#heavy duty gym flooring

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | damned if i do ya (damned if i don't)

a/n: oooohhhh i love them bad. the slow burn is slow burning a little bit. btw the song is daylight by 5sos!

series masterlist | previous | next

v. damned if i do ya (damned if i don't) by all time low

all the progress luke thought he was making with you was thrown out the window after the concert. at first, he was glad to have some distance between you guys. he was dealing with sorting out what he felt for you. it was stupid, really, how he realized that you reminded him a lot of his childhood nickelodeon crush, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that it was more than that. 

sure, you were a fucking headache sometimes, but he liked it. he liked you. he liked how you always tore him a new one, made him feel normal, like he wasn’t luke castellan – lead singer of poisoned mercury, he was just luke when he was with you. you asked him about his music, his life, but knew when to stop right before the conversation got too heavy because you understood him. you knew how he felt even when he didn’t say it. 

maybe he’d just been around his bandmates too much, teenage boys with emotional iqs of a thumbtack, but you took one look at him and he knew that you understood what he was feeling. as great of a writer he was when it came to music, he was never good with expressing how he felt. 

but now, it’s been weeks since you last talked to him, like really talked to him. whenever he’d see you in your smoke spot, he’d try to start a conversation, but you’d stuff your vape in your pocket and walk away before he could even say hi. you stopped going to the gym in the morning, often coming into the cabin after your workout during random times of the day, no longer following a set schedule. you rarely hung out with the boys, opting to retire into your room earlier than usual. you still joined clarisse during her counselor duties, but she stopped letting the boys tag along when luke was available as much as she used to. she’d offer an apologetic smile to luke and slip out an excuse why he couldn’t join for music lessons. 

luke was tired of it. he didn’t know what went wrong, what he did wrong, to make you act so cold towards him. even when you didn’t know him yet, you were never like this. you always had a snide remark ready for him, but now, he was met with silence. 

on the bright side, he at least had inspiration to write new songs. 

he wandered into the cabin, thinking that it would be empty. clarisse was being held hostage at arts and crafts again. (she complained the whole morning about it until chris offered to join her so she wouldn’t be the only one covered in glitter this time.) the stolls were in the studio recording the instrumentals for the song luke showed them a few days ago. they’d asked him who the song was about, though he had a feeling they already knew. he wasn’t really trying to be secretive with the words. and you, luke could only wonder where you were. 

he stopped in his tracks at the sound of mr. d’s voice in your room. your bedroom door was wide open and luke feared that you’d see him so he hid around the corner, back pressed against the wall. 

“this is serious, kid,” mr. d yelled. “your teammate is pressing charges so i need the full story! i don’t care if you don’t want to talk about it. this can go on your record permanently.” 

“so let it!” you screamed back. luke heard you pacing around your room, heavy steps against the cabin floors. “i don’t care.” 

“i care! i’ve been pretty goddamn lenient when it comes to you, y/n, but this?” mr. d countered, veins on his neck bulging out as he raised his voice. luke had never seen him like this, “this is fucking serious. you need to tell me exactly what happened.” 

“she was talking about you, okay?” you sobbed. you sat on your bed, hands buried in your open palms. “she said something about your addiction. i don’t fucking know how she found out, but she said something and i just lost it, dad. she was talking out her ass and i just needed her to shut up because she didn’t know what the fuck she was talking about.” 

mr. d’s tongue poked the inside of his cheek. he gulped, not saying a word. your dad looked at the decorated wall of your bedroom, polaroids of you and your friends, your framed high school field hockey jersey, and the concert ticket from the first show he ever took you to. he looked down at the pink rug on your floor, unable to say anything. 

you looked up at him, eyes brimmed with tears, “there, i told you. happy now?” 

it wasn’t long before mr. d stormed out of the cabin. luke flinched as the door slammed shut behind him. he heard you sobbing in your bedroom and he contemplated approaching you. you were already mad at him, for a reason that he still didn’t know, so what the hell? 

with a deep breath, luke emerged from the corner and walked towards your door. his knuckles softly knocked on the open door. you looked up at the noise, rubbing your eyes with your forearm. you chewed on your bottom lip, “not in the mood to argue, castellan.” 

“not here to argue,” he stood under your door frame, leaning against the side. “i’m here to see if you’re okay.” 

you had this habit of running away from things when you knew it had the power to hurt you. it wasn’t the healthiest coping mechanism, but your fight or flight response was triggered every time you started catching feelings for someone. it didn’t happen often, you developing actual feelings for people. you developed crushes, sure, but not feelings. 

you didn’t get googly-eyed and love-dumb with guys. you knew better– growing up with a dad who could quite literally transform people’s lives with a snap of his finger made you hyperaware of people’s intentions with you. but sometimes, you get blinded by the guy who sweeps you off your feet and you forget about it all. 

after the concert, you couldn’t stop thinking about luke. you already knew what kind of person he actually was, kind, caring, talented, all of the above, but there was still a nagging voice in your head telling you: “what if this is all an act?” “what if this is his move? pretending to be a different guy from the tabloids just to get you to fall for him then break your heart like everyone else did?” so you fled. you ran away from luke. 

clarisse caught onto you avoiding luke fairly quickly. she no longer saw you two walking into the cabin together in the early mornings when she was getting ready for the day. you started declining invitations to hang out at the activities center, stopped having time to help her with music lessons when the band was tagging along, and started hanging out with her in your room instead of the common space. 

she asked you about it after a week of the same thing. you told her you just weren’t in the mood, lacked energy. you said a million excuses but she could see right through you. you and the lead singer weren’t really subtle with your longing glances. 

you crossed your legs under you, pulling the blanket up to cover your legs. you moved over on your bed, tilting your head to let him inside. luke took his shoes off and closed the door behind him, sock-clad feet tapping against the wooden floors. he sat on the edge of your bed, playing with the stray thread on your blanket. 

“you ever feel like your parents wish they had a different kid?” you whispered, “maybe a kid that wasn’t so difficult?” 

“all the time,” luke replied, “every time my name is in the tabloids, i swear it takes years off my mom’s life.” 

you laughed, sniffling, “you need to take it easy on your mom. she’s too good for this world.” 

“that she is,” he leaned back on his elbows, resting his head on his shoulder. he tapped your leg under the blanket, “you know your dad loves you, right?”

“yeah,” you sighed, looking at luke. your makeup was smudged under your eyes and it took all his power not to lean over to wipe it away. you hunched your shoulders over when you spoke again, “just feels like sometimes i’m too much for him and i don’t know how to stop doing that.” 

“i don’t think you should.” 

it was the truth. you dealt in extremes. you were intense but it was only because you were passionate about things. he’d seen you practicing for hours, staying up late to help the younger kids with their projects even if it wasn’t your job, bossing people around to make sure that the camp activities were perfect. when you put your mind to something, luke knew there was no stopping you. 

“so i’m guessing you heard that whole thing with my dad?” 

“yeah,” luke rubbed the back of his neck. he looked at you, feeling caught that he’d been listening in on your private conversation. “i didn’t know anyone was in here when i walked in.” 

“it’s fine,” you shrugged, “pretty sure the whole camp heard my dad yelling anyways.” 

he laughed, “probably. i’d never seen him like that before. he’s usually so chill. it kinda caught me off guard.” 

“me too.” 

“it’s not as bad as when my mom yells at me though,” luke offered, trying to lighten the mood. he grinned when he saw your eyes brighten. you never did pass up the opportunity to have luke embarrass himself. if he could stop you from crying, he would lay out all his embarrassing stories in front of you for your listening pleasure. “the time she found out that me and trav got banned from wichita, like the whole city, she got so mad that the hotel we were staying at kicked us out because there were so many noise complaints. had to sleep on the bus. my back was killing me the entire time we were playing a show the next day.” 

“what the fuck did you guys do that warranted a ban from the whole city?” 

luke’s cheeks turned pink, “we mooned a cop car.” 

you bursted into uncontrollable laughter, falling back on your pillows. luke watched you, laughing along at your reaction. you were crying again, but it was a good cry this time. luke thought you looked pretty like this; cheeks red, eyes shut as you tried to regain your composure, and smiling, all teeth and lips. he hadn’t seen it in a while and he wanted to take a picture of you right now just so he could always remember how you looked at this moment. he wasn’t sure if he could survive another few weeks without seeing it again.

luke nudged you as your laughter died down, “if shit goes down with your teammate, there will be three of us with a permanent record in this cabin.”

you smiled at him, sadly, voice returning to the hushed tone you used earlier, “you think my dad could forgive me for this?” 

“don’t think anyone could hold a grudge against you even if they tried, five star,” luke placed a hand on your thigh covered by the blanket. he relished in the feeling of the hand you placed over his own. it felt intimate. “what does your mom think about all of this?” 

“i dunno,” you played with the rings on his hand, twisting the silver metals on his fingers, “i haven’t talked to her about it yet. been avoiding her calls.” 

“well, happy to know that i wasn’t the only one getting the silent treatment,” he teased, no bite to his voice. “shit, five star, even with your punishments, you still manage to not make me feel special.” 

you squeezed his hand, a giggle escaping your lips, “shut up.” 

luke looked at you, “you should probably talk to her soon.” 

“i will,” you nodded, meeting his gaze, “soon.” 

the two of you stayed there in silence, you playing with his rings and the bracelets on his arm. you were so enamored by the silver jewelry on his hand, twirling his rings to read each engraving, looking at each design, humming in appreciation. you looked at the camp half blood bracelet on his wrist, recognizing the beads on the string. 

“i can’t believe you got a camp bracelet before i did this summer,” you huffed, admiring the beads. “i’ve been here longer than you and nobody made me one yet.” 

“a little girl made it for me,” luke said, smiling at the memory. “i helped her with her with the production of the song for her summer project and she made it for me.” 

“i didn’t know you also produced music.” luke castellan continued to surprise you. 

“not well,” he replied. “just the basics, but i like to think i helped her out. annabeth— you know her? the kid with perfect pitch. fucking brilliant. smarter than i was at her age.”

“i love beth. i’m pretty sure she’s the smartest 12-year-old to ever exist,” your eyes twinkled, moving your index finger to his own, “what’s the story with this one?”

luke looked down at the ring you were touching. it was the silver ring he bought for himself using his first paycheck from their album sales. it cost him a pretty penny, but it was worth it. the font was tiny, but he memorized the words. 

“aγάπη χωρίς πείσματα δεν έχει νοστιμάδα,” luke said, no doubt butchering the pronunciation. “it’s greek. my mom used to read greek proverbs to me as a child. i think she hoped i’d become the next great philosopher, but instead i became a musician. this phrase stuck with me.”

“what does it mean?”

“love without a bit of stubbornness isn’t tasteful,” he whispered, “it’s a little reminder to myself that even though i can be difficult as shit sometimes, i’m worth it.”

luke cleared his throat, “had a tough time when we first got big. i’m sure you’ve heard of some stories. there was a time when me and my mom didn’t talk much. i thought i knew what was best and i pushed her away. i was so stubborn, five star.” 

“my dad left when i was a kid and for second, i thought i would lose my mom too,” he shook his head, the bitter taste of regret in his mouth as he recalled those memories. “im glad i didn’t. this ring reminds me that no matter how stubborn i am, i still deserve love, y’know? maybe it’s stupid, but sometimes i doubt it. mom always told me that love isn’t supposed to be easy, but it’s supposed to always be worth it– worth all the trouble, the stubbornness, the hurt, so this little phrase keeps me grounded in a weird way.”

“worth it to an extent,” you said. there was something hidden in your words like you were somehow asking him if you fell within the extent of it being worth it. it was in the look in your eye, doubt and worry that maybe you pushed it too far this time and you were no longer worth the fight. 

“extent is subjective. i know my mom thinks i’m worth it. i know that no matter how much me and the stolls get into fights, our friendship is worth it. i know that even though me and chris grew up to be different people, our bond is worth it,” luke leaned in closer as if he was going to tell you a secret, something that stays between you and him, only allowed to be spoken within the walls of your room. “and you, five star–” 

he couldn’t finish his sentence. his words got caught in his throat. he was afraid that if he kept talking, he wouldn’t be able to stop. he didn’t know if there was a universe out there where fighting for you wouldn’t be worth it. had you been thinking about him all this time you’d been apart? have your thoughts been plagued by the idea of him? all he could think of was you. all his songs were about you. it seemed like everything had been about you since he met you. 

is it too much too soon to even say things like that? luke didn’t know where you stood, if you even felt the same way about him as he did about you. how evil must the world be to have you exist in his orbit but not allow him to fight for you? 

the corner of your lips lifted a tiny bit and luke knew he didn’t need to say anything else. you understood. 

luke wanted to stop you when you removed your hand from his, but he didn’t want to test his luck. you dug through the drawer by your bed, pulling out the familiar vape, “i could really go for a smoke right now but this stupid thing died.” 

an idea popped into luke’s mind. he got up, motioning for you to do the same. you stayed seated on your bed, eyebrow raised in concern. 

“come on,” luke sighed, playfully rolling his eyes when you still refused to get up. he held out his hand, looking down at you. “you trust me?” 

you glanced at him then at his hand, deciding. it felt like a loaded question, like he was asking about something more than if you’d go with him to whatever adventure he had planned for the both of you. his heart hammered in his chest as he waited for your answer. you didn’t say anything to his question, unsure if you could rationalize your decision, but when you laced your fingers with his, luke didn’t let go of your hand until you were both out of the campgrounds.

[buffyromanoff]

Little By Little

Summary: Your girlfriend is dealing with ptsd after a difficult secret mission and its your duty to let her know she doesn't have to hide her pain from you. This is a sequel to ''Let it out'' but also works as a oneshot so don't worry if you havent read it ;)

Warnings: Ptsd related panic attack.

Genre: Slight angst, fluffy comfort

Word count: 1114

-------------------------------------------

The small but heavy paws of Liho walking all over your body woke you up. "Mghrr," you mumbled sleepily. "Morning, sweetheart," Nat said as she gave you a soft kiss on the forehead. Last night, she had fallen asleep in your arms, but now you were the one being held by her strong embrace.

"Your cat hates me," your groggy voice said, making her laugh.

"Well, technically it's our cat now."

Liho curled up next to her, purring.

"Are you feeling better today, Natty?"

She smiled. "You're pretty darn cute when you wake up, malyshka." Of course, she ignored the question. "Also, when you call me Natty, it makes me feel young again… It's weird how the smallest gestures can make such a big difference, isn't it?"

You yawned before sitting up and kissing your girlfriend on her plump lips. "Oh, okay grandma," you teased her.

"Oh, c'mon y/n, you know what I mean, silly."

You knew Natasha had a dark past and it made you emotional to have these little cute moments with her at home. You knew she felt the same way. She longed for a normal domestic life and loved being part of a family, no matter how small or big. Right now, having Liho and you was more than enough for her.

After some morning cuddles, you got up and made breakfast for the two of you. The need to demand her to open up and tell you what happened during her last mission was extremely strong, but you knew you didn't want to push her, considering her current mental state and the bad panic attack she had last night.

"You know you can tell me anything, right? Nothing you say is ever going to scare me or push me away, you know?" God, you were not subtle.

"Mhm," she nodded and then continued eating her pancakes in silence. "Thanks for breakfast." She stood up, giving you a quick kiss on the head before leaving the kitchen.

"She's mad, great job, y/n," you thought to yourself. Why couldn't you just leave her alone? Why couldn't you let her come to you instead of pushing her to talk? Although… you just told her that you were there for her. That's not bad, is it?

In an attempt to stop overthinking, you decided to go grocery shopping.

"Nat?" You peeked into the home gym you and Nat had. She was boxing. Her punches were frantic,and sweat was covering her bruised skin. "Yea?" Her fists still swinging. "Going to the store, do you need anything?" you asked her.

"Nope."

"You sure?"

"Mhm."

"You're absolutely sure you don't need anything?" It was clear you were not just talking about groceries.

Natasha stopped punching the bag and walked towards you, putting her hand on your shoulder. "I'm alright, babe. Go ahead. I promise I'll be less sweaty when you come back."

--

You opened the door, holding paper bags filled with groceries, letting some of them drop to the floor. "Shit."

Nat walked in, letting out a small chuckle. "Here, let me help you." She grabbed the bags and started sorting them out.

"You smell good," you kissed her hello, "no stinky gym stench," you joked, making her laugh. "Exactly as I promised," she replied.

"Gonna make some coffee, you want some?" You looked at her and smiled. "You know I always do."

The two of you were sitting on the couch, drinking coffee and watching some random TV show.

