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angelsandacceptance · 3 years

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Family Remains

A ringing interrupts the relative silence in the Lincoln waking Chase up. The girls quickly locate the phone emitting the noise and answer it, quickly putting it on speakerphone upon realizing it’s Dean calling.

“What?” Chase asks annoyed and tired.

“Got a case.”

“So you decided to wake us up?” Harley asks even though she hadn’t been sleeping.

“That’s not a great excuse. Couldn’t this have waited until morning?”

“Figured we start heading there now,” Dean responds.

“Dean, let Chase and Sam sleep.”

“Thank you!” Chase exclaims before rolling back around in her spot and trying to go back to sleep.

“Dean, If you can’t sleep, we could go for a walk. If you want,” Harley suggests.

“Yeah, okay. Don’t got anything better to do.”

“Cool. Meet you outside in a sec,” Harley says before hanging up.

Harley climbs out of their Lincoln, while Chase waits calmly. Right as she is about to close the door, Harley is startled by Chase.

“So. Where ya goin?” Chase asks in a mocking voice.

Harley turns, a deadpan look on her face, to see Chase half sitting up, a smirk on her lips, eyebrows raised. “Go back to sleep.”

Chase raises her hands slightly in defense. “Okay, okay.” Right as the door closes, Chase calls out loud enough to be heard, “Be safe!”

Harley groans, but doesn’t respond.

***

“Hey,” Harley says walking over to Dean.

“Be safe, huh? What did you have in mind?”

Harley punches his shoulder hard, but not hard enough to bruise as they walk away from the cars, “Shut up. Chase is clearly off her rocker. She’s been bugging me about you ever since we kissed.”

“Which time?”

“The only time she knows about. Right after you came back.”

“Yeah, I could see that. Sam’s been on me about it too. You’d think they’d get over a kiss by now.”

“I know it’s been three months of this shit.”

“So am I the hunter then?”

“Huh?”

“Last month you mentioned Chase thought you were madly in love with some hunter, and you wouldn’t tell me who.”

“Oh, yeah. That was you.”

“And you didn’t tell me, why?”

“I was embarrassed. Jeez, hitting me with the hard questions.”

Dean pulls Harley closer, slinging his arm over her shoulders, “Don’t have to be embarrassed with me, sweetheart.”

Harley just rolls her eyes and leans into Dean's side.

***

“So on a scale of one to ten, how safe were you guys?”

“I am so not answering that. Just no.”

“So a zero then? No, no, probably a ten. One, you’d tell me if you guys did anything. And two, you both are too fucking stubborn to do anything.”

“If we did have sex, and that’s a big gigantic if. Would you really want to hear about it? I mean do you really want to hear about how amazingly good your brother is in bed?”

“Yes and no… Ugh that’s annoying. I would usually 100% want all the details but, that’s disgusting. Okay, yeah, just tell me if you do the deed and if he treated you right. I need no other information.”

“That’s what I thought,” Harley smirks.

“Yeah, okay, point made. Now shut up.”

“For now. Do you think Cas is a virgin?”

Chase turns a shade of pink as a look of bewilderment spreads across it. “Wait, what, excuse-why the fuck? What is that- why is that something you ask me?”

“Because I don’t have anyone else to ask.”

“That is deplorable.” Chase pauses for about one second. “But, duh. Have you seen the look of confusion he always has on? That man- angel- wouldn’t know what to do with a man or woman even if he read a “how to” book for dummies.”

Harley bursts into laughter at Chase's response.

“What?” Chase asks. “What about him makes you think he has done anything more than touch someone’s shoulder?”

“Nothing, but it sounds a hell of a lot funnier out loud than in my head.”

“That’s fair,” says Chase, sighing in relief as though dodging a bullet.

“Wait, Cas touched your shoulder. Is there something you’re trying to tell me?”

“Other than Cas being a giant prude, no. Seriously, I have had like four conversations with him that lasted more than a few sentences. What makes you see something there?” Chase throws her hands in the air for a split second before they return to the steering wheel. “For crying out loud, the first few times we were in the same room, he pretended I wasn’t there!”

“Yeah, but you think he’s cute and he ‘always notices you’.”

“Well, I do attract a lot of attention with my dazzling and annoying persona.”

“You’re only annoying sometimes.”

Chase shoots Harley a sideways glance. “Thanks,” she says dryly.

“You’re welcome.”

Chase sighs. “Anyhow. Anything else you want to randomly talk about? Or is pestering me about Castiel the only goal you had?”

“Pizza is legally a sandwich.”

“Excuse me- what the fuck?”

“It’s true.”

“Do I wanna know?”

“Probably not.”

“Cool. Moving on!”

“There’s a Catholic Church that’s decorated in the bones of it’s parishioners.”

Chase just sighs in defeat. “Anything else?” she asks dejectedly. “Or can I be allowed peace this once?”

“I can’t think of anything else, so sure.”

“Alright then, back to you and Dean!”

“Fuck my life,” Harley groans.

***

“Boy, three bedrooms, two baths, and one homicide. This place is gonna sell like hotcakes,” Dean says upon entering the supposedly haunted house.

The Winchesters and Co. immediately go to separate areas and investigate the house for any signs of paranormal activity.

“Hey, check this out,” Harley says, knocking on the wall. “It’s hollow.”

“It’s probably just a dumbwaiter.”

Everyone looks to Chase who shrugs. “What? I used to read about older houses like this.”

“Know-it-all,” Dean mutters.

“You wanna say that again?”

“Say what again?”

“You said- you. Jackass.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “You guys need to grow up. I thought I was the youngest.”

“You still are, Sammy-boy,” Chase says grinning.

Another eyeroll is earned. “Let’s continue checking out the house.”

“Agreed,” Harley says, concealing laughter.

They wander into a large bedroom, investigating further.

“Well, no bloodstains, fresh coat of paint, it's a bunch of bubkes,” Dean says after a few moments.

“Needle’s all over the place,” Sam says, looking at the EMF reader.

“Yeah, power lines most likely.”

“Know-it-all,” Dean mutters again.

Chase shoots him a look.

Harley goes to the closet and opens the door. She sees a decapitated doll’s head lying on the floor, and slowly closes the door.

“What was that?” Chase asks her. Harley motions for her to go ahead and check. Skeptically, Chase opens the door. She stares down in confused horror. “Uh huh, okay then.”

The boys look over her shoulder, and mimic her expression.

“Well, that’s super disturbing,” Dean says.

“Think it got left behind?”

“By who?” Dean asks.

“Unless Bill Gibson liked to play with doll heads,” Chase scoffs.

“Or Sid from Toy Story lived here,” Harley says.

Chase laughs, only to stop, hearing a car outside.

“I thought you said this place was still for sale?” Dean demands.

“Apparently not anymore,” Sam says sarcastically.

“Wait, what?” Chase asks. “Did you two not see the ‘Sold’ sign outside?”

“No,” Dean responds hastily, before rushing to the front door. The other three quickly follow behind him.

“Who are they?” A teenage girl asks.

“Can I help you?” A man asks them.

“Are you the new owners?” Sam asks.

“Yeah. You guys are?”

“This is Mr. Stanwyk. I'm Mr. Babar. County code enforcement. Those two are Miss Wentz and Mrs. Babar. Specialists.”

Harley shoots Dean a look, before shaking off the comment.

“We had the building inspected last week. Is there a problem?”

“Asbestos in the walls, a gas leak.” Sam lists it off hurriedly, obviously just wanting the family gone. “Yeah, I’d say we have a problem.”

“Asbestos? Meaning what?”

“Meaning until this house is up to par, you can’t stay here. It’s uninhabitable,” Chase explains.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. You mean we can’t stay here?”

“Obviously,” Chase deadpans.

“It’s a health hazard,” Dean amends, rolling his eyes at his sister. “You don’t want to.”

“Hold up, we just drove four hundred miles!”

“Look, what’s your name?” Chase asks.

“Ted.”

“Look, Ted. This house is a health hazard. You’ve got fairly young kids as well as yourself. Staying here is not a bright idea.”

“There’s a motel just down the road. Until this gets cleared up, I suggest you stay there,” Harley adds.

“All right, and what if we don’t?”

“Are you an idiot?”

“Wentz!” Sam says warningly.

“You either get a fine or you go to jail. Pick your poison.”

“One night,” the man says. “One night and I’ll take care of everything. ASAP, I promise.”

“You do that,” Dean says.

“Another motel? Awesome, Dad. I hope this one has hooker sheets, like the last one,,” the teenager pipes up.

Harley laughs and cracks a smile at the comment.

“Danny!” The mom of the group calls out as they near their car.

“Come on, Danny!” The man who isn’t Ted shouts.

Harley gently hits Dean as soon as they’re out of view. “Where do you get off pretending I’m your bloody wife without warning me.”

***

“What did the room look like when you found it, Mrs. Curry?” Harley asks gently.

“I already told the local boys, there was blood everywhere.”

“And Mr. Gibson? Where was he?” Dean asks.

She shakes her head. “Everywhere.”

Chase has to stifle a laugh, only successfully disguising it as a cough after Harley elbows her in the stomach slightly.

“How long have you been cleaning Mr. Gibson’s house?”

“About five years.”

“So you knew him pretty well,” Dean surmises.

“Well, not really. He was real private. Not the easiest man. Not that I blame him.”

“What do you mean?” Harley asks.

“His wife died in childbirth. Daughter hangs herself in the attic twenty years later. I’d be bitter too. Oh, I think I got some pictures.” With that, she goes off to find them. She quickly returns. “Here.”

“Thanks. Can we keep these?”

“Suit yourself.”

“So, why did she kill herself?” Chase asks.

“I don’t know. Was before my time.”

“Did you ever notice anything odd around the house when you were cleaning it?” Dean asks.

“Like what?”

“Like,” Dean pauses.

“Like, you know. Lights going on and off and things not being where you put them,” Harley lists.

“Well, maybe there was one thing.”

“What’s that?” Sam asks.

“Well, sometimes, I thought I heard like a...rustling in the walls.”

“Like a rat?” Dean asks.

“Yeah.”

“Must have been some big sons of guns out there, huh?”

“Wouldn't know. Never saw any.”

“Do you happen to know where Mrs. Gibson and her daughter were buried?” Sam asks.

“They were cremated.”

Winchesters and Co. headed back out to the cars.

“All right. So it probably wasn't the mom or the daughter. Whose ghost was it?” Sam says narrowing down their list of suspects to nothing.

“I don't know. But I say we give that place a real once-over and see,” Dean says.

“Lovely now all we got is who it probably isn’t,” Harley sighs.

“We’ve got a whole lot of nada and a shit ton of zip. I’m just tired of this already,” Chase complains.

***

Chase and Harley pulled up to the haunted house of the week with the Impala not far behind. The house’s lights were on and they could see people moving around.

“Shit! They stayed in the house!”

Chase rolls her eyes. “Fucking dumbasses.”

“They’re gonna get themselves killed.”

“We did warn them though. So, technically, we are not liable.”

“I love you,” Harley says laughing.

