pieces before he finished his walk to Yelena. “She wasn’t going to hit the fucking key.” he crouched down, helping Yelena back to her feet. “What’s next? You want to hit Ripley too? Do you more good.”

BOBBI MORSE: “Oh, c’mon.” Bobbi muttered as she had the stun gun ripped away and trampled. It wasn’t like that would have been helpful for defense or anything. “Tell me she’s not a flight risk.” Dark eyes narrowed. “I’d love to hit Ripley. Hopefully wake her up. That goddamn stone is fragmenting and destabilizing the town. If it collapses we all may be written out off reality. No happy reunion with your girlfriend then, huh?”

YELENA BELOVA: Yelena just spit towards Bobbi’s feet as James help her up, holding on to his arm even when she was upright.

BUCKY BARNES: “You think you’re the one to call that?” he shot over his shoulder, fully standing now. “Being written out of reality wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen to me this year.” he turned his attention to Yelena, looking her over but he didn’t ask her if she were okay. “You make an awful nurse, you know that?”

ILLYANA RASPUTINA: Phasing in along with Viv and Nico, Illyana stepped around the broken black shards of a weapon. “Now this is where the party is.” She laughed slightly. Making her way to the bed, dark lined eyes narrowed at the woman. Tugging the hospital gown to the side, the red glow of the Stone was flickering under the white bandages. “They said you would have another fragment. We need two.”

BOBBI MORSE: “I think I’m deepest in the shit and have used the Database before, so I made a snap judgement call. It’s not like I shot her. We talked it out.” Bobbi didn’t flinch at the spit. “Maybe not for you, but there’s a lot of other people here.”

YELENA BELOVA: “Nursing student.” Yelena muttered. “The scrubs were ugly.”

RIRI WILLIAMS: She had smashed in the window of the wrong room during her entry, but Riri found the right one after checking for heat signatures. “You have a second fragment now.” The suit’s chamber opened to expose the Reality Stone shard. “Zemo’s got the third.”

BUCKY BARNES: “They were pretty ugly.” he agreed quietly, face pinched lightly at the edges. His head whipped sharply around at Riri’s entrance, completely ignoring Bobbi at this point. “So we go get Zemo.” he took a breath. “Finally.”

ILLYANA RASPUTIN: As the armored teen guided the Stone back to its host, Magik looked to Nico. “Are you ready?” It wasn’t really a question. With eyes glowing blue, she held a hand out over the chest of Ripley. “I’m going to be very unhappy if she chooses to smite us.”

NICO MINORU: Nico looked down at the incubated woman, trying her best not to be intimidated by the thought of all that could go wrong as she adjusted her grip on her staff and nodded. She looked towards Riri as she entered the room and smiled in relief at the sight of another stone. “Okay, yeah. Ready.” She agreed as she gripped her staff and held her other hand over Ripley to follow Magik. “Stabilize.” The staff emitted a glow as she focused herself onto the spell.

YELENA BELOVA: “Jim. What a nice young man.” Yelena scoffed. She paused, softening slightly as she turned to face Bucky fully. “Thank you.” Her tone was composed of genuine relief. Rising up to reach his face, Yelena pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “I do trust you.”

BOBBI MORSE: Determined to focus on the spell, Bobbi’s face twitched at Yelena and Bucky. Worse than high schoolers.

ILLYANA RASPUTIN: Drawing on Limbo, Illyana closed her eyes when she heard Nico’s staff and began chanting. Confirma. Stabiliendum. Solidatur. Est una tribus, tribus fit unum. Dormammu limbo ex angulis eminebant de profundis et frugibus suis circum nos, ut tecum una. As she repeated Wanda’s words, the red began to glow and overtake the room. It burned so brightly that it overtook the space and ate everything else out entirely.

BUCKY BARNES: With his ungloved hand, bucky cupped the side of Yelena’s face. “I know.” he heard Illyana and Nico behind him but he didn’t look. He had a gut feeling where this was going and he was just…relieved to see Yelena again. It tugged somewhere deep in his chest, making him oddly angry all over again. He was exhausted, frustrated, but relieved. “Also, please don’t ever mention Jim again.” he said on what sounded like a breathy laugh. “C’mere.” Even though they didn’t do this, Bucky pulled Yelena in close, arms wrapping around her small frame.

NICO MINORU: Confirma. Stabiliendum. Solidatur. Est una tribus, tribus fit unum. Dormanmu limbo ex angulis emine ant de profundis et frugibus suis circum nos, ut tecum una. Nico repeated alongside Magik, closing her eyes as the red glow overtook the entire room. Based on that, she hoped it was working. And she also hoped that they wouldn’t kill Ripley in the process.

YELENA BELOVA: Folding into him, Yelena stared at the two spellcasters. She hated magic. She hated how small it made her feel. She didn’t like Ripley either, but they all deserved better than this. “He was a victim too, at first.” The light was too bright then and Yelena had no choice but to avert her eyes.

RIPLEY RYAN: Every memory. Every life. Every backstory. The Town Database was comprehensive and the woman whose energy fueled it remembered every detail. For the first time since they had managed to restrain her, the stirrings of magic gave way to an elevated form of consciousness. Eyes and mouth open, red poured from them until reality was rattled by a burst of energy. Across the town, those left reverted to how they had looked before being changed. Faces returned and scarlet gave way to familiar bodies and clothes. When the wave washed over the hospital, it faded to reveal a blonde in a hospital gown standing in front of the mangled computer system. “I’m going to kill someone.”

LAURA KINNEY: The fight with Bullseye had ended, but Laura followed the scent of blood towards where the Black Widow and Taskmaster had fought. Natasha was fine, her adversary fleeing towards Zemo and the Town hall. When the redhead said she would follow him, Laura had left her to get to the ICU. Without her claws the fight had been a little different than she preferred, but not all of the blood on her was her own. By the time she got there, the room was awash in red. The force of the energy impact threw Laura against the wall, but when she straightened and came to, her cheerleading uniform was gone. The yellow and blue of her Wolverine suit had returned and when she flexed her hands she felt the adamantium.

BOBBI MORSE: Ripley looked mad, but Bobbi couldn’t blame her. She had every right to be. “That’s valid.” She limbed to her feet. “But can we raincheck? Your Stone -- it fractured. From what was being done. We got you a piece on it, but Zemo has a shard at Town Hall. Do I need to tell you how badly this could go?”

RIPLEY RYAN: Of course she didn’t need to. Ripley could feel Pleasant Hill destabilizing and reality growing thin. It Zemo accomplished his goals, he’d be taking her down. It was hard to live with a stone in your chest. it would be impossible to be fragmented. Even then, she could feel the other part calling out. Raising a hand, Ripley looked at the group. TOWN HALL. With that, the hospital was empty as they vanished in a flash of crimson.

#momevents #event: pleasant hill #pleasant hill: finale #chatlog: pleasant hill hospital

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cinebration · 5 years ago

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By My Rules (Quentin Beck x Reader) [Part 14]

Plan B.

Warnings: assault with a deadly weapon

Gif Source: cinemagal

“I need you to tell me what happened.”

Alyssa Margrove fidgeted in her seat, her face drawn and apprehensive. Hands wringing the tissue in her lap, she struggled to compose herself, tremors rolling through her.

You scrutinized her quietly, checking for the right signs to push on ahead. The woman sniffled once, a visible shudder wracking her body, and kept her eyes averted, staring at the carpet without seeing.

“Alyssa,” you coaxed quietly, “you can’t move past it if you don’t acknowledge it.”

Inhaling shakily, Alyssa nodded. Stuttering, she began, “Yesterday, I went home at the usual time. I have a cat to feed, you know. I walked in at around six-thirty and set my bag down on the kitchen counter. My kitchen is almost right off of the front door.”

Meaningless details, you thought, but you nodded your head encouragingly.

“I didn’t take my heels off at the front door, because I was distracted by some work Fury wanted me to remember to do tomorrow—today. I had forgotten to write it down, so I kept repeating it in my head until I could find a piece of paper.” Alyssa inhaled shakily again, the tremors shaking her with increased violence. “That’s when I noticed that Suzie, my cat, hadn’t come over to harangue me for dinner. She always does that. She only hides when other people are in the house.”

Alyssa froze, letting the statement hang in the air as she relived the previous night’s events.

You knew what had happened, but you patiently waited for her to speak it aloud.

“Before I could do anything about it,” she finally said, her voice strained, “he was in the kitchen. He had a gun, and he was…it was scary to look at him. Not because of the gun, but because he looked so…unhinged. Like he could shoot me if I sneezed funny. He just stood there, staring, and I thought, ‘Maybe I can run for it.’ The front door wasn’t that far away, and I didn’t lock it when I entered. I was too distracted.”

She trailed off, staring hard at the floor.

“Did you run?” you prompted.

Her head nodded jerkily. “I turned around and ran, but the heels…”

“He caught you?”

A stifled sob. She nodded again.

“Then what happened?”

“He put the gun in my face, and he kept babbling on about something, I don’t know what. I was screaming. I couldn’t hear him. But then he yelled at me to shut up or he’d shoot me.” She pressed a hand to her forehead, as though trying to push back the floodgates of her tears. “Then…then he demanded I tell him where Peter Parker was.”

“Peter Parker? Why would he care about him?”

“Because he’s that Mysterio guy!” Alyssa shouted it as though it were obvious. “The guy from London.”

“I thought he died.”

“Apparently not!”

You let the silence, punctuated by Alyssa struggling to regain control over stuttering sobs, run for a few moments before asking quietly, “What then?”

“I told him I didn’t know. He didn’t believe me. He kept saying he knew I knew. I work for Director Fury. I should know everything, he kept saying. And the gun…” She shook hard. “He pressed it here”—she ghosted over the space between her eyebrows—“and he kept pressing, and it hurt. It felt so cold and it hurt.”

The sobs took control, deep-chested things that wheezed out of her with force. You leaned back in your seat, watching her with disinterest—forcing yourself to cut off any part of you that felt sympathy or empathy for her. You had sent Quentin after her for this very scenario. In any con, people would get hurt. Best not to dwell on it.

“Alyssa,” you said soothingly, “how did you get free?”

Choking on her sobs, Alyssa managed to say, “S.H.I.E.L.D. showed up. I don’t know how they knew, they just did. And they took him away.”

The agents had shown up after an anonymous phone call had placed Quentin in the vicinity.

A phone call made by you.

A block away, you had watched the nondescript vehicles round the corner with Quentin in the backseat of one.

Plan B.

A week after Quentin’s arrest, you were summoned to S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ. Dressed in a monochromatic pantsuit, your hair up in a bun with a pencil stuck through it, fake glasses perched on your nose, an attaché case in hand, you entered the building and signed in with your fake name. The security guard handed you the Visitor badge and escorted you upstairs via the elevator to Fury’s office.

Fury was already waiting. You barely exchanged a glance with Alyssa at her desk before Fury barked at you to enter the room.

The office was exactly as expected: Spartan, devoid of feeling. You glanced around once, quickly, to satisfy your curiosity before approaching the desk.

Fury did not ask you to sit. Regarding you with a hard, penetrating stare, he let the silence stretch to the point of discomfort.

You reveled in such silences. Meeting his gaze with an unflappable one of your own, you stood tall, unwavering in posture or position.

“Miss Bellamy,” Fury said abruptly, “do you know why you’ve been called here?”

“I can hazard a guess.”

“No hazards, please. You’re here because we need a psychiatrist of your ilk.”

Arching one shapely eyebrow, you waited for him to continue, not giving him the satisfaction of flinching at the use of the word ‘ilk.’

“Your reputation precedes you, and you’ve been working with some of our agents recently.”

“Am I being asked to work with more of your agents?”

He eyed you sharply. “No. We have something different in mind.”

“Are you aware of my rates?”

Fury burst into harsh laughter. “That’s your concern.”

“I know the value of my expertise. I am not surprised to be invited here.”

Nodding soberly, Fury waved his hand. “Yes, you’ll be paid at your rates. Sign this.”

He tossed over a packet of paper. Glancing at the title, you recognized it as a nondisclosure agreement. Perusing the important passages quickly, you signed the NDA and tossed it back to him.

“Come with me,” he said, leading you out the door.

The space overlooked a verdant park behind the building, tall windows letting in warm mid-morning light. The room had been converted into sleeping quarters, as evidenced by a cot with mussed sheets against the far wall. Clutter occupied the floor around it and atop a nearby metal desk: old electronics, papers, a backpack sagging off the back of the desk chair, nearly disgorging its contents onto the floor.

“This lady’s here to see you,” Fury boomed.

From the ceiling dropped a figure. It landed before you, rising quickly to its full height.

“Hi, I’m Peter.”

#Quentin Beck x Reader #Quentin Beck #Quentin Beck imagine #Mysterio #Mysterio x Reader #Mysterio imagine #Jake Gyllenhaal #Jake Gyllenhaal imagine #Spider Man Far from Home #Spider-Man: Far From Home #FFH

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bleedinghearthalstead · 5 years ago

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SWAT!Jay / Upstead AU

A/N: Part 3! Crossposted on AO3. Takes place right after Trudy Got a Gun, but is mostly unrelated plotwise. Enjoy!

Five blocks from their house, Hailey's phone vibrates in her pocket. When she pulls out the phone and sees the caller ID, she can't help but sigh – it's Hank.

"Upton," she answers. Jay watches her out of the corner of his eye as she hums and nods to what is being relayed to her until she hangs up the phone with, "I'll be right there." So much for a free afternoon with his wife.

Five blocks from their house, Hailey's phone vibrates in her pocket. When she pulls out the phone and sees the caller ID, she can't help but sigh – it's Hank.

"Where are we going?" Jay asks, already checking for places where he could potentially u-turn.

"Jay, you don't have to drive me there-"

"It'll be quicker," he cuts her off, "just tell me the address." And Hailey knows not to argue because she knows that look on his face that reads 'mission mode', so she just tells him the address and they're on their way.

When they pull up at the crime scene, Hank's car is already there and Hailey wonders how he beat them here, since they were only ten minutes away and Hank was still at the district when Hailey left. She doesn't say anything when Jay parks and also gets out of the car. Hailey's already got her badge clipped on her belt and Jay slips the chain with his badge around his neck. The patrol officer standing guard at the red police tape is giving Jay a weird look, but the officer doesn't stop them when Jay holds up the tape so he and Hailey can duck under it. Jay momentarily thinks about changing, he might have another shirt in the trunk, but actually no, who cares.

They find Hailey's sergeant at the loading dock of what appears to be a logistics center, semi-trailers parked in front of the gates. Hank and the medical examiner are standing over a body, a man in his late forties with a single bullet hole that sits neatly in the middle of his forehead. A clean kill. Not that much to do here for the ME.

"Hey, Sarge." Hailey stops next to Hank, peering down at the victim. Jay is looking around the crime scene behind them, studying the blood splatter on the ground behind the man. "Listen, I was on my way home, so my-"

Before she can finish her sentence, Hank turns to Jay and sticks out his hand. "Halstead, didn't know we needed SWAT support today." They shake hands.

"Voight," Jay returns, "yeah, unless you're cool with instigating a sniper standoff, I'm kinda looking forward to my afternoon off." Hank raises an eyebrow at him in question. "Distance, wind conditions, narrow angle between the trucks… this wasn't an easy shot."

"What makes you think this was a sniper?" Hank asks, intrigued.

"Well, I don't know if you've talked to any witnesses yet, so I don't know if anyone saw a shooter, but with that blood spatter, this definitely was a high-powered rifle." Jay tilts his head, examining the blood spatter closer, then turns around, scanning the horizon. Obviously looking for something, he moves to stand right behind where their victim must have stood, mindful not to step on the blood. He points at a building in the distance. "Angle suggests…" He squints, shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun with this hand. "That mid-rise structure about a klick south. Looks like a parking garage, but I can't say for sure."

Hank grunts at him in agreement, then turns to his detective. "Hailey, you wanna go confirm your husband's theory?"

And of course Hank knows, Hailey thinks. She has been quietly watching the exchange between the two men, but when Hank calls her name, she perks up. "You sure that's alright, Sarge?"

"Take some uniforms with you, canvass the area." That's all the confirmation she gets.

They get back into Jay's car and he drives them in the direction of the building that he spotted earlier, a couple of patrol cars trailing them. While he is driving, Jay keeps leaning forward over the steering wheel, trying to glimpse the building he saw from the crime scene.

"Sooo…" Hailey starts, "Hank knows."

"Didn't think he cared." Jay shrugs, still looking around. "And it's in your personnel file, so I'm pretty sure he's always known."

"Yeah, you're probably right… it's just weird that the whole team knows now. Trudy knows! And why am I not surprised that Hank already knew, but never thought to mention it to me?" Hailey frowns. "I've been in this unit for two years now and I'm not close enough to anyone that they know I'm married."

Jay raises an eyebrow at her. "Babe, you can be incredibly aloof about your personal life."

Hailey pouts. "Are you saying I'm an antisocial freak?"

"More like international woman of mystery."

"Good, my plan is working." They both glance at each other and grin.

They keep driving in silence, until Jay asks, "But you trust them, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do. They're all good police."

"And good people too?"

"Sure," Hailey answers after a moment's hesitation. And she does mean it. They all have their issues, but what makes the unit work is that they all have each other's backs, no matter what.

"Then why don't you let them in a little?" Jay suggests. And truthfully, Hailey doesn't know how to answer that.

After some twists and turns, but not more than five minutes later, they arrive at what Jay has rightly identified as a parking garage. Hailey has one patrol car wait on the ground floor, telling them to find the manager in case they need to look at the security camera footage. The other cruiser follows them as they drive up to the top floor.

Jay parks and gets out, walking around to the trunk of his jeep. Rummaging around in a box, he pulls out a spotting scope. He quickly orients himself and goes to the north side of the garage, looking for an open space. A few cars over, there is a free parking spot. He walks right up to the edge, which is a half-height concrete wall, and peers through the scope. "Looks good." He hands the scope to Hailey, who, at Jay's direction, finds the logistics center they were at earlier, although their crime scene is hidden between two big trucks. "It's not the exact angle from here, but it's pretty damn close."

Still looking through the scope, she can see the crime lab techs still cataloguing the scene, but sees that Hank's car is already gone. Jay takes the scope back from her and determinedly walks to the northeast corner of the structure. He stops right at the corner of the building and looks through the scope again, then nods. "Got it." He turns to Hailey. "Roll a crime lab to our location."

Hailey nods in confirmation and relays the info through her radio. As she watches him examine the scene and then tell the two patrol officers to cordon off the scene, she thinks about how in another life Jay could've been a great detective.

* * * * *

When Jay drives her back to the district and again doesn't just drop her off, but parks and gets out with her, Hailey almost stops him. It was one thing for him to come with her at the crime scene since he was already there and she thinks that he wanted to back her up just in case, but to join the briefing? She isn't sure how that's going to go down with the team.

He is a few paces ahead when he notices that Hailey is still standing next to the car. Jay thinks he's gotten pretty good at reading his wife's mind and backtracks. "Is it okay with you if I join the briefing?"

She thinks about it for just a second, then nods her head 'yes'. It was Jay who figured out that it was a sniper and it was also him who found the point of origin within minutes. If not for her husband, they would have had to wait for hours until the crime techs processed the scene and then it would have taken even longer to find the parking garage.

Entering the district, Trudy just nods at them and Hailey uses the hand scanner and pass code to buzz them up to Intelligence. Upstairs, the team is already putting up info on the white board, Kevin sticking a picture of their victim onto the board and Kim writing down his stats.

"So what do we have on the victim so far?" Hailey skips the greeting and gets straight to business. When the others notice that she has a tag-along, they all perk up, first and foremost Kevin, who comes over to give Jay a bear hug.

Jay laughs. "Hey, buddy."

"'Sup, man? How you doing?" Kevin pulls back and they do a special handshake. Hailey can only wonder when they had the chance to learn that? She didn't see them do that at the bar.

Adam also joins the group. "Nice catch, man."

"Ah, it's nothing." Jay brushes off. "Total team effort."

Hailey marvels at how easy it is for Jay to fit into the group, almost a little envious that Jay has been able to build a comfortable rapport with her team mates on one single night out drinking, while it has taken her two years of working with them to achieve that sort of comfort level. He can be a charming bastard when he wants to.