"That guy kinda looks like Tony, don't you think?" you said, pointing to the TV.

"I went back to the red room," Natasha let out a nervous sigh, "He's dead now."

She definitely took you by surprise.

"You mean Dreyk-" Nat interrupted you before you could finish saying the evil man's name. "Yeah…and his daughter—all the other widows, they're free now." The redhead was doing her best to keep it together.

"Oh my goodness, Nat…that's great news!" You were expecting her to smile back at you, but she didn't.

"I want to tell you more about it. I don't ever want you to feel like I don't trust you enough to share my feelings, but-"

"Baby, it's okay. I know it's hard for you to open up. I'm so proud of you for trying," you spoke in the sweetest tone.

She was trying to say something, but her breathing was accelerating, and tears welled up in her eyes.

"Hey, hey, c'mere, baby, you're alright." You pulled her close to you, wrapping her in a tight embrace. "I love you so much, remember to breathe in deep and then let it out slowly, okay?" Luckily, it was easier for her to calm down, considering there was no sensory trigger this time.

"I don't know what I would do without you, y/n." It was still strange for you to see your girlfriend in such a vulnerable state, but that just made you realize how much you truly loved her and that you were willing to do anything to protect her.

"I don't know what I would do without you, Natty."

The TV show kept playing in the background as the two of you snuggled, and of course, Liho joined you.

"Y/n, I forgot to tell you something," Nat said.

"You can tell me more about it tomorrow. Take your time, darling." You caressed her cheek with your fingers.

"No, no, it's something else." Her tone was definitely different now, more relaxed.

"Oh, okay then, spill." You replied with curiosity.

"My… my family is coming to visit," she looked you in the eyes.

"Cool! I haven't seen them in AGES! I actually have something I want to give to Steve, an old vinyl he might like-"

"No, it's not them… it's my other family," she said, and you couldn't look more confused. "From Russia."

"WHAT?! How come you never talked to me about them?!" You were shocked but mostly excited by this new information, and that made your girlfriend smile. "I have a younger sister, Yelena. I feel you'll get along."

"Oh my god?! When is she coming? When are THEY coming? Oh, and is she a widow like you? Is-"

"Okay, okay, slow down there, detective," Nat interrupted. "Yes, she is a widow like me. And they're coming over next week. Yelena, Melina, and Alexei."

"I'm so excited, Natty." You hugged her.

"I don't know if I am, to be honest… they can be quite embarrassing," she let out a nervous chuckle.

"Oh, then I'm even more excited. Can't wait to hear embarrassing stories about you," you teased, and she shook her head. "Oh, I'm SO gonna regret this."

[starshower1215]

Hange Zoë and the Vets Headcanons: University/Modern AU

Though many are unaware, Hange is an artist. They like to go out and find interesting buildings, sit down for a good view and sketch it into their sketchpad. They do this for other things as well; a nicely shaped leaf, a lost shoe, an interesting rock.

Sometimes, they collect cool stones or sticks off the paths on the way to class and then gives them to Mike for a sniff test.

Walking to and from classes, Hange plays podcasts or listens to the audios of various educational videos.

They have a very cool room/dormitory. Yes, it is messy almost all of the time, but it is an organized mess. Hange has plant shaped pillows, terrariums, a touch-activated moon lamp that they use for late nights, walls of shelves filled with the textbooks and novels collected over the years, pinned up sketches of the things they see, plants hanging from their ceiling, a soft carpet because they love working on the floor, a corner desk... just a lot of stuff.

I imagine Hange is actually quite fond of stuffed animals as well. They find them useless, yes, but they make nice friends and study buddies. (I think Erwin would have gifted them a stuffed lizard). They line them up on the bed so that they can watch them study, and sometimes they practice their speeches, verbalize their essay outlines, or simply present their discoveries and ideas to the pretend audience.

On Friday nights, Hange is dragged away from their work by Nanaba and Mike to then go drag Erwin and Levi to go drinking.

Levi hauls Hange back to their dorm room every Friday night, where they pass out on the stuffed animals. Levi tries to sleep there, too, sometimes, if it is too late to get back to his place. Unfortunately, the stuffed animals' eyes disturb him. He may make a late night call to Petra for company, since they're usually the only ones at least a little bit sober. Petra complains to him about Gelgar vomiting on her shoes.

Hange takes a lot of pride in keeping their lab coat in good condition. The more surprising fact is that it is in good condition, and affectionately adorned with colorful pins and brooches.

While prodding from Levi to tidy up their room usually results in fondly irritated sighs and grumbling, Mike's invitation-like demands for them to tag along with him to the gym are met with much more positivity.

Every now and then, a full group hangout is called and they — Hange, Erwin, Levi, Nanaba, Mike, Petra, Oluo, Gelgar, Nifa, Moblit, who am I missing? — pick somewhere to go for the day. Usually it's the park or the beach, because few public places can handle their level of chaos and volume, so they kick a ball around, race one other, arm wrestle one other on park tables, and just enjoy the sun.

Hange's shoes always wear out quickly from all the walking around that they do. Their clothes always end up being torn or stained by the things they pick up, and they spend an unnecessary amount of time trying to clean them. They've taken to wearing Erwin's shoes when they're waiting for theirs to be delivered (much to his distaste).

Speaking of clothing, the heavy duty of being Fashion Police falls upon the capable shoulders of Mike, Levi, and Nanaba. Levi likes to check the material of the fabric for quality, Mike likes to make sure the outfit is coordinated by style and in style, and Nanaba likes to coordinate the colors, finding the things that compliment eyes and complexion. They are scrupulous with this, they'll take Hange and Erwin around the stores, have them fitted into clothing, turn them around and around in circles to scrutinize. Hange appreciates the help, and probably just reads while they make comments to one another. Erwin does not need the help, but finds it amusing and indulges them.

While Hange draws still life, Moblit loves drawing people. He follows his friends around and sketches them from life— the motion of muscle beneath Erwin's skin on a run or during a workout, the subtlety of the shifts in Levi's expressions during classes from confusion to intrigue to awe, the swift movements of Hange's body when they're excited about something. He also likes to sit at cafes and sketch strangers.

Levi has a part time job at a cafe. Hange often stops by with Erwin and Mike, and the three of them tease him at the counter before buying their morning drinks and breakfast. I feel like Hange and Erwin would like blueberry muffins.

Nanaba does not indulge their teasing for oddly private reasons, and goes to say hello to Levi on her own. They chat at the counter for long enough to make Levi's coworkers curious about the nature of their relationship, and then Nanaba buys herself a coffee and Levi a cup of tea and a pastry. He likes to slip her a free cookie or pastry puff every now and then, too, and if a bit of his money ends up in the cash box, well, it's no one else's business.

Hange is overwhelmed a lot, and easily. They are a free spirit, not to be held down by the demands of school life, but alas, society calls for discipline in order to obtain survival. Therefore, Grandmother Levi made them a quilt to use as a picnic blanket/meditation mat on the grass to protect their pants from grass stains. Hange uses it every day, between lectures to eat their lunch, to watch the sunset, to stargaze, to just feel the earth beneath their back and watch the clouds float by.

When all the other veterans, ahem, graduate from the school, Hange lies beside Levi on the quilt and, to cure their sudden, mutual dislike for the new quiet of their days, invites him to share an apartment with them.

Hange is terrible at checking messages. They are the most inactive member in every group chat and they respond maybe once every couple of days. Not only because they're busy often, but because of the overwhelming factor as well.

Erwin likes to ruin his outfits by wearing crazy socks. He may have on the most elegant, dapped outfit ever known to mankind, but the moment he sits down and the ankle of his bottoms ride up, there are his cup noodle print socks, or his frilly strawberry socks from Mike the Bully, or rainbow socks that everyone looks into a bit too much. He has a collection, mind you, an entire display of silly socks and an abundant lack of shame.

This was much longer than intended, but my favorite one of these was definitely the one about Levi and Nanaba.

[roadkillxd]

❝ 58 hours. ❞

Inspired by this post.

Ghost x Soap ↪ 1544 words — 18+ / SMUT.

Content tags — cis male submissive Ghost, cis male dominant Soap, mild dubious consent, sleepy sex, minor somnophilia, erectile dysfunction, anal sex, anal fingering, unsafe sex, breeding kink, fem terms used to describe cis male character's genitals, mention of pregnancy, and coming untouched.

Despite his exhaustion, Soap is steady with the key, sliding it easily into the lock and using the same hand to open the door. 

He slips carefully into the dim room, mindful of the bag over his shoulder as the door creaks shut with a quiet click. 

There’s a buzzing lamp on the nightstand, the shade darkened, casting a sickly yellow hue upon the large, still form in the small military-issue bed. 

Ghost’s prone form lays stomach first above the sheets, plain black balaclava pulled snug on his head, one arm tucked beneath his head while the other dangles over the edge, limp fingers brushing the floor inches from where Ghost keeps his knives tucked underneath the metal frame. 

Soap smiles softly, fondly, and sets down his gym bag. Ghost landed some ten hours ago, and despite the op going long he’d still been running around base like Price’d lit a fire under his ass, body and eyes clearly tired and heavy but Soap knew Ghost was nowhere close to unfamiliar with the feeling. Soap hadn’t had time to greet Ghost on the tarmac, and no time in between their duties for a quiet moment, either.

As Soap approaches, he realizes with no surprise at all that Ghost is no longer asleep, if he had been at all, his arm twitching and eyes staring half lidded as Johnny moves to the edge of the bed, one calloused warm hand resting gently at the base of Ghost’s back, where his spine dips so prettily. 

“Wh’t time issit?” Ghost grumbles. His tattooed arm reaches back to tap Soap's outer thigh in some kind of greeting before sliding back down to the floor. 

“Late,” Soap responds quietly. 

He throws a knee over Ghost, straddling the larger man’s back, smoothing his fingers down the plane of muscle. 

“You’ve a new one,” Soap notes, squarish thumb delicately sliding over a fresh, pink scar at the very center of where Ghost’s shoulder blades meet. 

Ghost grunts, either in dismissal or affirmation, Soap doesn’t care to know.

He leans down to press a kiss to the raised skin, sucking lightly at the smooth flesh and worrying it ever so gently between his teeth, earning a twitch and a huff from the man below him.

“Chicks dig scars, Lt,” Soap smiles. 

Ghost groans, trying to roll onto his side to lazily dislodge Johnny. Soap only shifts in kind, pressing kisses to Ghost’s ribs instead.

“Hav’n't slept in 58 hours, Soap…” 

“S’me, Ghost, I’m chicks,” Soap continues, one arm sliding down the plane of Ghost’s stomach, down to cup his cock through his boxers to provide an affectionate squeeze that has Ghost groaning as Johnny humps his half-hard bulge between the firm globes of Ghost’s ass.

“Nun’o’that, bloody succubus,” Ghost grunts, half-heartedly wacking at Soap’s hand, “too tired for a leg over righ’ now.”

Soap moves his hand from Ghost’s front to his back, tugging at the hem of the black briefs until they’re tucked neatly under Ghost’s ass. It’s not far to reach the small tube of lube sitting on the nightstand.

“Then doon’t,” Soap purrs, pressing his slicked fingers between Ghost’s cheeks, “you’d be a right braw pillow princess, Lt.”

Ghost lets out a small breath at the first breach of Soap’s middle finger, hand reaching back to grip at Soap’s hip, squeezing in rhythmic pulses as Soap easily slides to the second knuckle.

“Y’always tight as sin, Simon,” Soap murmurs, alternating between sucking bruises and scattering kisses across Ghost’s shoulder as he slides a second finger in, “s’that feel good?”

Ghost groans, a frustrated growl rumbling in the back of his throat that has Soap’s fingers stilling their slow in-and-out, pushing up onto the elbow of his free arm to see Ghost’s eyes squeezed shut.

“Ghost?”

“M’not hard,” Ghost grumbles, “Johnny, I—can’t get hard like this.”

Soap smiles, watching enraptured at how Ghost’s lips part into a silent ‘O’ beneath the mask as Soap begins to pick up the pace of his fingers once again.

“S’that all, Si? No’ a problem if I’m the one shaggin’ ye, yeah?”

“Bloody Christ, Johnny.”

“Won’t need yer pecker fer nothin’, just this tight little cunt.”

Ghost moans, low and gravelly at Johnny’s words, gently rocking back onto the three fingers now being bullied into him, the slick sounds of his lubed ass stretching to accommodate the digits seemingly echoing in the quiet room.

“Did you know you doon’t need to be hard to cum, Lt? Seen it m’self.”

“M’sure you ‘ave.”

“You saying I’m a slut, Simon?”

“Don’ need me to say it, Soap,” Simon grumbles, face half buried into the mattress, eyes closed, “but you’d like it if I did.”

“Alright,” Soap laughs concedingly, pulling his fingers free and pushing at Ghost’s shoulder until the larger man rolls onto his back, staring up half-lidded. The dark coffee brown of his eyes tinted with heady exhaustion and muted lust, his mask slick with saliva where his mouth hangs open.

“Bonnie sight,” Johnny coos whisper-soft, absentmindedly, earning a disbelieving scoff from Ghost, along with a complimentary eye roll.

Soap is steady in undoing his belt, fumbling vaguely to pop the metal bar from its leather entrapment. His thick cock’s quick to spring free, bobbing ever so slightly and blushed a dark red from his built up arousal. 

He pulls off Ghost briefs before grabbing him by the thighs and tugging him down, the lieutenant’s deadweight form going as easy as a sack o’ potatoes. Soap spreads his knees, hauling Ghost’s limp limbs over his own legs, caressing the meaty and muscular thighs of the Manc.

“Y’gonna fuck me awlready?” Simon drawls, head rolled back, peering down through his thick lashes.

“You can wait,” Soap smirks, taking Ghost's heavy, soft cock into his hand, gently squeezing the slightly squishy flesh. 

“Fall asleep on your prick at this rate,” Ghost grumbles.

“Wouldn’t that be something?” Soap only smiles, leaning down to press wet, open-mouthed kisses to the bit of Ghost’s throat exposed to him where the mask hikes up ever so slightly. He keeps one hand firm on Ghost’s hip, the other gripping the base of his own cock as he begins to rub the spongey, wet tip against Simon’s twitching hole. 

“Fuck, Johnny,” Ghost groans. Begs.

“Wanna see you cum, Si,” Johnny growls, pressing until the head of his cock pops into Ghost with a soft gasp, “wanna watch yer soft prick dribble cum all over y’rself.”

Ghost rolls his head back as Soap pushes into the hilt, his furry balls resting snug against Ghost’s cheeks as he lets the larger man adjust to his girth. 

Ghost lazily brings his arms up above his head, gripping the iron frame of the bed.

Soap watches with sparkling eyes at the thick, corded and scarred muscle that stretches and flexes beneath Ghost’s skin. His gaze trails down to Ghost’s hairy pits, and the younger leans back down, burying his face against the soft curls to take in the smell of Ghost’s name brand soap and the faint scent of his natural musk. 

His hips buck instinctually, Ghost letting out a punched out moan, Soap quickly beginning to rut and hump, the tip of his cock sliding within Simon’s gummy walls to bully against his prostate near perfectly.

Soap leans back, bracing himself for better leverage as he starts to jackrabbit into the older man. Ghost lets out a grunt or moan with each thrust in, his soft cock slapping limply against his stomach with the momentum of it, and Soap grins at the beads of precum dripping from the slit. 

“Squeezin’ me so good, Si,” Johnny groans, fisting the tip of Ghost’s cock to twist his palm around the sensitive glands, watching in awe as Simon’s balls draw up tight despite his cock remaining soft, “Already so close, love. Gonna cum so deep inside, keep you plugged up even when yer passed out on my cock, see if this tight cunt of yours takes.”

“Bloody fucking—” Simon barks, eyes widening before slamming shut as his back arches, “Johnny!”

Soap groans, feeling Ghost’s hole milk his throbbing prick as he watches cum dribble and pump out of the lieutenant’s tip, the flesh giving weak pulses like a too late attempt at hardening.

Ghost’s already heavy limbs go heavier, and Soap glances up to see Ghost’s eyes fluttering before slipping completely shut, and the image of his Simon well and truly passed out from a good shag (and 58 hours of being awake) has him blowing his load, burying deep into Ghost’s tight ass and pumping him full of his thick cum with a groan, his forehead pressed to the man’s shoulder as his hips stutter through the aftershocks of his orgasm.

“Fuck…” Soap breathes, a whisper pressed to Ghost’s heated skin, “so good fer me, Si.”