Chase laughs in response, her eyes tearing up slightly. “Am I wrong? Just, am I wrong? No. Exactly.”

“Definitely not wrong.”

“When have I ever been wrong?”

“You’re wrong about me and Dean.”

“Ah, but you are actually the wrong one. Guess who has another few photos to add to her collection? Me. And why is that? Oh yes. Because I caught you two cuddling! Again!”

“You know it’s kind of creepy that you have a bunch of pictures of me sleeping half naked.”

“No, it’s not. It’s not creepy because you’re with Dean and in my defense, Sam has the same file. That’s creepy. At least I’m a girl.”

“That doesn’t make it any less creepy.”

“But it does.”

“Dude, you’re into chicks. And you have pictures of me half naked. It’s weird.”

“I have literally seen you nude. Remember when we went skinny dipping that once? C’mon get a better argument. You know you don’t count. You’re practically my sister.” Chase smirks. “And soon to be sister.”

“It’s still weird. And no I’m not.”

“Oh come on. At least do it so we’re actually related finally.”

“I should’ve never kissed him in front of you.”

“Oh, so you would kiss him not in front of me? Wait. Have you kissed him before but not in front of me? How could you not tell me this?!”

“Because it’d only fuel your weird ship. Sometimes you just need a little affection.”

“OH MY GOD YOU JUST ADMITTED YOU HAVE KISSED HIM BEFORE OH MY FUCKING GOD!”

“Platonically.”

“There is no such thing as platonic kissing if it’s you and Dean.”

“Yes, there is. Although something was definitely different earlier today,” Harley says, shooting Dean a text.

Chase lets out an inhuman squeal in response. “You kissed earlier?! When?”

“While we were watching Scooby-Doo.”

“How romantic.”

Harley rolls her eyes at Chase.

“Give me details. Was it like for long or just short? Was it French? Wait, it’s Dean. Do I want to know? Nevermind, obviously I do. Sooo. Tell me everything.”

“I’m not dignifying that with a response.” Harley says, getting out of the Lincoln and sticking her tongue out at her best friend.

“You are such a child. Just tell me.”

Harley doesn’t respond; just sits on the hood of the car. Chase groans dramatically.

***

Screams erupt from inside the house and the four hunters quickly rush to aid the family. Pounding on the door with a frown, Dean takes the lead.

The man- Brian- opens the door. “Oh, you. Did you touch my daughter?”

“What? No,” Dean says confused. “I have her.” Dean makes a motion with his thumb, gesturing behind him to Harley, who rolls her eyes at him.

“Who are you guys?” Brian asks.

“Relax, please. You have a ghost,” Sam calmly states.

Chase resists snorting a laugh at the comment, covering it up with a cough. “We’re here to help,” she revises.

“A ghost,” Brian says again, as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“I told you!” Hooker Sheets Girl exclaims.

“It’s the girl!” Danny says.

“Both of you relax,” Brian chastises before turning the group. “What are you four playing at?”

“Oh nothing much, just saving you lives.” Harley says offhandedly.

“Your family is in danger,” Chase says.

“You need to get out of the house,” Dean demands. The girls roll their eyes at his abrasiveness.

All of a sudden, the lights go out, pitching the group into darkness.

“Nobody move,” Dean commands.

“Buster!” Danny calls out, hearing their dog start to bark and whine.

The four hunters follow Brian out of the house, alongside Ted. The group, while chasing Brian who is yelling for Buster desperately, comes across the words, ‘TOO LATE’, painted in large red letters.

The rest of Brian’s family comes out onto the porch, gasping at the sight before them.

“Go back inside. Go!” Brian yells at his kids; worried for their safety.

“We are not the bad guys, but you're in danger.” Dean states sternly.

“First thing's first. You got to get your family out of here.” Sam says quickly.

“Head to the motel I was talking about. You'll be safe there,” Harley says.

“What’re you guys gonna do?”

“We’re going to solve your ghost problem, obviously,” Chase says.

“Oh, come on! No!” Dean exclaims, drawing everyone’s attention.

All of the vehicles have slashes in all four tires.

“Excuse me? That fucking ghost is gonna pay!” Chase shouts, running over to Jack. “My poor baby.” She shoots a quick glance at the group behind her, “Sorry, excuse my french.”

Sam pops Baby’s trunk and looks for any of their supplies, while Harley checks Jack’s.

“Dude, the guns are gone. So is the... Basically, everything is gone.” Sam says.

“Same over here.” Harley sighs.

Ted had disappeared to check on his truck unnoticed, and only just returned. “Truck's no good.”

“Tires slashed?” Brian asks, and Ted just nods.

“What kind of ghost messes with a man’s ride?” Dean whines.

“Really though,” Chase agrees. “That’s a new level of bastard.”

“What's going on? What's going on?” The teenage girl asks before screaming, “She's there! She's there!”

“Where?!” The mom asks.

“She was right there in the woods!” The girl yells.

“What's a ghost doing outside?” Dean asks.

“Maybe it’s picking apples, Dean. For apple pie,” Chase says sarcastically. “Why are you asking? Does it look like we know why a ghost is outside?”

“Hey, it was a rhetorical question!”

“Do you two want to stay out here arguing and find out?” Sam demands.

“Are you crazy? We need to get the hell out of here!” Ted says freaking out.

“In what, Ted?! In what?! I don’t see a horse ‘n carriage anywhere, do you?!” Harley yells, fed up with their ignorance.

“Everyone back in the house,” Dean shouts. “Move! Now!”

***

“Whatever's outside, it can't get in this circle. As long as the salt line is unbroken, this is the safest place to be,” Dean explains.

“Safe from ghosts?” Brian asks skeptically.

“Actually, yeah, so shut up and just listen to us,” Chase snaps. These people were starting to get on her nerves.

“Okay, I’m not listening to this anymore. Come on. I got to get my family out of here.”

“Nobody is going anywhere until we kill this thing,” Harley reiterates.

“Sir, please, this is what we do.” Sam casts a wary glance at the other hunters. “Just trust us.”

“You hunt ghosts?” Danny asks excitedly.

“You betcha,” Chase says with a smile.

“Like Scooby-Doo?”

It is believed at this moment, Chase and Sam could’ve sworn they saw both Dean and Harley fall in love with the boy. Both of their faces widened with grins as they nod.

“Better,” Dean says playfully.

“You saw her outside, right? Okay. Does she look like either one of the girls?” Sam asks, showing them a couple of pictures.

“Her. She was paler and a lot dirtier, but that was her,” Kate says.

“That’s the girl in the walls,” Danny adds.

“The girl in the picture- she’s dead?”

“She killed herself in this house.”

“Wow, Harley. Tact,” Chase says flatly.

Harley just shrugs.

“So the maid got her story wrong?” Chase asks. “Rebecca didn’t get cremated?”

“Unless she’s attached to something else in the house,” Sam says.

“She hung herself in the attic, right?” Dean asks.

“You wanna babysit?” Sam asks. “I’ll check it out.”

“I’ll stay with Dean,” Chase says. “Harley, you go with Sam. Is that okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Harley asks, confusion written on her face.

Chase glances at Dean out of the corner of her eye, before quickly looking back at Harley. “No idea.”

“Weirdo.”

“Look—I don't care who hung themselves where. Maybe something is going on here, but—” Ted starts.

“It’s a spirit, man,” Dean says.

“No, it's just some backwoods hillbilly bitch, and I'm not about to sit around here waiting for her to go all Deliverance on my ass.”

Chase laughs at his comment. “Okay, so you’re not all bad.”

“Nobody’s leaving this house,” Dean snaps.

“Stop me,” Ted challenges.

Harley butts in between Ted and Dean, moving her jacket and flannel so her gun is visible. “Listen. I've got a gun. You don't get your ass back in that circle, you're gonna have yourself a third hole.”

“Technically a fifth.” Everyone looks at Chase with an annoyed expression. “What?”

“You guys cool?” Sam asks.

Chase and Dean nod. “Go,” Dean says.

***

Harley and Sam arrive in the attic and pull out their flashlights.

“God, there’s so much fucking dust,” Harley sighs, heading to an unmarked box on the floor.

“Yeah. Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Is Harley your real name, because there’s no record of a Harley Pawlak, but there was a C-”

“Don’t say it!”

“So that is you?”

“No, she’s who I used to be. She’s been dead a long time.”

“What happened?”

“Trauma, growing up. Pick your poison.”

“Off limits, noted.”

“Wait. Why were you looking me up?”

“I did it awhile back, I think it was after the first time we caught you and Dean sleeping together.”

“Had to make sure I was good enough for your brother?”

“Yeah. Kinda.”

“You do know nothing is actually going on right?”

“So Dean has told me, many times.” Sam sighs before perking up at finding a journal. “I think I found something!”

“What?”

“Rebecca’s journal.”

“Sweet! Now we can get out of this musty old attic,” She says before sneezing.

***

“I can’t believe we got ourselves into this,” Chase groans. “This would all be over with already if you lot had just left when we told you to.”

“You couldn’t really expect us to leave,” Brian says.

“Well, no, I merely said it for the sake of my health,” Chase responds sarcastically.

“Chase, why are you such a child all the time?” Dean asks.

“And why are you such a dick?”

“Now that’s just uncalled for,” Dean says with an eye roll and a pout.

“Hey. Fonzie. Question for you. This indestructible force field made out of salt... Have to be kosher stuff, or what?” Ted asks.

Chase whirls around, but Dean grabs her arm, pulling her towards him.

“Ted, knock it off,” Susan says.

They all freeze when they hear a sound only a small distance away.

“Dean-”

“It’s fine.”

“What was that?” Kate asks.

They all look around, before spotting her. The girl from the photo was there, opening the door.

“Stay calm, guys,” Chase says.

“She's a ghost. She can't come in the circle,” Dean explains.

They all watch carefully as she slowly approaches them. She stops at the salt line and gazes at it warily, before brandishing a knife, and stepping over the line. Chase blanches while Dean looks on in panic.

“I thought you said ghosts couldn't cross the circle.”

“They can’t. She’s not a ghost.”

The girl attacks Dean, but he manages to fight and hold her off.

“Dean!” Chase cries out in panic, attempting to help him.

“Chase, get them out of here!”

“But-”

“Now!”

Chase nods before herding the others outside, running away from Dean.

She sighs in relief however, hearing Sam and Harley.

***

“Where is everyone?” Dean asks, coming outside to see Brian and an annoyed Chase.

“Hiding, which is where this lunatic should be, but he isn’t.”

“I want to help.”

“Go get your family,” Dean says. “Go!”

Brian rushes off to get his family while the four hunters look at one another. “So,” Chase says. “Not a ghost.”

“Just a girl then,” Sam adds.

“Girl?” Dean asks incredulously. “It's psycho Nell. I'm telling you, man—humans.”

“So who is she then?” Harley asks.

“I don't know. Maybe it's the daughter, Rebecca. Maybe she didn't hang herself.”

“Dean, you realize she would be like, fifty now or something.”

“Well, what did you two find in the attic?” Dean asks Harley and Sam.