Hank comes out of his office and breaks up the chitchat. He acknowledges Jay with a nod, then turns to his unit. "We got a dead body, what do we have?"

Their victim is Frank Moretti, the logistics coordinator at the center where he was found murdered. No priors, no obvious gang or organized crime connections, he seems like an odd assassination target. The team is going through the crime lab and medical examiner's reports, collecting their findings on the board. Jay's sniper theory is proven right, the recovered bullet's caliber suggesting a long range rifle. Unfortunately for them, the round is a .300 Winchester Magnum, which is popular in game hunting as well as military and police use.

Jay nods, "Popular is an understatement. Hell, even I use them."

When they get around to talking about the shooter's location, Hailey summarizes the report. "No conclusive evidence found at the parking garage, no notches or indentations from the rifle, no bullet casings, although we assume it was a single shot, no nothing."

Kim adds, "We're still going through the security camera footage, but no luck yet."

"I still think this was a professional hit," Jay interjects. "It's just too clean. If it was me, I would've done it from the cover of a van. Set up, open up the door, hit the target and drive off. If you know your target's schedule, that would've taken a few minutes tops." The others look at him with various degrees of alarm, Hailey included, but Jay just shrugs. "Just saying that you should be looking for a van arriving and leaving the garage within an hour of time of death."

"Alright, you heard the expert, let's get to work," Hank orders. "Upton, Ruzek, you go check out Moretti's home. Burgess, Atwater, you check out the footage and his financials. See what we can find."

The sergeant then turns to Jay and shakes his hand. "I guess I did need SWAT support today." Then Hank adds, "Don't tell your commanding officer."

Jay grins. He didn't have an afternoon off, but he was able to help with their case and he did get to spend some quality time with his wife. "Anytime, Sarge."

#upstead #jay halstead #hailey upton #chicago pd #swat!jay au #case fic is HARD #more fluff/humor next time #bhhfic

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supernaturaltfwmeme · 5 years ago

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Between the lines. Part 8

Summary:The reader is at Stanford with Sam and a few other familiar faces. She gets introduced to Dean, an FBI agent for help with a paper. The two grow even closer when Dean learns about her daughter and her troublesome situation. Check out the other parts here.

Pairing: Dean x reader.

Warnings: Language, Domestic abuse.

A/N: tags open!

Later that day you were discharged and you were currently sitting in Deans car on the way to his house, after he came by the hospital to pick you up and a quick stop at yours first to grab some stuff for you and Amelia.

“Dean are you sure about this?” You asked as Dean stopped the car, parking outside his house.

“Y/n/n, will you stop worrying already. I’m sure. You and Amelia are both welcome here. I have a couple spare rooms anyway. They just weren’t suitable for guests yet.” Dean laughs.

“Please tell me you didn’t go out and buy beds and things just because we’re staying here.” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Ok I won’t tell you that.” Dean smirked, getting out of the car. You followed him inside and he led you upstairs passing his room and showing you to the room next door and dumping your bag on the very obviously brand-new bed.

“You can stay in here and Amelia can sleep in the room just down here.” Dean said leading you to a room down the hall. He opened the door dropping Amelia’s bag on a bright purple bed, the room didn’t just have a bed in it like yours though. There was a wooden desk in the corner and next to it a set of clear draws filled with all different kinds of kids art supplies. There was also a small toy chest at the end of the bed with a few older looking toys in them.

“I hope it’s ok. Charlie told me her favourite colour was Purple. And she really liked to draw. She doesn’t have to play with the toys it’s just a couple things I had laying around from when I was a kid.” Dean explained, clearly rambling. You started to tear up making Dean panic.

“Y/n, if you don’t like it, it’s ok we can return it and get her some...”

“No Dean I love it. Thank you. This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for us.” You smiled at Dean, before leaning over and kissing his cheek.

“I figured even after you don’t need to stay here, I could still watch Amelia from time to time. Give you a break you know.” He smiled at you, relieved that you liked it. Before you could answer you tried and failed to fight of a yawn.

“Go take a nap y/n, before Sam drops off Amelia. You need it.” You nodded and left to go to your room.

Dean sat downstairs on the couch pulling out his phone to a frequently used group chat; Bitches. Of course Charlie named it.

Dean: Just got back from the hospital, y/n is taking a nap but she’s ok.

Charlie: oh thank god.

Sam: She nearly wasn’t though guys. That was a real close call.

Charlie: Yeah, I don’t like it. De are you sure there's nothing you can do without her agreeing to press charges?

Dean: Unfortunately not, unless I see it happen or there is actual proof it was him that did it, I can’t do shit.

Sam: It sucks. What’s the point in having a badge if you can’t use it for shit like this.

Dean: I know Sammy. We’re just going to have to do something that involves me leaving my badge at home. She clearly won’t come to me about it in a professional capacity. She still won’t even leave the jackass.

Charlie: Guys you have to remember she’s been taking this shit for 2 years all alone. We didn’t even know she had a child for fuck sake. In y/n/n mind he was the only person who was there for her when the rest of the world shut her out. She needs to be reminded she has other places to turn, that she’s not trapped. But how do we keep the fucker away from her in the meantime.

Dean: He’s not back till after Christmas now anyway, but you leave that to me kiddo.

Later that evening Dean was looking over take out menus when there was a knock at the door.

“Heya Sammy, hey jess.” Dean said stepping aside to let Sam, jess and Amelia in.

“Y/n is still asleep. I’m just about to order pizza, You guys in?”

“Sounds great de.” Jess smiled sweetly.

“Uncle Sammy, I want my mommy.” Amelia said pulling in Sam’s arm.

“She’s asleep right now Ame but we can invite your aunt Charlie over if you want.” Sam said softly.

“Yay! I like Aunt Charlie. She's silly.” Amelia giggled.

“Already on it.” Dean called from the kitchen, sending a quick text to Charlie before calling for pizza.

Around half an hour later, you woke up and heard laughing coming from downstairs. You made your way towards the sound and saw all your friends sitting around.

“Mommy, You’re awake.” Amelia said running over to you, drawing everyone’s attention to you.

“Hey y/n/n. How you feeling?” Jess asked you, after you picked Amelia up.

“My head hurt’s but other than that I'm good.” You were all interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Pizza’s here.” Dean said going over to the door and grabbing the food.

You all sat around talking and laughing for a few hours just genuinely having a good time. Everyone avoiding the topic they all really wanted to talk about because of Amelia. Around 10 you couldn’t hold back a yawn and Amelia had already fallen asleep on the couch. Sam, Jess and Charlie decided to call it a night. Leaving just you and Dean.

“How you really feeling?” Dean asked as soon as he shut the door.

“My head is pounding and I'm exhausted.” You admitted.

“Get to bed y/n/n.” He smiled at you. You stood from your seat and went to pick up Amelia.

“Leave her, I got it.” Dean said scooping Amelia up in his arms and following you up the stairs. Dean walked past you and into Amelia’s room putting her down on the bed and tucking her in before leaving and shutting the door. You’d been watching Dean with Amelia all evening he was a natural.

“You’re good with her.” You smiled, leaning in the doorway of your room.

“What can I say, kids love me.” He joked. You couldn’t help but remember the conversation you over heard him having on the phone.

“You just don’t want any?” You asked.

“Of course I do. Hey I feel like I need to explain something to you.” Dean said leading you into your room and sitting you both down on the bed.

“About that conversation you overheard the other day. When I was on the phone.”

“Dean you don’t have to explain anything.”

“Yes I do y/n.” Dean took a shaky breath before continuing. “That call was with my ex Lisa. We were together for 3 years. She was cheating on me the whole time, she found out she was pregnant about 2 months ago. The timing didn’t fit, the kids not mine. She’s a typical rich bitch, I can see that now. Her parents will definitely cut her off when they find out, so she wanted me to marry her and pretend the kid was mine so she could keep her money.” You felt bad for him. Dean was sweet, how could anybody treat him like that.

“Sounds like a real bitch, you deserve better.” Dean chuckled to himself.

“Well you see there’s this girl, she smart, funny and beautiful. Got a pretty cute kid too. But we’ll have to see how that plays out.” You blushed. Dean stood up stretching before leaning over and kissing your head.

“Goodnight Y/n.”

Tags: @waywardaardvark79 @vicmc624 @frackinawesomeninja @carryon-doctor-lock @supernatural508 @heyyy-hey-babyyy @rvgrsbrns @bluecornflowers @tranquility-or-chaos@Jensensammy @idksupernatural @supersassyprobablysad

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stillebesat · 5 years ago

Text

The Interview (3/5)

Sanders Sides: Logan, Patton, Virgil, Roman Blurb: A normal day at StoryTime! Inc. takes an unexpected turn when Logan goes to investigate why his coworkers have made a bet using Crofters as the prize. Fic Type: General, Human!AU Warnings: None

To Catch Up: Chapter 1 Chapter 2

The security guards turned to him as the elevator dinged open and shared a look of surprise as he stepped out into the foyer. Logan ignored them, his attention focused on the young man he could see through the glass entrance.

Their visitor had sat down on the bench again, his head in his hands. Why? Why not come inside?

“Uh, Specs?” Ellyn called, fingering her security badge as she followed Logan’s gaze. “Is there a problem?”

He waved her off, heading to the doors. “I’m fine, Ellyn.”

Chris, the other guard today, moved slowly to his feet, drawing the attention of everyone else passing through to what was happening. “But, Specs! You’re--”

Logan mentally rolled his eyes. “Leaving before dark, yes I know, I’ll be right back.”

It wasn’t that strange of an event. Rare yes. But according to office gossip, it was an absolute impossibility.

He wasn’t unaware of that fact that he was often painted as the resident cryptid of StoryTime!, as it appeared to everyone else that he never went home. However, Logan was quite capable of leaving the building without a) malfunctioning, b) burning up, or c) turning out to be Roman in disguise.

Still. The whispers of frantic conversation starting up in his wake didn’t concern him as he pushed open the glass doors, walking out into the Florida heat.

Logan frowned, feeling sweat already beginning to prickle on his forehead. If the boy had been out here for the entire two hours in that suit as Reese had claimed, perhaps his hunched position on the bench was more from heat exhaustion than nerves.

Or worse.

What if it was heat stroke? The boy’s inability to enter the building could be from confusion--Logan quickened his pace to reach him sooner. “Are you alright?” He asked, barely getting the question out before the boy jerked, a soft yelp leaving his lips as he tumbled backwards off the bench.

Logan reacted instinctively. Years of having to save Roman from similar predicaments giving him the proper reflexes to catch the kid by the hand before his head could hit the ground.

“Apologies” Logan said, pulling him back onto the bench. “It wasn’t my attention to startle you.” He had thought his approach quite obvious.

Perhaps Reese was right that the boy wouldn’t last long--no, he wasn’t going to judge the cover of the book, not yet. People were often nervous before interviews. Logan had been a bundle of nerves himself when he and Roman had first approached Thomas about being hired on and Roman’s portfolio had been a third of the size of the one this kid had.

“It’s...fine.” The boy--no the young man had to be in his early twenties--said, pulling his hand free, rubbing it against his pants.

An odd move. The man’s hands hadn’t been sweaty. A self soothing gesture? Or did he not like being touched?

“I highly doubt you’re fine.” Logan commented, relaxing a little as the stranger looked up with red stained cheeks, meeting his eyes with mismatched ones.

Huh. Green and Purple. Heterochromia. Unexpected, but fitting for the story boarding idea the others had tossed around upstairs. At least the pupils weren’t dilated and the man didn’t appear dazed, only embarrassed.

Logan offered a small smile, adjusting his glasses. “As it has been noted that you’ve been out here for quite some time.”

Not long enough to get heat exhaustion, thankfully.

The man stiffened, mismatched eyes flicking up to the building behind Logan before he groaned, dropping his head back into his hands. “Let me guess...they sent you out here to escort me off the property?”

Logan blinked as the young man suddenly flowed to his feet, cradling his portfolio protectively in his arms, already half turned away to the parking lot.

Had it been a mistake for him to come out here? The boy seemed quite eager to leave---No, if it wasn’t heat stroke, it had to be nerves...a lot of nerves if Logan was being mistaken for security. He wasn’t wearing anything at all like Chris or Ellyn’s uniform.

“You would be incorrect.” Logan glanced to the bulging portfolio, gesturing to it. “I merely saw you pacing and thought I could offer some assistance. Am I correct in assuming you are here for an interview?”

The man scoffed, pressing the portfolio against his chest. “Well yeah, Sherlock. Pretty sure the portfolio gave that away--” He flinched, eyes going wide. “--Wait, please don’t tell me that you’re Roman Prince and I totally just ruined this!”

Bingo.

Logan smirked, adjusting his glasses as the interviewee paled. “I’m not Roman, no.” He reassured him.

Thank Crofters for that. The world wouldn’t be able to handle having two Romans wandering about.

No, he much preferred this guy’s Sherlock comment than being mistaken for his brother.

“But your hesitancy to enter the building makes much more sense now.” Logan said, folding his arms. “He can be rather intimidating and difficult to impress when it comes to interviews.”

The interviewee ran a hand through his purple tinged hair, pushing his bangs back over his eyes, his heterochromia less visible in the shadows. “Great.” He shook his head. “That doesn’t help my nerves at all, dude. Why not just cut my agony short and tell me it’s pointless to even go in there and face him?”

It probably was. Roman was very picky about who worked with him and if they couldn’t take his figurative heat---

But this was pre-interview nerves, Patton hadn’t done much better, speaking so fast that Logan had barely been able to follow his words and now he was an integral part of StoryTime! with his ability to tell just what was needed to get their viewers to feel the intended emotions within the film.

And this man had an interview scheduled with his brother, which meant that Remy had passed him on not once but four times in the stringent pre-interview requirements that Roman had stated were necessary to keep him from ‘wasting his time.’

There was potential here.

Adjusting his tie, Logan raised an eyebrow. “I can’t give a fair judgement on that unless I can see your portfolio first.” He said, holding out his hand to the bulging portfolio. “May I?”

The man narrowed his eyes, fingers tightening on his work.

Possessive. Just like Roman when he was reluctant to share a new idea until it was ‘fully realized.’

“You’re going to be brutally honest with me?” The man asked, jaw set. “No sugar coating it just so you can see me suffer The Prince treatment inside?”

Prince Treatment? Was that what forums were calling it now?

“You have my word.” Logan said without hesitation, wiggling his fingers. “I will be honest in my assessment of your potential.” After all, he’d been Roman’s sounding board growing up. He knew what his brother would be looking for.

The man stared him down for two more full breaths before he exhaled, giving a jerk of a nod as he held out his portfolio. “Alright.”

Finally.

Reverently Logan took the man’s work, and moved to sit on the bench, gesturing with his free hand next to him. “Why don’t you sit while I look?” He invited.

Somehow, he wasn’t that surprised when the interviewee refused with a shake of his head. “I prefer to stand thanks.” He said again glancing to the parking lot.

Already expecting Logan to say no, apparently. Was the pessimism from nerves or the kid’s general outlook? He shrugged, pushing up his glasses as he flipped open to the first page, skimming over the resume, knowing that Roman would be less interested in the degree and the amount of jobs the kid had had and more focused on seeing his skills as an artist.

“So...Virgil is it?” He asked, glancing at the name at the top of the page. For all the effort Logan was putting into convincing this kid to stay long enough to see Roman, his work better be phenomenal. “Why do you want to work for StoryTime!?”

He flipped to the first piece of work which, at first glance, looked like it could have been lifted from StoryTime!’s Jericho & Apollo. Not that impressive, especially when they were looking for other styl--wait. He leaned in closer, tracing the lines of the characters with his eyes. Was this...all one unbroken line?

Virgil scoffed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his suit, looking as uncomfortable in it as Roman did in street clothes. “Are you interviewing me?”

“Officially? No.” Logan said absently, following every curve. It was unbroken. He couldn’t tell where Virgil had begun or ended. Logan looked up. “But a bit of practice before the actual interview doesn’t hurt now does it?”

The last time he’d tried to interfere with his brother’s hires…well...it hadn’t ended well. Logan was only intervening now out of professional curiosity--and because of the Crofters bet going on upstairs.

But his curiosity only grew as he turned to the next page, fighting not to smile at a rendition of Baby Bird Watch done only in fingerprints. Creative. Patton had mentioned wanting to try something like that on their date last week. He hadn’t thought anyone else--

Virgil licked his lips. “I...suppose not.” His mismatched eyes flicked to the building and back to Logan as he exhaled. “Well, cliche as it sounds. I’ve followed StoryTime! since the very beginning when Thomas Sanders just had his phone and Vine to work with.”

Vine? “That’s quite a while.” He remarked, keeping his tone neutral as he turned to the next page. “Most people wouldn’t know what you meant if you brought up Vine now.” He was pretty sure none of their newest hires knew of Thomas’s humble beginnings in film.

Virgil chuckled, a sound that was actually quite pleasant to the ear. “Don’t I know it.” He agreed, tense shoulders relaxing as he gave a small genuine smile. “His videos there were cheesy but good natured. The fact that Thomas could create such a positive impact in six seconds was...well it impressed me. Honestly, those videos were about the only thing that got me through some of my darkest days back then. Still do even now.”

Logan hummed in agreement. He and Roman had their own Vine compilations of Thomas that they would revisit on particularly bad days. Patton was in the middle of composing his own, having only recently been introduced to the short videos by Logan. “He does have a knack for knowing how to make people smile.”

Virgil nodded, pacing back and forth in front of Logan as he slowly thumbed through the portfolio, studying each page with an interest that he didn’t have to fake. It was deceptive. A quick glance through would make one think that Virgil had been working for StoryTime! for years, yet there was always something that set his work apart. Something that begged Logan to take more time to look at each piece than he normally would have.

He barely stopped himself from jumping as Virgil unexpectedly sat down beside him only realizing he had stopped listening to the man at that moment as Virgil tapped on a willowy version of Sir Sing-A-Lot with the bear cub from Crofters: The Musical. “Thomas kept his roots when he started StoryTime!, kept the positivity, the hopeful messages within and I just…” That small smile played on Virgil’s lips again as he brushed the edges of the page. “I admire it. I want to be a part of it. Help others like he helped me.”

Logan drew in a breath, this kid sounded so much like Roman when he talked like that. “That’s a good goal to have, Virgil.” He said, his fingers hovering over the drawing as he followed the swirls in the cubs fur. “But you are correct with it being cliche.”

More than cliche. ‘Wanting to help others like Thomas has helped me’ was practically a catch phrase in interviews. Remy and Callie had an ongoing licorice bet on how long the streak would last.

It was already very apparent that Virgil had the skills to work at StoryTime!, but there still was the question of him being able to fit in. And while Roman may not care about job history---

“However,” Logan continued, looking up. “StoryTime! prefers to hire people with the intention that they’ll stay on. We’re a FamILY here.” A phrase that Patton had coined that Thomas had immediately made their company motto. “We support each other, and would prefer to have individuals that don’t give up at the first sign of trouble.”

That was the failing point of most of Roman’s interviewees. They came in all starry eyed, expecting the work at StoryTime! to be all sunshine and petting kittens, only to end up ill-prepared to handle the pressure of deadlines or bond well with the rest of their peers. Virgil kept looking for an exit before the interview had even happened...would he be willing to stick it out through the bad moments as well as the good?

Logan adjusted his glasses, glancing from the corner of his eye to Virgil, noting that an odd look had come onto his face. It almost looked like...longing--but no, it vanished as Virgil turned to him, hands clenching. “I’m not the sort to give up after one setback, sir.” He stated, firmly. “You can believe that.”

Logan frowned. “You don’t give up--” What about all that talk of leaving? What about wanting Logan to tell him it was pointless to go in to the interview? What about-- He thumbed back to the first page, jabbing a finger at the job history. “Yet, here, it shows that you’ve held quite the series of jobs in the last six years.” He looked up, staring Virgil down. “Why is that?”

Virgil audibly swallowed, panic flashing across his face. “I--” He slumped and stood, running his hands through his hair. “I don’t give up.” He repeated, shoulders hunching to the point they nearly touched his ears. “I took most of those jobs in the first place to save up for classes to improve my drawing and animating techniques.” He mumbled, kicking at the grass. “It wasn’t my intention to stay with them long.”