Soap’s careful to keep his cock in, pushing Ghost’s leg up and over so he can spoon the man from behind, wrapping his arms around his strong torso. Ghost grunts softly, a questioning noise that earns him a kiss on the back of the neck.

“Off ta sleep, Si,” Soap murmurs, a small smile spreading across his face, “lemme give you a facial in the morning, aye?”

“F’ck off, Johnny,” Ghost slurs.

[adumbratrapedme]

"An autumn and spring love" Chapter 2

check it out on AO3, i update there first :). Chapter 1

FUZZ... my head pounded with the rhythmic squeak of the mop against the gym floor. I never thought cleaning duty would be this soul-crushing. Maybe Tsukishima and Yamaguchi had a point with their constant complaints. Karma, perhaps?

Twenty minutes felt like an eternity. Finally finished, I couldn't understand why Coach Ukai insisted on staying. He barely lifted a finger, spending the entire time glued to his phone – games, laughter at some message... or maybe... was he staying for me? A shiver danced down my spine. Could it be? He could actually have some...

My fantasizing was cut brutally short by a throat clearing so sharp it could cut butter.

"So, Y/N," Coach Ukai's voice rumbled, closer than necessary, "finally finished?"

"Uh – y-yeah," I stammered, cheeks burning. "Just putting these basketballs away."

"Good. Make it snappy. Took longer than expected, and I—"

His words were cut off by another chime from his phone. He glanced at it briefly, his expression unreadable, then shoved it back in his pocket with a sigh.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy. "Isn't that a bit late for a text?" I blurted, instantly hating the stupid question that tumbled out of my mouth, it wasnt even fucking late! besides he is and ault im just his student, tf i care... A low chuckle escaped Coach Ukai's lips. "Nosy, are we?" His voice was a caress, sending shivers down my spine. He took a deliberate step forward, caging me between his body and the wall.

This is it. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drum solo in the stillness. Where was this going? My breath hitched as Coach Ukai invaded my personal space, his cologne a sharp tang in the air. "I-I think you're a little closer than you need to be, Coach," I stammered, my voice barely a whisper.

A slow smile played on his lips. "Is that so, Y/N?" His voice was a low rumble, sending a tremor through me. "Tell me, why do you care so much?"

My cheeks burned with a mixture of humiliation and a strange thrill. "I... I'm sorry, Coach," I blurted out, desperate to break the suffocating silence. "It's just that you said you'd stay to help and teach me, but you barely did anything. So I thought, maybe you just wanted to be with me..." My voice trailed off, a choked sob escaping my lips. "But with all those texts, maybe it's your girlfriend wondering where you are..." Regret flooded my stomach. Why couldn't I just keep my mouth shut?

Coach Ukai's eyes narrowed for a brief moment, then softened with a hint of amusement. "So, you thought I wanted to be with you, huh?" He took a deliberate step forward, caging me between his body and the wall. "Well, you're not entirely wrong."

My heart hammered against my ribs. This wasn't right. He had a girlfriend. But the heat radiating from his body, the way his gaze lingered on my lips, sent a confusing mix of fear and desire swirling inside me.

"I do have a girlfriend," he continued, his voice a husky murmur. "She's waiting for me, and I am late for our date. But..." He paused, his eyes searching mine. "I couldn't resist the opportunity to be alone with you."

A shiver ran down my spine as he leaned in closer, the promise of a kiss hanging heavy in the air. "Ah-ah, wait, Coach," I stammered, pushing weakly against his chest. "If you have a girlfriend, shouldn't we stop?"

He ignored my plea, his hand trailing down my arm, sending sparks igniting across my skin. He unbuttoned my shirt with practiced ease, the coolness of the air against my exposed skin a stark contrast to the burning heat of his touch. My mind screamed at me to stop him, he had a girlfriend and i was just a student, but my body seemed frozen, caught between fear and a strange, exhilarating anticipation. He started kissing my neck harshly, likely leaving a mark later, while his hands crept up my torso, inching towards my breasts. A confusing mix of emotions swirled within me. I should stop this, a voice in my head screamed, but my body seemed frozen. Maybe I actually wanted this, or at least that's what I desperately clung to in that moment.

A jarring ring cut through the haze of our heated exchange. How long had we been like this? He answered the phone, annoyance lacing his voice.

"What the hell do you want? I told you I'm busy working on something, it won't take long," he snapped, breaking the kiss abruptly and fumbling with the phone. He stepped back from me, my surprise evident at his sudden shift. My shirt hung open, unbuttoned in the frenzy. Ignoring me completely, he stalked towards the door, still yelling into the phone.

"Fine, fine, I'm on my way already," he conceded, flinging the door open. But before disappearing completely, he threw a final glance my way, a lingering smirk playing on his lips. Then, he was gone. My breasts hung free, exposed and suddenly cold thanks to the gaping doorway. A shiver ran down my spine, a stark contrast to the heat that had just flooded my body. A wave of nausea washed over me, and a lump formed in my throat, threatening to erupt into tears. Collapsing onto the floor, I wrapped my arms around myself, the familiar comfort failing to soothe the turmoil within. The harsh reality of the situation hit me. Was this... what I wanted? The question echoed in the emptiness left by his abrupt departure.

Just as the tears welled up, shattering the fragile dam of emotions, my phone pierced the silence. Grasping at the lifeline, I answered. It was Mom. The sound of her voice, laced with concern, momentarily pulled me away from the whirlwind within. I could faintly hear Tadashi and Tsukishima's voices in the background, their curiosity piqued. I forced a smile into my voice, weaving a tale of being almost finished with whatever vague task I'd concocted. Reassurance dripped from my words as I promised not to be too late.

Hanging up, the charade crumbled. Stepping outside, the cool night air hit me like a physical blow. Rain began to fall, a relentless downpour mirroring the torrent of emotions within. Tears finally escaped, blurring the city lights into streaks of shimmering pain. The feeling of being used, a foreign concept mere moments ago, now clung to me like a second skin. But how could that be? I'd craved this, hadn't I? The question hung heavy in the air, unanswered, lost amidst the symphony of rain and my own choked sobs. The walk home stretched into an eternity, each step a battle against the storm raging within.

⏜︵♡︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜︵♡︵⏜⏜︵♡︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜︵♡︵⏜⏜︵♡︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜︵♡

Rain plastered my clothes to my skin, the chill seeping deep into my bones. Tossing the damp towel onto the counter, I sank onto the edge of my bed, burying my face in its welcoming softness. Exhaustion pressed down on me, a physical manifestation of the emotional rollercoaster I'd just been on.

The walk home had been a blur of pounding rain and unanswered questions. Every muscle in my body ached with a weariness that went beyond the physical. The city lights had blurred into a kaleidoscope of colors, reflecting the turmoil within. My breath hitched, and a sob escaped my lips, breaking the fragile peace. It was a single tear, the first of many, finally bursting forth after being held captive for so long.

The sound must have alerted Mom, because she appeared moments later, her brow furrowed with concern. The questions came at me like a tidal wave - why was I so late, where had I been, didn't I have an umbrella? I couldn't answer, the words caught in the tightness of my throat. Seeing the state I was in, Mom's concern morphed into gentle understanding. With a soft smile, she announced a hot bath was waiting for me. Sinking into the steamy water, I let the warmth seep into my muscles, finally allowing myself to relax. But the emotional turmoil wouldn't be so easily soothed. My mind replayed the scene, the heat of his touch, the confusion within me. Did I want this? The question echoed in the silence, a constant refrain.

Just as I began to drift off, a soft chime from my phone shattered the quiet. A notification blinked on the screen, the familiar name sending a jolt through me. It was Ukai. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs as I unlocked the phone. His message was a confusing jumble of words.

— From: Ukai (⸝⸝๑ ̫ ๑⸝⸝⸝) —--------------------------- Hey, it was a good night, you did a great job that perhaps should stay between us, had a great date with my girlfriend if ur wondering but i'm still waiting for our thing to repeat.

Cya tomorrow in practice. —---------------------------——-------------------------------

My breath caught in my throat. Was he serious? Anger bubbled up within me, a stark contrast to the confused longing I'd felt earlier. Here he was, bragging about a date while dangling the promise of something more with me. It felt like a slap in the face, a blatant disregard for my feelings. The tears that had been held at bay before began to flow freely, each drop a silent scream of frustration and hurt.

Closing my eyes, I reread the message, each word dripping with a cruel indifference. Ukai's playful emoji mocked me, a stark reminder of the manipulative game he seemed to be playing. With trembling fingers, I began to type a reply. What would I say? How could I possibly convey the tangled mess of emotions swirling within me? The cursor blinked, taunting me with its emptiness.

The night stretched before me, long and heavy. The rain outside had softened to a gentle patter, but the storm within raged on. As exhaustion finally claimed me, sleep offered a temporary escape, but I knew the questions would be waiting for me when I woke up.

[clarepreed]

Protect

Story Content and Summary - 9,394 words. Larissa grows stronger and healthier as she and Mitchell recoup on a private beach in Hawaii. When they choose to return home for Kieran's wedding, however, events take a violent turn. Explicit sex, violence, blood, mention of self-unaliving, drowning, hypovolemic shock, on-site resuscitation, resuscitation in a moving ambulance, resuscitation in the Emergency Department.

Previous installment: Lifeguard Not On Duty Disclaimer: Some references will not make sense if you have not read certain stories in the series. Ask in the comments if you'd like to know which ones to read.

--

Mitchell pulled away from the curb, looking for a parking space. Larissa appeared to be running late, and other cars were piling up behind him.

He tried calling her again, but the call went straight to voicemail. She’d told him that the building had a big dead zone in the middle. She might still be in physical therapy, or had stepped into the bathroom.

“This is Larissa Anders-Colton. Please leave your name, number, and a brief message and I’ll return your call when I’m able. Thank you!”

Mitchell decided to go inside and look for her. Her doctors back home had helped her find this place when she’d expressed interest in taking up running again. The facility was attached to a hospital, and the staff trained to deal with medical emergencies. She was undoubtedly fine. Her asthma was doing better, she hadn’t had a seizure since the episode where she cut her arm, and her ICD/pacemaker had not needed to perform either function in a long time.

Still, Mitchell worried.

I’ll just take a look. She might have lost track of time. That’s happened more often since…

Mitchell hurried back to the entrance and inside. He usually walked her in for her appointments, so he knew where to go. Hurrying across the lobby, he skipped the bank of elevators and slipped into the stairwell.

He told himself not to hurry, but by the time he started up the second set of steps, he was taking them two at a time. Breathing hard, he burst out onto the third floor, his eyes looking for any sign of distress or an emergency.

Instead, as he approached the gallery of windows that made up one wall of the physical therapy gym, he spotted Larissa. Upright, and running on a treadmill.

She hadn’t noticed him; her eyes were on her physical therapist, who was talking to her animatedly, his hands moving in the air. Larissa was flushed and sweaty, but she looked relaxed. She’d braided her long hair down her back and it swung back and forth with each stride. Across the room was a wall of mirrors, and Mitchell could see her from behind, her ass a masterpiece in leggings.

He stood frozen in his tracks, his eyes shifting back to her face. She smiled at the trainer, face shining in the lights above. Rivulets of sweat trickled down her neck, running into her cleavage. Her sports bra was doing a lot of heavy lifting; her large, natural breasts were barely jiggling as she ran.

Mitchell felt a powerful combination of relief, lust, and pride as he watched his wife. He heaved a deep breath and relaxed his shoulders, letting his arms dangle loose by his sides.

God, I wish we were home so I could steth her right now.

The trainer reached across the front of the treadmill and the belt slowed until Larissa was walking. She clasped the bar with one hand and snagged her towel with the other, quickly blotting her face and heaving chest. That’s when she noticed Mitchell, and he saw the sweetest, happiest smile spread across her face.

Then she gestured for him to come in.

By the time Mitchell reached her, the trainer was handing Larissa a bottle of water. She pressed it to her chest and exclaimed: “Mitchell! Did you see? I ran a mile!”

“I did, baby! That’s amazing. You look so happy!” Mitchell reached out and put his hand on top of hers where she gripped the safety bar.

“She’s doing great,” the trainer said. “Won’t be long until you’re jogging around the island.”

“You can come with me, Mitchell,” Larissa said. Then she winked. “If you can keep up.”

Before long, they walked together out to their SUV. Though she was doing exceptionally well with her balance, Mitchell helped her climb into the vehicle. This gave him the opportunity to kiss her. He gently pressed her into the seat, one hand cupping her cheek and the other curving around the side of her ribcage.

Her skin was tacky with drying sweat, and her body felt warm to the touch. She made a surprised noise against his mouth and then reached up to run her fingers into his hair 

When they came up for air, she murmured: “I don’t smell very good.”

“Mmm…” Mitchell kissed her jaw up to her ear, sliding his hand further up her ribcage until his hand rested on the damp band of her sports bra. Her hair smelled strongly of shampoo despite the sweat, and he nuzzled the damp short hairs at her temple.

Larissa tipped her head back, opening up the long line of her neck. Mitchell kissed his way down her warm skin, marking a path down to the top of her breast. She let out a low, breathy moan and Mitchell smiled against her bosom.

“What do you say we get home and hop in the shower?” he murmured. Before she could respond, he slipped both of his hands down her body and pushed her legs apart. Then he rubbed her through her leggings, where she’d soaked them through with sweat and arousal.

Her chest heaved, and she gasped out: “God, home feels so far away right this second.”

A car drove by where he’d parked, and Mitchell curved protectively over Larissa, blocking her spread legs and flushed face from the driver. 

Larissa giggled and kissed his cheek. “I guess we should go home so we don’t get arrested for getting busy in the hospital parking lot. And I do need a shower before we go any further. Surely I’m about to knock you out with fumes.”

Mitchell leaned back and brought his hand up to his face, making eye contact with her and inhaling deeply. “That would be a good way to go.”

Larissa’s eyes went wide, and she made a shocked noise. “God, you always find new ways to shock me and turn me on.”

Mitchell gave her a quick, hard kiss before he shut the door and walked around to the driver’s side.

When they got home, it didn’t take them long to end up in the bathroom, where Mitchell undid Larissa’s braid. Then they stripped down and hopped into the shower together. 

“Let me wash you,” he murmured, reaching for the pouf and squirting a generous dollop of body wash into it before sudsing it between his hands. He started with her back, carefully sweeping her hair to the front. He washed her entire body like this, gliding the pouf in slow circles over her ass and thighs, under her arms and around her breasts. He spent a lot of time on her breasts, teasing her nipples with the mesh before running the pouf down her abdomen. She sat on the bench and closed her eyes, leaning against the shower wall as he washed her legs and feet.

Mitchell sat the pouf on the bench and rinsed the soap off his hands before reaching in and pushing her knees apart. He washed her vulva with warm water, looking up at her face as he rubbed and stroked her. When he finished, he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Then he washed her hair, surprising her by remembering which products she used and in what order.

While her conditioner was soaking in, Larissa took the pouf and washed Mitchell in return. She stood very close, brushing her breasts against him or leaning in to kiss his neck and chest. They moved into the stream of water to rinse off, and Larissa let the pouf fall to the shower floor, her hands coming up to rake through her hair.

Mitchell pressed her back against the shower wall, his fingers linking with hers and pulling her arms above her head. Her breasts rose deliciously, hardened nipples pressing into his chest. Mitchell gave her a deep kiss, plunging his tongue into her mouth. Then he kissed along her jawline to her ear and sucked on her lobe. Larissa mewled, her chest heaving and her hips jerking forward against him. 

Mitchell nibbled on her soft flesh, then kissed his way down her neck and along her collarbone. He kissed her scar and the lump of her ICD. Then he lifted his head and found her panting mouth, kissing her hard. He released her hands, and she brought them to the sides of his face, then ran them down to his shoulders, gently urging him back.

“Sit,” Larissa cooed, pressing him toward the shower bench.

Mitchell backed up until he felt the bench against his legs, then sat, sliding his hands down Larissa’s curvy body. She sank in front of him, her hands gripping his thighs and pushing them wide. Larissa leaned forward and took him into her mouth, her eyes capturing his and earning her a low groan. 

His hands lightly grasped her head, though he resisted the urge to move her head up and down his cock. Instead, he concentrated on watching her face, on her full lips wrapped around him. On the sensation of her tongue stroking the underside of his cock and then sliding around his glans. His lips parted and he let out a moan.

Larissa released his legs and reached between his thighs to cup his balls. Then she took him deep into her mouth, deeper than she was usually willing to go. 