“Not much,” Sam says.

“Just Rebecca’s old diary.”

“I wish you'd found a howitzer. Listen, we got to get this family safe. I mean, it's just a human, so they can make a run for it. We just got to hold her off,” Dean says.

“We're okay,” Susan says as the family runs up to the hunters.

“Danny! Ted!” Brian calls out. “We’ve got to go!”

“I’m good!” Ted calls back, running over.

“Danny, come on!” Susan calls this time.

“Danny!” Brian calls again. “Buddy, we got to go!”

“Told you it was some crazy bitch,” Ted says.

“Yeah, you did. Want a sticker or something?” Chase asks, rolling her eyes.

“Head to town. We’ll take it from here,” Sam says.

“Danny, come on, baby! We're leaving!” Susan calls again.

“Danny, we’ve got to go!”

“Brian, where- where is he?”

“Danny!”

“Danny!” Susan calls.

“Suse, Suse, Suse. We will find Danny, I promise you,” Brian says.

“No,” Susan says, in denial, shaking her head as though she couldn’t believe this was happening.

“No. Take Kate and go now. Now, while you still have a chance.”

“Not without Danny.”

“I am not going out there with mom alone.”

“She’s right,” Dean says. “Until we find your son, the safest place for you right now would be in the shed.”

Kate looks at him like he’s grown another head, “I’m not going in there either.”

“Yes, you are. It is the best defense. The windows are boarded up. It's got one door. It's our best shot right now. Trust me,” Harley says.

Kate looks at her warily, but nods finally.

“Suse, Kate, go.” Brian nods towards the shed. “Go.”

“Okay,” Sam starts. “You three go take the house,” he continues, gesturing to Harley, Dean, and Ted. “The three of us will take outside.”

***

Dean, Harley, and Ted walk into the house. Ted begins poking around the room and finds a butcher’s knife. While Dean investigates the walls and Harley the floor; actually doing something useful.

“What are you doing?” Ted asks.

“She's human. She had to come from somewhere.” Harley answers in a snarky manner.

Dean finds a loose board and pulls it free of the rest of the wall. Ted flinches at the smell emanating from the hole.

“You smell that?” Ted asks, scrunching up his nose.

“Every day,” Dean replies.

“You get used to it,” Harley adds.

Dean pulls a knife out and shines his flashlight through the hole before entering it, “Come on.”

Harley quickly followed suit with Ted in tow. They stop at a hole.

“You’re not going down there,” Ted says.

“Do you want to?” Harley challenges.

Ted stays silent.

“That’s what I thought.”

Dean starts lowering himself down, “Please nobody grab my leg. Please nobody grab my leg.”

Harley does the same after him. Dean shines his flashlight throughout the room. When it lands on Buster’s body torn to shreds. Dean quickly turns around and turns Harley so she’s facing away from the dog.

“What are you doing?” Harley asks, confused.

“Just get out of the hole,” Dean says.

“Why?”

“Just trust me, you don’t want to see this.”

“Okay?” Harley says unsure, but struggles to get up before Dean gives her a boost.

“Danny?” Dean calls out after Harley gets back up.

“Find anything?” Ted asks.

“Yeah, her kitchen,” Dean responds.

“Her what?”

Ted turns around and the girl stabs him through the neck.

“Dean! She’s here!” Harley yells as Ted falls on her.

Dean hurries to climb through the hole while Harley pushes Ted’s body off of her.

***

Chase paces back and forth, ignoring the stares of the rest of the family, as well as her own brother.

“Chase,” Sam says. Chase doesn’t even hear him, mumbling to herself. “Chase!” Sam repeats.

Chase’s head jerks up, as she finally takes notice of Sam. “Yeah, what?”

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Pacing. You’re giving me anxiety.”

“Yeah, well, I have anxiety all the time, so deal with it.”

Sam rolls his eyes as Chase begins to pace again, continuing her incessant mumbling.

“Look, why are we just standing here? Let’s go check the house,” Brian suggests.

“Yeah, no bueno. No offense, but that’s an awful idea,” Chase says.

“It’s better than pacing around like you! How’s that gonna help?” Brian demands.

“You wanna go? You’re only in this mess because you prideful assholes didn’t want to listen to us in the first place!”

Brain turns away, silenced by the indisputable facts of Chase’s accusation.

“Best thing we can do is just wait for the others to get back, okay?” Sam says, trying to ease the tension in the air.

A few moments later, the group startles at the sudden knocking.

“Sam, it’s us,” Dean says.

“Chase, could you please open the door?” Harley asks, sounding slightly aggravated.

“Help me,” Chase says, jumping into action to move the items blocking the door.

Harley and Dean rush in as soon as the door opens, only to shut it behind them.

“Where’s Danny? Did you find him?” Susan asks hurriedly.

“No,” Dean says shortly.

“Okay, well where’s Ted?”

“Outside.”

“Well why doesn’t he come inside?”

Chase at that moment realizes what happened.

“Because I had to carry him out. I’m sorry,” Dean continues, looking to the ground.

“What- what does that mean?”

“Are you saying he’s dead?” Brian asks.

“No, of course not. That’s not what he’s saying, right?” Susan asks.

“We were in the walls and she attacked,” Harley explains.

“Oh my God,” Susan gasps.

“I couldn’t make it to him in time,” Dean continues.

“Uncle Ted is dead?” Kate asks, looking back and forth between the adults.

“She snuck up behind us, I’m sorry Kate,” Harley says gently.

Dean leaves the shed and Harley follows behind him.

Chase looks at them as they leave before sighing heavily. She turns to Sam. “Anything useful in there?” she asks, gesturing to Rebecca’s diary.

Sam shakes his head, “Not yet.”

“We’ll find him, Suse. We will.”

“Where else is there to look? He’s dead,” Susan says dejectedly.

“Don’t say that,” Chase says gently, cutting in. “We will get your son back.”

“And if he’s already dead? She killed my brother and now she’s killed my son.”

“Danny is still alive,” Brian says.

“No, he isn’t,” Susan argues.

“Yes, he is. Do you remember what he said about the girl who lived in the walls? She said he could stay,” Brian explains.

Chase looks at him in shock. “Wow, you actually just said something useful.”

“I just don't understand why this happens to us. I mean, we're good people. We're a good family.”

“What happened to Andy happened, okay? I cannot change that. But I will find Danny, I promise you. And when I do, we are gonna be fine. You and me, the kids, we're gonna be fine.”

Chase looks to Sam and takes notice of his eyes darting away from them and back to the diary. She shakes her head lightly.

Brian nods to Chase before heading outside, presumably to where Dean and Harley had gone to.

***

“You okay?” Harley asks.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be,” Dean responds not so convincingly.

“Because I know you. You’ll blame Ted’s death on yourself. Which is ridiculous. If anyone should get the blame it should be me. Not that I actually care.”

“You just got up there.” Dean defends her.

“So it was no one’s fault.”

“ I guess you're right. But I doubt my subconscious will accept that.”

“Fair enough.”

“The most important thing is you’re still alive, so there’s that at least.”

“Did I just get Dean Winchester to look on the bright side?” Harley teases.

“I think plenty of positive thoughts.”

“Like what?”

“Like you without a bra, see positive.”

“Pervert.”

“You love it.”

“I tolerate it.”

***

Brain stares up at the house, taking deep breaths, trying to keep himself calm.

“Andy your son?” Dean asks. Brian glances at him quickly. He nods.

“Oldest. He got himself killed in a car accident last year.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It nearly tore Suse and I apart. Still could, I imagine. That's why we moved here. Fresh air, fresh start. Not even my line. Marriage counselor. 'Course, she might be right. After all, what could possibly go wrong in the country?”

Harley allows herself a bitter laugh, to which Brian raises his brows, cracking a smile.

“I'm getting your son back. If it's the last godforsaken thing I do,” Dean says seriously.

“Why do you care so much?” Brian asks him.

“Dean,” Sam says. “Harley.”

The three look to see Chase and Sam approaching them. Sam holds up the diary.

“We gotta talk,” Chase says shortly.

***

“What is that?” Dean asks as the four of them walk into the house.

“Rebecca’s diary,” Harley says. “Sam and I found it earlier.”

“I just finished reading it,” Sam explains.

“And?” Dean asks.

“That girl back there? Pretty sure she was Rebecca's daughter,” Chase explains.

“Rebecca had a kid?” Harley asks.

“It's all she talks about. Being pregnant, being ashamed of being pregnant,” Sam explains.

“Jeez, rent Juno and get over it. Wait, why kill herself after the baby?” Dean asks.

“Wow, Dean. Sympathetic,” Chase responds sarcastically.

“Maybe because her dad called her a dirty little whore and said he was gonna lock the baby up,” Sam responds.

“Why would he say that?” Harley asks.

Chase and Sam exchange glances before pointedly looking back at Harley and Dean.

“Oh, gross.”

“Yeah,” Chase says.

“So the daddy was the baby daddy too?” Dean asks.

“Dean, you have got to work on being tactful.”

“Dude was a monster, Dean,” Sam says.

“Wow, a story ripped from an Austrian headline. Humans,” Harley says, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Harley, you’re still partially human,” Chase reminds her.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“So she's been locked up her whole life?” Dean asks.

“You saw her eyes. Has she ever seen light? She's barely human,” Sam says.

“Okay, so, what, then, she's been caged up like an animal and she busts out and ganks dear old Dad? Slash Granddad?” Dean asks.

“I guess,” Sam shrugs.

“Well, can't say I blame her,” Chase says. “Someone did that to me, I might’ve not lasted as long. I definitely would have snapped eventually though.”

“Yeah, I can’t say I blame her either,” Dean agrees.

“I'm sure her life was hell, Dean. It doesn't mean she gets a free pass for murder.”

“Like you know what hell's like.”

Sam makes a surprised and regretful face, “I didn't-”

“Forget it,” Dean says.

“What the hell, Dean?”

Dean looks to Chase in shock.

“You can’t not talk to us about it, then use it against us, Dean. That’s not fucking fair.”

“You can’t even begin to imagine what hell is like-”

“Yeah, because you never fucking talk to us, Dean! So shut the hell up about it or tell us. Then, then you might be able to use that against us.”

Dean just stares at Chase in shock, before turning away.

“So where do we find her?” Sam interjects awkwardly, trying to break the silence.

“Kid's gotta eat, right?” Dean says, ignoring Chase.

“What?”

“He kept her hidden, locked up, but he had to feed her, didn't he?”

“I guess.”

“I think we know where,” Harley says, realizing where Dean was going with his train of thought.

***

The four hunters are breaking a hole into the kitchen wall, letting light into the shaft of the dumbwaiter.

“Could've kept her hidden here for years. Kept her fed, nobody would ever know,” Sam says.

Brian, who had insisted on coming with them, calls out for his son. “Danny! Danny!”

Dean shines a light down the shaft. “Watch out, I'm going down.”

“No. That's my son,” Brian attempts to argue.

“I know it is, but I said that I would get him. I will. Let me.”

Dean looks down and up the shaft and scoots through the hole, then starts to climb down the side.