Logan leaned in, watching the microexpressions on Virgil’s face as he spoke. There was more of a story there than was being told. Anger, sadness, frustration. Why had he felt the need to switch jobs so often? He’d barely lasted longer than six months in most of them. It could be a sign that he didn’t work well with others and working for StoryTime! involved a lot of collaboration. No one could lone wolf it for long here. Not even Roman despite what he proclaimed

It wasn’t a good sign. Despite his skills, Virgil would need to be a team player and it didn’t look like he could do that. Logan pursed his lips. Closing the portfolio. “I see.”

Virgil stiffened, eyes flashing with fire as he whirled to Logan, crouching down in front of him, his breath coming quick and shallow as he flipped his portfolio back open. “I’m a hard worker, sir.” He stated forcefully, keeping eye contact with Logan as he jabbed a finger at the education portion of his resume. “I don’t slack off. I don’t quit a job until it quits me first.”

Quits him first? Logan opened his mouth, surprised at the sudden turn around in Virgil’s attitude. What did--

Virgil didn’t let him say a word. “You can see here that I graduated last year with a double Bachelors in Illustration and Animation, Summa Cum Laude.”

A difficult feat. Roman had struggled to do a similar thing with Creative Writing and Illustration without the Summa Cum Laude.

“So you have.” He murmured, though he wasn’t sure Virgil heard him as the interviewee flipped through his portfolio to later pages that Logan hadn’t yet reached, stopping on an image of a dragon made from smoke.

“It took me a week to perfect this technique.” His mouth twitched upwards as he stared at the image. “I burned through two sketchbooks, singed my eyebrows, and set off four fire alarms before I could get the paper to blacken correctly and create this smokey texture.” He turned multiple pages, each showing the same technique.

Logan couldn’t help but smile at the fervor in Virgil’s tone, the light of accomplishment that danced in his eyes. It was so much like Roman’s, down to the nearly burning down of apartments. He hadn’t expected such passion to be found within--but of course, he should never have doubted that it existed. Not with how thick and varied Virgil’s portfolio was. It just needed to be encouraged, allowed to flourish.

“Or even this!” Virgil continued, flipping further back to a shimmering green basilisk. “The scales? Their shimmer?” He looked up and faltered, the fervor dying in a flash as he wilted, his cheeks again going red upon catching Logan looking at him.

“Go on.” He encouraged, hating to see the flame of passion go out as quickly as it had sprung up.

Virgil took a breath, breaking eye contact. “I-I-went to every store in the valley to find the right composite of pearlescent ink to put on these scales.” He continued, worrying his bottom lip as he kept his tone soft. “I spent hours getting it to flow just right and look.” He tilted the page, the green scales shifting to a brilliant white.

Of all the--Logan couldn’t help a gasp from escaping his lips as he took the page, brushing Virgil’s hand as he tilted the image back and forth. “Amazing.” He murmured. “A casual viewer wouldn’t know you used two different shades until they moved the page. It’s a…pleasant surprise.”

Though he didn’t know how it could be used in animation...it was a stroke of genius. Logan could easily picture his brother locking Virgil in a room with him to teach him the method. He adjusted his glasses, looking up. “Well done, Virgil.”

He ducked his head, his face getting redder. “Uh..tha--thanks.” He mumbled, pushing to his feet, rubbing his fingers against his pants as he looked away.

Huh. It didn’t seem like Virgil was used to praise if he reacted like this. Most applicants would preen and boast further about their work. And while Virgil had a clear passion for his art...it still didn’t answer how well he’d work in a group setting. Especially with Roman.

“So.” Logan said, patting the bench next to him to encourage Virgil to sit back down. “Hypothetically. If Roman were to harangue you because there is a storyboard due in fifteen minutes for presentation and you’ve drawn the main character all wrong because the MC’s look had not been made clear to you, what would you do?”

Virgil gaped at him before giving the slightest shakes of his head, cautiously sitting. “I---I um---”

“An honest answer, Virgil.” Logan said, leaning forward, watching his microexpressions intently. “Your true reaction. Not what you think I want to hear.”

Virgil hesitated, running his hand through his hair, before shrugging, a defiant flicker in his eyes. “Honestly….” He clicked his tongue, glancing to the building. “Honestly, I would call him nine types of an idiot for not checking in with me sooner to make sure I was fulfilling his vision.

Logan barely kept himself from gaping, forcing his expression to remain neutral. The boy had seemed so worried about making a bad impression on his brother, and now he was willing to call him an idiot?

But also--” Virgil grimaced, rubbing his fingers against the cuffs on his sleeves. “I would be calling myself the same names for not making more of an effort to clarify the MC’s key characteristics with him.” He gestured to the portfolio. “I would make an argument for keeping the current version, since the look of a character doesn’t have to be set in stone for storyboarding ...and if I couldn’t convince Princey to go with it then...well… I would--

“Walk out?” Logan asked, tilting his head. Others had done so for lesser reasons. Roman was as stubborn as a mule most days when it came to realizing his vision---

“Wha--no!” Virgil jerked his attention back to Logan, eyes wide. “For how hard I’ve worked to get here I wouldn’t walk over something like that! I want this! My dream of working here is the only reason I---” Virgil huffed, tugging at the collar of his suit. “If Princey remains as stubborn and perfectionistic as the forums paint him then I would fix the MC’s design. If I had drawn it on the computer, I would simply sketch a couple of quick replacements and copy/paste. Easy enough.”

Easy enough? Logan had seen more experienced artists yell at Roman that what he wanted was impossible and this kid was saying---”Easy enough indeed.” He murmured, fighting back a smile as he flipped through the portfolio, pausing at a market scene similar to the original Aladdin. “And if it had been hand drawn?” He asked. Storyboarding wasn’t as difficult as the main animation, but the boy had emphasized computer sketches. “Roman usually likes the first storyboard presentation to be drawn on paper first.”

Virgil made a face. “Of course he does.” He said under his breath, barely loud enough for Logan to hear. “If that’s the case--” He exhaled. “It would be a nightmare to redo, but I would make it work.” His lips twitched as he ran his fingers through his hair, mismatched eyes glimmering with mischief. “Though I would be calling Princey a variety of bad nicknames under my breath the entire time I was redrawing to make myself feel better.”

Logan covered his mouth with his hand, failing to hide the laugh that burst from his lips. If what the kid said was true, he may end up being just as stubborn as his brother. “I hope that they would be creative.” He remarked.

Roman would be offended at anything...simple.

Virgil rubbed the back of his neck, again giving that warm laugh. “Considering my past track record with nicknaming, I’m sure I could come up with a few good one--Oh hey!” He snapped his fingers, standing. “Come to think of it.” He pulled out a battered phone. “I actually had to do a similar scenario to yours in my second year of college.” He confessed, showing Logan the cracked screen, swiping quickly through a mosaic of stained storyboards.

“Half an hour before our final project was due for presentation, a cotton-headed ninny muggins spilled their stale coffee all over my group’s storyboard we’d spent the last month working on and we had to quickly draw replacements.”

A group project? So Virgil could work with others. “Really?” He asked, quickly taking the phone to scroll through the images himself, pausing at the ones that showcased the worst of the coffee stains, but at the same time, showed Virgil with four others. The members of his group if Logan wasn’t mistaken.

There was also no question that most of their work had been ruined, Logan couldn’t help but wince in sympathy. “I’ve been there myself.” He said, smoothing down his tie. Though he had had three days to fix his project instead of half an hour. It had been a nightmare. He paused, studying the replacements. “How did you do on this project, after the redraws, if I may ask?” The new sketches still had most of their cohesiveness, showing that the group had worked together to merge their styles, but Logan could still pick out quirks, slightly differentiating each artist from the other. The question was...which of these were Virgil’s?

Virgil shrugged, gesturing offhandedly, ducking his head. “We managed an A-” He said, his tone tinged with pride.

An A- after all that? Logan whistled, handing back the phone. “Impressive. And out of the ruined ones, how many did you personally redraw?”

“How man--ummm” Virgil chewed his bottom lip, frowning down at his phone, his fingers tapping against his thigh. “Me, personally...I took around twenty.”

Logan straightened. “Twenty?” He repeated, not sure he’d heard correctly. “In half an hour?”

Virgil flushed, nodding as he kicked at the grass. “Yah. I was the quickest at the line art in that group. The other four divided up the remaining thirty between them.”

Logan blinked, mentally calculating before giving a soft laugh. “Once again, Virgil. Impressive.”

The young man’s face went even more red as he hunched his shoulders, looking at the ground. “It wasn’t--well….um...Thanks.”

He definitely wasn’t used to receiving compliments.

“It is impressive, Virgil.” Logan repeated, leaning forward with a smile, wishing he hadn’t handed the phone back so soon so he could recheck the images. At least he still had the portfolio in his hands. “Not many people here could do such a quick turn around after such a disaster.”

Even his brother wouldn’t have been as quick. He thumbed through more of the artwork, stopping at a Sallyized version of Jack Skellington and smirked. Oh. He recognized this particular image. Had Remy known--- probably not.

Logan looked up tapping the picture. “Nor would many dare to call Roman an idiot to his face. He could probably use more of an ego check.” Crofters knew how often Logan had had to do it to his brother. Most of the company worshiped the ground Roman walked on.

Virgil offered his own conspiratorial smile, spreading his arms. “Well, I’m sure I could give Princey that ego check if needed. I’m quite used to being the villain.”

A villain? Logan jerked his eyes to Virgil’s mismatched ones, searching his face, looking for any hint as to why the young man before him would refer to himself as such.

Virgil paled under his scrutiny, his eyes widening with fear, his hands lowering as his feet shifted.

Preparing to run.

Logan couldn’t let that happen, not when he didn’t know the full story.

“Your drawing style is rather unique compared to StoryTime!’s usual stuff.” He said instead, tilting his head down to the portfolio in his hands.

The portfolio he knew Virgil would not leave. Not from how possessive he’d been of it in the beginning.

“You tend to draw in darker color schemes, use thinner lines, and showcase typically good characters as your villains. He flipped back through the portfolio to point out a Princess dressed in green and black, holding a fractured scepter before turning the page to a thin angular baker pulling skull cookies out of the oven. “While using the typical hero shapes of circles and squares on your villains.” He gestured to a square jawed vampire, pulling children from a burning home.

It was an odd take, a different take. Very different from StoryTime!’s usually brighter motif. “Why do you think this sort of thing could be a fit for StoryTime!?”

Virgil clenched his shaking hands, drawing in a shallow breath, focusing in on the artwork Logan held. “There’s--” He swallowed, clearing his throat. “There’s been a surge in people empathizing with the bad guys recently.” He said, quietly. “Wanting to know their backstory, see what caused them to go...well…” He shrugged. “Bad.” He cautiously sat next to Logan on the bench. “Even Disney’s caught onto that fact.”

Really? Logan hummed, nodding for Virgil to continue, intrigued by the explanation. “Go on.”

The young man licked his lips as he reached out, flipping through the pages to a different series of works, all villains.

“You can see it with Disney choosing to retell Sleeping Beauty with Maleficent’s backstory as the main focus.” He said, gesturing to a softer smaller version of Maleficent in her dragon form, curled around a broken spindle. “They already have firm plans to do a similar thing with 101 Dalmatians and Cruella and maybe with Ursula in the Little Mermaid or the Evil Queen in Snow White. It’s a trend that StoryTime! should jump onto and take charge of.”

That was true. With their live action retellings of their older tales, Disney had given more life to their villains, giving them a richer background that hadn’t been explored before. Even Patton had been taken by the altered version of Sleeping Beauty, empathizing with Maleficent’s plight.

Virgil tapped his portfolio as Logan stayed silent. “Because no one and I mean No. One. Else. is better at turning tropes on their heads than StoryTime! is.”

Ha. Logan smiled fondly. Thomas had a knack for that for sure. Gaining sympathy, proving points. Roman struggled sometimes with the black and white mentality, but Thomas? Yes. Thomas had that vision to think outside the box.

Virgil gestured to the building. “From the very beginning, you’ve twisted plots into unexpected directions, created morally grey characters that the audience should expect to hate, only for them to come out of the theaters ardent supporters of them, praising your plotlines and attention to details and I...”

He looked up, faltering as he caught Logan’s intent gaze and jerked his hand back, flushing once more.

“And you?” Logan asked, keeping his tone gentle. He could see the fire within Virgil. See his passion for StoryTime! It just needed to be fanned a little more. Allowed to flourish.

Virgil looked away, placing his hands in his lap. “And I think telling stories from the villain's point of view could be StoryTime!’s next big break and…” He bit his lip, taking a steadying breath as he looked back up. “I would love to be a part of it, if given the chance.”

Logan nodded thoughtfully, slowly closing the portfolio, holding it lightly in his hands as he stared at StoryTime!’s front doors.

If given a chance.

His artwork proved Virgil was more than capable. His apparent quick turnaround when a problem arose was impressive. His willingness to put Roman in his place, refreshing. And yet---what would his brother think? Would Roman even see the Jack Skellington that he’d had spent hours fawning over to Logan when he’d first come across it online?

No. If Virgil didn’t give off the right impression, didn’t show his confidence. His brother would dismiss him without a thought, sending potentially refreshing talent out the door.

Virgil fidgeted, his shoes scuffing against the rocks, pulling Logan from his thoughts. “Well?” He asked, holding out his hand to take his portfolio back. “Do you think I have a chance in my interview with Princey?”

Logan made no move to return Virgil’s work. Instead slowly looking up, meeting his eyes.

This could be exactly what the company needed, and Logan wasn’t willing to leave it up to chance. Leave it up to his brother.

“Virgil.” He said quietly. “I’m going to have to say-”

Virgil tensed, shoulders already hunching, expecting rejection.

Logan gave him a warm smile. “That you’re hired.”

To Be Continued Chapter 4

Taglist in reblog

#The Interview #stillebesat #Sanders Sides #Logan #Virgil #Logic #Anxiety #interview nerves #nervousness #StoryTime!

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eilonwiiy · 5 years ago

Text

Bookends ; A Witchlands AU

Chapter 8

When Aeduan’s old partner shows up, he is confronted with a shocking piece of news. Meanwhile, Iseult learns that not talking is just as hard as talking.

Summary: Iseult det Midenzi never expected to go to a top university, so when her mother falls ill and she is forced to drop out to make ends meet, life has never seemed so unfair. But when she starts working at the local library and is unexpectedly assigned in the Children’s Room, a certain monosyllabic man and his thrice-damned demon child start showing up and Iseult begins to wonder if the threads of fate have a plan for her after all.

Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Ships: Iseult/Aeduan, Safi/Merik, and more… stay tuned!

Tags: modern AU, college setting, family, friendship, humor, fluff, slow-burn, romance, eventual smut

Read on AO3: here

Tag list: (please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @lseultdetmidenzi @twilightlegacy13

* . * . * . * .

“You surprise me, partner.”

Aeduan’s jaw ticced. He didn’t need to look to know who was behind him.

“Never did hear where you ended up. Not that I asked.”

Slowly, Aeduan turned to face Lizl. She hadn’t changed since he left the force. Her dark hair was pulled in a single tight braid, not a hair out of place, leaving her amber brown face bare. Her badge gleamed against her policeman’s uniform, shiny, like she’d polished it the night before. Aeduan knew that she did. They’d been partners, after all.

As tall as Aeduan was, Lizl was taller. He rolled his gaze upward, expression flat. She was grinning smugly at him, like she’d caught him in a more nefarious act than buying coffee.

“What, no hug?” she asked innocently.

Aeduan didn’t react. “What do you want, Lizl?”

“A cup of coffee.” She folded her arms across her chest. Her posture was deceptive in its casualness. In the 14 years he’d known Lizl, he’d come to know that there wasn’t a relaxed bone in her body. “Turns out this place runs a good bargain.” She gestured to him. “Free refills and a floorshow.”

Lizl’s gaze fell to Owl in his arm and Aeduan watched her expression soften. She may have hated Aeduan’s guts, but there were lines she wouldn’t cross. She wouldn’t pull any shots in front of a child. She held herself to a strict moral code that wasn’t just reserved for convicts. It was one of the things Aeduan respected most about her.

That didn’t mean he had to like her, though.

Aeduan glanced over at the coffee counter. Iseult hadn’t come back yet and some of the tension he’d been holding since Lizl’s surprise appearance loosened. That kid was probably still talking her ear off and for that, he was grateful - even if that did mean she was suffering. He didn’t want her to see him with a cop. For some reason, he cared about what she would think. He didn’t know why, but he did.

“What do you want, Lizl?” he demanded again more firmly.

“Nothing. You’re about the last person I’d ever want to run into,” she answered, a little of her casual exterior slipping. There was a hint of sourness in her tone. Her jaw clenched and unclenched with her lips pressed firmly shut as they stared at each other.

“So,” she finally said. “Is it everything you hoped it’d be?”

“Is what everything I’d hoped it would be?” Aeduan asked, more bored than curious.

“Life without the badge.” Lizl paused. “Or your daddy’s leash.”

So much for that strict moral code.

Aeduan swiped his coffee cup off the counter and, without so much as a glance at Lizl, marched to the door and left the cafe. There were lines Aeduan wouldn’t cross in front of Owl too. If he’d stayed, he might forget that. Besides, he didn’t owe her anything. If anything, he’d done her a favor by walking away - from police force and right now.

It didn’t take long for the bells above the door to Jitters to jingle again.

“I just don’t get it,” Lizl voice knifed through the cold. It had started to flurry. “That job was your life. You were in your dad’s pocket. Set to make detective. Become head of the department when Bastien retired. Why throw it all away?”

“Why do you care?” Aeduan snarled, pivoting and getting right up in her face. He kept his voice low, not wanting to wake Owl.

Lizl frowned, not the least bit phased by him invading her personal space. “I don’t care. I’m just- confused. You could have had everything.”

“And with me out of the way you can have everything. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Make detective, have a shot at the promotion.” Lizl only stared stonily at him and Aeduan shook his head, expelling some of his frustration and replacing it with exasperation. “I don’t know why you're angry at me. We were never friends.”

Lizl nodded. “Just partners.”

“Exactly. So what is the problem? I thought you’d be happy that I left.”

A bitter laugh burst from Lizl’s mouth. “Happy?” She shook her head at the ground and dug her boot heel into the concrete, leaving little half moons in the thin layer of snow coating the sidewalk. She buried her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket. She seemed to be weighing her options - over what Aeduan had no idea. He just watched, waiting. When Lizl looked up, she was grinning, but there was no amusement in it.

“You have no idea, do you?”

Aeduan’s insides went cold. “What are you talking about?”

Lizl looked off to the side. Something had shifted. The hostility was gone. She just shook her head like she couldn’t get over whatever it was she was about to say. Eventually, she looked him dead in the eye.

“I didn’t make detective.”

A line wedged itself between Aeduan’s eyebrows. He didn’t know what he had expected her to say, but he hadn’t expected that. With or without Aeduan in her way, Lizl was a shoe-in for the job, a star cadet all throughout their time at the academy, second only to Aeduan. No one worked harder than she did. Her not making detective was… inconceivable.

For the first time in months, Aeduan felt the heady rush of a facing puzzle itching to be solved. There had to be some ulterior motive on the line here. She wasn’t giving him the full picture.

“And I didn’t get the promotion.”

Aeduan’s spine straightened. He didn’t like the way Lizl was looking at him. She was still wearing that awful smile that wasn’t a smile. It set his nerves on edge.

“Would you like to know who your father picked for the job?”

Aeduan found himself tensing, bracing for the answer without asking to be told.

“Natan fon Leid.”

Natan fon Leid. It took a whole 5 seconds for the name to sink in. He’d grown into quite the impressive egotistical prick, having been a bully all of Aeduan’s childhood. He’d never really understood how or why the jerk was stationed in the Domestic Violence Unit. He wasn’t exactly a drain on the department, but as far as he could tell, there wasn’t an altruistic bone in Natan’s body. The thought of him running the DVU was unsettling to say the least.

And complete bullshit.