“Fuck!” Mitchell felt his abs and ass clench. He tried to breathe slowly, tried closing his eyes so he couldn’t see how she looked with his cock deep in her mouth. After a bit, however, he wrenched his eyes open and grasped her shoulders. “God, baby. You have to stop; I want you in bed.”

Larissa let him slip from her mouth. Her hands rubbed up and down his thighs. “Are you sure? I’m certainly enjoying myself.” Larissa licked her bottom lip, then lifted her hands from his thighs and cupped her heavy breasts, thumbs circling her nipples.

“Larissa… if it wouldn’t be hard on my knees, I would fuck you on the shower floor.”

Larissa responded by running one hand down her body and between her thighs. Mitchell bent over and cupped her face, kissing her hard. They rose together, and Mitchell managed to turn off the water and open the shower door without either of them falling down.

Larissa shivered when the bathroom air rushed into the enclosed space, and Mitchell reached out to snag her robe, throwing it around her shoulders. “Watch your step, baby.” 

“I have so much wet hair,” she said, laughing as she grabbed her hair towel. As she used it to squeeze the excess water from her wet locks, Mitchell stepped in close and kissed her temple, running a hand up her abdomen and cupping her right breast. Larissa let out a low moan. “We can always change the sheets after.”

He led her into the bedroom, where she dropped her bathrobe over her pillow and pulled back the comforter. She slipped into the sheets and then reached for him.

Mitchell laid down beside her and tugged her close, pulling her leg over his. His erection throbbed between them, but he reached down and cupped her sex with his hand, massaging her with his palm. Her wetness lubricated his fingers as he rubbed all around her vulva, gently increasing the pressure. 

Larissa made a noise, little more than a sharp intake of breath. He moved his hand, trailing his fingers lightly around her clit before sliding back down and slipping two fingers inside of her. She was swollen with arousal, and her legs stiffened when he penetrated her. She sucked in a breath as he curled his fingers, stroking in and out of her. 

He kept his other arm tight around her, holding her close as she began to gasp and moan. The heel of his hand ground into her clit. 

“Ah!” she gasped. Mitchell kept his eyes on her face, watching as her own closed and her head tipped back. Her lips parted, huffs of air panting out of her. 

Mitchell shifted his legs, using his knees to push hers wider. “You look so hot like this, baby. You feel so good in my arms. I want you to come for me.”

Larissa thrust her pelvis against his hand, driving his fingers deeper. Her body writhed against him, and she was making increasingly louder noises. 

“Come for me, baby!”

“Ah! Ah! AH!” she came apart, body convulsing with pleasure, legs shaking and her muscles gripping his fingers. Mitchell abruptly withdrew his fingers, then thrust himself inside her warm, dripping slit. Larissa arched her back and opened her mouth in an “o” of surprise. “GOD!”

Mitchell grasped her ass, pinning her in place as he drove inside. She went from trembling to meeting him thrust for thrust, her gasps of pleasure ringing in his ears.

Larissa pressed her hands against his chest and he moved onto his back, pulling her with him. She braced herself on the headboard, breasts wobbling above his head as she rode him. Mitchell ran his hands up and down her sides before reaching up to pinch her nipples.

“Yes!” Larissa moaned, her thighs rolling and her pelvis thrusting down against him. Mitchell gave her nipples a twist and then released them, running his hands down her sides to her hips. 

“You’re amazing,” Mitchell gasped. They had always had an excellent sex life, but her renewed stamina and strength were something to behold. Mitchell moved one of his hands to her pelvis, finding her clit with his thumb.

Her eyes met his, and she moaned: “I’m going to come again!”

“Good,” he growled. He thrust up into her, watched as she bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut. Mitchell pulled her down to lie on top of him, grabbing her ass and pressing his feet flat to the mattress so he could pump himself rapidly in and out of her. Larissa curled her fingers into his damp hair and kissed him, her tongue plunging deep into his mouth.

Then she tore her mouth free and cried out. He felt a gush of wetness between them and kept thrusting hard as his balls tightened. Her body convulsed over and around him and he let the sound and feel of her push him over the edge. He nearly whited out as he spilled himself inside of her, releasing a loud groan of pleasure. 

Larissa went limp on top of him, her chest heaving and her fingers stroking his hair.

“Holy shit, baby!” He turned his head to kiss her cheek and heard her chuckle. Then he wrapped his arms tight around her. “I love you, I love you, I love you!”

Two days later.

Mitchell stood in the church’s narthex with the other groomsmen, waiting for Dan to walk down the aisle and for the bridesmaids to arrive. Dan bounced restlessly on the balls of his feet, his face split by an ear-to-ear smile.

“He looks more than ready,” Mitchell’s brother-in-law Mark murmured. 

“You know how it is,” Mitchell said. “Getting married. Of course, it’s something else to make it to the wedding when you thought your bride might die before you can get there.”

Mark clapped him on the shoulder. “That would add some extra weight to the proceedings, that’s for sure.”

The door between the vestibule and the narthex cracked open, and the wedding planner stuck his head in. “Ready, Dan?”

“Yes, please.”

“Go ahead down the aisle. The pianist is ready.”

The rest of the groomsmen got in order as the planner propped the door open, letting in the line of bridesmaids. First was Kieran’s best friend and maid-of-honor, Blakely, followed by her cousin, Maeve. There were four bridesmaids, but Mitchell’s attention stopped at the third.

Kieran was not the sort of bride to try to dull her bridesmaids’ beauty, though as far as Mitchell was concerned, that would have been impossible, anyway. Larissa’s long, heavy hair had been piled artfully atop her head, honeyed curls woven throughout with small braids. Her makeup was light, her earrings simple. The dress was some sort of bluish purple that Larissa described as “periwinkle silver.” It had a single wide strap that covered Larissa’s scar, then fit her well through the bust and waist before flaring out into a tulle skirt that draped to mid-calf. Her long legs looked even longer in the matching heels. In her hands, she carried a simple bouquet of white roses.

Mitchell pushed down his impatience as the first two couples entered the church. Then he was beside Larissa, linking elbows with her. He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss.

“You look gorgeous. Stunning.”

“Thank you, handsome.”

The wedding seemed to fly by. As Kieran and Dan gave their vows, Mitchell leaned slightly to the side, trying to spot Larissa. To his delight, she was leaning around to look for him as well. He saw her face light up and winked at her.

After the wedding, photos, and reception at a nearby hotel, after Dan and Kieran’s sendoff, Mitchell and Larissa gathered their things and met in the hotel lobby.

“How tired are you, baby?” Mitchell asked. “Do you want to walk or should we take an Uber?”

“It’s a beautiful night. We just have these two bags…” Larissa looked over at him. “Are you okay to walk? I have my sneakers, but you’re still in dress shoes.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s less than a mile. Or right at a mile. These shoes really aren’t so bad.” Mitchell held out his arm. “I know I said this before, baby, but you look absolutely gorgeous.”

Larissa took his arm, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “A very handsome man such as yourself needs some arm candy.”

“Want to stop at the fountain in the courtyard on our way out?”

“Please, I bet it’s beautiful at night.”

They walked together slowly, arm in arm. Mitchell had tucked his tux jacket into his backpack along with his bowtie. Larissa was still wearing her bridesmaid dress, but she’d slipped on a brand new pair of running shoes, gifted to her by Kieran. Aside from the shoes and her backpack slung over one shoulder, Mitchell thought she looked just as perfect as she had when he’d first seen her at the ceremony.

The south exit took them into the courtyard, where a large fountain splashed quietly in the center. The lighting along the edge of the building was bright enough for safety, but there were no lamps around the fountain. Instead, the fountain itself was illuminated. This night, the LEDs were rainbow hued, almost pastel through the water.

“Oh!” Larissa exclaimed, squeezing his arm. “That’s right, it’s June first in a couple of hours! Happy Pride, honey!”

“Thank you, baby.” Mitchell smiled, watching the colors ripple as they approached. “Thank you for that.”

“You didn’t stop being bi just because we got married.” Larissa sighed. “I really love how this looks. It’s so happy!”

“I wonder if a selfie would come out,” Mitchell mused. “We could try!”

“I have an idea! I can light us with my phone and you’ll take the picture. Your arms are longer.”

They dropped their bags on the pavers and sat on the lip of the basin, one arm wrapped around the other’s back. Larissa blinded them with the flashlight on her phone, giggling until she got it positioned where she wanted it. 

“Alright, honey!”

Mitchell took several shots. For the last one they kissed, Mitchell clumsily pressing the shutter button and hoping for the best.

“How are they?” Larissa asked, hastily turning her flashlight off. “That was fun either way. Other than when I scarred our retinas.”

“Let’s lo—”

“Larissa!” A man’s voice interrupted them. Mitchell blinked away the remaining spots in his vision, confused as Larissa stiffened beside him. She lurched to her feet, pulling herself out of his grasp before he could register what was happening.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. Larissa’s voice hissed out of her, a tone Mitchell had never heard before. Then he was on his feet, part of his brain reacting to the man approaching them before the rest of his consciousness caught up.

Ben Miller.

“Get out of here,” Mitchell snarled. “Unless you’re staying at the hotel or attending an event here, you’re trespassing.”

Ben looked much older than Mitchell remembered. His hair was shaggy, growing over his ears and onto his collar. He’d also grown a salt-and-pepper beard since they’d last seen him in court.

Larissa gestured toward their bags. “We’ll go. I don’t care what the fuck you do.”

“I’m not here to hurt you,” Ben said. Mitchell realized the other man had one of his hands in his pockets.

“Larissa—” he started, but Ben cut him off.

“I’m not here to hurt her! I realize now my anger was misplaced.” Ben laughed. “I did a lot of reading. Did you know how unethical it was for you to come on to your subordinate like that, Mitchell? And you got away with it. I haven’t heard shit from the media about how you used your power to seduce one of your employees. And then I took it out on HER when I should have gone after YOU!”

“Let’s just go, Mitchell.” Larissa took another step forward toward their bags. Mitchell’s phone was in his hand, and he wondered if he’d be able to call 9-1-1 before anything happened.

Ben pulled his hand out of his pocket and dragged out a handgun.

Everything began to move at rain pace, faster than Mitchell could process. Ben lunged forward. Mitchell reached for Larissa, only for her to throw herself in front of him. He heard a terrible crack, then a second. Larissa twisted violently. Another crack. Mitchell heard a splash, and then he registered a white hot pain across his side.

“I didn’t want to hurt her!” Ben groaned. “FUCK! Why did she do that?!”

Mitchell dropped his phone and clapped his hand to his side. Ben shot again, but he was on the move and the bullet whizzed past Mitchell’s head. Mitchell flinched and tripped over his own feet, limbs sprawling and his head bouncing off the pavers.

His vision filled with stars.

Get up!

He couldn’t seem to gather his wits enough to move.

Get up!

Larissa…

The night fell silent.

Mitchell pushed himself up onto his hands and knees with a groan. The right side of his face throbbed and stung, and pain knifed down the left side of his ribcage. His mind screamed at him that there was danger, but when he looked around, he didn’t see Ben anywhere. 

“Larissa!” he shouted, turning toward the fountain.

Larissa lay on her back in the basin, submerged and unmoving, eyes unfocused and open. A dark cloud of blood surrounded her. One foot was propped up out of the water, her sneaker caught on the edge.

“NO!” Mitchell crawled into the fountain and thrashed over to her, the pain in his head and his side fading as pure, undiluted panic flooded him.

Dead dead dead dead dead—

Mitchell grabbed her shoulders and heaved her upper body out of the water. The weight of her sodden updo pulled her head back at a sharp angle, and he could see the whites of her eyes below her irises. He cradled her against his arm and tried to get hold of himself, sucking in a deep breath and screaming: “HELP!” before he dragged in another.

He didn’t bother listening or feeling for breath. Instead, he closed her mouth with his free hand and hunched over her, his mouth sealing over her nose.

Mitchell had been learning more about CPR and first aid, no longer content with what they taught at the annual CPR refresher. He gave Larissa a breath through her nose, watching for her still chest to rise. The breath was difficult to get in, but he kept trying, four more times, while her chest barely rose and his lips spluttered from the force.

You weren’t in there long enough to pull much water in, baby! What the fuck?!

Mitchell tried to lift her, one arm under her shoulders and the other beneath her knees. Weakened from his injuries and weighed down by their wet clothing, he tipped over on top of her, briefly submerging them both.

Mitchell reared back, jerking her torso up with him. He spat to clear his mouth and then shouted again: “HELP, GOD DAMMIT!”

Mitchell slipped in behind her, bringing his arms around her limp body and just under her breasts, clenching his hands into a fist. His fist found her sternum, and he pulled his hands in sharply. Pain blossomed down his side, but he ignored it, pulling hard and at the same pace as prone chest compressions. Larissa made a watery, wheezing sound with each thrust of his fist.

“…seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve…” Mitchell compressed her body back against his chest, feeling her ribcage flex beneath his fist. Her arms swung limp, and her head hung forward and slightly to the side, pulled by the weight of her hair. When he glanced down, he realized one or both of them still bled profusely; Larissa’s dress was soaked down the left side and the stain in the water had grown.

“Thirty!” Mitchell shifted her again in his arms, draping her over his knees and letting her head fall back. There was blood on her chest, and when he looked closer, he realized it was coming from a wound near her ICD. Mitchell clapped a shaking hand over the bloody tear, pressing hard. Then he wrapped his other arm around her head, holding her mouth closed as he leaned in to give her another breath. This time, he felt her breasts rise against his arm. A small amount of water gushed up into his mouth and he spat to the side before giving her another breath.

 That’s when he saw her arm. Limp as it was, he could still see it hung at an awkward angle. And the blood… he’d never seen someone bleed like that in real life. It was streaming from her arm, pulsing slightly as it exited her body.

“FUCK!” Mitchell moved his hand from her chest to her arm, clenching his hand tightly around the wound. “HELP! IN THE COURTYARD!”

Blood oozed between his fingers, and he stared at it, realizing that the pulsing meant that her heart was still beating. For now. If she bled out or didn’t start breathing again, her heart would stop.

Mitchell hunched over her awkwardly, sealing his lips over her nose again. He gave her a breath and felt her chest rise. Breathing for her, even through her nose, was noticeably easier now, her breasts swelling with each breath. He blew into her every three seconds, his eyes darting back and forth from her face to her arm to her chest. Her skin felt cool to the touch despite the warm night air; he assumed it was due to blood loss and the fountain water.

Every tenth breath, Mitchell tipped her head to the side, letting water and a small amount of froth trickle from her nose and mouth. Then he tipped her head back again, sealed her mouth, and blew into her nostrils. 

As he was giving her breath, Larissa jerked in his arms, her chest heaving and water coming up out of her nose. Mitchell pulled her as upright as he could, watching in relief when her lips parted and she coughed up a small amount of fountain water. She gagged and opened her eyes, staring wildly out at the night sky.

“I’ve got you, baby. Larissa, I’ve got you. He’s gone—”

“Hello?” A man’s voice called out from somewhere outside of Mitchell’s range of vision. Mitchell froze for several seconds until he realized the voice didn’t belong to Ben Miller.

Larissa let out a low moan, stirring against him. She tried to pull her arm out of his grasp, but the movement just made her back bow from the pain. She gasped and started coughing again. The coughs were weak and wet, her shoulders jerking.

“IN THE FOUNTAIN!” Mitchell bellowed. “WE’VE BEEN SHOT! CALL 9-1-1!”

“Mitchell…” Larissa gasped his name, her head sagging back and then rolling to the side. “Mitch…ell… You…”

Her eyelids fluttered. She coughed between rapid breaths, and what he could see of her face and lips looked chalky.

“Shh, baby. You don’t have to talk!” A frightening amount of blood was still leaking out around his fingers. Mitchell took his other hand and wrapped both of them around the bleeding wounds in her arm, just above her elbow. Then he squeezed with all of his strength.

Larissa made a noise, a shriek so forceful it was actually silent, her mouth gaping and her body shuddering in his arms. 

“I’m sorry!” he gasped, her pain wracking his own body with a wave of anguish. “Shh, baby, it’s… I’m so sorry! FUCK!”

She shuddered in his arms, her teeth chattering and her breaths coming faster.

“In the fountain!” a woman shouted. “Looks like two people!”

“We need an ambulance! My wife is bleeding to death!” Mitchell regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth; he needed someone to help them, but saying such a thing made his own body tremble.

“Mmm…” Larissa moaned, her head lolling against his chest. “Mmmm… Mitch… Mitch… M-Mitchell…”

“Larissa, shh, baby.”