“Hey, you got curtains? We need rope,” Chase says, getting an idea.

While Sam holds the light for Dean, Brian and Harley search around for curtains or fabric they can tie together for rope.

“You good down there?” Chase calls out.

“Yeah, just got to the bottom!” Dean pauses, obviously rustling around a bit. “Bitch is a klepto,” he finally mutters.

They all wait, having tied together enough curtains to make rope long enough, and finally, after several minutes, hear a boy’s yell.

“Was that Danny?” Brian asks.

“Know of any other boy we’re looking for?” Chase asks sarcastically.

Sam drops one end of a rope of knotted curtains down the shaft. Danny appears at the bottom.

“Danny!” Sam exclaims. Upon his urging, Danny ties himself into the rope.

“Okay!” Danny calls up, signalling that it’s clear to hoist him up.

“Okay, pull!” Sam says.

“Come on, buddy. Come on, buddy. Don't look back, Danny. Just come on, come on,” Brian mutters as they continue to pull Danny up the shaft.

Once Danny is to the top, Brian grabs onto him, hugging him. “Come on. You okay? It's okay.”

“Get him out of here. You gotta go,” Chase says.

As soon as Danny and Brian have left, Sam turns the light back down the shaft.

“Dean?” Harley calls.

“Dean!” Chase says again.

Sam quickly starts descending the rope, hearing a gunshot go off. Harley and Chase hold onto the rope, steadying it for Sam.

Five minutes later, the two reappear, climbing up the rope.

“Oh thank God,” Chase cries, throwing herself onto Dean. “I got so worried that the last thing I’d said to you was about-”

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” Dean says, trying to be soothing, hugging his younger sister. He brushes a hand through her hair, making eye contact with Harley, who also shows relief at Dean being safe.

***

Dean jacks down the Impala after replacing the tires. Sam pulls Dean’s duffel out of the repacked trunk and throws it in the back of the car.

Harley and Chase pack up their things, Jack parked alongside Baby. Brian and Susan walk over.

“Thanks for the head start,” Dean says.

“Why doesn't it surprise me you guys don't like the police?” Brian asks.

“Because it’s not surprising,” Chase says.

“It's sort of a mutual-appreciation thing, really,” Sam responds.

“Well, thank you.”

“Thank you,” Susan says.

“You okay?” Dean asks the couple.

“No, we're the opposite of okay, but we're together,” Susan replies.

“Thanks again,” Brian says.

The group nods to the family before gathering the last of their things and heading on their way.

***

Sam, Harley, Chase, and Dean all sit around, eating burgers. Well, the first three are. Dean, however, simply unwraps his burger, only to rewrap it.

“You okay?” Sam asks.

“You know, I felt for those sons of bitches back there. Lifelong torture turns you into something like that.”

“You were in hell, Dean. Look, maybe you did what you did there, but you're not them. They were barely human,” Sam says.

“Yeah, you're right. I wasn't like them. I was worse. They were animals, Sam, defending territory. Me? I did it for the sheer pleasure.”

“What?” Chase asks, slightly confused.

“I enjoyed it, guys. They took me off the rack, and I tortured souls, and I liked it. All those years, all that pain. Finally getting to deal some out yourself. I didn't care who they put in front of me. Because that pain I felt, it just slipped away. No matter how many people I save, I can't change that. I can't fill this hole. Not ever.”

“That’s not your fault, Dean,” Chase says.

“It is, and I’m going to have to live with that.”

Chase, determined to be of some support, simply wraps an arm around Dean’s waist. “But you will never have to live with that weight by yourself. Not as long as you have me. Not as long as you have us.”

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demolitionhobart · 1 year

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Choosing Demolition Contractors in Hobart

Home demolition is often a necessary step to remodel an existing house or make way for new construction. However, you should always do your homework before hiring a demolition contractor. Several factors should be considered, including:

A professional demolition company can help you with various types of projects, such as land clearing, interior and partial or full building removals, and even hazardous material removal and disposal. They take safety seriously and follow proper protocols throughout the process.

A-1 Concrete Removal

The company has the ability to offer a comprehensive range of demolition services, including excavation and backhoe work. Their equipment and crews are highly qualified and experienced, and they can handle jobs of all sizes. They can also handle environmental cleanup and asbestos removal.

A-1 Concrete Leveling uses modern concrete lifting techniques to raise sunken or damaged concrete driveways, sidewalks and patios. The process is less invasive than replacement and can usually be completed the same day. They’ve been in business for over twenty years and are an NDOT and DBE contractor.

This demolition and earthmoving company is a one-stop shop for all of your needs. Their team of professionals is dedicated to providing quality service at affordable rates. They can handle a variety of projects, from small residential jobs to large commercial and industrial jobs.

Big Easy Demolition

If you are considering tearing down an old building, it is important to find a demolition company near me that can do the job efficiently. Look for one that offers a variety of services, including inspections, clean-up, and disposal. In addition, they should be able to provide you with an estimate of the total cost of the project.

Whether you’re looking for residential or commercial demolition, the team at Big Easy Demolition can handle it all. They offer a range of services, including interior and structural demolition, excavation, and land clearing. They also specialize in shed removal and pool demolition.

Located in Buena Park, California, Central Reclamation is a demolition contractor that has the experience and equipment to complete projects of any size. Their staff can remove structures of all shapes and sizes, and they’ll even take care of any hazardous materials. They can also provide drilling and grading services. They are also licensed and insured.

Barney Reardon Demolition

Barney Reardon Demolition is a local demolition contractor that has been in business for more than 40 years. They have extensive experience in the commercial and residential construction industry, including industrial demolition, site cleanup, tipper hire, land fill, and demolition cleaning. Their staff is licensed and certified to operate the equipment required for the task at hand, and they are fully insured in the areas of public liability, workers compensation, and fleet transport cover. They are also accredited with the Department of Justice as Demolisher Open, with accreditation number CC517I. They are also code compliant with the Federal Government for National Code of Practice for Construction and Demolition, number F27/14.

A-Demolition

When choosing a demolition contractor, it is important to find one who has extensive experience and is licensed to work in your area. It is also essential to ask about their safety record and whether they have insurance coverage for workers on the job site. You should also consider asking for references from past clients. These reviews can help you make a better choice.

The first step in demolition is to prepare the building for destruction. This involves preparing the site, including shutting off power and securing or removing utilities. It also includes identifying and securing any hazardous materials. Next, workers dismantle architectural and structural components of the building, which may be done piece by piece or using explosives. Afterwards, they haul away debris and rubble. In some cases, the debris is recycled or reused, which reduces the demolition’s environmental impact. The demolition process can be very dangerous, and workers must follow strict safety protocols to ensure the safety of all involved.

source https://demolitionhobarttas.wordpress.com/2023/05/29/choosing-demolition-contractors-in-hobart/

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kashimos-hajime · 5 years

Text

unbreak my heart new

Summary: “I scream for everything that has gone wrong. I scream for everything broken in our lives.”

WARNINGS: SUICIDE, torture and drug abuse implication, physical and gun violence, swearing Pairing: Detective Loki x Reader Word Count: 5.3k

A/N: thanks for the continued support guys. we’re halfway there

01 | 02 | ... | 04 | 05

The call to the Dover’s house, David goes to that. Stalking Keller Dover, he does that too.

You think it’s an awful idea that he’s taking so much of the responsibility but you know half of it is his way of focusing on the case. The other half is so he doesn’t have to look you in the eyes, so you don’t have to look him in the eyes.

Day seven. Nearly. Almost enough to make you forget.

Kids gone for a week have their chances cut in half. You don’t sleep on the eve of day seven and David asks if you want to come with him on the drive to Keller Dover’s house. You don’t understand his sudden change of heart but you more than welcome it. You’ve been chained to the office for what feels like days, and to even walk is such a chore you can barely muster the strength to try. You don’t want to talk to anyone and no one talks to you.

You’re a zombie in the land of the living, just trying to find someone to put you out of your misery, and today it appears to be David.

“His house?”

“The dad’s house. Committed suicide in the red brick across the liquor store.” The sharp edges of his face soften when your lips press together. “I want you to come with me.”

“I…” Your voice falters. “I’m tired, David, I just… I’m so fucking tired.” You hold him so tight to you that you nearly snap his spine in two. “It’s day seven.” The words sound so simple, and terrible, and you wonder if officers ever know how awful simple facts sound to those who grieve.

“I know, baby.” The endearment comes and goes, through one ear, out the other, and you want to sob into his chest. In the stairwell of the station, you wonder how easy it could be to just fix all of this between the two of you.

“Alex might be there.” An ugly sound wants to screech through your throat. “Fucking Keller might’ve… he probably took him.”

“Come with me to the house and find out.” He pulls back, wipes invisible tears from your oily cheeks. The pads of his thumbs are rough as you breathe in the scent of his gum. You need to shower, you need to eat. You need to breathe fresh air and learn how to smile again. “Come with me.”

The word shapes your mouth weirdly as you nod. “Okay.”

It wouldn’t be easy at all.

You wish David were here.

You know one of you needs to go find the new lead, but you wish it didn’t mean you had to split up.

It isn’t that you don’t trust your own instincts or skills around Keller, but size can overcome you in a small space like this, the hallways of the old Dover home narrow. Plus, you like it when someone has your six.

“Just you and me now,” you comment loosely, walking through the kitchen back downstairs. Best to double check everything before you head out and meet with David at whatever address he’ll text you.

“Look, can you… can you go? I prefer drinking alone,” Keller replies. Your finger drags through the fine layer of dust on the countertop as you turn around, frown gracing your features. There’s something off about this house. Maybe it’s the aura — suicide, abandoned ever since. Maybe it’s the company.

“Something you’re hiding?” Wiping off the residue, you feel the dust slip off your fingers before you look at the empty beer bottle Keller holds with a pearly white grip. “Just wanted to stay, make sure we didn’t miss anything.” You stroll out of the kitchen, eyes dancing from broken walls to fallen plaster along bare floors and he follows after you, a dog on your tail. The mat he was sleeping on has been displaced and you crouch before it, sniffing.

Nudging it with a finger, you turn to glance at Keller before inspecting the fabric. Besides the fact the man’s wearing at least day-old clothes, you spotted some stains on the crevices of his fingernails. The stubborn kind blood leaves when it’s left to dry.

“You and your partner close?” he asks, and you pause before standing straight up again. “I… you seem close and the captain said the two of you’ve been partners since you graduated. That you’re good.”

“Detective Loki and I have been friends for a long time. Any further than a professional relationship is none of your business.” Your words come out bitter and cold.

“Yeah, well you’re wasting your time following me and searching a house you didn’t find anything in.”

Blood floods your mouth. “Yeah? And you’re here instead of being with your son and wife. You’ve a good kid, and you’re here getting drunk, alright? I’m trying to do the best I can.” You let out a metallic breath, nose twitching and you wipe at it, turning to face the man fully. Your words burn vilely in your mouth and you can’t help but wince at the lost glaze in his eyes. You close your eyes. Fuck.

You gotta regain your wits.