“My father,” Aeduan said, doing nothing to keep the venom out of his voice, “would never replace Bastien with Natan fon Leid. Bastien was a man of honor. Integrity. Natan is nothing more than a power hungry lapdog.”

“I agree,” Lizl responded without blinking an eye. “And now he’s your father’s lapdog.”

Aeduan’s chest puffed out. He hated the way his blood boiled at even the slightest mention of his father, even though they weren’t speaking - even though he had every right to despise him. He still couldn’t temper the urge to come to his defense. And that angered him even more - maybe more than anything Lizl had to say.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he ground out coldly. There wasn’t much else he could do with Owl curled into his chest.

“Ask him,” Lizl simply replied, ununciating each word crisp and cool. It sounded more like a challenge than a suggestion.

He’d do no such thing.

Aeduan had never been crazy enough to carry around some fancy notion that being partners had meant anything to Lizl. She’d never liked him. Hated him, even. But they’d worked alongside each other for years and never let their personal feelings get in the way of justice.

The snow was coming down in earnest now. Owl stirred in Aeduan’s arm breaking the tension for them. Lizl’s expression went blank and after a couple seconds of grudging deliberation, she gestured resignedly to her squad car parked by the sidewalk.

“Do you want a ride?” she asked. She sounded tired, like she already knew the answer.

Aeduan didn’t reply. He didn’t say goodbye. He just turned away from Lizl and left her standing on the sidewalk. There was nothing left to say. Not to her, at least.

* . * . * . * .

The new Fiona Apple album thrumming through Iseult's earbuds was doing nothing to cover up the lively debate going on in her head.

For what felt like the first time in forever, Iseult wasn’t working in the Children’s Room, but rather shelving books upstairs as she once used to. She should have been relieved. She could finally have a quiet evening without the stress of worrying about patrons coming up to her with questions or children unexpectedly popping up between bookshelves.

But she wasn’t relaxed. She couldn’t relax, in fact. No, instead, she was torturing herself over whether or not to call Aeduan.

Leave it to her to let a complete stranger ruin her evening of peace. She still carried his phone number from their encounter at Jitters yesterday in the safety of her pocket, and even though the first thing she'd done when she got to work was find his book, she had yet to get in touch with him.

She’d said she would, so she should. But with each hour that passed, it was growing more and more late, and the window of opportunity to call was getting smaller by the second. Surely Aeduan would still be up. But as the clock approached 9, she found herself wishing she had mustered the courage to call him during the day when it was still light outside.

For Iseult, nighttime meant winding down. Eating leftover Arithuanian takeout right out of the carton in her monkey slippers and fuzzy bathrobe. Curling up with a book and falling asleep mid-paragraph with the light on.

But this was Veñaza City and she was some weird anomaly. While she was nose-deep in Joan Didion, some twenty-something year old was taking their third shot of the evening before heading out to a party. While she was setting her phone alarm for 6 a.m., someone was texting their hook-up. While her and Safi fought over who got to take a shower first in the morning, someone was getting thrown out of a bar.

Veñaza was a college town and it was no secret to Iseult that she was living a much less thrilling life than her former peers. While normally that wouldn’t bother her (why submit herself to the experience of doing jello shots when the option to eat a jello cup and not throw up was right there?), wondering if Aeduan shared her nightime habits made her feel self-conscious. He may have had a kid, but that didn’t make him a monk.

She thought about what it would be like dialing his number and him picking up, his voice deep and rough sounding on the other end of the phone. A shiver ran through her. Then nausea.

She couldn’t do it.

Late night phone calls were reserved for hook-ups or emergencies. Not librarians.

She sighed. She was left with two choices:

She could call first thing in the morning. While she had just spent the last hour wondering what Aeduan did at night, this option brought with it another dilemma: how Aeduan spent his mornings. Iseult didn’t know why, but he seemed like the type of guy to start his day early. Down a glass of orange juice, go for a jog around the neighborhood, and be showered and dressed by 7:30 kind of guy.

Iseult shook her head. She really didn’t need to be fantasizing about his morning routine. And she definitely didn’t need to think about him showering. Nope. She definitely wasn’t thinking about him naked and dripping with water.

Stasis, Iseult. Stasis.

Then there was the more tempting and pathetic option: she could scrap calling him altogether. And what great loss would that be really? she thought to herself. It wasn’t like he was sitting by the phone waiting for her call. He probably didn’t even remember asking for the book or giving her his number in the first place. Her stomach dropped at the thought.

She was overthinking this. Big time.

She rolled back to their conversation yesterday and how Cam had interrupted them. She was sure that Aeduan had been about to ask her something just as Cam burst through the door. She didn't hold it against the kid, but she was dying to know what Aeduan was going to say. And then, of course, there was the mystery of the cop. She'd seen them talking outside. By the looks of it, it wasn't a friendly chat. It had ended with Aeduan storming off and the woman cop looking troubled.

Iseult slipped a hand into her pocket and dug out the napkin with Aeduan’s phone number. She unfolded it and looked it over, just as she had the dozen or so times since he’d given it to her. By now she’d memorized the 12 neat letters strung together in broken cursive underneath the number. Aeduan Amalej.

A pulled in a shaky breath and retrieved her phone next. For a paralyzing moment, she held them out in front of her, the number in one hand and her phone in the other. Thinking. Stalling.

“Moon Mother, you are such an idiot,” she muttered to herself before unlocking her phone - her hand shaking with nerves - and punched in Aeduan’s number.

Right into a new text message.

Ok, so she’d told him he’d call him. But this way she didn’t need to find out just how devastating her stutter be over the phone. With her sanity hanging in the balance, copping out of calling was of little consequence. There were way more pathetic things she’d done in her 21 years of living. This wouldn’t be a highlight in her memoirs.

With that in mind, she got to it and prayed that she typed faster than her determination could devolve into an entirely new spiral about whether or not a text was too casual.

* . * . * . * .

Aeduan knew he was in trouble the moment he opened the book.

Chapter One

My Father Meets the Cat

Owl’s eyes had widened as Adeuan read the words and she’d peered up at him from her place under his arm nestled into his side.

It had taken every bit of restraint he had to keep his expression neutral. The librarian just had to pick a book that featured a stray cat.

Iseult had been right though: Owl loved the book. Every night for the last week, Owl would crawl into his bed, make her nest, and sit there, impatiently waiting for him to finish meditating and running through his nightly stretches. He made sure to take his time; he wasn’t about to teach Owl that she could get anything she wanted just by giving him those sad puppy eyes of hers. He'd had plenty of practice resisting those eyes with Cora, who as a little more needy than Lisbet; Owl was powerless over him. Most of the time.

Meditation was an important, albeit unexpected, part of Aeduan’s life. It was the one lesson from Evrane that actually stuck. Sometimes he wondered why, out of everything, this one practice never wavered. Over the years, it had become more than a ritual in calming the body and quieting the mind. It had become his anchor. Something he depended on. Somewhere along the way, he’d learned that how he started and ended his day was the one thing he had true control over. He'd been taught early in life that there was no prelude to change. If he could hold on to this one thing, he would.

Luckily for Owl, he was done with meditating for tonight. Even with his years of practice, he hadn’t found much solace in it. He couldn’t get what Lizl told him yesterday out of his head.

He had told himself to forget about it the moment he’d walked away. That the police department wasn’t his problem anymore. He’d left for a reason, and even if he tried to convince himself that it was all because of Owl, he knew deep down that that wasn’t true.

Storming away from Lizl had felt good. Right. But now…

Doubt plagued his every thought. He couldn’t shake it off. This feeling that Lizl was telling the truth. They’d never liked each other, but he knew that - just like him - she respected him enough to trust him on the job. He saw it in the moments that mattered most. She was one of the good ones.

And the fact remained that Lizl wasn’t a manipulator. It wasn’t in her nature. Why bother with mind games when honesty landed harder? There really wasn’t any reason for her to lie to him. So that meant what she’d told him was the truth.

But why? Why would his father give Natan the job? He was an unmitigated piece of shit and Ragnor had always shown very little tolerance for unmitigated pieces of shit. If his father had promoted Natan to the top spot, then he had a reason. A good one.

He should just forget it, he told himself for the hundredth time.

For the next half hour, Aeduan found his mind wandering, even as he read aloud, and it was some time before he realized that Owl had drifted off to sleep.

He sighed, letting his head drop against the headboard, and the book propped up in his hand fell closed against the comforter with a soft thwump. He stared at the opposite wall, knowing he should transfer Owl to her own bed before it got any later, but he couldn’t find the motivation to move.

Lizl. Ragnor. Natan. Their names were an endless chant in his head. A chant that rang of doubt and the promise of another sleepless night for Aeduan.

There was only one way to put an end to the madness. He’d need to go directly to the source: his father.

The thought alone was enough to make Aeduan want to slide down his mattress and pull the covers over his head. He didn’t, of course. But the impulse was there, as embarrassing as that was.

It’d been 3 long months since he’d last seen his father. 3 months since he’d marched into his office, left his gun and badge on his desk, and walked out of his life. Ragnor hadn’t even tried to get in touch with him since. Aeduan hadn’t expected him to.

He didn’t know how he felt about that. Hurt, probably. His father’s silence was louder than most. But Aeduan was the last bit of Dysi left on this earth. Had it been easy for his father to let go of his only son? He’d done that with everything else that reminded him of Dysi after she’d passed, so why not him too?

Pressure pounded behind Aeduan’s eyes. His head ached. Not getting more than an hour or two of sleep the night before must have been catching up to him. Maybe he’d just let Owl stay in his bed. If he were being honest with himself, he didn’t want to be alone right now.

A soft chime broke the silence in the bedroom. Curious, Aeduan turned to his nightstand where the sound had come from. His phone softly glowed with activity and he could see the animated little envelope on the screen that meant he had a new text message. Careful not to disturb Owl, he reached for the phone and grabbed it from the stand. He settled back against his pillows, expecting to see something from Lisbet, the only person he had the patience to text with - even if she did bombard him with memes he didn’t understand. Before even opening the message, he was all ready to tell her to get off her phone and go to bed.

But it wasn’t Lis.

It was an unknown number. He frowned. But then he read the message, and he realized who it was. His heart stopped.

Unknown Number – 9:07 PM

>> I found the book you wanted. I put it on hold for you. You can come pick it up anytime.

>> (Hi. This is Iseult from the library.)

Without even realizing it, the noise in Aeduan’s head faded to nothing. Iseult had said she’d let him know about the book, but he was still surprised to hear from her. And - he thought, checking the time - so late.

He reread the message a couple more times before clicking the screen off. He was about to return his phone to the nightstand when he paused.

He should probably respond with… something.

Aeduan pulled his hand back, easing back on to his pillows, and opened the message. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard, trying to think of something to say. His eyes flicked to Owl, dead asleep next to him, then he began typing.

Aeduan - 9:18 PM

>> Ok.

Well. Ok then. Obligation fulfilled.

Aeduan took off his reading glasses and stowed them along with his phone on his nightstand before he switched off the lamp, plunging the room in darkness. He settled beneath his covers and rested his head on his pillow. He felt the ball of warmth that was Owl curled up beside him. Moonlight streamed in from the windows, and for a few quiet minutes, he watched the snow falling outside.

An hour later, Aeduan rolled over and reached for the phone on his nightstand.

Aeduan - 10:16 PM

>> I’ll come by tomorrow and pick it up.

#the witchlands #witchlands #baeseult #iseult det midenzi #aeduan #lizl #iseult x aeduan #truthwitch #bookends #my fic #mine

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nothingeverlost · 5 years ago

Text

Henry Gold (10/?)

Summary: Regina asked for Gold’s help in procuring a child, but when he held the wee boy in his arms he couldn’t give the child up. Ten years later it’s Henry Gold who arrives in Boston, looking for Emma.

This chapter: A thief, punishment, ice cream, and a story of tragic love. AKA The Skin Deep chapter.

It’s a monster at almost 11,000 words.

TW for mentions of suicide and for violence.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3/ Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9

Gold was not the most popular person in town. It had taken Emma less than a day to see that. With few exceptions people seemed to avoid him unless they had dealings with him. It was strange, really, how many people in town seemed to have dealings with a pawnbroker. Those that interacted with him willingly seemed to do so for Henry. After a couple of months in town she still wasn’t sure there was anyone she’d call Gold’s friend. He’d visited someone named Jefferson a few times, but Emma hadn’t met him yet.

She wasn’t used to seeing people yell at Gold, though. She was on her way to the diner when she saw him crossing the street, a red-faced angry man shouting out that Gold was ‘the lowest’ and wasn’t going to get away with it. Emma hadn’t noticed him before but she’d hardly met everyone in town.

“Isn’t that Dove driving away in the florist van?” Emma jogged to catch up with him. She’d met Dove a few times, and knew that he worked for Gold in some capacity. Henry had a wooden unicorn in his room he said Dove had made for him.

“It’s being repossessed. French is months behind in his payments.” Gold ignored the man still shouting. Ignored the mayor walking their direction as well, ducking into the shop the moment he had the door opened. Emma followed.

“You lent him money?” There was a bank in town. She knew that because her paychecks were direct deposited. Filling out the paperwork had been the first time she’d used Gold’s address as her home.

“I run a pawn shop, Emma. I lend money to a great many people. French is simply one of them.” Gold’s hands tightened a little when he said French’s name. It was a small thing, but Emma noticed it out of the corner of her eye. Money didn’t seem to phase him; she doubted he was bothered by a default on a loan. French meant something to him.

“What are you going to do with the van? It’s not exactly going to fit in one of the window displays.”

“I’ll figure something out,” he said with a shrug. “However if you know anyone that is in need of roses let me know. I apparently have acquired a few.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She wasn’t about to tell Mary Margaret. She might get ideas, and David getting flowers delivered would not go over well at home. “I’m going to get a coffee across the street. Can I get you anything?”

“Thank you, but I’m fine. I’ll see you this evening.” Without another word he vanished through the curtain to his office. Emma left him alone, crossing the street to Granny’s. She was unsurprised to find that David and Mary Margaret were in tables right next to each other.

“Hey David, did you find a home for the kittens yet?” After the storm Graham had found three abandoned kittens and after ascertaining that their mother wasn’t coming back he’d taken them to a shelter.

“Believe it or not a woman with triplet daughters came in yesterday and adopted them. They’re going to be a birthday surprise.” David’s grin was enthusiastic; it was impossible not to smile back at him. Mary Margaret kept smiling at him until Emma coughed to get her attention.

“Good morning.”

“Morning Emma.” Mary Margaret had barely greeted her when Ruby brought over her coffee. She put in her order of two muffins to go.

“I’m still getting to know everyone around here. Do you by chance know anyone named French?” Emma made sure to make it sound like a casual query.

“The florist’s name is Moe French. I don’t think there’s anyone else in town with the name. His place is over on Franklin.”

“He doesn’t have any family?” It seemed kind of sad, to sell flowers to other people and have no one to bring them home to.

“I don’t remember hearing anything about a family. He’s from Australia, so maybe he still has some back there?” Mary Margaret’s attention wavered. “Ashley is here with the baby. She looks exhausted.”

Emma looked over her shoulder; she hadn’t seen Ashley since the hospital. Sure enough it was her, pushing a stroller. If anyone had ever needed coffee it was her. Could you drink coffee when you were breastfeeding? Was Ashley the type to breastfeed? Emma didn’t have a clue. She’d only had milk for a couple of days before it had thankfully dried up. “Hey Ashley, how’s it going?”

“I don’t know. The baby’s great, I love her so much, but between Sean working doubles and the baby not sleeping I haven’t had a break since I got home from the hospital. We haven’t even had time to talk about our relationship. He said he wants to get married but we haven’t had time to plan anything.” Ashley collapsed into the chair David had just vacated. “I had to get out of the house. I don’t even know if I’m hungry.”

“You need a night out.” Ruby apparently didn’t have any questions about if Ashley was drinking coffee. She brought over a mug and put it in front of the blond. “Leave the baby with Sean and we can have drinks. Mary Margaret you could use a girls-only night, couldn’t you? And Emma, you should totally come too. Leave the badge at home, though.”

“Yeah, sure.” It wouldn’t hurt to get to know people better. It would be nice for Gold and Henry to have some time on their own too. They didn’t need her in their space all the time.

“Where should we…” The ringing of her phone interrupted her question. Since it was Graham she answered. “Hey.”

“I just got a call from a woman named Kravitz about a disturbance next door to her. She heard loud noises and the front door was left open. Emma, it’s Gold’s house.”

“Crap. I’ll go check on it. I’ll call and let you know what’s up.” She shoved her phone into her pocket and pushed away from the table. The coffee was too hot for a quick gulp before she left. She was going to miss the caffeine.

“Emma?” Mary Margaret asked.

“Sorry, work.” She ran out of the diner, hoping that when she got to Gold’s house it was nothing more than a prank or someone’s overactive imagination. It helped a little, knowing that Henry was already on his way to school and Gold was at work. But only a little.

Someone had broken into his home. More importantly someone had broken into his son’s home, the place where Henry should be completely safe. The door was ajar, just as his usually annoying but sometimes handy neighbor had informed him. As he stepped inside he withdrew the gun he’d brought with him from the shop; he wasn’t taking any chances that someone was still around. The first damage he saw as he rounded a corner was the smashed glass over a picture of himself and Henry from last Christmas. Tables were overturned, things missing, but it was the empty display case that told him everything he needed to know.

Moe French was going to suffer.

When he heard a sound he turned, gun raised, and found himself facing Emma.

“You have a gun?” she asked, staring at him.

“As do you.” He lowered his, slipping it back into the pocket of his coat after confirming the safety was on. “I assure you it’s registered. I keep it at the shop.”

“What happened here?” She lowered her own, but kept it in hand as she took in the destruction around them. “Son of a bitch.”

“It appears we’ve been robbed. I haven’t gotten any farther in the house. If you wouldn’t mind checking upstairs I’d appreciate it. The sooner you do whatever you have to do legally the sooner we can get this cleaned up. I’d rather Henry didn’t have to see it.” He looked at the smashed photo and tightened his hand into a fist. Bastard.

“Do you know who might have done this?” Emma asked as she walked around broken glass.

“I haven’t a clue,” he lied. If Emma was focused on the case she’d be less likely to get in his way. He was going to take care of Moe French on his own. They had things to settle between them, things that had already waited far too long. Decades too long.

“This morning with Mr. French…”

“He’s a florist and it’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow. What would he have to gain from this? If he were to steal anything it would make the most sense to try and reclaim his van, not a few trinkets from my home.” They were, of course, more than trinkets. Not including the sentimental value of what was stolen, the antiques from this world and another were worth thousands. Emma was too clever for his own good. At least she would have no reason to suspect that Moe’s actions were aided by Regina. He could see her fingerprints over the whole thing. Only she knew his history and could possibly know the importance of one single teacup.

“I’ll check the rest of the house and then we can head for the station. I need you to file a report so we know exactly what we’re looking for.”

“Emma.” He stopped her before she headed for the stairs. “Unless it’s necessary I’d rather Henry didn’t know. There’s no reason for him to worry.”

“As long as this looks like it’s a one time only thing I won’t say a word,” she promised.

“It won’t be repeated,” Gold muttered under his breath. It was a promise too.

“I know Gold said there’s no point looking at Moe French, but I think we have to look at him. He sounded pretty angry this morning when Gold repossessed his van. Is there anyone else you know that might have a reason not just to steal, but to trash the place?” Fortunately the thief didn’t have the time or the desire to go upstairs, and the bedrooms were untouched. It seemed odd to her that most of the house was untouched, not that she was complaining. There wouldn’t be much to clean up and if they were lucky Henry wouldn’t have to deal with the worry and fear of knowing someone had broken into the house.

“Regina hates him, but she’s not into larceny as far as I know. Most people around here aren’t stupid enough to try something like this, especially considering he’s the landlord for half the town.”

“So what do we know about Moe French? Is he…” Emma froze when she reached her desk and found a bouquet of wildflowers in a vase. Next to the flowers was a donut, chocolate glazed but covered in red and pink sprinkles.

“I know roses are more traditional but I’ve never been one for cultivated flowers and we’re not exactly traditional so far. I didn’t know we’d have a case when I put them there, and I thought about moving them considering but even if we can’t do dinner tomorrow I wanted you to have flowers today.”