“C-cold…”

Mitchell heard shoes on the concrete and then people splashed into the fountain with them. A man and a woman that he vaguely recognized but couldn’t place.

“Someone from the hotel called 9-1-1. Everyone was afraid to come out after the shots,” the woman said. “But staff’s bringing blankets. They’ll be out in a minute!”

“Gunman’s gone?” asked the man. “I hear sirens…”

“You… o… k-kay?” Larissa asked, her voice high-pitched and shaky.

“I’m okay, Larissa!” Mitchell pressed a kiss to her wet hair. “Please, please don’t worry…”

“We need to put something on her arm as a tourniquet,” the man said. He looked around wildly, as though something useful might materialize in the fountain.

“What about your belt?” the woman asked. Mitchell realized where he knew them from. Kieran’s wedding. He’d seen this woman in the bridal party.

“M-Maeve,” Larissa stammered. She was sagging heavily against Mitchell, unable to hold herself upright. 

“That’s right, Larissa,” the woman said, kneeling in the water. “Christ, what happened?”

Maeve’s husband stripped off his belt. “This isn’t ideal, but it’s the best we’ve got. I’m going to put it above your hands!”

The man looped his belt around her arm and threaded the end through the buckle.

“Stop…” Larissa squeaked out, weakly writhing in his arms. “D-don’t…”

“Deep breath, baby—”

The man jerked the belt tight, and Larissa made a wheezing noise and went limp against Mitchell’s chest. Mitchell released her arm, his hands hovering there in case the belt didn’t do the job. The wound oozed, black with blood, but it wasn’t pumping out blood at the rate it had before. Mitchell hoped this was because of the belt.

“Larissa!” Mitchell dropped his bloody hands into the water, scrubbing them against his pants legs before reaching up to lift her chin. Maeve reached out and held the back of her hand in front of Larissa’s mouth.

“She’s breathing!” Maeve exclaimed. “We need to get her out of the water!”

“I have to hold this belt tight,” her husband said. “But here comes hotel staff! And cops!”

The courtyard flooded with people. Mitchell couldn’t concentrate on anything except Larissa. He pressed his fingers to her carotid artery, wanting to monitor her pulse while she was unconscious. He was vaguely aware that his body shook with cold and shock. He heard some shouting, but it wasn’t until Maeve put her lips near his ear that he caught the words.

“Mitchell! Mitchell!” Maeve grabbed his arm. “This man is a doctor. The cops are going to help us get her out of the water. You need to get out, too. You’re shaking!”

Then they took her from him, a man in plain clothes and a uniformed cop, one carrying her shoulders and the other her legs, all while Maeve’s husband held tight to the belt. 

“Come on, you need to get out, too.” Maeve stood, reaching down with an outstretched hand. “I’m Kieran’s cousin. As soon as you’re out of the fountain I’m going to call her and let her know what happened.”

“Tell her to call M-Mark…”

“I will. Come on, I think the cop has a real tourniquet for her arm.”

Mitchell reached up and took her hand. She stepped close to him, grabbing his elbow with her other hand. Mitchell managed to struggle to his feet, though he swayed once he was upright.

“Ooh, don’t fall! I can’t catch you!” She turned him toward the side of the fountain, where he could see that the men had laid Larissa out on a blanket and draped a second over her legs. Mitchell sat on the side of the fountain and swung his legs around. Maeve climbed out beside him, then reached toward his side with a gasp. “Oh! That’s not just her blood. Hey, he’s bleeding, too!”

“I’m f-fine…” Mitchell pressed his hand to the bleeding wound across his ribs. “I think I was just grazed…”

A uniform cop jogged up with extra gloves and something in her hand that turned out to be an actual tourniquet. Mitchell eased himself down onto his knees, reaching for Larissa’s right hand, laying limp on the blanket. 

“…above the belt,” the doctor said. Mitchell didn’t know what kind of doctor he was, but he’d already checked her pulse and seemed confident in his directions. Someone draped a blanket across Mitchell’s shoulders as the doctor applied the tourniquet to Larissa’s injured arm, turning the windlass.

Larissa groaned, her fingers moving in Mitchell’s grasp. Her hand felt cold.

“Shh, baby.” He squeezed her hand and watched as her eyelids fluttered open. “Larissa, it’s Mitchell. There’s a doctor here and an ambulance will be here soon.”

She moved restlessly, legs working underneath the blanket. Her eyes roved the sky above them. “Thirsty…”

“I’m sorry, baby, but—”

“Where did he… go?” Larissa gasped.

“Ben ran off. He’s not here—”

“He was… g-gonna…” She stopped, talking for several seconds, eyes unfocused. Then she wheezed: “Thirsty…”

“Ma’am,” the doctor cut in. He had his hand pressed to the wound in her chest. “You’ll need surgery. I can’t give you water, but when the ambulance arrives, they will give you IV fluids and that will help.”

“We’ve got one ambulance pulling in now,” a cop said. “The second one is delayed.”

“She’s breathing very fast,” Mitchell said. “Is that from the blood loss?”

Her full lips looked bloodless, and they were slightly parted. He could see her chest rising and falling rapidly. Mitchell lifted his hand from his wounded side and turned her wrist over in his hand, pressing his fingertips to the pulse there. Or he tried to; even though Larissa’s heart was obviously beating, he couldn’t find the pulse in her wrist.

“I believe so,” the doctor said. “Here come the medics.”

“M-Mitchell…” Larissa whispered.

Mitchell leaned in with difficulty, the pain in his side making him stiff. Still, he knew the paramedics would likely make him move away from her, and he wanted to talk to her while he could. “What is it, baby?”

She briefly made eye contact with him. This close, he smelled the thick scent of iron on her. “Sell.”

“Yes… Anything you want, baby. And then we’ll buy that house in Hawaii.” A lump formed in his throat and he squeezed her hand again.

“Take… c-care of… yourself…” Larissa closed her eyes, but he could still see her chest rising and falling.

“You’re going to be okay, Larissa. I love you!” His eyes burned, and he swallowed hard.

“Love… you…” she whispered, and her fingers twitched in his hand.

“What have we got?” A medic crouched at Larissa’s head, reaching in to take her pulse. “Ma’am?”

“Dr. Ahmad Jones, GP with Sutter Regional Healthcare. Two victims,” the doctor said. “Her name is Larissa. Two apparent gunshot wounds, one to her chest and one in her arm. This tourniquet has been on for three minutes. Prior to that, they had a belt on her arm. I haven’t examined him yet.”

“Okay, sir, we just need you to move back so we can take care of—Oh! This is our other victim.” A medic crouched next to him. “I’m just going to take her radial pulse, sir. If you could scoot back just a bit.”

“I’ll take a look at him,” the doctor said.

Mitchell squeezed her hand, then lowered it carefully to the blanket. Someone helped him move a few feet away onto another blanket, holding him up when he nearly tipped over.

“No palpable radial pulse. I’m going to get her blood pressure.” 

Dr. Jones kneeled next to Mitchell. “I’m going to look at your side if that’s okay, sir.”

“Keep pressure on the chest wound, officer.”

The voices and lights were beginning to blend and blur together. Mitchell coughed, a technique he’d learned from Larissa to raise the blood pressure. 

“She just stopped breathing!”

His ears started ringing.

“No pulse.”

“Do you want me to do chest compressions, or should I keep pressure—”

“I’m on it,” another cop said.

“One, two, three…”

Mitchell was vaguely aware of the doctor touching him, pulling his dress shirt out of the waistband of his pants. But his eyes were on Larissa. A cop leaned over Larissa, hands pumping between her breasts. Her head was tipped to the side, eyes cracked open to glinting slits. Her face looked bloodless, chin bobbing in time with the compressions.

A medic suddenly turned her face toward the sky and tipped her head back, thumbing open her mouth and slipping an oral airway between her teeth. Then he turned the plastic piece and let it rest on her teeth. By the time the cop reached the thirtieth compression, the medic had a bag-valve mask pressed to her face and squeezed the bulb twice.

The other medic was inserting an IV. It took her three tries, but before long, she had a bag connected, which she handed to another cop.

They worked between them to cut Larissa’s gown open to her navel before applying big white defibrillator pads above her right breast and below her left. They also covered her chest wound with a bandage.

“That’s not very deep, but it appears to have damaged this implanted device—”

Larissa’s stomach popped, and her shoulders shrugged with each compression. They’d cut off her strapless bra. Her breasts wobbled, her nipples stiff in the night air.

The doctor was no longer at his side; Mitchell spotted him over by the paramedics’ bags. Then his eyes dropped back to Larissa. Guilt was beginning to sink into his bones; he kept seeing the moment where she’d stepped in front of him, taking bullets meant for him.

“…get her on a pump for a norepinephrine infusion.”

“…fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!”

The doctor was at his side again. “I’m just going to bandage you up quickly. You’ll need an X-ray and stitches…”

“One, two, three, four…” The cop’s shoulders bobbed sharply over Larissa’s chest.

“How’s the husband?”

“He needs to be monitored for shock.”

Mitchell’s brain seemed to crawl. It ticked back to the comment about the implanted device. “Her ICD. It’s damaged?”

“I can’t be sure,” Dr. Jones replied. “But it did appear to be damaged to me. It was visible inside the wound. They’ve given her medications to bring up her blood pressure, and with chest compressions—”

“Pause compressions to analyze.”

Mitchell watched her chest rise and fall as the medic squeezed the bag. To his surprise, he heard someone say: “Sinus brady. Is she breathing on her own?”

He closed his eyes and slouched. He was shivering harder again, but he didn’t have the energy to pull the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

“No, I’m continuing ventilations.” The medic reached over and dragged a bag closer. “I’m going to suction her.”

“I’m pushing one milligram atropine. Go ahead and intubate after you suction, I don’t like her oxygen saturation.”

“Mitchell, how are you feeling?” the doctor asked.

“She’s B negative,” Mitchell whispered.

The voices continued around him.

“What happened to their other bus?”

“They just happened to be around the corner from an apparent 10-56. White male subject with a gun.”

“We’ll take him with us.”

“Mitchell? Mitchell? Hey, do you have another blood pressure cuff?”

“—our White male subject?”

“…administered. She—”

Underneath Mitchell’s eyelids, everything turned white.

“Mitch—”

“—goes!”

Hands laid him flat on his back and opened his airway.

“Is he breathing?”

“He going too, or—wait for—”

Everything dissolved. His surroundings, the blanket and concrete beneath him. His clothing. His body. Larissa and the medics working on her. His company. His family. His name. All that remained was emotion. Love, hatred, hope, despair.

Then there was nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Mitchell woke to the sensation of movement and the smell of a medical facility.

“ETA is four minutes.”

“Are you going to get in trouble for bringing us along?”

“Probably, but they should have dispatched another ambulance.”

“He’s waking up. Sir? Mitchell?” Someone touched his arm. Mitchell peeled open his eyes and gazed bleary-eyed up at the doctor from before. The man was seated on a bench near his head. “Mitchell?”

“Something’s wrong,” Mitchell muttered. He was laying flat, and when he tried to move he realized he was strapped to a backboard.

“You’re in an ambulance,”

Mitchell looked to the side. 

Larissa lay beside him, strapped to a gurney. She was partially covered with a sheet, her gruesome wounds hidden from sight. A paramedic sat at her head. She looked drained of blood. Her long neck had been extended to open her airway, and a tube jutted out from between her teeth, held in place by a plastic tube holder. The paramedic squeezed the attached bulb every five or six seconds, making her chest rise.

As he watched, an alarm started bleeping.

The medic leaned forward to look, then quickly detached the bag and set it on the gurney. 

“Tell them we have a code!” he called out toward the front. “Female patient!”

As Mitchell watched, the medic stood and moved in between Mitchell and Larissa. He yanked the sheet down to her waist and then reached up for the grab bar with one hand. Then he pressed the heel of his other hand between Larissa’s breasts. Mitchell jerked his head and shoulders up, trying to see what was going on as the medic started one-handed compressions.

“One, two, three…” To the medic’s credit, Mitchell thought the compressions looked good despite being one-handed in a moving vehicle. Larissa’s breasts shook and her stomach bulged with each pump of her sternum. Mitchell could hear the gurney rattle in time with the compressions. “…fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…”

“Mitchell, if you’re okay, I’m going to help with CPR,” the doctor said.

“Go!” Mitchell croaked out beneath his mask. Tears welled in his eyes, and he had to blink them away to clear his vision. The doctor moved from one seat to the other and somewhat clumsily reattached the bag.

“…twenty-seven, twenty-eight…”

“Don’t pause!” the doctor said. “I’ve got it!”

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten! One, two, three, four…”

Mitchell’s shoulders shook with tension and he was forced to drop his head back onto the backboard. He could still see the side of Larissa’s face. There was blood in her hair, dried in the short hairs along her temple and dotted inside the shell of her ear. Her head rocked gently from side to side until the doctor reached out to steady it.

“Two minutes. They’re ready for us.”

The medic switched hands, turning slightly and opening up Mitchell’s view. The breast nearest to Mitchell wobbled, her skin there frighteningly pale aside from her dusky nipple and scattering of freckles.

His hearing was going again, fireflies moved across his line of sight. He coughed hard, winced in pain.

“-ell? Are you—Mitchell?”

“—ten. One—three, four, five—”

“I’m fine,” Mitchell muttered. He bent his hand into a shaky thumbs up. “Fine… fine… Help her. Help Larissa…”

His ears suddenly latched onto the alarm screaming, to the thumping and rattling sound of the gurney. To the slightly out of breath counting of the medic. To the whoosh of the bag-valve mask. To the tires of the ambulance, thudding over a speed bump.

“Please, baby…” he whispered.

Then he closed his eyes and drifted.

He opened them in a long, ivory hallway lined down one side with open windows. A steady breeze blew gauzy curtains into the space, periodically obscuring his view. Sometimes, if the timing was right, he spotted Larissa. She walked away from him, nude, her long hair blowing in the breeze. At the far end of the hall, flickering in and out of sight, was a staticky black hole.

“Larissa!” he called out.

She didn’t stop walking; in fact, the next time she got a good look at her, he realized she was running. Away from him and toward the desolate blackness ahead.

“Don’t!” he shouted. “Larissa, don’t!”

She stopped, and the vision glitched. He found himself standing in front of a window. Larissa stood outside, naked and bleeding from an uncountable number of wounds. Behind her, he could see the ocean.

“It hurts,” she whispered. A tear rolled down her cheek.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m selfish. Please, don’t leave,” he begged. “Trust me. It gets better.”

Mitchell woke with a start. A bright light blinded him, and when he reached up to shield his eyes, he found himself dragging IV tubing and a pulse oximeter.

“…PEA arrest. Administer one milligram epinephrine. Helen, take over compressions.” The voice came from the other side of a room-dividing curtain.

“Larissa…” Mitchell whispered.

“Sir? Mitchell?” A young man stepped into Mitchell’s line of sight. “I’m Raymond. How are you feeling?”

“My wife…”

“She’s in good hands, Mitchell. You were unconscious when they brought you in. Can you follow my finger?”

Mitchell watched the nurse move his finger from side to side.

“I’m told there are some people in the waiting room for you. Your brother?”

“How…” Mitchell suddenly remembered Maeve, Kieran’s cousin. She was going to call Kieran, and Kieran would have called Mark.

“You’re going to have to go for a few scans, and then your brother can come in, okay?”

“My wife…”

“I promise, the doctor will come speak with you as soon as possible.” The nurse glanced at his watch. “I’ll be back soon, or someone will be in to take you for an X-ray, okay?”

Mitchell waited until he was sure he was gone, then he reached up and removed his oxygen mask, dropping it to the side. He pushed the sheet back, kicking it off with difficulty. They’d cut his shirt off and applied a large bandage to his side. He pressed his hand there, groaning involuntarily as he sat up. Then he swung his feet over the side of the bed and grasped hold of his IV tree.

When he stood, the room canted dangerously around him. He gritted his teeth and tensed his legs until his vision cleared. Then he shuffled toward the curtain dividing his bay from Larissa’s. Trembling fingers grasped the edge and pulled it back, just far enough for him to see what was happening.

The sight could have been from his worst nightmare.

Larissa, naked on the hospital bed. A nurse stood on a step facing him, her hands forcing Larissa’s breastbone deep at a rapid clip. Her bloodied breasts wobbled with each pump. A doctor or resident in a white coat stood at Larissa’s head, giving her breaths through her tube. Another tube had been threaded down her left nostril. White pads with a plastic puck in the center covered a large swath of her chest, along with a soiled bandage over the wound above her heart.