Inhaling a lungful of dust and plaster and probably asbestos, you open your eyes and look to the stairs. “I’m gonna head up if you wanna keep following me.”

Your boots thunder against creaky wood.

“I think I will.”

His storm after you.

Your eyes sweep the bedrooms again, every inch of the hallways, the spider crawling along the shoe moulding, its cobweb in the doorjamb. Your phone vibrates for a moment and you pause, taking it out and flipping it open. Placing it near your ear, your hear David’s voice come over the speaker.

“I’m at 437 Carrol Street. Right outside Value Mall guy.”

“Alright. Update me on what you find.” You glance back to see Keller looking at you like a wolf. “I’m sweeping the house one more time in case you missed anything.”

“Think I’m slipping?”

“Think we’re tired.” You fall silent, just hearing him breathe on the other end as you press your lips into a thin line. Half of you wants to say more than just ‘bye’ but you can’t betray your previous words to Keller. “Talk to you soon.”

“See you.”

With that, you pocket your phone and head into the bathroom. It’s a small space, and you shiver at the way the walls seem to cave in on you.

“What is this?” you ask, turning around to look at Keller. The shower boxed in wood. The smashed sink. Your eyes rake over the tiled wall and plaster around the covered window as you shove your hands into your pockets. Your fingers play with the phone as you sniff. The whole place reeks of mold and shit. God, it’s awful. “Mind telling me what happened here?”

“Nothing. Renovating. Keeps me busy while the police waste their time.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.”

Your eyes float over the wood again as you walk as close as you can to the shattered window. Your gaze drops to the floor then. No signs of broken glass, porcelain remains of the sink basin are clean too and tucked underneath the actual sink. You lift a hand to run it over wood, eyes following the grain.

“How’d the window break?”

“I don’t know. It was broken when I came here. Probably some kids playing pranks on an empty house with rocks.”

“Mhm.” You turn to the boxed in shower again, knocking on the wood. An indescribable feeling pulls your lips down as you lean forward. You hadn’t missed the black tubing on the lower left of the box. The reek intensifies and you furrow your brow, tipping your ear to the wood. “You have faulty plumbing or something?”

“Yeah. Old house.”

“Right.”

Your hand falls flat against the rough surface, dragging down with a soft whisper until it reaches the black tube. Tapping the tube, you frown.

“What’s this for?”

“Lets the gas disperse. I don’t want to let it build up,” the man says. Liar. Keller’s eyes wide, his hands shake at his sides and you know that this is something he wants to hide. Tracing the edge of the tube, you take out your flashlight and point it into the tube.

A long, long shiver crawls up your spine as you spot the liquid condensating along the inside as well as a figure, shifting in the pitch black. Pulling out a tissue, you shove the thing down the tube and swipe at the insides before pulling out.

You pull your tissue out, and swallow a knot at the redness smearing the tissue. It shines under the pale yellow lights and you want to scream as you crumple up the blood-soaked thing up. A shiver of revulsion crawls up your stomach and you fight it down unsuccessfully. Fuck.

“What’s in here, Mr. Dover?” Your voice shakes even though you don’t want it to. Your eyes lift to the man and you can see the moment he realizes you know. You think you would’ve felt anger well up inside you at the abduction of a man that you need to solve the case — the case — but inside of your empty body is nothing but grief. He doesn’t attack you, doesn’t even move from the doorframe and the gun at your hip weighs heavy, unbalances you.

“He took my daughter.”

“This is 13-40. I need additional unit for search. 437 Carrol Street. Possible kidnapping victims on the premises.”

The radio clipped to your belt blares too loudly for such a quiet space and you both jump. Your eyes widen as you silence it, gaze returning to his. You swallow a dry tongue and taste ash as your hand finds your gun.

“He wasn’t the one who did it. You can hear it now, can’t you?” You glance down at your radio for a moment. “I’m going to call an ambulance and head to Carrol Street. And, I’m not going to take you with me.”

“But he knows. He knows who did, and he can tell me.” You turn to stare into the wood, the dark prison that holds a man with the brain of a boy and you shake your head. It’s atrocious. It’s inhumane. It’s disgusting and you hate that you feel like you would’ve done it, too, once. Now, you’d tear down the wood yourself if it didn’t mean you’d lose your fingers in the process. “Detective, wait.”

“This is me letting you off easy, Mr. Dover.” You dig out your phone and dial, waiting for the line to connect as you leave the bathroom and walk down the hall. “You should take it.” Your hair falls into your face from the sway of your gait. You can barely see straight and you sure as hell see something red as you rake your hair away from your eyes. “I need an ambulance. Possible multiple blunt force traumas, burns, and other unknown injuries at my location.”

“Tracked. We’re dispatching. Confirm location?”

Descending the steps, you give the address of the liquor store just across the hill and slip your phone back into its place as Keller calls after you. You break out into fresh air before he catches you and grabs your arm. You spin around, thrashing your arm of his grip and swiping out a leg.

He’s pinned to the ground before he can even speak.

“Here’s what I want you to do,” you spit, your hand grasping the collar of his shirt so tight you can feel his chest heaving. His eyes wide, his breaths come harshly as your fist tightens at his throat. Stale beer and iron air ghosts over your cheek as you lean down towards him. “You’re going to let Alex Jones free, dump him at the store, and then you’re gonna run back to your family. You’re gonna pretend you weren’t here, torturing this man, alright?”

A nod is your response.

“You let him go, or I’ll be back to arrest you, and you’re not going to see your daughter again, whether we find her or not.” You push off of him, pushing hair out of your face as your lungs struggle for cold wind. You feel like you’re covered in dust and you shiver, walking back to your car. Swinging open the door, you pause to watch Keller get to his feet before sliding into the leather driver’s seat.

It’s nothing like David’s uncomfortable Sedan, but you’d rather have the company over the car.

“This is 13-41,” you report into the radio as soon as you’re inside. “10-4.”

You twist the keys into the ignition. You don’t focus on the road as you should. Instead, you wait for Keller Dover to walk back inside before you even think of joining David at 437 Carrol Street.

“There’s something you’re hiding from me.” David’s voice weaves dulcetly into your ears as you watch Bob Taylor drag charcoal over paper. You glance at the man, sitting on the table. His eyes do not stray from Bob Taylor, and you blink. The shadows carve at his face magnificently, a Grecian work of art, and you wonder if his skin is marble or just a trick of the light.

“Why do you think that?” you ask lowly.

“I just know.” He turns his head just enough to catch sight of you in the corner of his eye and you meet his gaze steadily.

“Alex Jones was found and you still doubt it? I told you where he just showed up at the liquor store.” You shrug and instead focus on the monitors, watching at different angles as Bob rotates the ruler to add another straight line in that circle of his. “I’m going to go see the aunt as soon as we get a peep outta this guy.”

“Police haven’t told her yet?”

“Wanna make sure he’s gonna come out of it alright. He has internal bleeding and a broken cheek, other shit. Hospital said he’s in surgery.” Your hands rub together as you lean forward on your knees.

“Okay.” You know that tone. Disappointment, we’ll talk about it later, normally ends with a shouting match. You can’t wait.

“Look, you said snakes were there?”

“Yeah, fucking tons.”

You drag your hand over your face and your fingers rub over the swollen purple underneath your eyes as you look at him. Your throat knots itself as your stomach curdles like spoiled milk. What you wouldn’t give to throw up right now. The thought of those thin little reptiles, spiraling up your legs and body, causes the blood to flush out of your face. You shiver.

“And bloody clothes?”

A cough, and then: “Yeah.”

“Any of hers?”

David’s mouth opens to respond before the door opens and the two of you jolt out of whatever bubble was forming.

“Evening, detectives.” Captain strolls right in like he owns the place and you sigh, fitting your forehead to your palm. Your eyes are beginning to burn from the brightness of the interrogation room. “How long has this Bob Taylor been working on this map?”

“Three and a half hours.”

“Think this is gonna lead to the bodies? I sure as shit don’t.”

“Why don’t you go ahead a few rounds and try questioning him?” you snap, lifting your head. Your fingers press together before your lips, your elbows dig into your knees, and you barely rein in whatever else you want to say. David’s fingers roll into a fist on his thigh and you eye the gesture wearily. You know he’s on his wit’s end and you sure as hell don’t have any intention of saying it’s okay. The two of you are running out of time, and you can’t fucking afford this bullshit of your captain doubting your abilities. Day seven, day seven, day seven.

“That looks more like a maze than a map,” he inputs. As if either of you were begging for his input.

“He’s got a thing for mazes.” There is a beat afterwards where the Captain’s gaze flickers from you to David, both intently watching a man draw a stupid fucking maze, before he sighs.

“I’m going home. Call me if something happens.”

“Fuck,” you whisper as soon as he’s gone. You stand up on unsteady legs, hands bracing yourself against the table as you lean in beside David. You can’t be staring at him. Some guy who might be the one is sitting drawing fucking mazes and all you can feel is the taste of rot. “It can’t be him. It can’t be. He’s too young.”

“This isn’t that case,” he murmurs, quietly enough so only you can hear. “You know it could be him.”

“I don’t, David.” And your eyes find his. A muscle in his jaw ticks as you find yourself gazing into the monitor again. “I don’t.”

David does not utter another word. He slides into a chair, rubbing his cheek and you sit down next to him. Your hands rest lifelessly on the arms of the chair and you feel his fingers brush over your knuckles. Over the ink. He’s thinking about it again.

You don’t move your hand away.

It’s two hours more before you think you’re going to vomit. Your muscles have reduced to nothing more than a molten mess. David sits rigidly beside you, a statue that is close to cracking. He’s been hunched over, face shoved into a screen for more than an hour now and despite what you want to say, you don’t. You don’t even know if you can speak. You run a finger over your brow, leaning into your chair.

A soft hum rolls through the comms. You straighten up, glancing from the monitors to the window. “What the hell…”

“Give me that card, John. The key card.”

You straighten up and turn around, grabbing David’s arm. “What the fuck are you gonna do, huh?”

“I’m done waiting.”

“No. David—” He thrashes his arm from your grip and you stand, your knees giving out for a moment before you catch yourself on the chair. “David, wait!” Pushing yourself up, you sink back into your chair and turn to the monitors. Another bout of nausea dousing your brain, you cover your mouth with a hand and swallow.

“All right, it’s done now. Tell me what you’re drawing. You said you’re drawing a map. That looks like a puzzle.” There is a pause and you lean in closer to the monitor. You can see every line of tension, every inch of David’s body that hasn’t had a wink of sleep since this whole case started and your bones turn to lead in your arms. You know how to read this man inside and out, a man full of half-torn pages and unfinished thoughts. A man no one bothered to raise and shit, your heart burns for him as you press your fingers together before your lips. “Tell me what you’re drawing.”

Silence.

“I can’t.”

You blink and you miss it. David takes the man by the shoulders, wrenching him back into the chair and you stand suddenly. Black stars erupt in your vision as you stumble for the door. John’s hands reach for you but you slap him away.