“Dinner?” Emma was still stuck on the fact that he’d gotten her flowers. From the looks of them he’d probably gone out and picked them himself.

“I thought we could try this thing I’ve heard of, they call it a date. Sometimes it involves this thing called dinner. It might even include this other thing called kissing.” He wasn’t quite laughing but she could see it was close to happening.

“You’re such a dork.” Emma laughed because it was the easiest reaction. Though they’d been taking things slow for more than one reason, Emma had expected a date at some point in the not too distant future. When she hadn’t expected was Valentine’s Day. No matter how much she told herself it was a day like any other it meant something. She’d never had a date on Valentine’s Day. It wasn’t a day you picked for a casual thing, and that’s all she’d had except for Neal. They hadn’t been together in February; they met in the spring and by the following year she was pregnant and alone.

“It doesn’t have to be tomorrow.” Graham was too damn observant and she’d been quiet for longer than she’d meant. His hand on her cheek was warm; it wasn’t at all the way a sheriff should be touching his deputy but they were way past professional boundaries. “We can have dinner another time instead.”

“No.” Emma shook her head. This was Storybrooke, a place for new beginnings. “I have the perfect dress for dinner on Valentine’s Day. It’s red, sexy, and way easier to wear when I don’t have to worry about chasing someone in heels.”

“I promise I have no plans to run anywhere.” His thumb grazed the corner of her mouth before he pulled away. “I do, however, have a lot of incentive to find stolen property today so it’s wrapped up before tomorrow. Why don’t we start with French’s flower shop?”

“Okay, but I’m not buying you any roses.”

Emma frowned at the loot laid out on one of the spare desks in the office. She should be feeling better; she wasn’t even at the end of her shift and she had Gold’s stolen property back. It certainly looked like his stuff; little statues she might call paperweights that were probably worth more than her car, a stack of plates and three teacups, none of them the same pattern, a tapestry that might look better if it was washed, a silver tray, a wooden box.

Something felt wrong. She and Graham had found the stolen goods in the backroom at Game of Thorns. It was too easy. Nothing was hidden, but was laid out on a table as if displayed almost. Maybe that was what bothered her. Or maybe it was how deliberately Gold had tried to convince her that French wasn’t worth considering as a suspect. She needed answers.

Graham was still looking for French. She was waiting for Gold to show up. She didn’t have long to wait; ten minutes after she called him he was striding into the station. “Apparently your pal Moe was capable of more than you thought.”

Gold barely acknowledged her, his attention on the recovered items. It was strange; for all that his house was cluttered he didn’t seem particularly invested in things. When Henry had broken a china plate a few weeks ago he had only shrugged and cautioned his son not to touch any shards. He didn’t brag about his art unless it was something Henry drew. It never bothered him if his ties got dirty while cooking or playing. Something about this theft, though, had him more upset than she’d seen him ever, except the day that Henry had been missing.

“Gold?” She gave him a couple of minutes to look, but if his jaw tensed any more she didn’t know what was going to happen. Nothing good.

“It’s not here.” He dismissed everything on the desk curtly.

“What do you mean? These things are yours, aren’t they? The black lion thing is familiar, and the vase. The cups…”

“Something is missing.” He sounded certain. Emma wasn’t sure how he could tell, from the mess at home, just what was missing.

“There’s a lot of things here.” Maybe she should pick up a few of them and see if moving them around helped. After all he hadn’t touched them.

“And none of them matter. Where is Mr. French?”

“Graham is looking for him. If something is missing we’ll find it, Gold. I promise.” She’d always prided herself on her job. There weren’t a lot of things she was good at, but finding things was one of them. Knowing when people were lying was another, and Gold wasn’t lying. He was certain something was missing, and it was pretty obvious he didn’t want to say what.

“Not if I find it first.” Emma looked up, staring at him sharply. That sounded a hell of a lot like a threat.

“Gold, when you said you didn’t think French would steal from you…” He had tried to distract her when she’d asked him about French. He hadn’t ever outright denied that the florist could have been the thief. She realized that now.

“He wouldn’t, not unless someone else put the idea into his head.” He half-turned as if he was leaving. The whole time he’d been in the station he’d barely looked at her. It felt almost as if he was a stranger, rather than someone he’d lived with for the last four months.

“Who would do that?” It wasn’t a guess. He knew more than he was saying.

“Henry’s going to be home soon, and I’d like to be there. I’ll see you this evening.” he acted as if he hadn’t heard her question.

“Gold.” It was too late. He was gone.

He barely slept, watching the sun rise from his bed before giving up on the idea of more than a few restless hours. Moe French was hiding in some hole where the Sheriff didn’t know to find him. Gold wondered if it was self-preservation that had him cowering like a rat, or if he was simply celebrating his victory of stealing from the town bastard and lucky enough to escape Graham’s notice.

His luck wouldn’t last long.

The front parlor was restored; if one didn’t know to look for things that were currently being held at the sheriff’s station they wouldn’t know anything was missing. Henry hadn’t noticed the absence of bric-a-brac that didn’t usually catch his attention, and the one broken picture was tucked away until a new piece of glass could be purchased. Neither Emma nor Henry had commented on the empty display case. Gold had been careful not to look at it when either of them were around. After both were asleep he’d stared at it for more than an hour.

He would get his cup back, and someone would pay for the temporary loss of it. It was the only thing he had of his Belle.

“So just how much candy do you think Henry’s going to eat today?” Emma asked as she joined him in the kitchen. He hadn’t realized how long he’d been sitting there, the cold cup of tea in front of him in an annoyingly chip free cup.

“The rule in his classroom is that you bring a Valentine for everyone in the class or none at all. So unfortunately I think the answer is quite a lot.” If only that was his main concern tonight. “I have a meeting tonight. Will you be home before six-thirty?”

“I, uh…” Emma uncharacteristically looked away. “I have a date.”

“Well well. The sheriff, I assume?” It took him a moment to react, to pull on a mask and play at the banter that would usually come so easily. He was honestly happy for her, and if it came to it for the sheriff as well. He was a good man, too long a prisoner of the queen. They both deserved the happiness that he never expected to have.

“Yeah. We’re, I don’t know, doing dinner or something. If nothing comes up.” She frowned. “It could wait, though, if you need me to watch Henry.”

“I’m certain Ms. Lucas doesn’t have plans for the evening. She’s always glad to spend time with Henry. You go on your date.” He had things to do, but he forced himself to take a breath and slow down. Emma was important because of Henry and the curse, but she was important as herself as well. Perhaps in the beginning he had only cared because she was useful, but she’d become a friend in her own right. “Don’t let the paper cupids and heart decorations seem more important than they are. It’s just a day. When other people make a lot of it there can be pressure, but tonight should simply be about the two of you being able to talk to each other. To share stories that get missed when daily routine and work get in the way. Just focus on that and don’t think about the rest.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks.” She smiled a little, still restless but hopefully feeling better. Gold nodded and returned his focus to the tea he was making. He honestly hoped for the best for Emma’s date, but mostly he was glad it meant the only law in town would be nicely distracted tonight.

Gold would have preferred to make his purchases with no one around. Mr. Clark, he knew, wouldn’t say anything. The man wasn’t very smart in any realm, but he was smart enough not to make any comments. David was a less certain element. In another time and place he would have been full of questions. Somehow the prince had always been able to get him talk about things he never had any intention of talking about. He’d actually confided in Charming more than once despite himself. Perhaps it had something to do with the fraternity of men who raised sheep.

He didn’t seem to be quite so curious here. Nolan, as he was apparently known in this world, didn’t ask about the rope and tape. He seemed more distracted by the cards in his hand. Two of them, for two very different women. Not surprising.

“Couldn’t make up your mind?” He couldn’t resist commenting on the cards; each one for a wife, though he didn’t know it. It amused him that one featured a castle that might be a cartoonist’s drawing of David’s home.

“They’re both so us.” The prince hesitated slightly. He’d had time to settle into his life since waking up, but he knew from a few comments Emma had made and his own observations that his interest in Mary Margaret hadn’t dimmed since the day they ‘met.’

“You’re lucky to have someone that loves you so much.” Kathryn, of course, was under a spell but Snow White’s love was strong enough to battle a curse. He was certain that Regina was raging over the rumors of the two.

“I’m lucky for a lot of reasons.” Gold had to smile at the sentiment coming from the recent coma patient. He didn’t know how lucky he really was, to be not only alive but awake. To have his love so very close. And his daughter as well. Gold almost laughed when it occurred to him that Henry was the grandson of the princeling behind him in line. Henry could do worse than having Charming as a grandfather.

“Love is like a delicate flame. And once it’s gone, it’s gone forever.” They’d spoken of lost love once before, when the pain was more raw but no less intense. Just as then he knew that Charming, at least, still had a chance. “Cherish what you have.”

Gold carried his purchases out to the parking lot, where the garishly painted van waited for him. He had some hunting to do.

Emma was really glad both Gold and Henry had left for the evening when she came down the stairs. She was nervous enough without any comments about her dress or questions about where they were going. She liked Graham. Really liked him. She couldn’t remember when she liked someone so much, which was a lie but one she could live with. Honestly it might be easier if she didn’t care so much. Graham’s friendship and their working relationship meant too much to her to screw it up, and once dating and sex came into the picture she always screwed things up.

And that wasn’t even taking into account his recent dating past and near-fatal heart attack.

Was it too late to cancel? She’d half convinced herself to head upstairs and change when a knock on the door stopped her. Too late. She opened the door to find Graham standing on the front porch, wearing a suit of light gray, his top button undone and no tie in sight. He held a small stuffed wolf.

“Wow.” It was the first thing he said, and certainly not the worst reaction. She knew the red dress fit her well, and it certainly wasn’t like anything he’d seen her in.

“Is that for me?” He didn’t seem inclined to say much, so she pointed to the stuffed animal.

“I didn’t want to do flowers again and I thought this would be funny because you know, you followed the wolves with me and everything, but now that I say that I worry that it’s weird. Or lame. Is it lame?” She wondered if he was aware that as he looked at her he was petting the stuffed animal.

“It’s sweet.” She’d had a stuffed tiger once, something some foster parent had probably given her. It had lasted a couple of houses before it had gone missing or been left behind in one of her many moves. Her blanket was the only thing she’d managed to hold onto from her childhood. No one since had given her a stuffed toy. “Henry will get a kick out of naming him for me.”

“Is he here?”

“Nope, he’s having dinner at the diner with Granny. Gold is… somewhere.” Emma frowned. Gold had been acting weird ever since the robbery, and she didn’t love how vague he’d been about his evening activities. He’d been pacing for a good half hour before he’d left to drop off Henry.

“Yeah, I knew that actually. I saw him when I was coming over here. Weird thing is, he was driving the Game of Thorns van. If he was moving things around for the shop I didn’t figure he had Henry with him, so I thought maybe…”

“You saw him with the van?” Emma’s bad feeling got worse. They still hadn’t found Moe French and Gold still insisted that something stolen from him was missing. Something he refused to talk about. “What way was he heading?”

“Northwest, towards the bridge I think. Maybe he’s just parking the van somewhere French can’t find it and take it back?” Graham still had the stuffed animal in his hands. Emma took it, and wished she could do more than toss it on a hall table; she didn’t want him to think it didn’t matter. But she had a feeling in her gut that something was very wrong.

“Gold’s cabin is out that way. I’m sorry if you made reservations but I think we need to drive by and see if there’s anything going on we need to know about.” It would be embarrassing if she showed up and Gold was there doing something completely normal, and she had to explain why she’d taken her date out to the cabin. It would be just as weird if she and Graham showed up to an empty place in the middle of nowhere. But she had to take the risk.

“You might want to change your shoes first,” he pointed out, looking down at her heels. Emma sighed.

“I’m sorry.” She might have been on the verge of canceling the date, but that hadn’t been about him. Well, only in the fear of ruining their relationship sort of way. But he’d dressed up and made plans, and since he’d been with Regina for so long and she was a manipulative bitch it was a pretty good chance he hadn’t made date plans in a really long time.

“Our job is important. Besides, if we miss dinner there’s still dessert and that’s the best part of a meal.” Graham drove to the cabin without asking any questions about where it was. Emma had to wonder if he’d been there or he just knew. When they rounded the last corner the van was like a beacon in front of the cabin, despite the shadows. Somehow she had known it would be there. Weirdly, though, there weren’t any lights on inside.

“I’ll go first. Give me a minute, okay?” Her shoes might be sensible, but she was still wearing the red dress under her winter coat and it felt familiar. Uncomfortably familiar, like the last months hadn’t happened and she was still skip tracing. But Gold wasn’t a bounty, he was a friend. And he might not be doing anything more than stashing extra storage at the cabin. Emma left her gun in her pocket and proceeded with caution.

The door was unlocked. She didn’t have to wonder if he was in the cabin.

“She’s gone forever – she’s not coming back. And it’s your fault! Not mine! You are her father!” She couldn’t call it shouting. It wasn’t loud. It was painful. Emma stepped into the room and found Gold leaning over Moe French, the cane she’d seen used as an aid to walk now used as a weapon to hit the larger man despite the fact he was tied up.

Shit.

“It’s your fault.” When he swung his arm backward to inflict another blow Emma was able to grab the cane.

“Stop.” It was only another moment before Graham ran into the room. Gold tugged once against the cane before half-turning and making eye contact with her. The fight seemed to fade at that moment. It was the first time she’d ever thought that he looked old. She looked at her partner. So much for their date. “I think we’re going to need an ambulance.”

“Do you want to wait with him while I sort out the rest of this?” Graham stared at Gold, somehow not seeming very surprised by what he had done to Moe French.

“I’m not that great with blood and I think Gold and I have things we need to talk about. I’ll see you at the station?” It would be easy to hand things over to Graham. It wouldn’t be right.

“Yeah.” Graham nodded as he knelt down at the wounded man’s side. It was probably a bad time to notice how nice his ass looked in the dress pants, but she had been in date mode half an hour ago. Emma looked at the door, and then at Gold.

“I’m going to let go of your cane now. I get that it works pretty well as a weapon but let’s not right now, okay?” She wasn’t really worried, except that Gold still didn’t seem very focused. She needed to make sure he knew that she wasn’t a threat. “We should go outside.”

“You shouldn’t be here.” He didn’t look in Moe’s direction before walking out the door. Emma followed.

“I’m glad I was. Things looked pretty bad in there, Gold. It’s going to be hard enough to explain to Henry that I had to arrest you for assault. I’m glad to avoid the murder charge.” Would he have gone that far? After seeing him with the cane she didn’t know.

“You could just not arrest me.” Gold made the comment as he looked at the dark forest, but he didn’t sound like he considered it to be possible.

“French is going to have to go to the hospital, and there are going to questions. You know I can’t do that.”

“If you left me alone with him for another minute it wouldn’t be an issue. Do you really think anyone would miss him?”

“You don’t really mean that.” But when he looked at her Emma had to quell a shiver. The wild rage from earlier was gone, but she could see the anger still. Colder now, but no less lethal. “We should go before the ambulance arrives. I don’t have to do the whole handcuff thing, do I?”

“Where would I possibly go? I’m not abandoning my son.” She couldn’t go so far as having him in the front seat, though. She held open the back door for him, waiting until he was settled before closing it. He was silent for the brief ride to the sheriff’s station. Fortunately it was late enough that the street was almost empty; anyone on Main Street was settled in a restaurant or the ice cream parlor, enjoying their happy little dates. She wondered which restaurant she was supposed to be at right now. Emma frowned when she took off her coat and looked down at the red dress.

“So, first time in a cell?” She tried a bad joke, to break the thaw in the room. It was the first time she’d locked anyone in a cell before. Figured she couldn’t have an easy first time.

“You’d be surprised.” She half expected him to pace the small space, but he settled on the edge of the cot.

“Are you ready to talk about what happened?” Emma settled on the arm of the couch, facing him. There was paperwork, but that could wait. Besides, a lot of it depended on French’s prognosis and if he was pressing charges.

“You’re far too much like Henry to be content if I said no.” Gold sighed. “What do you want to know?”

“You were beating up a man without any plan to stop, Gold. And I get it, he stole from you but I don’t think that’s what this was about.” She had been shocked by what she’d seen, and how out of control Gold had been when he usually seemed, if anything, too reserved. Now that she had time to process everything she remembered the words he had used. “You said it was his fault, that someone wasn’t coming back. French has a kid?”

“Had. She…” He looked down at the floor, drawing in a breath slowly before looking up at her. Emma winced, pretty sure she knew what came next. “She died.”

“She mattered to you.” She stopped shy of asking if he loved her. She remembered what it felt, the first time she’d woken up in a bed with Neal wrapped around her, and the moment she realized he wasn’t coming back. She remembered what it felt like when she let down her guard and kissed Graham for the first time, and the fear when she was certain he was dying. The pain and love she could all but feel radiating from Gold felt like something beyond that.

“I loved her more than I thought I was capable of loving. When I met her I had been dead inside for such a long time and she brought me back to life. But I didn’t trust it. She was so beautiful here.” He touched his chest just above his heart. “So kind and smart and wonderful. Why would she want to be with someone like me?”

“What did Moe French think of you and his daughter?” She didn’t know much about French, but clearly something had gone pretty badly.

“He hated me from the moment we met. We had a fight. I knew one day she would figure out that she was too good for me so I drove her away before she could leave me. She was young and beautiful, she’d find someone else who could love her better. Someone who could give her more. She went to her father but he hated me so much he wouldn’t accept her even when it was over. He said things to her. Cruel things. And then he told her she was no longer his daughter. My Belle.” She could see the tears in his eyes, but knew he wouldn’t let them fall. Not while she was watching.

“Where did she go?” Graham would have mentioned if French had a daughter in town, even if they were estranged. She waited a full minute before speaking, gently reminding him that she was still waiting. “Gold?”

“She was found in the river on a Monday. Her neck was broken. A witness said she jumped off the bridge.” Once he stopped speaking he seemed completely motionless. Not just still, but as if he was a statue or a toy with the batteries taken out.

“I…” She’s gone forever, he had said. Not coming back. For all that he had yelled at Moe as he beat the other man, Emma had to wonder how much of that rage had been aimed at himself.

“You should go get Henry. It’s past his bedtime already.” Gold spoke in carefully measured words.

“I can call Ruby, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind keeping him for the night.” It might be the easiest thing to do, and they had extra rooms at the B&B.

“You don’t want him to find out about this from someone else, and he deserves to sleep in his own bed. Please.” Gold’s eyes flicked in her direction briefly.

“I don’t know if I should leave you alone.” He might not be interested in talking any more but that didn’t mean he needed to be alone. And telling Henry she’d arrested his dad wasn’t going to be the most fun conversation she’d had today, which was saying something.

“I’m not going to try and escape.”

“I never thought you would.” Strangely, for a moment she remembered how worried Henry had been about his friends leaving town. No one could leave, he’d said. It was nonsense, of course.

“I’m not going to do anything else either. If it would make you feel better you can have my belt and shoelaces, though.” He leaned his head against the back wall, his eyes closed and his voice drained of emotion.

“I don’t know what to say to him.” She’d arrested his dad. No matter how close they were going or what Gold had done she couldn’t imagine Henry was going to understand that.

“Nothing can prepare you for moments like this when you’re a parent. You just have to figure it out as you go and hope for the best.”

“I’m not a parent.” She’d never thought of herself that way, not even when she was pregnant. Even a moment’s daydream would have made it too hard to do what she’d needed to do. “Giving birth doesn’t make anyone a parent.”

“Being a parent has nothing to do with biology. You told him you would stay for a day. It’s been four months. Why are you still here, Emma?” She was surprised to find he was looking at her. Emma blinked, unable to think of anything to say. “He trusts you and he knows you’ll keep him safe. Right now that matters more than anything. Go home, Emma. Henry needs you.”

“Yeah, okay.” Even with everything else happening he put Henry first. As much as she dreaded it, she couldn't do less. Emma reluctantly stood up. “I’m sorry about Belle.”

He didn’t say a word as she left.