To the side, he saw another person in scrubs adjusting a machine. It looked like an IV tree on steroids, with twin bags hanging at the top. Another nurse stood to his side, updating information on a computer. A surprising number of people were in the room, but to Mitchell’s relief, no one noticed his eye trained on the evidently lifeless form of his wife. 

He would never get used to the sight. Air forced in and out of her. Her sternum used to pump her heart. Her shoulders shrugging and her stomach popping up each time her chest was forced down. It was undeniably worse with the blood.

He wasn’t going hurt her.

Or so he said.

He just wanted to hurt me.

I should have grabbed her arm and pulled her behind me. I should have told her to run.

Fuck. She wouldn’t have run.

The knowledge that someone could love him enough to die for him cut deep.

“In thirty seconds we’re going to do a rhythm check, and then Charles will take over compressions.”

Helen bobbed relentlessly over Larissa, unfazed by the alarms or the people bustling around her. Her lips moved, counting in time with the metronome beeping out a morbid rhythm. 

“They’re holding an OR for her if you achieve return of spontaneous circulation.”

“Pause compressions for a rhythm check.”

Helen lifted her hands, breathing hard as she stepped down and to the side. A man replaced her, his eyes moving to the monitor.

“That’s v-fib!”

The man immediately bent over Larissa, rolling his shoulders into place and rocking his weight into her sternum.

“Charge to three-sixty.”

The man pumped her chest ten times and then Mitchell heard someone say: “Clear. Everyone clear.”

The man performing chest compressions lifted his hands and the woman at her head unhooked the bag.

“Administering shock.” Larissa’s chest jerked, her back flinching slightly up off the bed and her damaged arm flopping to the side. Immediately, Charles the nurse began pumping her chest again, his hands forcing the pad in the center of her chest down. 

“Push harder!” A robotic voice commanded. Charles complied, bringing his shoulders over his hands and making Larissa’s stomach bulge.

“What’s her blood pressure?”

Mitchell’s fist came up to his mouth, pressing so hard against his lips that his teeth dug into the inside. 

“Seventy over fifty-five.”

The hospital bed squeaked as Charles thrust his hands down over and over again. Down, sinking her chest and popping her abdomen. Up, her ribcage springing back and her stomach deflating. The whoosh of ventilations several seconds apart and between compressions.

Mitchell leaned against the wall, trying to make sure he didn’t move the curtain and call attention to himself. He felt nauseated; knew he should go lay down. Knew the second a nurse or doctor walked in, he’d be in trouble.

Come back, baby. Please. I don’t want to do it without you.

“Rhythm check in thirty seconds. Helen, you can take over for Jane. Jane, you’ll be on compressions.”

Pump and pump and pump and pump…

Mitchell’s side hurt with each breath he took, so he tried to breathe shallowly. He could feel his heart galloping in his chest.

“Alright. Pause compressions. Rhythm is showing as… sinus tachycardia. Good job, folks. Helen, keep up ventilations. Jane, call the OR and tell them she’s headed their way. Ask about a cooling vest.” The doctor speaking walked through Mitchell’s line of sight. “The husband is next door?”

Shit.

Mitchell cast one more glance at Larissa. She still looked to be at death’s door, and he wished he could talk to her, or at her, before they took her away. Mitchell eased backward, trying subtlely to release the curtain.

“Ah… Looks like the husband is watching us right now.”

Busted.

Mitchell pushed open the curtain. “You’re about to take her for surgery, right?” His voice sounded gravelly.

“Sir—”

“I just want to talk to her before you take her. Is there time?” Mitchell drew himself up to his full height, gritting his teeth against the pain. Then he forced himself to unlock his jaw and quietly asked: “Please?”

The doctor nodded and hurried forward, reaching for Mitchell’s arm. “Yes. You have a short minute, but I want to make sure you don’t fall.”

Mitchell let the doctor escort him to Larissa’s side. The nurse was still squeezing the bag regularly, making Larissa’s chest rise and fall. He’d ended up on her wounded side, so he rested his hand on the top of her head, his thumb falling on her forehead. Mitchell leaned close to her ear. 

“Baby, it’s Mitchell. Stay with us, okay? I don’t want to do all those things without you. Pull through and I promise I will sell and we will do anything you want. I don’t care what it is as long as I can be with you, okay? I love you.” Mitchell pressed his lips to her temple. When he finally pulled back, he looked up at the doctor. “Make sure they take good care of her.”

Days later

Larissa stirred.

She had a talent for waking up after most of her visitors had gone. She’d been in and out for most of the day, mumbling nonsense and crying when she was awake.

Mitchell suspected this time would be no different, but he was still excited to see her move of her own accord. It was much better than the first time he’d seen her after her first surgery, laying so still, pale and cold and on a ventilator. She’d gotten off the ventilator quickly and had two more surgeries. He was looking forward to her being coherent enough for him to be sure his Larissa really had survived.

Her eyelids fluttered, and she grimaced, letting out a quiet cry.

“Hey…” Mitchell squeezed her hand and stood, wincing at the pain in his ribs. He leaned over her as much as he could, wanting to keep hold of her hand but knowing he was on the same side as her bad ear. “Larissa, you’re safe. You’re in the hospital. It’s Mitchell. I’m safe, too.”

Larissa cracked open her eyes, her slightly swollen lids nearly obscuring her irises. 

“Hey, baby.” Mitchell squeezed her hand, speaking loudly. He reached in with his other hand and ran his knuckles down her cheek.

Larissa leaned into his touch, and Mitchell sucked in a sharp breath. It was the first time she’d reacted to anyone’s attempts to comfort her.

“Mitchell…” Her voice was hoarse. Her eyes opened wider. “Mitchell…”

“I’m here! I love you!” He cupped her cheek. “How do you feel?”

She blinked a few times, then let out a huff of air that almost sounded like a groan. “N-not great…”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

“Ben Miller.” Her voice was flat.

Mitchell squeezed her hand again. “We never have to worry about him again, Larissa. He’s dead. He… hurt himself. He’s dead.”

“You’re… okay?” her brow furrowed. 

“I’m okay. I’m okay… You…” Mitchell’s voice went wobbly, and he cleared his throat. “You saved me, Larissa.”

She seemed to ponder this for a long time before she spoke again. “I owed you one.”

Mitchell snorted, and then, to his dismay, he started crying. He hunched over their clasped hands, gasping as tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Come… here…” Her hand weakly tugged at his. Mitchell tipped forward, his face pressing into her good shoulder. Larissa whispered: “Ahhh, honey. It’s okay…”

“We’re selling the company,” Mitchell said, his voice muffled.

“What?”

He took a shuddering breath and turned his head so that his lips weren’t pressed into her hospital gown. “We’re selling the company. And we’ll buy that house in Hawaii. Shit, that can be our main home.”

He lifted his head to see if she understood him.

“Good,” she whispered. She looked exhausted, but the ache in his chest was dissipating the more obvious it became that she was still herself.

“Larissa…”

“I know.” She took a deep breath. “I love you, too.”

--

The story continues in: Saving Mitchell

[rockheadcd]

@electrivolt said: Jolteon has been maybe a little bit on edge for the last few days, that night's events still clear as day whenever a sliver of bandages would be noticeable. He doesn't exactly feel much better than his trainer does, does he? Now that he finds Roark a little more free, the 'mon takes his chance to just... maybe a little awkwardly go up to him, carefully headbumping his hand, a sad little whine with it before looking up at him, still every bit as worried as when he realized what happened. He's trying really hard to say he's sorry for hurting him. / forfeit all mortal possessions to the jolteon.

It wasn't too difficult to coerce him into staying home—or rather, in Sunyshore—throughout the entirety of this particular set of injuries. Between the both of them... Roark was too worried about Volkner's train of thought, wracked with guilt, and Volkner would not stand to see Roark try to go back to his usual duties in this state, knowing very well nothing else back in Oreburgh had the dexterity required to change or check his wounds.

Even now, when the worst of it has passed, Roark still has to endure both the vague soreness in the depths of his shoulders, stiff in recovery, and the itch and sting of deep scabs. Admittedly, he's just happy he can lift his arms without wanting to dive head first into the ocean. Still, even though Roark has been comfortably on mend as a result of hypervigilance, he still can't help but worry. Guilt is just part of his love's personality, after all.

There's a huff of an exhale through his nose, the gym leader taking a breath, unlearning the caution of pangs that have thankfully faded. The power plant needed Volkner's attention, and with that included Luxray, so the natural order of the team hierarchy fell back upon Roark—at least now, he's used to it, even fond of it, after learning how to care for the electric types in Volkner's unexpected absence. Even so, it was rather obvious in the blond's reluctance to leave, that this was not part of the recovery plan.

In other words, if Roark did anything stupid, he was not going to fly back home.

And so, he's resolved himself to the first floor of Volkner's abode, stretched out on the sofa that's seen better days and less fur, arm sticking out and simply just waiting, fiddling on his phone. He almost doesn't see Jolteon come by, carefully getting his attention and whining some. Roark looks over in a moment of surprise, but his gaze softens, overturned hand flipping to rub Jolteon's chin affectionately. Although spikier and uneven in texture, the quills were strewn along his back, posing no unintentional threat. It seemed to be a trait of Eevees and their evolutions—to take the type disposition to it's extreme.

"Hey, don't worry about me.. I'm okay. I think I would have spazzed if I had to wake up like that, too," Roark ushers, carefully smoothing bright yellows in the direction they grew. He never once felt the need to blame the poor thing with the chaos of that night. "I'd never be upset with you, I promise. Here, you wanna come up? You're not heavy."

[healthandfitnesshm]

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[fantasies-fairytales-n-fics]

Code Blue Ch. 60- The Devil Becomes Him

Summary: Josie puts on her running shoes. Karma is a dish served cold, literally. The March sisters squabble and Mama March is fed up. As a shocking truth is revealed, a sour relationship begins to sweeten. Sad news sparks a conversation that delivers Josie a reality check regarding her future. She and Gerry wrangle once more, leading to an unexpected intervention that unleashes the detective's primal instincts. A light turns on that reveals one of Josie's medication induced blackouts. A second acquaintance makes an eerie impression. Look out Salem. The devil is in disguise no more.

*Chapter warnings* DARK! Angst, language, anxiety, graphic depictions, mentions of rape and abortion, domestic dispute, murder, poisoning,

Stories Stories Stories Masterlist

March 24, 2022

Salem, Massachusetts

Exhausted from two arguments at the crack of dawn, Josie just wanted to crawl into bed and burrow under the blankets for eternity but she knew she had to suck it up and get to the hospital. Severely slacking on her morning runs and gym workouts to keep her fit and strong for ice skating, she chose her own two feet to take her to her destination since Jeffrey had her car and she felt a run in the fresh cold air of March would help her to clear her scrambled mind. With her kubotan in her pocket for self defense and ear buds in, immersing in some Kelly Clarkson whom she idolized, Josie loped her way to see her sister to get more clarity on the murderous mystery man Megan claimed she was beginning to remember.

Meanwhile, as Josie splashed through remnants of rain puddles, gracefully panting and puffing out "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, stronger! Just me, myself and I," Peter was also up bright and early in his prison cell, freshly groomed and donning a suit and tie for his long awaited appeal as he ate his mediocre breakfast with his left hand due to the Lee breaking his right one. Frowning from the pain and the unusual texture of the cold and flavorless mock-eggs, he wiped his lips and pushed the half-eaten inedible sustenance away, then proceeded to brush his teeth.

Vigorously scrubbing his pearly whites, Peter drifted off into a delusional daydream of being set free and disappearing from Salem with his beloved Josephine at his side to live happily ever after. He was soon brought back to the reality of her hatred towards him by the spattering of the running faucet, followed by a heavy flow of red water.

"GAH!" he gasped and stumbled back, his hazel eyes wide with fear. "What the fuck!"

Promptly shutting it off, he skipped the rinse and spit out the minty foam, then began to anxiously pace with anticipation for the iron door to open. Merely moments later, his steps came to a halt as his airways became restricted and crippling pain attacked his stomach. Falling to the floor, he laid helpless, beginning to convulse.

Simultaneously, fellow inmate and former mobster Brad Wu completed his daily privileged routine of delivering and retrieving the meal trays. His expression was grim with worry over the hit he had been coerced into carrying out by the Corinthos organization whom he greatly owed for a past debt and now they were collecting. They knew he had been awarded the duties of dietary aid due to good behavior and that also included the receiving and stocking of the food products which enabled the Peter poison to be smuggled into the prison and through Jeffrey's unexpected and intentional untimely visit, Brad was given the murderous mission through mob code. At some point he knew he would be called upon to fulfill some dirty deed but he had hoped it would be after his approaching release in order not to hinder that if he were discovered. Either way, he felt he had no choice. It was simply a case of do or die, so Brad did.

Upon her arrival at the hospital, Josie sat with her distraught mother and sister, going over Megan's sudden memory jog to see if it would trigger any other details, but the attempt failed.

"Alright," Josie sighed in frustration. "Where's Luke? Did you call him like I told you to?"

Megan sniffled. "I...I told the guard to tell him I wanted to see him and just before you got here, he said that Detective Evans was no longer on the force. Someone else is supposed to come see me but I don't know who or when."

"Wait, what??? Did they say WHY in regards to Luke??"

"No and I didn't ask."

"Whatever. I'll just call him myself."

Frowning with incredulous eyes, she hung up and wondered, was it a coincidence that Luke was unemployed right after helping her get in to see Peter? "Odd. Straight to voicemail and it's full. Guess I'll text Gerry to find out."

Megan gasped. "Don't you bring that barbarian here! He's a freaking lunatic!"

Josie's eyes narrowed as she snapped. "Not that I condone his behavior but can you blame him?? I sure as shit don't! He was only reacting to having his entire world turned upside down because of YOU and he's pretty hell bent on making you pay for it. Look on the bright side. You'll be safer in jail!"

Pouting, Megan shoved her pillow over her face and began to sob through her muffled reply. "I'm not safe here! I'm going to die and my own sister don't even care!"

"Damn it Josephine, what is wrong with you?!" Margaret barked and placed her hand on her distressed daughter's arm to comfort her but Megan abruptly recoiled with eyes of horror as if she had been burnt. "Don't touch me!!"

Gasping in fright, Margaret sprung to her feet. "Megan, what's wrong???"

Josie's conscience hit her with instant remorse. She could see that PTSD was setting in and being someone herself that could relate to traumatic response, she empathized. "Mom, I'm really sorry. Let me talk to her alone."

The elder fiery redhead unleashed her pent up anger. "Why, so you can upset her even more??! That's all you do Josephine! I won't have anymore of it! Do you hear me young lady?? I don't care what happened between you both! She has been through hell. You could at least be compassionate to that! And that goes for that savage Scot Gerard too, coming in here to bully an already traumatized young girl just as YOU are!!!"

Her mother's raging emphasis at calling her hypocrisy out hit deep about Gerry considering Josie had recently rebuked him for his actions. "M..mom! I said I was sorr..."

Cutting Josie off with no regard to her apologetic attempts, Margaret continued. "You go ahead and text him and you be sure to tell him to do his damn job too since no one else is! I'm tired of sitting here worrying for my daughter's safety! If Beauregard or Jason were here, they would have found this monster by now!"

"STOP FIGHTING!!" the younger fiery redhead screeched and buried her face back in the pillow.

Josie's eyes burned of tears as she accepted her mother's deserved scolding. The full first names had been unleashed and Josie knew better than to debate with her mother, especially when she was right.

"Mom, you're right. I've been insensitive and I promise I will be good. I just reeeallly need to talk to her...please."

Margaret gave cynical eyes and a sarcastic tone. "Well that's up to Megan."

Josie and Megan locked tearful eyes and for the first time in a very long time, they both recognized the depth of the sorrow their eyes held. "It's ok momma. Joey can stay and talk to me."

"Fine." Margaret huffed. "I'll just be down the hall in the lobby to get some coffee. I will hear if there is any yelling."

As Margaret left, Josie shot a quick text to Gerry with angry fingers. "Thought u were gonna apologize to my mom! Where r u anyways? Need to talk. Urgent!"

"Soooo," Megan softly squeaked as she fidgeted with her pillow. "What do you want to talk to me about?"

Josie sat down on the edge of her bed with softened eyes, careful not to touch her sister. "Do you remember a long time ago when I was kidnapped by a man named Peter?"

"Yeah." she squeaked again followed by a sniffle. "He...he locked you in something and...when Gerry brought you home, you were scared of everything."