“Give me the fucking copy of the key card,” you hiss and a slip of plastic is placed into your outstretched hand as you hear a solid slam of someone colliding with the table. Your breaths come out harsh as you swipe the card, hearing the beep like a saving grace. Another slam. The sound rattles in your ears as you twist the handle and shove open the door. You stumble in and grab your partner by the shoulders despite how much it burns and you feel him twist out of your grasp.

“Yes, you can! Yes, you can!”

“David, fuck! Calm down!” Hauling the broad-shouldered fucker back, bodies surround you as John and Carter help you pull the detective off Bob. “Get him off!”

“Yes, you can! Tell me!” Your fingers dig into the veins of David’s hands and you hear him scream in your ear as you finally claw his hands loose and shove him away. John and Carter tear him away and you give him an extra push, eyes glaring daggers into his face.

“Oh, shit! Gun. Gun. Gun!”

“Detective!”

Heart shredding within your ribcage, your lungs burn in your stomach as you turn around slowly. You breathe deeply, jaw clenching as you raise your hands above your head immediately. Your eyes, no matter how much you want to close them, remain open to see a gun in Bob Taylor’s hands, aimed right at your chest. Lips parting, your pants whisper between your teeth, shaking uncontrollably as you swallow, trying to grab at the fleeting remains of your voice. You hear the sound of guns drawn and you press your lips into a thin line, slowly approaching the man.

“Bob… Bob, it’s okay.”

Blood trickles down his broken nose and tears run down his flushed face. A wild, hunted animal stares back at you with doe, red-rimmed eyes. He must see you as a wolf before him but you lift your chin so he can see you better as he moves the gun right between your eyes.

“I can’t tell you.”

“I can help you,” you whisper, taking another step towards him. He whimpers and lifts the gun, going from your forehead to his jaw. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Put the gun down, now!”

You lower your hands. You can hear the gun shake in his palm, his finger dancing over the trigger and you hold your hands out in front of you. Blood swims in your ears as something trickles down your cheek.

“Help me.”

“Bob, it’s okay. I can help you.”

“Bob! Put the gun down!”

“Shut up, David! Bob. It’s okay. I can help you. You don’t have to worry. It’s okay. Ignore them.”

“Put the gun down, now!” Bob Taylor’s eyes no longer focus on yours, instead drift off to where you’re sure guns point directly at him. Your jaw clenches until it aches as he takes a step back from where you nearly reached him. He presses against the wall and you shuffle forward, barely taking a step.

“It’s okay. Ignore them. Bob, hey! Bob—” You gently touch his arm and his eyes dart to yours. A wolf leading her pack. The blood flushing from your face, an intense cold overtakes your senses. Your fingers urge him to lower the gun, pushing down on his wrist and you can feel the sweat gathering in his palms, the cuffs clinking as his eyes lift to them again. “Don’t look at them. Look at me. It’s okay.”

“Put the gun down, Bob.”

“Stop fucking shouting at him!”

“Back down!”

“No! Stop pointing guns at him!” You whip around to spot John and David, guns aimed right for the both of you and you nearly wretch at the vile acid burning up your throat as David’s eyes widen.

“Bob, no! Bob, Bob, Bob. No!” Whirling around, blood and iron flood your mouth as the sight of the muzzle deep down Bob’s throat burns itself into your head. “No! No, no, no!”

“Bob, no, don’t do it. It’s gonna be okay.” Your hands find his wrists, and you make him look at you as your heart pulses in your throat like thunder. “It’s gonna be okay. You get to finish your maze. It’s okay. It’s okay. Just gotta take it outta your mouth. I can help.”

His finger slides over the trigger and you can feel a vein in his forearm pulse as he closes his eyes.

“Bob, it’s okay.” You want to close your eyes, too, but instead, an unforgiving smile finds its way onto your lips. “It’s okay. Just listen to me. It’s okay.”

“Put the gun down, now!”

“Just take it outta your mouth. Slowly. It’s okay.”

“No, Bob. No! No! No, don’t!”

“It’s okay, Bob. It’s going to be okay. Just lemme help. I can help you. Let me—”

“Get down!”

BANG.

You drop. It’s an instinct they drilled into you when you were just a kid, to get down at anyone's command and you fall to your knees, hands slapping over your ears as a body drops next to you. Your ears nearly burst at the sound but it hollows out quickly as you raise your head and let your hands drop to the floor. Your knuckles collide with the linoleum floor as blood slides over glass and paint.

“Fuck. Go call a fucking R.A.” Your eyes drift over the placid body as hands grab at your shoulders. “You… you okay? Fuck, you okay?” David whispers, voice shaking uncontrollably and you turn to look at him. You blink, eyes searching his face and he cups your cheek, wiping away something wet.

It takes a moment for the sound, the sight, the smell, all of it to sink into your mind. And when it does, you see red. Taking him by the collar of his shirt, you swing at him.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” you scream as soon as your knuckles meet his face. “What the fuck were you thinking?” Something wet slides over your cheeks as he falls back, off balance by the weight of your punch and you crawl over him, your fingers hooked into his shirt. You shake him as hard as you can, lifting him up as tears track over his blossoming cheek. His whole face shattered, he merely looks up to you with wide, accepting eyes and you pull at his collar, wanting him to hurt, wanting him to feel as sick as you do. “What the hell was that?”

When he does not say anything, merely looks at you with that fragility of broken glass and the darkness of an eclipse, you cannot swallow back bile any longer. You throw him to the floor, getting up on unsteady legs and stumble out of the room, slamming into the door. You don’t know where the fuck you’re going, your vision swimming with black, but you don’t care as your hands reach out blindly for something to throw up into.

You fall into a room, managing to slam the door shut behind you as you collapse. The smell of stale coffee fills your sinuses and you gag. Your fingers find a plastic bag and you lean over just as coffee and stale water dribble over your chin. Water and acid and whatever else you’ve managed to stuff into your stomach splash into the trash can, and you sniff, tears slipping over your cheeks as you close your mouth only for more to come. Something soft and warm and tasting utterly disgusting crawls its way up your throat and you only know after you’re done vomiting your guts out that it’s gummies you ate nearly three days ago.

When did you last ingest something that wasn’t coffee? Or gummies? Or… or toothpaste?

Fuck.

Hands run down your back and you swing behind you blindly, landing hard with a bicep as you sob into the trash bin. Collapsing against the black plastic thing, heat clouds your face. Snot and saliva track down your face as those hands pull your hair away and you throw up again, throw up foul air and tears and fuck, fuck, fuck.

“I’m sorry, baby,” someone whispers, a wet cheek pressing into your back and your head dips into the trash bin. Your hot, rancid breath puffs back at you but you don’t have the strength to get up. Your arms line the sides of the bins, and your legs are sprawled behind you as a figure presses itself against your shape. Arms wrap around your abdomen as you raise your head, sweat-slick skin cooling against the air outside the trash bin. Your eyes slip closed.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” you ask. Your throat aches and your muscles have atrophied but you still muster the strength to look at the man behind you. “Why?”

“I don’t fucking know. I just wanna find her,” he mumbles into your shirt and a watery attempt at a smile fights its way onto your face. Wiping at your mouth with a sleeve, you twist around and embrace the quivering man. Your legs wrap around his waist as he slumps against your chest, and you bury your nose in his hair as tears mark their way through your cheeks again. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Fuck, I… Fuck.” Your hands rake through his hair, down his back, through the heat of his waist as your body almost melts into him. He lifts the exhaustion, fights off the weights chained to your ankles as his shoulders still underneath your hands. Pressing your cheek against his head, you open your eyes and let him sink into you. His weight is so familiar you cannot help your soft, warbling sigh.

He takes a broom and dustpan, and sweeps up the shattered fragments of who you could’ve been, before delicately gluing them together again. For a mere moment, you feel so much younger than you are, just fifteen and on the other side of a chain link fence, and you want to scream.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into your chest, cheeks slick with tears. Your fingers still card through his messy hair, trace the tattoo along the vein of his neck, and you lift your head to the soft, cool air. “I’m so sorry.” His hands grab at you desperately, like you’ll disappear into thin air, and you lean against the wall, legs barricading him, shielding him away from the world for a moment.

You close your eyes. You wonder if the monsters in men always win and then shake the notion away. If the monsters always won in life, David would’ve left you in a drug den long ago.

“You’re a good man, Loke, and when you find a woman who loves you, you’ll make a fine father, too.”

“You don’t love me?”

“You know I do.”

The memories swim in your head like minnows. Your eyes closed, you just wait, even though your legs are numb and you can barely feel the tips of your fingers. David’s fingers begin to trace pointless shapes into you and you raise your head at the sensation. Disgusting sweat and vomit has left you covered in something that feels a lot like hot oil but you merely press the bridge of your nose into his hair.

He raises his head and you sniff when he sits up, pulling you into his lap. Your legs wrap around his waist and you hook your arms underneath his, burying your face into his shoulder. His hand runs over his hair, his other arm wrapped around your waist like a belt as you close your eyes.

You’ve missed him.

“Tell me it’ll be okay,” you whisper, voice muffled by his shoulder and his hand, still threading through your hair, pauses. You close your eyes tight as his jaw brushes against your temple, and you turn towards him. You feel like a hundred cars have run you over, and your whole body aches. His hands soothe some of the pain, but not all of it. “If we don’t find these girls, tell me we’ll survive it.”

“I love you,” he tells you instead, a broken promise and you raise your head, eyes blank and distant and his, deep as oceans and just as heavy, barely find the strength to meet yours. His lips press against your temple and something quiet, something completely broken inside you, tells you he’s only desperate.

It’s an hour before you two disentangle and walk through the halls again, and he whispers this broken promise once more before you must part for the locker room and he, the conference room. This time, you cannot even bear to look at him, and you walk away, the sound of a gunshot echoing in your skull.

tags: @woah-jess @jenlrose @mytinybaguette @arcaneloki @space-helen @dulharpa @bohemianrhapsody86

#fic: 1996 #prisoners #prisoners 2013 #detective loki #detective loki x reader #detective loki imagine #detective loki x you #detective loki x y/n #detective loki fanfiction #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal x you #jake gyllenhaal x yn #jake gyllenhaal x y/n #jake gyllenhaal fanfiction #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #my writing

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assesscontrol · 5 years

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What to do if you Find Asbestos in your House?

Asbestos is a toxic material that was used for construction in buildings till the 1970s. once it was discovered that it has severe health effects on people, its use was discontinued in buildings and construction material. However, there are plenty of buildings and homes that were built before that period that still have asbestos in their walls.

If you think you have found asbestos in your house, the first thing you have to do is to seal off the area and prevent anyone forms your family from entering this. then, you need to get it cleaned up and have the rest of your house checked out to see if there is more of it there.

Now you must already be searching for ‘asbestos inspection near me’ - but worry not, you are covered in that if you happen to be in Australia. When it comes to asbestos assessment, Australia has a distinct advantage. The ACA Property Risk Assessment firm can help you with all your asbestos-related problems.