“You look like you could use a drink. How about I pour you one and then I can tell you all about how Sean showed up and proposed to Ashley. It was pretty sweet.” Ruby picked up a glass but Emma shook her head.

“I just came to pick up Henry.” The truth was she would love a drink. She was more interested in some solitude to work through what she’d learned tonight, though, then pretending to be interested in Ashley’s love life. And she really didn’t want to answer questions about her own Valentine’s date.

“He just finished up an ice cream sundae; Granny took his dish before he could lick it clean. He’s in the back booth.” Ruby nodded towards the back of the diner. Emma frowned when she saw that he wasn’t alone. The annoying stranger in leather was sitting with him. She was about the head back when her phone rang. She only answered it because it was Graham.

“Hey.”

“You still at the station?”

“No, I’m taking Henry home. I didn’t know where blankets and things were, though, if you don’t mind stopping by and checking on things.” She was careful, no matter how softly she was speaking, not to say anyone’s name. It wasn’t going to keep quiet for long, not in this town, but she needed to talk to Henry alone.

“Yeah, I’m about to head out of here. French has a broken arm and a couple of cracked ribs. He’s going to have some humdinger bruises tomorrow. All in all he’s pretty lucky.”

“Sure, everyone’s lucky tonight.” She shook her head. “I’ll talk to you later, okay? And I’ll pick up the donuts tomorrow.”

“Guess we’ll need an extra one.” Emma could hear the faint sound of someone being paged in the background. “And Emma? I really liked the dress.”

He didn’t give her a chance to say anything before he hung up. She had some thinking to do, about if she really would have canceled the date. About what she wanted. About if he was going to see the little red dress again. That all had to wait.

“Hey Emma. Is dad with you? We could have an ice cream before we go home.”

“Nice try, kid. Even if Ruby hadn’t ratted you out I can see the chocolate in the corner of your mouth.” She debated asking the stranger why he was talking to Henry, but she didn’t have the energy for another conversion where she had no idea what was happening. Instead she nodded her head with the barest acknowledgment and ignored the way he was looking at her dress. “Your dad asked me to pick you up. It’s past your bedtime.”

“Dad’s not home yet?” As usual the kid was way too clever, already suspecting something was wrong.

“I’ll tell you all about it when we get home, okay?” She might not know much about being a parent, but she knew a lot about needing privacy when rugs got pulled out from under you.

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

Emma glanced at the stranger who was way too interested in their conversation. The diner was empty enough that not many other people were around. Henry loved his spy stories and often pretended he was on secret missions. Emma decided to use it to her advantage. “There’s some stuff happening but it’s code word clearance only.”

“Okay.” Henry bit his lower lip as he slid from the booth and followed her to the front door. He was preoccupied enough that he didn’t notice he’d forgotten his backpack, which had somehow moved from his side of the table to the floor next to the stranger, along with the book inside.

On the short ride home Henry was quiet, looking out the window until they pulled into the driveway. His silence ended about two seconds after Emma closed and locked the front door.

“Where’s my dad?”

“Let’s sit down.” Emma would have loved a minute to run upstairs and change into something more comfortable, but it wasn’t like anything about the next couple of minutes was going to be comfortable.

“The only time dad doesn’t come home at night is when he’s at the cabin and he always takes me.” When Emma sat down on the sofa he didn’t join her, but remained standing. “What happened?”

“Have you ever gotten in trouble at school?” She doubted it. Mary Margaret’s concerns were usually about him being too quiet. He didn’t take after her, fortunately, in that regard. Thirteen different schools and she’d been sent to the principal in all but two of them.

“One time dad had to pick me up because I got into a paint fight with someone who ruined my art project. It was a Mother’s Day card.” Emma closed her eyes for a moment. Crap. She remembered plenty of mom and dad gifts made in art class. She’d dreaded those holidays.

“When you get in trouble at school you have to go see the principal. Me and Graham, we’re sort of like the principals for the town. We help people when they need us, and when people are fighting we have to tell them to stop.”

“My dad was fighting?” Henry sounded as surprised as Emma had felt. “He never fights. He usually says bad things about people after they leave if he’s mad.”

“He got in a fight this time.” Which wasn’t really accurate, considering the rope and tape that had bound his opponent, but she didn’t need to get into details.

“Emma, is my dad in time out?” Henry finally sat next to her, turned slightly so their knees touched.

“You could say that.” It sure sounded better than ‘hey kid, I arrested your dad.’

“For how long?”

“I don’t know, Henry. Graham and I are going to have to figure that out. But he’s not hurt and he’s safe. He’s just going to have to stay at the station for a little while.” She hoped ‘little while’ was at least close to the truth. She didn’t know what she was going to do if they had to hold Gold for any length of time. They didn’t have the facilities for a longer jail sentence and she didn’t have the ability to parent full time. Henry didn’t deserve that.

“He’s in one of the jail cells, isn’t he?”

“Yeah.” Emma nodded reluctantly.

“Can I see him?” Henry, who usually sounded old for his age, suddenly sounded young.

“We’ll talk about that tomorrow, okay? Right now you need to get to bed.” She couldn’t imagine he’d fall asleep anytime soon. She knew she wouldn’t. Maybe she’d call Graham and check in one last time for the night. Maybe they wouldn’t just talk about work.

Maybe she’d have that drink she couldn’t accept from Ruby.

“Are you going back to work?” Henry leaned in, his head on her shoulder.

“Not tonight. I’m staying right here, okay? You’re not going to be alone.” She could promise that much, at least.

The jail cell in Storybrooke’s sheriff’s station had more to recommend it than the dungeon under Snow White’s castle. It was cleaner, better lit, and the cot was more comfortable. That didn’t mean Gold was any happier about being behind bars. He didn’t blame Emma, no matter how inconvenient her timing had been the night before. No, the blame was split between Moe French and Regina. Moe French had taken the only thing he had left of his Belle. And he was certain that Regina was behind it.

His cup. It had been enshrined in his great hall for almost six years before the curse began. In this world it sat alone on the shelf of a display case. Like shadows from a dream he could remember his Belle dropping it in this world as well, her soft fingers caressing the broken bit. He could remember her being in his home, long before Henry entered his life. Curled up on the couch with a book from his library. Teasing him in the kitchen. Dancing with him in the garden. He knew it was all a lie, memories created by the curse, but like a double-exposed picture they were hard to separate from the real memories of a castle a world away.

When he had told Emma of the version of his Belle this world remembered he could see her walking down the steps of the pink house for the last time. He could remember the pale pallor of her skin when he had visited the morgue. Her father had refused to identify the body. There were many nights he’d stood on the bridge and thought about joining her, but he was too much of a coward. The memories were not real, he knew now, but the guilt and rage were no different here then they were in another world.

“You don’t look like you got much sleep.” The sheriff was back not long after the sun rose. He’d offered to stay the night, but Gold preferred the time alone.

“No offense, but the accommodations don’t suit me.” He wasn’t sure if he’d slept at all, or had only dreamed while still being awake. It didn’t matter.

“Leroy doesn’t tend to complain. He snores, though.” To Gold’s surprise Graham approached the cell with two paper cups in hand. The one he handed off through the bars smelled herbal. He wouldn’t have thought Graham knew or cared enough to bring tea rather than coffee.

“Yes, well not all of us can fall into a drunken stupor.” He’d seen the dwarf around town, his grumpiness taking on a harder edge being separated from his brothers. The only thing he and Leroy had in common, however, was a dislike for the local nuns. “I don’t suppose you have a place to shower this morning?”

“Sorry, not right now but we’ll figure that out.” Graham crossed the room to his office, shedding his jacket and leaving his coffee on his desk. He was back a moment later with a second offering. Gold frowned in confusion at the walkie talkie.

“Why?” He didn’t reach out to take it.

“Someone wants to talk to you. Channel four.” Graham turned it on and held it through the bars again.

“Dad?” The sound of static was soon replaced by the voice he wanted to hear the most, and most dreaded. He snatched the walkie talkie from Graham’s grasp and pulled it close.

“Henry.” His son had spent the night without him. Only a handful of times in the boy’s life had that happened. “How are you son?”

“I’m fine. Emma said I have to go to school. She made breakfast but the toast got burned. We’re having cereal.” Cereal was a rare treat; he didn’t think it was hearty enough to get a growing boy through the hours to lunch. It didn’t matter today; he knew Emma was doing her best.

“Emma’s right. School is important.” He knew that Mary Margaret would keep a close eye on him. She loved the boy, somehow instinctively knowing that he mattered more to her then she knew.

“I want to come see you but Emma said after school Are you really in jail? Emma said you got in a fight with someone. Were they a bad guy, like Saruman?”

“No, not like that.” If he only knew that it was his dad that had more in common with Saruman. “I got angry at someone I knew a long time ago, who hurt someone I cared about. But that doesn’t make what I did okay. Fighting is wrong, Henry.”

“Unless you’re protecting someone else, right dad?”

“If it’s really about protection,” he agreed. Like Bae, his Henry was already more of a hero than his father.

“But you were just fighting and that’s why Emma had to put you in time out, right dad?”

For the first time in more than a day Gold laughed. Time out brought up an image of Henry, three years old and covered in cocoa powder, trying to make his own drink after he’d been told no. “Yes, Henry.”

“Emma says it’s time to go, dad. You’ll be home soon, won’t you?”

“Let Emma know if there’s anything you need right now, son. I’ll see you soon.” He couldn’t lie, and he didn’t have an answer. His anger had gotten the best of him, and he didn’t yet know the cost. “I love you, Henry.”

“I love you too, dad.” The walkie talkie returned to static. Gold turned it off and set it down on the cot next to him. Graham had retreated to his office, giving him at least the illusion of privacy. He looked up and found the sheriff bent over paperwork. For a man currently without a heart he was kinder than most people Gold knew. He would have to find a way to thank him.

“You were supposed to go on a date last night.” By mid-afternoon Gold was going stir crazy. It took a lot of willpower not to pace the small space he was allotted. At least he hadn’t started trying to climb the walls. He’d done that once upon a time; it wasn’t a good thing. His day had been broken up very little. There had been a donut for breakfast and a pastrami sandwich for lunch. Other than that there had been a few conversations and a great deal of staring at the clock. Graham had escorted him to the bathroom a few times, the extent of his freedom. The station didn’t have a shower, though, and he still wore the suit he’d put on the day before. “Another regret from last night.”

“I’m not sure that’s a bad thing.” The moment she spoke Emma’s face went carefully blank. He knew that look. She hadn’t meant to say that. Suddenly the papers on her desk seemed very interesting from the focus she was giving them.

“Having second thoughts about the sheriff?” He’d been gone the past hour with some vague mention of ‘rounds’ which might have been true or might have been about giving them some privacy to talk about Henry and how he was coping. Gold hadn’t noticed anything unusual between the two of them.

“More like second thoughts about me.” Emma gave up the pretense and came to sit on the edge of the sofa. “It’s not the date, it’s what comes next.”

“A second date?” He raised one eyebrow and tilted his head to the side, waiting. He had a pretty good idea what she meant.

“Two dates I can handle. Maybe even three. But after that it’s not just going out on a date. It’s something more. Graham is a really great guy whose last relationship was really bad. He doesn’t need another disaster.”

“And you’re certain it would be a disaster?” ‘You could’ve had happiness if you just believed that someone could want you. But you couldn’t take the chance.’ He could almost hear Belle, from a lifetime and a world away. She would have believed in Emma and the Sheriff.

“It always is. Casual I can manage. Anything else and I fuck it up.”

“You haven’t fucked up anything with Henry. And while I can’t say much for your accommodations here I have no other complaints about you as a houseguest.”

“It’s not the same. Plus the fact that I haven’t messed up too badly with Henry yet just means the other shoe hasn’t fallen.”

“Emma, there’s no one in the world I would trust with Henry more than you.” She didn’t see herself as a mother, not yet, but he could see it. It hurt to know that there might be a time when he was no longer the best parent for Henry, but at least he knew his son would have a fierce protector in his mother. “If anything were to happen to me…”

“You haven’t even been in here for a day yet, Gold. Let’s not get all dramatic.” Never overly comfortable with emotions, Emma shifted slightly. Gold could almost see the wall building around her. He knew a lot about walls.

“I shut out love when it was mine for the taking, Emma. And love is like a delicate flame. You can’t turn smoke back into fire. When it’s gone it’s gone” She looked so much like her father. He almost shook his head at the irony of giving them both advice in the same twenty-four hours. “One of us should learn a lesson from all this, and I’m afraid that it’s too late for me. It’s not too late for you.”

“I should call Graham. To find out when he’s going to be back,” she clarified. “It’s almost time to go pick up Henry.”

“Of course.” There was nothing else for him to say. Perhaps he’d said too much already.

Emma made her call and stayed at her desk, making it clear she wasn’t going to be talking anymore. Perhaps he’d ask Emma to pick up a few books when she took Henry home. It would at least alleviate a little of the monotony. He would need to start putting together his legal defense, at least. He was about to ask when Regina walked into the station.

Damn. If there were going to be bars between them he'd prefer she was the one on the inside.

“Deputy Swan, you may go. I need a moment alone with your prisoner.” She walked through the station as if she was still royalty.

“I’m not going anywhere.” It was nice to see, the way she stood between his cell and Regina. Nice, but not conducive to learning what Her Majesty wanted. She hadn’t set Moe French up simply for a laugh.

“It’s time to pick up my son, Emma. Why don’t you take him out for an ice cream?” He couldn’t help rubbing it in that Henry was his child. Regina had been desperate to be a mother once, a fate he was always glad Henry had avoided. Regina didn’t treat her possessions any better than she treated her enemies.

“I’m not leaving you alone with her.” He knew her concern for him was genuine, but as she looked over at the doorway he knew that she was worried about more than just him. Graham should be back any minute. All the more reason to get their little talk over with.

“She can’t do anything but talk, and that’s nothing to worry about. You can bring me back a cone.” He smiled to reassure her.

“Run along dear,” Regina commented dismissively. A poor decision on her part since it almost made Emma change her mind. After a moment’s hesitation, though, she went for her coat.

“Just this once,” she said as she left. Gold waited a moment before saying anything.

“Come to test out your reelection speech on a captive audience, Madame Mayor?”

“Perhaps I just came to admire the view. I could get used to this.” When she smiled she was every inch the evil queen.

“Please, sit.” He was careful not to use the trick too often, but the fact that she was forced to comply wiped the grin off her face. She sat on the edge of the couch where Emma had been not long ago.

“I heard you did quite a number on that poor florist. At least you didn’t break his legs; it would be tragic if he had to walk with a limp.” As usual Regina was not subtle, going for the easy hits.

“There’s no reason to start pretending you care about anyone else, dearie. Why don’t you tell me why you’re really here.” When she glanced at her purse he knew. Relief flooded him. “When two people both want something the other has, a deal can always be struck. Do you have what I want?”

“Yes.” She was so smug, so proud of herself. He was reminded of a child figuring out a task on their own for the first time.

“So, you did put him up to it.” He’d only had a small flicker of doubt. On his own Maurice might have smashed up his house. Might even have stolen. He wouldn’t have gone after the cup. He had no way of knowing the significance.

“I merely suggested that strong men take what they need.” He almost laughed at Moe French being called a strong man. He was a weak and insignificant person. How his Belle had come from such a man he didn’t know.

“And you told him just exactly what to take.” She had been more observant than he had realized, to understand the significance of his cup.

“We used to know each other so well, Mr. Gold.”

“Did we?” He understood her. She was the worst he’d ever done, molding her into the darkness he needed. The curse castor and the curse breaker, two women he’d manipulated into being. Both so hurt by his actions. But while Emma had his guilt and sorrow, Regina had his scorn. He understood her, but she didn’t know more than a fraction of who he was. “I know you well enough to know you have what I want. The question is what you want in return.”

Her eyes narrowed. He wasn’t playing her game. She wanted to gloat. But she wanted something else and that was what he needed to know, almost as much as he needed his treasure returned. “I don’t have all day, dearie. If you’re not interested in a trade…”

“I want you to answer one question. And answer it simply. What’s your name?”

“It’s Mr. Gold.” So that was her game. He hadn’t expected that, and had to work hard to sound as if he didn’t have a clue what she meant. It seemed his four-month advantage had come to an end. She knew that she wasn’t the only person who remembered.

“Your real name.”

“Every moment I’ve spent on this earth, that’s been my name.” He was stalling, trying to figure out the best way to play her and still get what he wanted. The fact that he was so clearly frustrating her was just a bonus.

“But what about moments spent elsewhere?” He wondered how long she had suspected. Did she know that he was the one that had hit her when she was trying to kill Graham? Did she think that he had known the whole time?

“What are you asking me?”

“I think you know. If you want me to return what’s yours tell me your name.” She knew. There was no way he could deny it. All he could do was use it.

“Rumpelstiltskin.” With a single word he could feel Mr. Gold and all his illusions of humanness shed. Decades fell away and he was in another cell hidden in a cave, feeling the bitter taste of an almost victory that would destroy everything he knew. When he grasped the bars he could almost feel the crackle of unusable magic under his skin. “Now give me what I want.”

“Such hostility.” Like a child poking a dangerous animal she couldn’t resist baiting him. She probably thought she was hiding the fear in her eyes.

“Oh, yeah.” He wanted her to be afraid. He needed it, to make sure she didn’t come near those he cared about. She had played her role in taking his Belle. She wouldn’t endanger Henry. He needed Emma safe too; the curse would be pointless without the Savior.

“Over this?” When he took the cup from his purse he stared at it, hating her fingerprints in the same place where Belle’s had once been. He forgot to breathe. At least he knew she hadn’t destroyed it. “Such a sentimental little keepsake.”

“Thank you Your Majesty.” The moment it was close enough he snatched it, pulling it from her hold. He slunk back from the bars and cradled it carefully in his hands. Other than the chip it was undamaged. Belle’s cup, safe again in his possession. He took a breath and pulled his gaze from it. Regina was already too aware of its significance. He looked at her. “Now that we’re being honest with each other, let’s remember how things used to be, shall we? And don’t let these bars fool you, dear. I’m the one with the power around here. I’m going to be out of here in no time, and nothing between us will change.”

It was a promise. It was a threat. And though he’d long since abandoned any gods it was a prayer.

“We shall see.” Always one to feel like she had the last word, Regina was quick to leave.

Gold starred at his treasure until he heard voices. Graham, Emma, and Henry all entered the station at the same time, just a moment after Gold slipped the cup into his pocket. He’d rather avoid explaining it.

“Dad.” Henry raced for the cell, his hands touching the same bars Gold had held onto just minutes ago.

“Henry.” He was grateful to see his son, as much as he hated that Henry would forever have the image of jail bars in his head now.

“We were afraid a cone would make a mess.” Emma unlocked the cell door and stepped inside, handing Gold a paper cup with a scoop of ice cream inside. He was certain the rainbow sprinkles were Henry’s doing. “If I leave the door open you’re not a flight risk, right? I think someone might like to keep you company.”

“Can I really?” Henry looked up at Emma, eyes shining bright and the remains of ice cream on his lip.

“I can’t see that it would hurt anything. I’ve got some paperwork to do.” She tried to head for her desk, but Henry stopped her with a fierce hug around her waist. Emma stiffened briefly before relaxing and returning the hug. “Go on, kid. I think your dad could use one of those.”

Henry ran into the cell and flung himself at his dad. Gold pulled him onto his lap, careful of the cup in his pocket, and held him tight. One love was lost to him forever. One son was still out of his reach. But he still had Henry. “My boy.”

#verse: henry gold #fic: henry gold #my fic #emma swan #graham humbert #henry gold #gremma #swan believer #mr. gold

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maxineswritingcenter · 5 years ago

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Class Reunion - Sam x fem!reader pt 3

Read part 2 here!

Summary: Sam and Dean hit up a case in a town they lived in for Sam's senior year of high school. While on a supply run, Sam runs into reader who he dated that year. Reader invites him to the class reunion. Sam is hesitant but the case leads to the reunion. SPARKS FLY BITCHES

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Jared led the brothers into the kitchen, "Mom, they're here!" He turned back towards the two, "You guys want something to drink. We have water and blood."

Dean leaned forward, "Excuse me?"

"Jared, stop telling people the cranberry juice is blood!" (Y/N) scolded as she walked into the living room, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Hey guys, thanks for coming." She grinned.