Josie closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, then reopened them as she exhaled. "Yes. Kind of like you are now. Trauma and PTSD will do that. Megs...I don't know if this will help you at all but...there's something I would like to share with you that I have never told a single soul."

Megan tilted her head like a confused puppy. "Not even Lee? I mean, you're different with him so I just figured you guys tell each other everything."

Josie smiled through the sting of his name. "How about we not talk about anyone else but you and me right now ok?"

Megan nodded as a tear fell. "Ok. I hate men right now anyways."

Josie chuckled. "You know what? ME too."

"So, what were you going to tell me?"

"Ok. Wow, so this is harder than I thought it would be to say out loud or at all, which is why I never told anyone. But I'll do it for you if it will help you to not feel so alone in what you're going through. That man...he...he violated me too. When he abducted me, he used chloroform and during my unconsciousness, he had his way with me and I..."

Josie paused as she choked up. "I..I know that it's true because I...I was quite sore from it and I didn't want to be touched either, for the longest time and not only that...I wound up pregnant and I...I...."

Megan sat straight up and took her sister's hand as Josie began to fully sob. "I...had an abortion and never told a soul, not even Peter. Jason suspected it but I wouldn't admit it. I was so ashamed of it all, the rape, the pregnancy and ending it and I truly believe God is punishing me for it by not allowing me to have children after being shot. I...I hate Peter so much and I'm so sorry for what happened to you!"

"Oh my god Joey. Come here!"

Megan embraced her sister so tight and the estranged siblings cried in each other's arms until Josie severed the physical connection and stood up, still in tears. "How can you comfort me after the way I have been treating you when you're suffering from the same thing I experienced?? I don't deserve it Megan."

"Are you joking Jo?? After everything I have done to you, I think you had every right to treat me as such. I have been nothing but a bitch to you and very hurtful. I...I ruined your life, literally. You loved Gerry and I was jealous. I was always jealous of you. You were the pretty one, the popular one, the good one that everyone adored and I was the thorn in everyone's side, the black sheep of the family and I took all my anger and resentment out on you and that was SO wrong of me and I am SO SO sorry and now the karma train came for me and..."

"DON'T say that! No one deserves this! and please...don't talk about trains either. Fucking things are omens."

"Ok no trains? But Jo Jo, I'm the one who did bad things. If God is punishing anyone, it's me not you."

"How do you know that??" Josie cried.

"What I did to my unborn baby was a bad thing! You think being shot in the stomach was coincidental or the fact that it scarred my ovaries was too?! They're signs Megan and you know they're real. You're the one who made me believe in them when we were kids. I just wish there would have been one to see this coming. This should have never happened to you. I just don't get it. WHY you?"

"Because my stupid self got involved with Ethan just to spite you and I ignored your warnings about him. Once again. Karma."

"But you said you don't feel that he did this?"

"I don't. I mean, his attire was a far cry from a man's suit that I saw for one thing and yeah he has a British accent but I would have recognized his voice when the man spoke to the guard. That woman that was murdered was a big part of his life and I was always around Ethan, well, until I began to think he was the one who took her daughter and told that detective about it."

Josie's thoughts did a one eighty back to Craig regarding something she should have thought of before she shot her mouth off with baseless accusations. Her stomach did a nauseating flip as another reason was added to Craig's own long list of how and why it couldn't be him. Why would he do this to Megan when he knew she tried to help his daughter and betrayed Ethan to do it?

"Maybe I was at the wrong place at the wrong time?" Megan continued. "God I wish I could just remember!!! The last thing I remember is always the same thing. I was walking somewhere and it was getting dark and I had to go a different way because some idjit ran over a fire hydrant and it was spraying out..."

Megan gasped at a new recollection. "Ewww, rusty water. Holy shit! I just remembered that!!"

Josie reeled as she gritted her teeth. "Arrrgh! Why is everyone I love seeing that bloody fucking water??? Dave has, I have, Gerry has. Even Craig just did this morning. Now you!"

"Craig is on your love list? He...he's that little girl's father and your landlord right? W...what about Lee?"

Josie sat back down on the bed. "I don't love Craig like that and yes he's her dad and my landlord. He's just a friend errr well, maybe not even that anymore after...never mind, not important. Lee on the other hand, well," Josie sighed, lowering her eyes as a stabbing ache pierced her heart. "He um...I guess it's over. He walked out on me this morning and I don't think he's going to come back."

"You're shitting me right? Why??? Like, you guys had this serendipity kind of thing, at least that's how I saw it and he was clearly head over heels for you and vice versa and I could even see him putting a ring on it and you actually saying yes."

"Well that's never going to happen. There's things he just can't get past or understand. Maybe in another lifetime."

"God Jo, I'm so sorry and I'm so sorry that I ever tried to cause trouble for the two of you. I really mean that. Any one could see how much he loves you just by the way he looked at you. I'm pretty sure he can't just shut that off like some light switch and I'm sure he'll come back around when he gets his head straight."

"I...I believe you....about being sorry that is. As far as Lee, the room went dark when he left so I'm pretty sure he shut it off. Let's just not talk about him ok?"

"Ok but...then who's cologne do I smell on you? It's refreshing."

"Huh?" she responded, then instantly remembered the baggie in her pocket with the cologne soaked kleenex inside that Craig gave her which she figured must have had a faulty seal.

There was that nauseating feeling again of how wrong she had been about him. Megan surely would have recognized the same cologne she smelled on the man outside of her room which was the same scent she smelled in the tunnels and she didn't even bat an eye to Craig's. Either way, Josie had no intentions of ever letting Megan smell the baggie when she had already figured out Craig was innocent the moment he swore on his daughter. If only he had made the proclamation in the beginning. She now wondered if he purposely let it play out to see how far she would take it as a test of her loyalty and to see how much she truly cared for him considering his sudden declaration of love for her.

"Oh...that...ummm I..."

Saved by the beep of her phone, Josie sprung to her feet with frozen lungs and a hopeful gleam in her eyes that it was Lee but upon viewing the screen, she felt like a kid on Christmas who didn't get the one thing they wanted most. "It's Gerry." she sighed, then proceeded to read his raging retort.

"Sorry princess pain in the arse, your mum's hurt feelings will have to wait. Got my own shit to deal with such as my father's rapidly declining health. I haven't eaten in 24 hours because he flatlined yesterday and now he's in a coma so if you don't mind, I'd like to sit here in some peace and quiet, ALONE and force down this brutal cafeteria breakfast and cold, sacrilegious bevvy they call coffee. Your Lee's problem now, not mine baby."

Realizing her mother clearly didn't know about Victor, Josie felt she should go inform her or she knew that the woman who held a torch for the Greek tycoon for most of her life would never forgive her if she had not been able to be at his bedside to say her goodbyes were he to pass.

"Meggie, I need to go tell mom something about Victor and then I need to find Gerry. I won't be too long."

"Oh my god...did he...die?"

"Almost. He's not doing well. Gerry said he's in a coma. I think mom should go see him...just in case."

"Maybe her presence will help him? I've heard of things like that. They say they can hear you so maybe her love can bring him back?"

Josie's eyes slightly widened, for she didn't realize her sister knew of her mother's secret feelings.

"Oh come on Joey. It's not some news flash that mom and Victor were star-crossed lovers. Everybody knew, even daddy because of Bo. I know mom loved daddy too but Victor was...is the love of her life and she his. I can't hold that against her. The heart wants who the heart wants....right Jo? You can't help who you truly love."

Josie took her sister's words of truth to heart just as Megan had intended, for she and Lee seemed to be star-crossed lovers as well and she feared she would follow in her mother's footsteps, loving and pining for one man for the rest of her life while having no choice but to move on and at some point with another man. It had always been Lee and it would always be Lee. Forever.

After telling her mother the grim news, Margaret was too upset to go see Victor and felt she should calm down first as she feared he would subconsciously detect her suffering and it would do him more harm than good. Instead, Margaret told Josie to go see Gerry, whom she was still quite angry with but knew her daughter would be the only one to console the stubborn Scotsman.

With reluctance, Josie left her mother and sister to defy Gerry's wishes of solitude, for she knew her ex-fiance better than anyone and knew he was putting on a front to hide his pain and longing for comfort but first, like her mother, she needed to calm down. The one thing she hated most about her anxiety was that it brought on relentless hot flashes and not even the rubber band snapping upon her wrist could ward the volcanic eruptions off.

Standing at the bathroom mirror, Josie twirled her ponytail up in to a messy bun and placed damp paper towels over the back of her neck, then with closed eyes and a hanging head, she leaned on the sink to breathe through her emotional heatwave. Without warning, a voice inside her head broke her concentration. Lee's voice relaying the same desperate words she had heard him say after he had scooped her up from the hospital lobby's floor during her panic attack over Jason's death. "Just breathe."

Falling on all fours to the cold tile floor, she silently sobbed as she waited for Superman's arms to come and pick her up once more, but this time, he never came.

Recovering from her meltdown, Josie picked herself back up as she knew she would have to do from that point on and whispered to her reflection in the mirror. "Big girls don't cry. No more."

Knowing whole-heartedly that would be a future task she would fail miserably at, she dried her eyes and carried on to the cafeteria where she spotted Gerry by his lonesome, sticking out like a sore thumb in the crowded eatery.

As she swiftly sat down across from him at the small table for two, his bold baby blues eyed her up and down before he leaned forward to deliver a dose of Scottish sass. "I always thought you were a wee bit dief because you never listen but apparently you've lost your specs in a bag of tatties as well darlin since you missed the part of my text where I typed the word alone in caps."

Hardened to both his coping and defense mechanisms consisting of petulant insults, Josie ignored the meaningless remarks and went straight to the point. "Megan saw him Gerry, the man who..."

"You see?? Right there's my point about how you don't listen because here I still sit, NOT alone."

"You're the one not listening, now can you let me fini..."

"You're right, I'm not listening because you lost me at the mention of that sadistic little witch's name and furthermore..."

"Damn it Gerard! Haud yer wheesht!" she retorted as she smacked her palm down on the table, causing the silverware to loudly rattle and faces to turn, including that of Craig's creepy father who Josie noticed loitering at the coffee station.

Gerry sat back with a cocky curled lip and aroused eyes. "Alright sweetness, you've got my attention and everyone else in the room for that matter. What was so urgent, as you put it in your text, that you had to come and bully me while I eat my morning scran??"

Josie's humiliated eyes peeked around the room, then she regrouped and leaned forward to whisper. "She saw the man who attacked her. Two nights ago outside of her room."

"And apparently she lived to tell you about it. Bummer."

Josie's palms slapped over her face as she grumbled. "Oh my godddd. Stop!"

"What?" he chuckled with a shrug of his broad shoulders. "I'm just expressing my extreme disappointment in the matter."

"Look," she continued in a discreet voice. "I can see it's going to take you a very long time to get over what she did to us but..."

"How about never." he promptly professed.

"Fine, never then, whatever...but don't be so crass! She don't deserve to die for it Gerry!"

He folded his bulky arms over his chest and gazed at her in thought. "Fair enough. Alright, I'll bite. So who was it then? You said she saw him."

"Well...not clearly, his face anyways. It was shadowed by the dark hall but she saw his form quite well because he stopped at her room as he was walking by and she feels certain it's not Ethan..."

"Wait, how could she know it's not him if she didn't see his face? And besides that, I thought she didn't remember anything? You know she's been doped up and I of all people know what it's like to be doped up no thanks to her and to see things that aren't there such as when I thought she was you since she put your perfume on too. She was either hallucinating or dreaming."

"No, she wasn't! Speaking of perfume, she recognized his strong cologne and it triggered a memory from the tunnels! She also heard his voice when the guard questioned him. He had a distinct accent but not foreign and she said he was tall, wearing a dark suit and his shirt and shoes stuck out the most because the shirt was white and the shoes were glassy."

Gerry chuckled. "Sweetheart, you just described half the business men in the surrounding areas. As far as that bawbag Ethan, he may be a half-wit Brit and dress like his hero Justin Bieber but accents and attire can be altered."

Josie cringed as she recalled Craig's first response being exactly the same. "Yeah well, she would have known Ethan's voice and is it a coincidence that the man was wearing the same tacky cologne he wore in the tunnels?? And why stop at her room, looking in at her??? Come on Gerry. Ethan may look stupid, but he's far from it."

"Trust me, a lot of these Boston big shots, which as you know, Bostonians have very noticeable accents, shower in those cheap and tacky designer rip offs. Ethan may not be as stupid as he looks but he certainly is the taunting type. He gets off on making people squirm. Look, whomever it was, IF there was even someone there at all..."

"There was a man there! Ask the guard!"

"Ok, then what did he tell the guard when questioned?"

"That his wife was having tests and he got lost in boredom."

"Oh no, better cuff 'em and stuff 'em."

Josie's glare shot daggers at the smug Scot. "You know what? My main reason for coming here was to check on you because I know you don't do well ALONE when things go wrong, which I understand you're going through a hell of a lot right now but why should I even care when YOU, Mr. law abiding citizen, don't even care about upholding the law except for when it comes to persecuting my sister for personal reasons and are making light of a serious situation!"

Offended, Gerry leaned right in with a clenched jaw. "Damn right its personal and I thought it was for you too but apparently you've gone soft somewhere for the sinister sister that poisons everything she touches. Empathy was always your weakness and..."

"At least I feel something! And yes, I came to you because for one thing, it's your job which my angry mother told me to remind you of and second, I...well I..."

As she hesitated to finish, Gerry raised a curious brow and forced down a sip of his cold coffee. "You...what? Gaun yerself. Don't stop your ear-bleeding blathering now. Prattle away princess."

Josie kept her eyes on her twiddling fingers. "It's just that...my sister and my mom too, they're not safe. Sure, there's a guard 24/7 but...well, I'm sure Megan will be released in about a week or so and then what? No one is going to guard my other's house. I was just thinking that...well...ok just hear me out. So..."

Gerry closed his eyes and slowly shook his head before allowing her to continue. "Why do I feel like some new fresh hell is about to be unleashed?"

"It's just an idea and would just be temporary until this person is caught. Victor has a huge mansion with security that's literally comparable to that of the freaking White House and you'd never see them since you reside in the guest house mostly and because they would just stay in their own little wing and..."

"Wow," he huffed with an incredulous smile. "Just WOW. Fresh hell indeed. A fiery rank air beige straight from Satan's red arse. Tell me, do I have the word doormat tattooed across my fucking forehead?"

"Gerry, please just let me finish."

"You know, I liked you better as a redhead. That bleach has done minced your bonnie little heid. You want ME to let your mother and that malevolent misfit to have a stay in my father's home?? Ohhhh blondie, you're off your fucking trolley right now."

"Like I said, it would only be temporary and..."

""No." he curtly answered as he chewed his butter-logged toast. "Man I'd kill for some mince and tatties right now. How is this food even called food? I feel one hell of a jobby coming on after this."

"Gerry, could you at least just think about it befor..."

"There's nothing for me to think about! This day is like Murphy's fucking law. I already have a plethora of shit to deal with and then you waltz in here like an entitled brat, dumping your shit onto my shit. The audacity you have to ask for my help in the most ludicrous of ways just blows my mind. I don't want that wretched hoity toity hen anywhere near me or any food or drink I ever consume. Not only that, but you seemed to have forgotten that my mum is staying there also and my Margie with your Maggie in the same vicinity is another train wreck waiting to happen??"

"I know but your mom isn't staying in the mansion. She's in the guest house with you and refuses to go into the main house. They'll never cross paths Gerry and have YOU forgotten that Victor loves my mother and would want her to be safe? They share a son! You know he would be the first to demand she stay there if he were able to."

"Well he's not!" he snapped. "And don't you play that card with me, using my comatose father or our dead brother to get what you want. No means no darlin. Learn to accept it!"

"I'm not using anyone Gerry!"

"That's a flat out whopper darlin," he chuckled sarcastically and chewed some more. "and I don't mean Burger King. God I wish I had one of those right now. Anyways, your exploiting lips lie. I have an idea. Why don't you go ask all these other men you have circling you like pack of wolves? You could start with Luke. He's got secret agent brains and another brain below the belt that has a hefty hard on for you. It's a win win situation."

"What the hell ever. Speaking of Luke, who was on the case, why is he mysteriously no longer on the force??"

"Oh, well that's one thing I can and will help you with." he arrogantly quipped, then tossed a piece of charred sausage in his mouth and frowned as he obnoxiously chomped through the dried skin. "This tastes like something you've cooked. So, where was I? Oh yeah. Tell me Josie, how was your personal visit with Peter? The one Luke helped you to get by impersonating me."