The Asbestos Dust

The biggest health risk with asbestos is that it produces fine particles of dust that can enter your body via air. These fibers are a cause of many ailments like asbestosis, lung cancers and cancers of the skin. If the material you have found in the house is not showing any signs of wear and tear, it will likely not produce any dust. For example, internal cement sheet walls or ceilings that are covered with paint don’t pose any threat as they are covered.

On the other hand, if the sheets are showing damage, it is very likely that there is asbestos dust in your house. In such cases, you would be smart to search for ‘asbestos inspection near me’ and find a firm that can help with the clean-up of the house.

Handling Asbestos

Suppose you do find something that has a lot of damage and can cause the production of asbestos dust that is so harmful to us. In such cases, first of all, you need to find a firm that does asbestos assessment in Melbourne, or wherever it is that you live.

Next, while the experts arrive, here are the precautions you must undertake while handling the material:

Do not use any power tools near the material. It will cause a build-up of more asbestos dust that can seriously harm you.

Do not use any abrasive cutting tools or sanding discs. This can also cause more asbestos dust to build up.

Do not use compressed air near the material. This can cause flying off of tiny asbestos dust particles that you may not be able to see.

Do not use a high-pressure hose near the material for the same reason as the one listed above.

Do not walk on the roof created by corrugated asbestos. This can lead to breaking off the roof and falling through.

Do not leave the materials in the garden where they can be broken by children or cause damage to the passers-by.

Make sure that if you do work with the material, it is in a ventilated area to prevent a build-up of the dust.

If you want to get rid of the material yourself, make sure that it is wet while you get it out. Ensure that it stays wet the entire item so that there is no dust.

While you can theoretically handle asbestos yourself if you take enough precautions, it is not under the experts’ recommendation. It is safer to let the experts take care of the material. And if you want to get an asbestos inspection done in Melbourne, your best option is ACA Australia Property Risk Management Firm.

The seasoned experts here will ensure your home is safe from any such problems. You can visit their website to make an appointment or call them for the same.

#Asbestos Inspection Near Me #Asbestos Assessment Melbourne #asbestos inspection #Asbestos Inspection Melbourne

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hopeisour4letteredword · 5 years

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Coffee Break

Summary: Flynn gets his chat over coffee, but he and Yuri still can’t help catching on each others’ rough edges.

Part of the Feeling Pretty Good About the Trouble That I’m In series. Link to AO3 in the notes.

The coffee shop is one of Flynn’s favorites. Not his absolute favorite, because Yuri got weird about it and shot him down when he suggested that one. But this place is still up near the top of the list. Not too expensive, either. Hopefully some good food will ease a little bit of the tension from this meet up.

Flynn tries not to fidget as he waits out front. Is his outfit alright? He didn’t know what to wear for this. When he meets his coworkers and classmates, he usually shoots for business casual. But this isn’t a coworker or a classmate, it’s Yuri, and that makes everything paradoxically more and less important. Flynn erred on the casual side, one of his favorite worn t-shirts and a light, comfortable over-shirt, and he’s still irrationally afraid Yuri’s going to show up and call it pretentious.

He’s a little early. He has no right to be anxious that Yuri is a no-show just because he isn’t here yet. Besides, Yuri’s run late for everything before and after they were on the fencing team together in high school, so—

“Hey,” Yuri says, at precisely eleven o’ clock, giving Flynn a goddamn heart attack. Flynn whips around to stare at him. He’s got his hands shoved into his pockets, an untucked button-down shirt and jeans on, and a leash on one wrist that trails down to a panting but cheerful Repede. He looks just as uncomfortable as he did at the veterinary clinic. “Hope you don’t mind a third wheel. I don’t like to leave him home alone if I’ve got a choice, but I can take him b—“

“No!” Flynn says, hastily. As though he would ever be unhappy with Repede. He mentally ushers himself away from thoughts of intimate situations where he actually might prefer Repede’s absence. Those were only ever pipe dreams even at their relationship’s closest, and Yuri barely wants to talk to him right now. “No, you don’t have to do that. I’ll order for you while you grab one of the patio tables for us. Do you know what you want?”

“Just, like.” Yuri scrubs at his face. He seems exhausted. “A black coffee. And a plain croissant, or whatever they have that’s closest. I don’t have much of an appetite.”

Flynn frowns, considering his appearance. He has dark bags under his eyes, and he looks a little pale. “Do...you want to take a rain check? Because if—“

“No,” Yuri snaps, then visibly takes a deep breath. “Sorry. I worked late. There’s not really going to be a good time to meet up when that won’t be true.”

“Okay,” Flynn says, carefully. “Coffee and a black croissant—oh, hell, I mean—“

He’s already made a fool of himself. It’s worth it, though, because a solid 75 percent of the tension leaks out of Yuri’s shoulders as he muffles laughter into his hand, a twinkle in his eye for the first time Flynn’s seen in years.

“A croissant and black coffee,” Flynn corrects himself. It’s hard not to smile in return when Yuri grins like that. God, Flynn had almost forgotten how beautiful he is. Pictures have never done Yuri justice. They can’t capture his vibrancy. “Do you want the receipt?”

“Yeah, I’ll pay you back.”

Flynn thinks about announcing it’s his treat, then remembers Yuri’s fight with Schwann at the clinic. “Sure thing.”

He leaves Yuri to pick a table and goes inside to order. Croissant, black coffee—Flynn almost orders him a large, because he looks like he needs it, but then feels guilty about making that call when Yuri’s going to be the one shelling out the extra money—and for Flynn, soup in a bread bowl and an iced tea. He loiters until the order is ready, watching Yuri through the glass shopfront. He’s slumped bonelessly into his chair, head lifted off the table just enough to look at something on his phone. Repede lounges in the shade under the table at his feet. Now that Flynn’s looking at both of them together, it’s a little disconcerting how healthy Repede is in direct contrast with how wrecked Yuri seems. Flynn shakes himself out of his thoughts long enough to collect the tray with their food and take it outside.

“So,” he says. Yuri grabs his coffee off the tray without looking before Flynn can even put it down all the way. His phone stays out until Flynn is all the way into his seat. “What’s new with you?”

Yuri shrugs. His gaze flickers up to meet Flynn’s, then back down to his croissant. “I told you, not a lot. Same routine as usual.”

“What about your new roommates?” Flynn presses.

“I don’t know what to tell you about them.”

That’s fine. Flynn works out enough to carry this conversation for a long while. Yuri will probably loosen up once Flynn can get him going. “Well, what are their names? What do they do?”

“Judy and Estelle, they’re the ones with jobs. Judy bartends and waitresses. She’s a real livewire. She does kickboxing and capoeira on the side. Estelle’s got a part time at the local library, and Hanks is a little soft on her, so he’s been giving her a little money for helping with tutoring at the community center. She’s pretty good at it, he’s been trying to get her to start her own gig. Made her draft some flyers and everything.”

“They sound fun,” Flynn says, a little wistfully. He wonders if Judy gets to spar with Yuri. He misses being able to do that. He wouldn’t mind meeting this Estelle, either—ever since Miss Estellise went missing, he hasn’t had anyone to discuss fine literature with. For a fleeting second he wonders if maybe, possibly Estelle is Estellise. Surely, though, someone would have said something to the police by now if that were true? Flynn had a meeting with Alexei just last week, and he said she was still missing. “How’d you meet them?”

“Judy and I used to work together. We both got fired for not putting up with a customer’s bullshit.” Of course they did. That’s Yuri all over. “We stayed friends after that, and she moved in a while ago after... stuff. Her business, not mine to tell. Estelle and I met at the community center. She needed a place to stay so I’m putting her up until she sorts herself out.”

“That’s very kind of you.” And just as typically Yuri as the way he got fired. He never could look away while somebody needed help and he might be able to provide it. Yuri shrugs off the praise. “You said there are others?”

“Karol and Rita,” Yuri says. He knocks back a long swig of coffee. “School kids. Twelve and fifteen. Babies, really. Technically, legally speaking, Judy and I are fostering them.”

“Didn’t Schwann—I mean, Dr. Oltorain, he said you’re in a two-bedroom apartment. They let you foster with five people in a two-bedroom apartment? How old is Judy, to be their second guardian?”

Yuri opens his mouth, starts to say something, and then closes it. This process repeats another couple times. Flynn remembers, with the beginnings of dread, that this is Yuri’s usual response to inquiries where the answer is possibly illegal, definitely not great, and sure to disappoint Flynn.

“Yuri...”

“I don’t want to lie to you, but...”

“Yuri, honestly.”

“You asked for it. Rav—Doctor... man, what the fuck is his name? All-terrain?”

“Repede has had the same vet for his entire life. How do you not know his name?”

“I know his name, just not that one.” Yuri gives him a deeply aggrieved look, like Flynn is the unreasonable one here. “He let us pretend we were living with him for the inspection.”

“He what?!”

“I didn’t want to tell you because you obviously respect him, but you asked.”

“That’s—God, that’s not even fair to the kids!”

“You’re right,” Yuri says, visibly losing patience by the second. “It’s so fucked up of me to let the kids—who chose this, I’ll point out—decide that they’d rather live with young adults they trust in temporarily less-than-ideal circumstances instead of, you know, going back to abusive households or a fucking orphanage or something.”

“Children don’t always know what’s best for them—“

“And adults don’t always listen enough to know what’s best for them, either.”

“Other people in their lives can help make that call!”

“Yeah, they did. Do you think Raven helped us get custody because we’re inept guardians?” Yuri slams a hand against the table top. His coffee sloshes dangerously in its cup. “Do you think Hanks would let me do this if he thought it was an unlivable situation? Do you think I haven’t looked at the apartment and wondered if this is really fucking okay? I don’t want them to have to live like this, Flynn! But if Karol isn’t with us, he’ll be with someone who hits him! I’m not alright with that! If Rita isn’t with us, she’ll be self-isolating and self-destructing with some stranger she hates who doesn’t care as long as she’s not actively causing them trouble and they still get a paycheck! I’m not just going to sit on my ass and watch that happen because my apartment is small right now!”

His volume gets higher and higher as he talks, until he’s almost shouting at the end. He’s on the edge of his chair, hackles raised, hands clenching the edge of the table. Flynn watches him, frozen in place. Yuri’s chest heaves for breath for a moment, until he collapses backwards into his chair, throat working with a hard swallow. When he talks again, it’s quieter.

“We’re... we’re working on it, alright? We’re trying to find a new place. Between me and Judy and Estelle, we should be able to upgrade to a three-bedroom, if we find a cheap one that isn’t also, like, filled with asbestos or some shit.”

“I had no idea,” Flynn says, softly. “I shouldn’t have—I had no idea.”

“Of course not,” Yuri says, wearily. “Yell at Yuri first, ask questions later. Standard procedure.”

“You know it’s not like that.”

“Do I?”

“I’m not—you know I’ve always respected your ability to follow through in hard situations, but sometimes it’s just... I worry about you.”

“You have a weird way of showing it,” Yuri mutters.

“You never listen to me when I try to be more subtle about it!”