Sam smiled, lost in her eyes, then gasped when Dean subtly elbowed him in the ribs. Dean looked at the flowers, then her.

"Oh uh, these are for you." Sam cleared his throat, holding up the bouquet of roses.

"Aww, how sweet." She took the flowers and inhaled deeply, "I'll put these in water. Jared, can you entertain while I finish dinner?" She looked at him pointedly. Jared rolled his eyes.

"Yes, mother."

"Thank you, son." She winked at Sam and went back into the kitchen.

"I'll come with," Sam said hurriedly, following her into the kitchen.

Jared and Dean stood their awkwardly. The kid was only 17 and was definitely Dean's height, maybe taller. Dean cleared his throat and smiled tightly.

"Uh..." Jared said, "You play video games?"

Dean rolled his shoulders and smirked, "I've been known to be the top player of Space Invaders in a few arcades."

Jared breathed out a laugh, "You play Bloodborne?"

"Blood-what?" Dean asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Bloodborne. It's a game where you kill monsters, like werewolves and stuff." Jared explained.

Dean shrugged, "I could give it a go."

(Y/N) watched Sam walk in, she smiled and filled a vase with water to house the roses.

"He's a hoot, isn't he?" She said, placing a hand on her hip, "Giving a run for my money. But then again, so did you." She smirked.

"Is it weird that I am extremely nervous? I don't know what to say to him. What would I even say?" He said in a hushed tone, "What does he like? What does he not like?"

"Sam." She said, cutting off his ramble. She slowly took his hands in hers, gauging his reaction. His shoulders relaxed and his breathing got a little easier.

"Look, it's normal that you're nervous. But Jared's a good kid. You can ask him anything you want. Get to know him tonight and however long you're staying." She said, a twinkle in her eye. He had forgotten that for a moment about his life. That after they killed this monster, they would go back on the road. But this was a new situation. If this thing was going after people in their class, her life could be at stake.

"We got a button-masher." Jared leaned back against the couch.

"Zip it, kid, I'm winning." Dean said, looking extremely concentrated while he killed a gangly looking werewolf with a huge machete thing. He killed in and grinned at Jared.

"And that's how it's done." He handed Jared the controller. Jared chuckled and rolled his eyes, killing another enemy with a little more finesse than Dean's repeated duck and roll maneuver. There was a comfortable silence between the two beside the sound of gore coming from the TV.

"So... Uh... You knew my mom in high school?" Jared asked, a troubling look in his eyes.

"I met her a couple times, yeah." Dean said, looking at the boy out of the corner of his eye.

"Was she... Was she a good person?" Jared asked.

Dean fully looked at him then. The kid had his head down, his brown hair hiding his eyes. Dean could almost think of the times when Sam looked exactly like that.

"Is this about.. your uh.. your dad?" He didn't know how to handle what seemed like a touchy subject.

"No," Jared looked up, "Well, uh... Yeah I guess. She told me that he didn't know. And I guess I understand. And she's been great. But..." He trailed off.

"You wish you had your dad around." Dean finished the sentence. Jared only nodded. Dean put a hand on Jared's back.

"Look, Jared. Your mom has done the best she could. And I think you turned out pretty okay. You're not runnin' the roads and getting in trouble." Dean said.

"How do you know?" Jared asked.

"I'm FBI." Dean pulled the lapel of his jacket to reveal his badge (a fake badge, but a badge), "We know everything." He closed his jacket.

"My point is, keep your chin up. Who knows, maybe your dad is closer than you think." He smiled. Jared smiled and nodded, a twinkle in his eye.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." Dean nodded.

"Dinner!" (Y/N) called. Jared shoved at Dean's arm.

"Beat ya there." He smirked just like Sam would.

"Like Hell." Dean scrambled to get up, grabbing Jared in a loose headlock, ruffling his hair.

Sam and (Y/N) were putting dishes on the table when Dean and Jared came barging in, shoving and pushing at each other to get a seat.

"Boys." (Y/N) put her hands on her hips.

"Sorry." Jared and Dean said in unison. Sam gave his brother a pointed look. Everyone started eating, which meant Sam scrambled to try and talk to the kid.

"So, Jared." He cleared his throat, "Your mom told me some stuff but uh, where are you going to school?"

Jared took a drink of his water before speaking, "Uh, I'm still a senior right now. But uh, I want to go into history and folklore. I think it's interesting. Or law."

Sam smiled, "That's great. I actually went to Stanford before..." He trailed off, "Before going into law enforcement."

Dean smirked, "Followed in the Family Business, right, Sammy?"

"Family Business?" (Y/N) asked, "I think I remember you telling me something about that. Wasn't your dad also in the FBI?"

Sam nodded, "Yeah." He lied, "Yeah, he was. We're what they call Legacies."

"Cool." Jared smiled, "Do you get any cool stuff?"

Dean tutted and leaned back, pulling a silver pistol out of his waistband, "How about this cool?"

"That's awesome." Jared went to touch the handle.

"Don't touch that!" (Y/N) and Sam said together. Jared looked between the two, mainly at Sam, then retracted his hands.

"Sorry, I guess." The rest of the dinner went without incident. Jared had taken a liking to Dean quickly. Which made Sam oddly jealous.

Later in the night after Jared went to bed, the three adults sat in the living room.

"He's a good kid, (Y/N)." Dean said, sitting on the couch next to her. He had just dropped off their duffle bags upstairs.

"I try my best." She smiled, sipping a glass of red wine, "It wasn't easy. But I think I did okay."

Sam smiled, "Took after his old man, huh? Law and history."

She shook her head and chuckled, "Yeah, trust me. I didn't cry at all when he told me."

Dean looked at Sam, then back at (Y/N).

"So uh, we hate to mix work and pleasure, trust me. But uh," He licked his lips, "Could you tell us anything about the murders happening in town?"

She sighed and sat back, holding the glass in both hands, "I don't know much. I just know they it was awful. Witicker has been keeping it under wraps because of the reunion. Says that it's random. But after today's attacks... I'm not so sure."

Sam leaned forward in the chair he was sitting in, "Did you know about the prank from homecoming our senior year?"

"Oh god." She groaned, taking a long gulp of the wine, "Those assholes. So every prank had to go through student council for approval. Well I was out sick for that meeting and it went through. The kid, Daniel was his name, he was kind of a lonely guy. Nice as can be, but was an outcast. He was the water boy for the football team. I was told they were just going to dump Gatorade on him during half time. But no, they pants him in front of everyone. I was mortified, I couldn't imagine how Danny felt. I tried to talk to him at school the next Monday but he dropped out. No one saw him again." She looked up, eyes widening, "You don't think Danny's doing this, do you?"

"Well, right now he's the main suspect." Dean said seriously.

She sighed, finishing the wine, "I would go to the school board about canceling the reunion, because obviously he's targeting people. But as always, nobody listens to me."

"Actually, that might be a way to catch him." Sam said, "We keep everyone in the gym, no one gets lost. We catch the guy and... Do whatever's necessary." Sam avoided eye contact. (Y/N) groaned and rubbed her head.

"I'm gonna go lie down." She stood up, "Guest rooms are upstairs, second door on your right." She set her glass on the coffee table, leaving it for the morning, "Night guys." She made her way up the stairs.

Dean looked at Sam, waiting until (Y/N) was out of earshot.

"Looks like Danny wanted so power, so he found a vampire and turned." Sam said.

"Yeah well, I'd be pissed for 18 years too. Small towns always have the biggest bullying problem." Dean leaned back.

Sam bit his cheek, rubbing his hands together, "You don't think... Jared gets bullied, do you?"

"That kid?" Dean scoffed, "Nah, he's fine. Takes after his uncle." He smirked.

Sam glared, "Yeah about that-"

"Oh come on, don't tell me you're jealous." Dean stood and made his way towards the kitchen. Sam followed, grabbing the wine glass from the table.

"What if I am?" Sam put the glass in the sink.

Dean turned and held his hands out, "Because there's no point. I'm just getting along with him."

"But he's my son!" Sam whisper-yelled.

"Then stop asking him the parent stuff and just talk to him like a normal person." Dean scoffed, "You sound like Dad."

Sam clenched his jaw, "I am nothing like dad."

Dean nodded his head to the side, "Coulda fooled me." He shouldered his way passed his brother and out of the kitchen. Sam leaned on the counter and shook his head. After his cool-down he rubbed his face and went to upstairs to find his room. He found his room easily, seeing as it was the only one with the lights off and the door open. That is until he looked down the hall and saw another door open.

He crept down the hall to the door. He pushed it open more and saw a typical boy room. There was dirty laundry piled up in the hamper in the corner. There was a desk riddled with papers and books. Sam pulled out his phone and used the light from the screen to look at the titles. There was a deep red, leather book on Romanian myths and legends. On the walls he saw movie posters of classics like Dracula and Young Frankenstein. If only this kid knew.

A small sigh brought Sam's attention to the bed in the corner of the room. Jared was sleeping on his back, one arm under his head, the other loosely grasping his phone. Sam carefully took the phone and set it on the bedside table. He grabbed the covers and pulled them higher to Jared chin. Sam smiled proudly, lightly brushing Jared's hair off his forehead. Jared smiled in his sleep, turned to sleep on his side. Sam slowly walked back to the door, looking in one last time.

"Goodnight, Jared." He whispered and shut the door. When he turned around, (Y/N) was right behind him. He jumped, his heart in his throat. She was smiling at him, arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the wall.

"I was uh." Sam said, wiping the tears that had formed in his eyes away.

"Save the excuses, big boy. It's fine. It was cute. A little weird, but cute." She hummed.

Sam let out a little laugh, "I guess you're right." He licked his lips, "So uh, when should we tell him?" He asked, his voice shaking.

She bit her lip, thinking a moment, "What about tomorrow after the Reunion. I have to set up during the day, Dean can scout the place. It's a Saturday, Jared doesn't have school. Maybe you could stay here with him, get to know him better." She let her arms fall to her sides, "Then after the Reunion and after bad guy getting, we can tell him. Together." She suggested.

Sam nodded, "That's a great idea."

She nodded, leaning up and pressing a kiss to his cheek, "Goodnight, Sammy." She turned to walk away. Sam grabbed her wrist, out of instinct, he wasn't sure. She turned back and looked at him. Sam's lips twitched up from a smile to a grin as he looked at her, thinking of all the good memories with her after such a terrible year. He leaned down slowly, looking from her lips to her eyes, giving her plenty of time to pull away if she wanted to. But she didn't. When their lips met, there was a feeling of serenity that passed between them. (Y/N) slowly slid her hands up his chest and to his neck, locking her fingers in his hair. He grabbed her by the hips and pulled her closer. Boldly, he lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist, surprised and a little turned on by his strength.

He walked blindly to her room at the end of the hall, walking and closing it with his foot. She tugged a little on his hair, pulling a groan from his throat. She pulled away and giggled, "Hush now, don't wanna get caught like last time."

"Oh that cop was bored with nothing else to do than bust two kids on the motel roof." He joked, laying her on her bed. Her chest was heaving, her robe was coming undone, revealing more and more. Sam climbed into the bed, kissing his way up.

I don't want Tumblr to flag me you get what's goin' on.

Sam fell besides her, panting heavily with a large grin on his face. (Y/N) turned on her side, leaning on her arm.

"Haven't had that much fun in a while." She hugged and giggled.

Sam laughed softly, pulling her closer to him. She draped her arm over his stomach and hummed at how warm he was.

"Sammy?" She whispered, a yawn soon followed. He yawned after her, "Yeah?"

"I missed you." She pressed a soft kiss to his chest.

"I missed you too." Sam said, kissing the top of her head. Slowly they both drifted off to sleep.

-------------------------------------------------

Let us pray that (Y/N) doesn't fall pray to Sammy's dick-death curse. Amen.

Read part 4 here!

Reblogs and Likes of you liked it! Comment too if you want. I can't respond to comments for some reason but just know I'm reading them!

Taglist: (Send me an ask if you would like to added to the general or specific taglist)

@happy-little-winchester

@hobby27

@somebodyto-love

@beanie-beebo

@vicmc624

@ria132love

@lilulo-12

@teenwaywardasgardian

@cigarettesandcoffeetalk

Story Tag:

@crazysquirrel504

@heavenlyholland

@vampsclassiffied

@palefiregiver

@comic-wanda

@stopsignsareafterthoughts

@kaptainkool-aid

@swiftlymoniquesblog

@toribentleyva

Again, I have no idea why it's not tagging some people, I'm sorry but I have no control over it.

#class reunion #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester #supernatural fic #supernatural creatures #supernatural reader insert #supernatural imagine #supernatural

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queenofthearchitect · 6 years ago

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Victim part 1

A/N: I swear more fics are coming, I’m just trying to figure out how I want them to start off and how the plot should go. I’ve been slacking and I’m sorry so please forgive me.

Summary: Ashely moved to Davenport Iowa to get a new view on life from her recent one in Florida, but what happens when she falls for a guy and he’s not what he made himself out to be? Well read and find out.

Warnings: cussing, stalking, violence, blood, sex.

A/A/N: I know it’s not October but I love Horror /Thriller so I decided to write this. I’m going to start writing them every two months.

Word count: 8,673

Tagging: @the-beastslayers-queen @moshsafely @sassyspacedust @xprincessofthefallenangels @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @ilovedisney116 @feathers-and-flesh-and-wrestling

Please enjoy 🧚🏼‍♀️

Moving from Florida to Iowa was definitely a whole climate change, sunny to mostly snow was a whole 360 degrees and it would take time to adapt. I had finally gotten settled into my new house after two weeks of being here, I was on my way to get some food for the house. I heard police sirens and I looked in my rear view mirror and sure enough there was a cop car “son of a bitch.” I said out loud and I pulled over and I rolled down my window and I got my license and registration out.

“Great Ashely haven’t even been here for a month and already got the police on you.” I thought to myself while he was walking up to my car. I turned my radio down and I looked out my window waiting for him, I fixed my boobs and smiled he stopped at my window and I gulped. “good afternoon officer… Lopez.” He took his hat off letting his long brown locks fall to his shoulders, I admired his hair and my eyes took in his presence his muscular arms right against his shirt sleeves.

“Ma’am do you know why I pulled you over?” He looked me right in my eyes, it felt like he was looking into my soul. shook my head and I smile “N-no I just moved here two weeks ago and I’m still trying to get settled.” I gave him a nice respectful smile and he just frowned at me “I couldn’t care if you moved in yesterday ma’am laws are laws.” My smile slowly dropped some and I gave him my license and registration he took it from me and walked back to his car to run my name and stuff.

I watched him walk away out of my rear view mirror, I watched his toned ass rub against his pants, I rubbed my thighs together and I bit my lip. “Get a hold of yourself Ashely he’s just a guy.” I sighed and mumble to myself I saw his badge reflect into the mirror and I cleared my throat and I looked back out the window. I looked at him “so what did you pull me over for?” He looked at me and then at his ticket pad “you were going 5 miles over the speed limit.” I let out a dry laugh “your kidding right, you’re literally giving me a ticket for going 5 miles over the speed limit.”

He looked at me while he gave me a eat shit smirk. “yes ma’am like I said before laws are laws.” I huffed and waited for him to give me my ticket but he kept writing. “You can’t just give me a warning?” He let out a sigh “no but you probably can’t comprehend that with all the alcohol you’ve consumed while you were in Florida.” My stomach dropped, tears brimmed my eyes, he looked up with a smirk proud that he finally got me to shut up when he saw my face his smile dropped.

“Look I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said that, it’s just sometimes I let me job give me a big head I’m Colby.” I smiled at him softly, and I shook his hand. “Names Ashely but I guess you knew that.” He smiled at me, he too my hand and shook it his rough hand grabbed my soft hand and he shook it. “maybe I can take you to get some coffee to make up for me being a dick.” I nodded “yeah here’s my number and here’s my address.” I quickly wrote down my number and my address, he tore up the ticket and stuck it in his back pocket. “You have a great day Ashely.” I smiled and waved him off “you too officer Lopez.” He turned and smiled at me “please just Colby.”

I smiled and I whispered to myself “okay Colby.” I watched him drive off, I had forgot what I was out for until my stomach growled. I had walked into the store with a big shopping cart, I grabbed bread, ice cream, hot pockets, hamburger meat, cheese, Philly cheesesteak bread, green peppers, onions, milk, yogurt, and finally two bottles of wine. I paid and put my groceries in my trunk, I sung along with my radio while I was driving home. I finally reached my house, I got out my car and I put the groceries up and I locked my car, I walked inside and I locked my door and armed my alarm system.

I washed the meat and the green peppers, I chopped the green peppers and onion up. I cooked them in the frying pan and then I cooked the meat, I seasoned it while it was cooking. after they were done I put them on the bread, I put cheese on them and threw them in the oven to toast the bread. I was humming along to a song I heard on the radio when there was a knock at my door, I raised an eyebrow at the noise I was expecting anyone over at 8:30 at night. I hummed the song and I looked out my curtain on the windows beside the door.

I smiled when I seen my next door neighbor May, I quickly opened the door and smiled at her. “Hey May what’s up, didn’t expect you over here.” She smiled at me and hugged me “nothing much just wanted to talk can I come in?” I smiled at her and I stepped aside. “Sure come on in.” She walked in and I shut the door behind her. “What’s up?” She turned and looked at me “nothing really just trying to see how you liked it here.” I let out a sigh. “I mean it’s okay I got pulled over today but he was nice after he realized her hurt my feelings.” She raised an eyebrow at me “wait what you got pulled over today, for what?” I laughed thinking about it again.

“For going 5 miles over the speed limit.” She rolled her eyes “oh let me guess Colby pulled you over?” I looked at her confused “yeah how did you know?” She scoffed “I grew up with him, he’s always been a dick.” I let out a chuckled and I pushed my red curly hair out my face. “You can say that again, he also invited me out to coffee.” Her eyes widened and had a serious look on her face. “You can’t go out with him, he’s a little bit crazy.” I let out a laugh but when I saw she was serious I stopped laughing “Amy come on that’s not nice we are all a little crazy.” She looked at me and shook her head.

“No he’s the bad crazy.” Before I could ask her anything else she walked to my front door and opened it and there he was, when I looked at Amy she looked like she seen a ghost and he just smiled at her “hey Amy how are you doing tonight?” She ducked under him, while she walked away she looked at me then him “see you later Ashely and it is Colby have a great night.” He waved her off and called out to her “you too Amy be safe.” He turned back to me with a smile on his face. “Hey I was going to wait until tomorrow to see you but I thought why not tonight, you don’t mind do you?”

I smiled at him “No not at all come in, I just finished dinner you can eat some if you’d like.” He smiled at me and walked in my house. “Wow your really clean.” I blushed lightly “awe thanks so much that means a lot, I usually don’t let people come here so it’s safer but me but I’m a town like this what’s the worse that can happen?” He looked at me and his stomach growled but he blushed at the noise his stomach made “I’m sorry that's the one part of my body and that doesn’t listen to me, well my stomach and um my…” He gestured down I quickly caught on, I let out a laugh. “Wow, such a gentleman.” I teased and he laughed.

***

Colby had left about an hour and I sat at my paino, I had a glass of wine in hand and I started playing if I ain’t got you by Alicia Keyes and I started singing it. After the song I got up and I walked to my lap top and started writing my new thriller Victim. I was about three glasses in, while I was typing away at my laptop and I heard a knock at my door. I sighed and I got up walking towards the front door, I opened the door and I look around and no one was there. I shut my door and I walked back to my lap top and I started writing away.

About twenty minutes later I heard something tap my window and I felt like some one was watching me so I grabbed my laptop, I quickly got up, made sure everything was locked. After I did I turned all the lights off, I slowly walked upstairs to my room. I sat my lap top on the bed, I walked to the bathtub. I turned the water on my phone went off I jumped out of my skin my heart started racing. I decided to wait to look at it I washed and I got out I sat on my bed, I brought the glass of wine to my lips, my phone reminded me I got a message and I looked at it and it said unknown.

Unknown: that red robe looks great on you….