“When the hell have you tried to be subtle about it?!” Yuri props an elbow on the edge of the table so he can sink his face into his palm. “You never ask questions before you flip out on me, you never go ‘hey, maybe that’s not a great idea, could you explain why you’re doing it that way?’ You just jump straight down my damn throat to chew me out! Sometimes shit isn’t so clear cut, alright? I know it’s my own fault for putting myself in these situations in the first place, but sometimes you have to make a hard call.”

“I—“ Flynn rubs his hands over his own face, breathing through gritted teeth. Only Yuri has ever been this infuriating. “Why does it always have to be you? You’re always the one making the hard calls. Why can’t you let somebody else take the heat for once? Why can’t you ever give yourself a break?”

“How am I supposed to know anybody else will follow through? I can’t leave that to chance.”

“Of course you can’t.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m not trying to! How are you so determined to defend the value of human compassion and so cynical about other people at the same time? It makes no sense.”

“Are you seriously asking me why I’m cynical about the foster system?”

Flynn winces.

“Look, a lot of people are good. Karol and Rita and Judy and Estelle, they’re good. The people who would have power over them if I backed down and let things happen, they’re shit-tier, awful people. This isn’t, like, commentary on humanity. These specific people suck.”

“So get some good people with power involved.”

“Like who?”

“Like—I don’t know, like Schwann. Why couldn’t you live with him for real?”

Yuri laughs, but it sounds a little hysterical. “Flynn, Schwann Oltorain is an alcoholic.”

“What? No.”

“I told you, Judy and I see him a lot at our bartending jobs. Too much.”

“That’s not funny.”

“No, it’s not. If it was, I’d let him take Karol. Karol likes Raven. But I think nihilistic drunk and childcare don’t really mix. So Karol stays with me until Judy can bully Raven into attending some AA meetings.”

“He never acts drunk or hungover at the clinic.”

“So what? A high-functioning alcoholic is still an alcoholic.”

“Maybe it’s not as bad as—“

“Raven agrees with me.”

...There wasn’t really a way to argue with that.

“Can I... I just want to try to explain myself.”

“By all means.” Yuri crosses his arms.

“You’re... I know it’s been a long time since we talked, but you’re still my best friend, you know that? I get it if you don’t feel that way about me anymore, but... It just feels like you’re always taking the risky moves to protect everyone else and it keeps blowing up in your face, over and over again. And I do worry about you, I really, really do. And I respect that you want to help people, and I respect that you’re willing to sacrifice yourself in the process, but it feels like you take bigger risks than you need to, sometimes, and that freaks me out.”

Yuri sighs. “What’s the smaller risk I could be taking, here?”

“I’m not even talking about this specific problem, it’s just. In general. I’m more worried about the pattern. I don’t know, get the bigger apartment first before you adopt the kids?”

“If I left the kids where they were, they’d still be getting abused while I got my shit together,” Yuri says. The fight has gone out of him again, and he just looks tired. “Besides, they’re the ones who kept showing up. The whole reason we bothered to put the paperwork through was so we wouldn’t get charged with kidnapping.”

“Jesus, Yuri.”

“I’m flattered, but no, I’m still regular old Yuri Lowell.”

Flynn snorts despite himself. “There’s nothing regular about you.”

“I’m gonna pretend that’s a compliment.”

“Good, that’s how I meant it.”

“Uh-huh. Can we change the subject now?”

“Yeah, okay.” Flynn stirs his soup a little, eating a spoonful while he thinks. It’s gone lukewarm in the time he and Yuri were arguing. “New roommates, apartment shopping... Is anything else new with you?”

“Well,” Yuri says. He’s staring down into his coffee. “Estelle had me do some tests, and it turns out I’m dyslexic. Probably. So that’s something.”

Flynn feels his face fall as he processes the news. How many years did they go to school together? Twelve? Thirteen? And he never once guessed, none of the times Yuri complained that reading was just a confusing jumble of words, none of the times Flynn watched him sit down and force himself to read something two, three times before he could glean enough information from it to answer whatever questions he needed to.

“I’m...I’m sorry,” he says. He starts to reach across the table, then hesitates, then makes himself finish the action. His fingertips glance over Yuri’s wrist, just above his bracelet. Yuri’s eyes flick to his hand and stay there. “For—for not noticing, and for how hard that must—“

Yuri snorts. “Hard? It’s not like it’s doing me any harm now. I’m a dropout. You don’t exactly read all that much in the service industry.”

“Are you joking?” Flynn asks, incredulously. “Do you really think this had nothing to do with you dropping out?”

Yuri finally looks up at that, his mouth set in a grim mockery of a smile. “I mean, speaking as the one who dropped out, I’m pretty sure it was just because I blew my chance, man.”

“You’re impossible.”

Yuri shrugs. He’s done it so many times during this conversation that Flynn is starting to hate it a little bit. “Sure.”

“Can you take this seriously? Please, Yuri.”

“You used up all of my emotional honesty tokens on the last topic.”

“I really hate it when you do this.”

“Do what?”

“You get so flippant whenever you get fucked over. This is exactly why I worry about you. Would it kill you to let yourself be mad about it for once? To let me be mad for you for once?”

“If we get mad about the injustice of fate or the universe or whatever, we’ll never stop being mad. We’ll just burn out.”

“You’re already always mad.”

“Yeah, but sustainably.”

“...Elaborate.”

“I’m mad at societal systems, not the universe. We can do something to change societal systems. It’s productive anger.”

Flynn sighs, taking his hand away from Yuri’s arm to run it through his hair. As though societal systems have nothing to do with Yuri’s learning disorder and academic issues? Of course, Yuri never applies these things to himself. Somehow it only counts for other people. Flynn doesn’t know why it surprises him anymore. “Okay. Sure. Productive anger, I guess that makes sense.”

“I’m done with talking about myself,” Yuri says, abruptly. “What about you? What’s new with you? How’s vet school?”

“It’s good,” Flynn says, reflexively. It’s just Yuri. Flynn doesn’t need to persuade him that he deserves his place there. “Hard,” he admits after another beat. “It’s a lot to keep up with.”

“Yeah, it’s like... med school lite, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think that’s a very good way to describe it, but I haven’t been to med school, so I guess I don’t know. You would hate it, though.”

“Oh yeah?”

“There’s not really breaks, on a day-to-day level. And you start by covering anatomy with a lot of dissections.”

“...Ouch.” Yuri’s face twists into an uncomfortable moue. He always did hate dissections in high school. It’s cute, in a way, knowing that his big heart is behind it. Flynn doesn’t miss the discrete way he shifts in his seat, either, presumably bumping his legs against Repede to reassure himself. Repede makes a sleepy whuffling sound. “How about friends? Roommates? Hot dates?”

“No roommates,” Flynn says, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ve got some study buddies from my classes, but we don’t do much together aside from classwork. It’s hard to have any kind of social life outside academia in vet school. Classes and labs and studying take up so much of my time... and now the clinic, too.”

Yuri flicks a piece of croissant at him. It lands in Flynn’s soup. This is the asshole Flynn is too hung up on to date other people. “If you’re that busy, you shouldn’t—“

“Don’t you dare tell me I shouldn’t be spending time with you,” Flynn warns him. It comes out a lot sharper than he means it to; Yuri’s eyes go wide. He won’t take it back, though, not when he can see in Yuri’s face that he guessed correctly. “Working with Schwann, and getting to see you again—it reminds me why I’m doing all this work, you know? And I have to know what you’re up to if I’m supposed to keep up.”

“You, keeping up with me?” Yuri snorts. “I think you’ve got that backwards.”

“You’re already helping people in the real world,” Flynn says. “I’m still in training.”

“You don’t exactly ignore people in need either, dude.”

“Take the damn compliment.”

“Oh my God, fine. Stop trying to kick me, you’re going to hit Repede.”

“You’re such a pain.”

“I’m a fucking delight,” Yuri says, solemnly, then breaks into a proud grin when Flynn throws his head back and laughs. “Come on. You really haven’t made any friends at vet school? None?”

“The first year of vet school is hard!”

“Wow. That’s just sad.”

“I’m hoping to join some student organizations or sports clubs next semester, when I’ve got my feet under me.”

“...You think you’d go back to fencing?”

Flynn chews on his lip. “...I don’t know. It might feel wrong, without you and Coach Niren and the rest of the team.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you...”

“Still miss him?”

“Yeah.”

Yuri wordlessly holds up his wrist. Flynn doesn’t need further elaboration on the worn-down bracelet. He remembers just as well as Yuri when Niren passed the leather cords out to the team on the bus to a tournament. Hisca and Chastel taught them all how to do the braiding so that the bracelet size was adjustable. Yuri’s didn’t turn out half bad, but Flynn’s is lumpy and misshapen. It doesn’t adjust as much as it’s supposed to.

“I’ve still got mine, too,” Flynn says. He fishes it out of his pocket. His keys are connected to it. “We can’t have accessories during labs and I wouldn’t want to get all that junk on it anyway, so...”

Yuri smiles crookedly. “Yours will last longer than mine, then.”

“Maybe.” It’s already in better shape than Yuri’s. “You’ve got Repede, though.”

“Repede isn’t just a reminder of Coach and Lambert,” Yuri says, defensively. Repede stirs at their feet at the mention of his name. Flynn reaches over to pat Yuri’s arm in placation.

“I know, I know. Sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“...You ended up with any pets of your own yet?”

“My current apartment doesn’t allow it... my lease is up soon, though. I’m hoping to move somewhere that lets me have a dog.” It would be hard, taking care of a dog and keeping up with vet school, but maybe it would help him with his work-life balance.

“Ha. We could do play-dates with your dog and Repede.”

Flynn feels his eyes crinkle up with his grin. “Yeah. That would be nice.”

They just smile at each other for a second. It’s still a little awkward, not quite as smooth as their conversations used to be, but Flynn already feels lighter than he has in months. Yuri looks a hundred times better than he did when he showed up. He nibbles at his croissant instead of just poking at it, and he’s relinquished his death grip on the coffee cup. Flynn opens his mouth to say something disgustingly sentimental—

And a loud beep makes them both jump about a foot in the air. Flynn forces himself to relax while Yuri curses and scrambles for his phone. Repede lurches into motion below the table, hackles raised. “Shit, sorry, I set a timer—goddamn, have we really been talking that long? I’m supposed to pick Rita up—“

“Oh, no, are you late?”

“Not yet, that’s what the timer’s for. Hey, do you need a ride anywhere? I can drop you off—”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to delay you—“

“You’ll delay me more by being wishy-washy. Yes or no, Flynn?”

“Yes,” Flynn says, firmly. “If you could drop me off at the clinic, that would be great. Where are you parked? I’ll bus our table while you get the car warmed up.”

Yuri waves a hand vaguely to the east and sprints off with Repede before Flynn can ask him to elaborate. Flynn rolls his eyes, but he still can’t wipe the silly grin off his face. Classic Yuri. They haven’t solved any of their problems yet, not for real, but maybe... maybe this time around, they’ve got a shot at it.

#fluri #flynn scifo #yuri lowell #tales of vesperia #Feeling Pretty Good About the Trouble That I’m In #long post #not art

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