A/N: thanks so much for reading part one I hope y’all liked it keep a watch for part 2 sorry this is so long. Sorry if there are errors wrote this from 1-3 am lol 🙈

#wwe #wwe imagine #amandawrites #wwe x reader #seth rollins #wwe superstars #seth freakin rollins #seth rollins fan fic #seth rollins imagine #seth rollins x Oc

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cm-reiding · 6 years ago

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Home

Hey guys this is part one of a two part Spencer Reid x Reader writing. Thank you for reading my first Reid story.

Monday, November 17, 2010 HOUR 1 _______________________ I walked home from work, the cool autumn air forcing me to wrap my jacket tighter around my body. I would have driven but it was a bit warmer than it had been in the last few weeks so I decided to take advantage of the weather, besides it was a short walk to the agency that I worked at. I stepped onto my porch, grabbing the mail out of the small box beside the door. Mostly junk except for a letter that had only my name on it, not my address nor a senders. I unlocked the door and went inside, petting the small dog I adopted 2 years ago from the shelter near my house on the way inside.

I make my way to the kitchen table, grabbing the letter opener and slicing through the envelope with ease. Inside there was a note and pictures of my co-workers and I from different crime scene locations of the latest murder we were working on.

"For profilers, you are all quite slow for seeing what is right in front of you, I will give you thirty-six hours before my next strike and keep the one alive I have until the full moon Good Luck, Agents."

As soon as I finished reading and re-reading the letter, my hands went to my phone calling the first person I could find in the contact list.

"Hello?" Emily picked up, still working in the office alone with Rossi and Morgan.

"Emily, I just got home and there was a letter in my mailbox with pictures from our case and a note." I said, reading the note aloud.

"Okay, (y/n) stay where you are, Morgan will come pick you up. Pack some things you need for a couple days you aren't going back to your house it isn't safe." Rossi said "Don't open your door to anyone except for Morgan."

I mumbled out an okay and hung up the phone, putting my holster back on the band of my jeans and going upstairs to pack a small bag with everything I'l need.

Fifteen minutes later, there is a loud knock on my door, shaking me out of my thoughts. I checked out the peephole and saw Derek standing there looking out into the street for anyone that may be suspicious. I opened the door to let him inside.

"Anyone came to the door?" He asked, glancing around the small house.

"Not that I know of I haven't checked outside since I called Emily." I said, grabbing the small backpack and my purse and badge.

"Okay, let's go." He said, putting a hand on my back as we walked out the front door.

I nodded, picking up the bag I had packed and tossing it over my shoulder, grabbing my house keys.

We arrived at the BAU half an hour later with the letter and pictures that were left at my home. As soon as we walked through the door, Rossi and Hotch came up to us.

"Did you bring the letter with you?" Rossi asked, looking toward the envelope I had been clenching in my hand the entire ride here. I handed it to him as he opened it and put the photos on the evidence board.

"Considering he knows y/n's address it wouldn't be surprising if he knew all of ours. I think for the time being everyone should stay here just to be cautious." Hotch said, walking into the conference room.

"Has there been anyone you didn't recognize in your neighborhood lately?" Rossi asked, handing the letter to Reid.

"Not that I know of, but I'm not really at my house most of the time."

"Morgan, Prentiss go to (y/n)'s neighbors and see if they have seen anything suspicious recently. (y/n) and Reid can run an analysis with Garcia on the handwriting. Rossi and I will go to the other homes and see if anything was left." Hotch called out.

I got up from my seat and began walking to Garcia's office when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked over and saw Reid matching paces with me.

"Don't stress to much, we will find the unsub." He said with a reassuring smile.

"I know it's just that he knows where I live - where everyone here lives. Doesn't that even scare you a little?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I knew what might happen when I started working here, you can't only see the bad side of things (y/n)."

I nodded my head, walking through the doorway of Garcia's office.

"Hello, young geniuses. What can I do you for?" Garcia asked spinning around to face us in her chair.

"We need you to run this letter and see if you can find anyone who has handwriting that matches this in the system. It was left on (y/n)'s door." Reid says, handing over the piece of paper.

Penelope looks over the letter her expression changing to concerned. "He knows where everyone lives?' She asked worriedly.

"We aren't sure it may have just been to get our attention but since it was at my house it is highly likely." I say leaning against the desk, crossing my arms.

She doesn't take another breath before turning back to one of the multiple screens in behind her and typing in different codes into the computer before putting the letter on a scanner.

"I don't see anything that matches." she says, sighing. "Did you have this run for prints?"

"Yes, the results should be coming back any time now." I say "Well, thank you for the help Garcia. We will let you know if there is anything else we might need you for."

"Be safe, peasants." She says, combing through her computer while Spencer and I exchange a look.

HOUR 3 ____________________________________

I was sitting at my desk, putting in files when my e-mail beeped signaling I had a new message.

“Hello Agent (y/l/n). I see that you received my letter and are acting to solve who I am. Let me just say that the last case we worked on together caused me to be transferred. But it isn't that easy, this was 2 and a half years ago. Good luck.”

I ran my hands through my hair, getting up and walking to the restroom and putting cool water on my face.

"Everything okay?" J.J asked, walking through the door.

"I got an email from the unsub. They said that we have worked on a case with them a few years ago."

"Then it should be easier to track them down."

"I guess so, but- it's, we know who this person is. I guess since we have worked with them before."

"Don't worry, we will find them Agent."

I nodded, walking out of the bathroom and back to my desk seeing Rossi looking at the email.

"Why didn't you tell us about this, this is key information."

"I just received it less than 5 minutes ago I was about to ask Garcia if she can find a address that we can track."

He nodded his head before beckoning me to her office.

"Garcia, I have a link to an email I received can you track it?"

"I can try" she says, opening the link I sent her myself.

After a few moments she opens up a tab that shows a computer IP and owner along with the location the e-mail was sent.

"It was sent from Arthur's coffee house in Wilmington. I also have the address for the owner's home. They did not seem to lock down their security very well before sending this."

She hands me a note with both locations and I walk into the conference room where Hotch and JJ are.

"Garcia got these addresses from the sender. Home and location the email was sent." I say, handing over the paper.

"You go with Reid and Prentiss to the Coffee shop, I will go with Rossi and Morgan to the house. Be careful, stay alert." Hotchner says walking to the suvs.

"Yes, sir." I grab my jacket with my badge off my desk chair and call for Reid and Prentiss to come with me .

HOUR 8

When we walked inside the busy coffee house, there were multiple people on computers, all around college age or in business-type clothing.

Reid walks up to the front counter and asks to speak to a manager, flashing his badge.

"I'm Dr. Spencer Reid, this is Agents Prentiss and (y/l/n). We are looking for anyone who may have come in here within the past 20 minutes, may have been an older male on a computer. Kind of suspicious looking." He explained.

"We have a lot of people come in every hour, doctor." He said before looking around, thinking "There was one man who came in a while back, when he came up to the counter he seemed upset and was almost punching the keys on his computer."

"Can you describe him?" Emily asks

"I can't remember, I'm sorry."

"Thank you for the information anyway, it should help." I said, walking to the exit.

I walked out of the coffee shop with Reid and Prentiss on my way to the BAU I glanced down at my phone, checking the time.

"Agent (y/l/n)?"

We looked back up seeing a man around his thirties in front of us, with blonde hair and green eyes.

"Yes, how can I help you?" I asked, his face looked familiar but I couldn't match a name to him.

"That's James Torres, he worked with us in Atlanta" Reid quietly whispered in my ear.

"I am officer Torres, we worked on the Muner case back about a year ago in Atlanta."

"Oh, right! How have you been, officer?"

"Well, after you all left the FBI cost me my job due to the mistaken identity so I had to transfer to Tallahassee." He said, I could tell that he had turned from calm to angry while explaining his situation, not hiding his emotion well.

"Sir, I can assure you that the FBI did not cost you your job. You gave your team the order to kill while we were still unsure of the unsub's identity. The man we suspected had similar ident-"

"I don't want to hear the bullshit that you have been believing from the FBI. I had to start my rank over from 15 years. My family left me."

'I don't understand how that's our fault' Prentiss said from behind me.

"It was because Agent (y/l/n) here was the one to report it to my boss and she cost me my job. She gave me the information about who was the first suspected murderer and led me to kill him." He said, reaching for the gun on his holster which was hidden underneath his jacket.

"When I give out information about a SUSPECT it does not mean they have committed the crime until we have solid evidence. At that point we didn't have any." I said with my hands up, Prentiss and Reid had their hands on their holsters in case the situation went south.

"I don't care your reasoning, this was your fault!"

He shot his gun before he even realized what he had done while you were sent to the ground from the pain in your left arm. You faintly heard gunshots which was Prentiss shooting the officer.

“We need a medic.” Emily said into her wire as you held onto your arm.

"Rossi, (y/l/n) has been shot, we are on eighty-seventh street." I heard Reid shout into his phone and saw him -blurry- standing above me as Emily was crouched beside me.

I heard sirens in the distance as I went in and out of consciousness from the pain. I guess a bystander called when they heard the shot. Then everything went black.

________________________________

#criminal minds reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #criminal minds imagines #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #reid x reader #dr spencer reid #david rossi #criminal minds #reid

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agentzakura · 6 years ago

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LoveFanFest 2019

Ok, so a lot of people asked me what happened at #LFF2019 since I was clearly upset last week. Things have settled down a bit so I figured I’d spend time today making my thread.

TLDR; ClexaCon is a dream compared to LoveFanFest. LFF needs better communication and customer service. Lack of transparency and asking for money left and right… The queer fandom deserves better than that. Listen to Laura Hollis.

https://lovehollistein.tumblr.com/post/151126971734/you-deserve-better

So first of all, the good stuff. I did like my trip to Barcelona. I got to see a really beautiful city and hang out with friends I’d never met IRL or haven’t seen in a long time. It was a wonderful experience from that aspect. When I first joined the fandom I asked Gabi what the best part of cons was and her answer was meeting other fans. She was absolutely right. While I’m grateful I get to geek out on my faves and have my briefest moments with them, I loved talking to other people in line and getting to know them in person after interacting with them online.

The actual con was frustrating and disappointing. Before anyone tries to invalidate my experience, please keep it to yourself or DM me. There are far too many people jumping to defend LFF without any context. Things like, “It’s hard to make a con"… "Cons aren’t free”…”It’s just European culture.” Or even “It wasn’t that bad.” Comments like that don’t help at all. I’ve been to big cons before and I’ve volunteered at them. If I had the time, I would start my own convention and almost did. Believe me. I don’t take writing things like this lightly. Also, the heat wave didn’t help anything but to blame behavior on that alone is nonsensical.

LoveFanFest as a whole was just not organized very well. We received the schedule a few days prior. It was filled with mistakes. They sold a lot of the extras at a discount months earlier and if I had known that things would have conflicted I wouldn’t have bought the things I did. Especially since their attitude is sorry no refunds or exchanges no matter what.

Day 0

Registration was a mess and the lines made no sense. 1 line to get your main badge, 1 line for Earpers, 1 line for Creampuffs, the last line for other guests. I immediately regretted the handful of Earper extras I bought. I spent 2 hours in line longer than my other friends because of it.

The ticketing didn’t make sense. It was confusing figuring out which one was Sat/Sun. They looked nice printed but got collected and thrown away. They’re easily lost and it was a pain to try to get them all with the multiple lines. Why can’t you use Eventbrite digital tickets as they were intended? I heard after the fact that tickets weren’t even checked properly. One person couldn’t switch their ticket, but went up on the other day anyway and they didn’t pay attention to the day on it. Some people were able to

I also missed the beach clean up my friend organized, so that day was so disappointing.

Day 1

Breakfast with the guests was one of the few highlights. I like how it was split into smaller groups. 3 guests max with 10 attendees I think. At ClexaCon is was really hard to hear whatever was saying because all the breakfasts/lunches were at the same time and I felt like I was shouting across the table. In fact, at ClexaCon Natasha had to walk up to people individually to talk to them because she couldn’t hear them.

I bought more extras for Hollstein. I knew I had more autographs for the things I brought and got more photo ops and selfies. Early in the morning I brought it to the staff’s attention that the Hollstein panel and my Mel and Isabella photo ops overlapped. I’m a Creampuff more than anything, so that was a really big deal for me. I asked if I could swap the tickets instead for the Sunday. Sunday their photo ops occurred when I had nothing else scheduled. In all fairness, the person at the extras register passing out the tickets was really nice. They were really patient with me and assured me everything was fine. I told them about what I wanted to do and they said they couldn’t change the tickets because they were “limited” and may be sold out for the next day. Another staff member assured me that there would be 15 min that doesn’t overlap with the Hollstein panel so I can take my pictures before it. I was just told to tell the volunteer at the ops that I needed to make a panel and skip to the front of the line. The original staff member told me to come back and talk to them if what I was told didn’t work out. I was grateful and hoped I didn’t have to come back… Of course, it wasn’t that simple.

There was no volunteer at the front of the line. The volunteers I did find had no idea what was going on. The Hollstein panel was about to start so I had to run back upstairs and talk to them again. I was passed onto another staff member. She seemed to be one of the head people. She called over a Spanish speaking volunteer to escort me down and get me to the head of the line and I got them done. I still missed half of the first Hollstein panel because of it though. I ran in behind one of my friends in press who also had the same conflict. Of course, no recording is allowed so who knows when I’ll get to see that footage.

I don’t understand why photo ops tickets are per person. Maybe I was spoiled at ClexaCon with 4 people max to a photo. I bought an Earper trio to do a BayHaught photo with a friend. This was my first con where I’d meet Mel. We found out that we had to pay for another ticket just for her to join in mine. Which is insane. It literally takes the same amount time to have one more person join. Trios are not cheap. Around €130 for one person for less than 5 seconds to pose?! My friend was nice enough to pay to be in the photo anyway.

Autographs were ok up to a certain point. I stood in line for Natasha and Elise because I wanted to make sure I got to see them. I wasn’t looking forward to getting the Earp autographs. Dom's line was crazy and went outside the door and I assume around the lobby. Plus, the trio photos hadn’t printed yet, so I was essentially waiting for that. The reason I bought Dom, Kat, and Mel’s autographs that day is because I had the photo ops. For some reasons, LFF only has one person in charge of the printing and it took forever to get them on the tables. The trio took the longest. When I was done with Natasha's and Elise’s line, I went to Mel’s and waited. Again, most of my friends are Creampuffs so it was basically just me in line waiting. I wanted to see if someone else could get the autograph for me, but that didn’t go well either. I got to the front of Mel’s line with nothing to sign. The trio photos weren’t out yet. I couldn’t swap my autographs for the next day. The one rule LFF was very adamant about regardless of your situation. The poor volunteer had to call one of the staff members over to see what could be done. It was the same woman from last time who had a volunteer take me to the photo ops. I think she said her name was Maria or Michelle or some name that started with an M. I told her the only thing I wanted to get signed was the trio photo and it wasn’t printed yet. She told me that LFF never guaranteed that the photos would be done by the end of the day. Essentially, she was telling me I was SOL. I asked if I could switch my autographs to the next day so I had my photo to be signed. She flat out told me no. That’s when I started to get upset and asked her what I needed to do then. LFF doesn’t give headshots for them to sign. You have to pay extra for those. She told me I needed to get something else signed. The fact that I didn’t have anything else didn’t matter. It was frustrating because at that point I really didn’t care and would be damned if I had to pay any more money because they were inflexible with their tickets.

That’s when things got really bad. As I was trying to explain why I didn’t want to pay more money for a headshot I didn’t even want just to use these tickets, the staff member told me I needed to stop yelling and being rude or they wouldn’t help me. There was no yelling. There was me trying to explain my frustration with what they were doing and asking them to come to some sort of compromise. I’ve worked in customer service. I’ve had people cuss me out or try to attack me. What I was doing was not threatening. I get it. You have policies. You can’t bend the rules for everyone. But what really got t o me was she then she proceeded to accuse me of not asking the right questions and projected the blame on me. I can still see her in my face, repeatedly saying, “Well, did you ask? Did you ask?” She didn’t believe me. It was frustrating. It’s not like I’m trying to score free things. I just wanted to get what I paid for.

My friends saved the day by finding the trio photo and M person let me go to the front of the line for all my trouble, but it wasn’t a redeeming experience. Instead of being happy to meet Mel for the first time, Kat, and Dom, I was on edge and could hardly speak. Most of the disagreement happened to the side of Mel’s auto table. Mel was so nice and hilarious. Kat was so nice and understood why I brought my daughter to the M&G at CCUK. Dom and her handlers were really sweet and made sure that people in line had water and a little something to eat. I can say I shared a bowl of chips with Dom now. 😄 But I felt like absolute garbage by the end of it.

I had two more autographs with Mel for Sunday, but I honestly didn’t want to deal with it anymore.

Day 2

The second day was pretty low key until I thought I left the Mel autograph tickets at the Airbnb. I honestly had no interest to line up in the line that never ends for a second day so I was giving them away. I went to the Airbnb and had a mini breakdown because 1) I couldn’t find the tickets (I found them in my wallet a little later. 2) In trying to hurry, I also left my agenda at home and looked at the schedule. I saw that I had missed the single photo ops for Natasha and Elise. Time to panic again.

I had a Trio Carmilla photo op and a Hollstein duo photo op, so we thought that they would be ok with me doing my singles at the same time. Unfortunately, it wasn’t that easy… I took my trio photo and the staff and the handlers weren’t sure how to handle the situation. At first I was told that I would need to fall back in line and do it after the duo. I was completely fine with this because I had to get a prop I had left down the hall with my friends. Then I was told that I needed to do the solos right that second because the photographer was “on time” and didn’t feel like they wouldn’t have time to do the solos. Not even for the minute or so it would take me to get my prop and get back to them. I was calm about it as they talked amongst themselves, but honestly couldn’t believe that it was happening again. It took longer for them to argue about what to do than it probably would have taken me to get the prop.

I stood there just watching the interaction in disbelief when Natasha came over to me and asked what was going on and I lost it. Not like anger, but just crying out of frustration from the situation. Tears flowing freely as my emotions overwhelmed me.This was supposed to be my solo trip and fun half way across the world and I’m being told yet again, they might not honor the tickets I bought. Natasha assured me it would work out. We ended up doing the photo ops after the Hollstein duo… But two other fans had single photo ops they did after… So I did understand why they made a big fuss out of me doing it. I was done at the point where I just couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t enjoy the last Hollstein panel and closing ceremony was hard to sit through. My only moments of reprieve happened when I found some Creampuffs and hung out in their hotel room for a bit before the closing.

Autographs after the second day were not too bad. I still gave away my autographs to EarpItForward. I had to buy a photo of Mel for them to get signed. I didn’t like my photo ops with Isabella, so I ended up buying her headshot too. I had picked one I saw originally that I really liked, but then I saw someone get another Isabella head shot, which was even better. I asked if I could switch it because I didn’t know that the other con photo was available. Thankfully I did get it, but not without an offhanded comment from M person about how I should have asked before then I would have known. Like why say things like that?

I’m just glad that Natasha and Elise were really sweet and took time with us. Elise is pretty masterful with the selfies. Natasha also made sure we were happy with it before we left too. I had a couple of friends say they were rushed during the last moments, but thankfully I was at least saved from that. I even forgot to do my selfie with Natasha and they let me go back up and take it.

My nightmare continues as I wait to see if I get the rest of the digital print downloads I purchased. There’s some obscure issue where if you don’t click some check box correctly you only download one picture and then you have to contact them to get the rest. I swear the pop up I had asked if it was ok to download multiples and I clicked accept... I still only got one photo. I’m incredibly frustrated because they tweeted that but didn’t include it in any emails with the photos. How is someone who doesn’t have Twitter suppose to know? They also posted all the M&G photos, but haven’t bothered to message me back.

Honestly, I don’t get how #Clexacapocalypse became a thing. My experience with them far exceeded the miserable experience I had at LoveFanFest. I’d honestly go to Barcelona again to hangout with friends, but things seriously need to change before I even think about that convention again. I wish the people who also had an issue would speak up as well. Nothing will change if no one says anything. Just my 2 cents.

#lovefanfest #LoveScamFest #lff2019 #queer conventions #my experience #what not to do #queer fans deserve better #barcelona

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