Her eyes popped. "He...he did what? I asked him to help me yes, but Gerry, I swear I didn't know he was going to do that."

"Didn't you really? Come on Eileen. Get a scooby. How else was he going to get you special privileges like that? He don't have that kind of pull being so new on the force and you know it. Sucks for him because one cop impersonating another is a serious crime. It just amazes me that he would go to such lengths, risking his job which you obviously know he lost, all for little ol you. Bampot bastard. That don't matter though. He and I hashed that out already and have come to an understanding. What matters is that you would be that fucking bampot yourself to go visit a terrorist whom you know is still crazy obsessed with you! All you've done is stiffen his pining cock with false hope."

Her eyes narrowed. "Did you just call me stupid??"

"Ahhh so you CAN hear. At least your not deaf AND dafty, just dafty and also self-absorbed! What was the first thing you did when you sat down? Ask how I'm doing and offer any words of sympathy? NOPE. It was all about your needs regarding that spawn of Satan sister of yours. The only time you even talk to me is when you need something or to chew my ears off because you're pissed at me."

"I was GOING to ask how you were BUT, what did YOU do when I sat down?? You were being a proper crabbit, hurling insults at me. Does it make you feel better to hurt me just because you're hurting??"

"Oh, right now? It indeed does baby. If I wasn't a cop, you wouldn't even be here right now trying to manipulate me. Let me make this as clear as fucking crystal babe. We're done here. Go find your faithful boyfriend doctor love. Maybe he can help you in between...steamin house calls."

"Sorry to burst your happy little bubble, but Angel's bullshit gossip about Lee was exactly that, Bullshit. He was drunk yes, but he didn't cheat. She twisted what really happened but...it don't even matter now because he ended things between us."

"That's probably the smartest thing the pure barry brain enthusiast has ever done because now he won't have to endure this nagging hale. He wasn't your type anyways. I told him that this morning after he reprimanded me like some jealous high school jock for kissing you. He's too pretty for you anyways. You like scruffy bad boys, not preppy boy toys."

Josie's raging retort was instant. "You can insult me all you want but don't insult Lee. Not to me or I'll never speak to you again!!"

"You promise???!! My bad darlin. How dare I speak the truth about a man that likes sticking his cock in a man's manky arse and enjoys the reciprocation."

With gritted teeth, Josie's hand swung but Gerry already saw it coming. With his quick reflexes, he caught her wrist mid swing. "Now now my gutsy Galway girl, it's pretty fucking stupid to assault an officer, especially in a room full of witnesses. I'd watch yourself baby. This seems to be becoming a bit of a habit with you but unlike Luke, yes I know about the incident with him, I won't hesitate to take you in."

"Go ahead hypocrite." she reeled as she ripped her hand out of his death grip. "I'll just tell them about how you made my speeding ticket magically disappear."

Gerry glared. "Ohhh you wouldn't."

"BET!"

The ex-lovers quarrel was then interrupted by Cyrus as he leered down at Gerry. "Is.... everything alright here Miss...March is it?"

Gerry leered right back up at the sizeable old man who reeked of Old Spice and cigars. "Something wicked this way comes in Salem. Well now, if it isn't the convict turned hospital CEO minding my business instead of his own. You should be minding to the kitchen staff about this prison-like food instead, pun intended. Not everyone has the same acquired taste as you."

Cyrus chuckled and grinned. "The entire room is minding your business and let me add the adjective reformed to convict. Now if you'll excuse me, detective Butler, I was addressing the lady who appears somewhat distressed."

Josie cleared her throat due to the tasteful burn of his overwhelming cologne and attempted to answer, but Gerry's inner guard dog had been triggered. "Oh I won't excuse you because one," he paused and wiped his greasy lips with a napkin in preparation for his upcoming verbal smackdown. "you're interrupting my bowfin breakfast, meaning it's as foul as your morning bevvy breath, and two, the lady in which you claim false concern for is off limits to you. I won't say that twice. Your unwarranted intrusion is merely a weak attempt at a power play to antagonize me and show me up, as if you ever could, in hopes of having security drag me out, as IF they could. Don't you have bigger fish to fry as a mob cult leader? Maybe bustin a few kneecaps and heads or paying your respects at funerals of those you've sent swimming with the fishes in the North river? Is the funeral home where you're headed today considering you're dressed accordingly in your black magic attire? I can't really pinpoint which suits you best. A witch? A vampire? Beelzebub? You know, I'm really surprised you didn't make the another power play by appearing at Jason Morgan March's or Elizabeth Webber's funeral...I mean, I at least thought you would attend Morgan's in support of your son since he was his partner in crime and best mate but I suppose that would have been quite awkward considering Craig attended with he and Morgan's mob boss, who you detest and we all know the feeling's mutual for Sonny and let's not forget that you hated Morgan too and that it was you who orchestrated the hit that put him six feet under. Ahhh well, you're a busy man these days being not only the king of a hospital and the king of a crime syndicate but the king of hell too. I guess you must have had other proactive plotting to do that day. Maybe involving your missing granddaughter and the macabre of her murdered mother? You know what they say. Ain't no rest for the wicked."

Josie's brows furrowed in thought back to that frigid February day. Had Craig went to keep up appearances considering he staged her brother's death? Even though she didn't know him at the time, she was sure she would have recalled seeing a striking face like his but then again, she had been in a brain fog since the explosion due to a combination of grief, sleep depriving nightmares and the anxiety meds that she normally didn't take because they made her feel groggy, giddy and be rather reckless and forgetful.

She had not forgotten that Craig and Jason's mob boss and wife, Sonny and Carly Corinthos, were in attendance though and how she avoided them like the plague after Dave, who had accompanied her for support, had turned to observe the guests and then alerted her of their presence. "Don't look now but Jason's employer and his wife just walked in with what appears to be his bodyguard or should I say henchman?"

She hadn't looked either but she did look at someone else that Dave discreetly pointed out shortly after. Elizabeth, who Gerry had just indiscreetly accused Cyrus of killing.

"Wait a minute. That woman in the corner. I know her. She just started at the hospital about a month ago. Guess she knew Jason or your family? Do you know her?"

In that moment of recollection, Josie felt the disgust she had for that adulteress wench all over again for having the audacity to show her face there after knowing what she knew now about her betrayal of Jason, Craig and especially Lee by deceiving them of Jacob and Blaise's true paternities, not to mention how Jason had suspected Liz was involved with Ethan in driving the nail into his coffin, most likely under Cyrus' orders. It was just as Gerry had said about how murderers will show up to their victims funerals but she couldn't tell him her suspicions or it would blow Jason's cover because Gerry would want to know how she knew and he had a special talent of extracting information out of people.

Her thoughts then shifted to the bodyguard beside the Salem mob boss that Dave had mentioned. Was it Craig since she later knew he had been immediately promoted into Jason's position as Sonny's right hand man? She had refused to turn and look because of Sonny whom she blamed for Jason's induction into the underground world of organized crime and she knew if she would have locked eyes with the Corinthos crime lord, she would have hurdled the pews of people, slugged him square in the jaw and strangled him dead. At least that's what she envisioned.

When the service had ended, she had asked Dave to watch for them to leave so that she could sneak off to the restroom without an altercation and once Dave had confirmed their departure, Josie remembered feeling anxious and that she had rushed off into the church's empty foyer where she broke down in tears.

In the present time, the sound of the cafeteria door swinging open and shoes clunking across the tile floor beside her jogged another memory of the men's restroom door bursting open in the church foyer. Gerry and Cyrus were too involved in discrediting each other that neither had noticed Josie's slight gasp and widened eyes as she saw the face of the man who exited the restroom, keys jingling as they hung from his fingertips. Startled, she stood there with tear soaked cheeks as he stopped dead in his tracks to look her in the eyes.

It was dark in the foyer. The only light that softly glowed upon his face came from caliginous wall fixtures and a very large stained glass window but there was no mistaking those blazing blue hues. Josie stiffened in her seat as the memory fog cleared. It was Craig.

He didn't speak. He didn't smile, just gazed at her, brows furrowed and then he swung the keys up, snapped a closed fist around them and gracefully swaggered off, his form becoming a silhouette in the illuminated window as his knee length black leather trench coat swayed behind him. She could still hear the echoes of his clanking boots becoming evanescent with each departing step he took down the long hall but the sweet scent of his cologne and leather remained, lingering under her nose.

How?? she wondered with mesmerized eyes wandering around the cafeteria, could she forget that after all this time??? And why hadn't Craig ever mentioned the passing moment, especially on the day she rented the apartment from him? Was finding his rental ad just some crazy coincidence or another sign? Were she and Craig destined to meet? Curious questions aside, she had to smile though, for how Craig still honored Jason's tenebrous fashion when her brother had made it clear he didn't want everyone dressed in black when his time came. He believed funerals should be a celebration of life and not something morbid ....as his life had been.

Cyrus' roaring riposte to Gerry's illustrative insults startled Josie back to the present moment. "Vampires, witches and demons, oh my!! You have quite the fiendish imagination. You really should mind your words of slander though, especially in my hospital where you have been so graciously permitted to slumber outside of visiting hours. How is dear old slick Vic doing these days? I've been meaning to stop by his unit to say hello but I'm such a busy man these days as you've creatively implied. I heard he took a turn for the worse recently. Doing well one day and the next, his ol ticker gave out after a sudden bout of disorientation. Such a shame. I really thought the Greek old goat would outlive me. My prayers and sympathy are with your family at this trying time."

"Save the feigned sympathy and condescending concern. You're beyond thrilled of my father's condition. Bad blood has flowed between you both for years. Always stepping on each other's toes and territories. An infinite rivalry just as you had with Jason Morgan and still have with Corinthos. Do you pray for them too? Except I would imagine it's to your Tartarean god? Ironic isn't it? The underground tunnels of Salem, such as the one Megan March was located in, battered, bruised and left for dead is comparable to the hellish underworld off Tartarus. They EVEN have a pathway to the Floating Rib that exploded into an inferno with one said enemy inside and his other innocent sister too who sits here before you, lucky to be alive. I bet you even sleep in your cozy little coffin down there too."

Cyrus gave a hearty chuckle. "Ahhh some Greek mythology. The scatterbrained Scotsman actually has some Kiriakis smarts. Well according to you, I AM the devil himself and I've come down to Salem, looking for a soul to steal. What's next on my so called agenda? Demonic cults, sacrificing babies, drinking blood? Be careful detective. Jokers like you wind up in mental institutions. In fact, didn't your one brother Phillip wind up in one once upon a time after messing with the DiMera's? Even faked his own death which apparently.... is quite easy to do with powerful connections."

It was then verified what Josie already believed to be true. Cyrus knew Jason was alive. While the the cop and kingpin continued to lock horns, Josie heeded a lot of Gerry's gibberish of analogies, deeming it to be not so far fetched as she then began to see Craig's father for all that he truly was. Her daring eyes became fixated on Cyrus' uncanny image that, thanks to Gerry, reminded her of Lucifer himself, whom according to mythologies was once the most beautiful angel in Heaven but the aged man before her wearing a black suit and a black shirt adorned with a galaxy of star-like dots sans the tie was nothing of the sort. He had soulless dark eyes, a Trump-like spray tan and a devilish goatee heavily doused of salt and pepper that coordinated with his tied back greasy locks.

It was quite incredulous to her that Craig was a product of this unsightly man, for Craig was the beautiful one, inside and out. She could only assume that he had inherited the entirety of his mother's looks and morals because he shared no resemblance whatsoever with his father in either of those ways. Aside from DNA, their dark professions were the only thing they had in common but even that separated the two, for Craig held a passionate light in his soul and possessed a heart of gold which Josie would attest to. It had never been his life long dream to follow in his father's forced footsteps for power, money and mayhem. He despised monsters like him and handled them accordingly when necessary. Craig held great power just as Cyrus did and with such govern came great responsibility but unlike his father, Craig had a strong, moral obligation to use his reign for the greater good and he did his best to adhere to those principles. To Cyrus, his son's goodness was considered weakness because of his occasional lenient nature and selective executions. To some, he was labeled a vigilante for ridding the world of bad apples and was praised for it and then there were others who only saw him as the demon seed of Cyrus but as far as Josie was concerned, she simply saw Craig as a doting father and an avid artist, where is Cyrus...she saw as the antichrist.

As Cyrus noticeably caught sight of Nurse Angel, he wrapped up the cringeworthy conversation. "I wish I could say it's been a pleasure speaking with you detective but I do have duties to fulfill, unrelated to your ridiculous theories and I will not dignify any further responses. Miss March, my apologies for the interruption. I hope your sister is doing well and once again, as I mentioned at Craig's, I am sorry for your loss."

"Oh..." he stopped and turned back with a grin. "Did you know that not only is a Posey a lovely flower with such a sweet aroma but it's also a nickname of English origin for Josephine? I must say though, you're much lovelier and is that Jasmine you're wearing? How delightful and sweet all the same. Have a good day."

"Creep." she reeled under her breath as he walked away and as he did so, a twinkle of light from his obsidian shoes caught her eye. "Gerry," Josie whispered. "His shoes."

Gerry's submitting eyes glided down to the clown-sized glassy footwear and then he and Josie continued in civil conversation as if they hadn't just been at each other's throats only moments earlier. "Noted Nancy Drew, although you're hot she's not, but still circumstantial. Cyrus isn't usually one to get his hands dirty. He's not a blood and guts kinda guy if you can believe that. I'm tellin ya Josie. Cyrus may have offed Elizabeth here in the hospital but someone else committed those violent acts against her and Megan, be it Ethan or whomever but with that said, it don't mean Renault is not the mastermind or puppet master per se pulling the strings on his little puppets like I believe he did in Jason's death. And..as you very well saw, he likes to intimidate others but...if he was the one outside of Megan's room, the guard would have recognized him."

"Ok, well shit. What about the rape kit testing on them? Any DNA matches in the system?"

"You know I can't tell you that. Case sensitive info Josie. I mean, one could guess that they were inconclusive since no arrests have been made. Look, I know you think I've just been jackin off in my spare time, which maybe I have here and there, but I'm doing my job and you can tell your mother that. I just can't tell you or her what I know, as I just said, because for one thing darlin, you have one muckle gob."

"Yeah yeah yeah." she scoffed, knowing perfectly well he was right. She did have a big mouth. "Anyways, I also remembered something else Megan said. She swears she heard a woman screaming in the tunnels."

"And did she see her?"

"Not that she can remember...yet anyways but I'm confident she will remember everything soon."

Josie then leaned in, elbows on the table as she glanced over at Cyrus who had Angel cornered in what appeared to be some kind of reprimand. "So umm, whad'ya think that's all about?"

"Either in cahoots over something or she's banging him." His brow then arched and the other one furrowed. "Do you think he can still get a stonner? He's like a hundred."

"Ewww Gerry. My eyes! Use your inner voice for your perverted thoughts."

"I don't have one of those remember? But seriously, we know she's the type. Even my dad figured her out when he was coherent. He heard the gossip too and," Gerry chuckled, "One time she came in to give him his meds and he flat out looked at her and asked who ordered the hooker."

Josie's hands covered her face as she giggled. "Oh lord. That's veracious Vic for ya. I swear though, if I ever get that woman alone, I'm gonna..."

"Do nothing." he spat. "Is she really worth going to jail?"

"Uhhh YES. After what she pulled with Lee, she deserves it but never mind that right now. So...what did Cyrus mean about your dad becoming disoriented?"

"One of the nurses called me early this morning and said he was distressed and asking for me. When I got here, he was winded and rambling nonsense. I couldn't make much of it out except for the word 'war' that he said multiple times. His eyes were closed so I don't even know if he knew I was there. He kept trying to pull his IV out and then moments later, his vitals...that sound...I...he just fucking flatlined and then nurses were swarming the room and they made me leave and code blue was echoing through the halls and my head, over and fucking over until it all just stopped. I think it was about twenty minutes or so later, his doctor came out and told me they were able to revive him but he had slipped into a coma and that was all she wrote."

"God Gerry, I am SO sorry. I really am. What could he have meant? He was never in any war unless...he was referring to a past mob war?"

His eyes slitted as he watched Cyrus exit the cafeteria. "Possibly, or something else he didn't have enough breath for. He and my father weren't on good terms, that's no secret but as far as I know, they haven't been in contact with each other in years. They were always the least of each other's concerns. Cyrus is obsessed with the Corinthos clan and it's always been the DiMeras for my dad, which you already knew."

"Maybe I could ask Craig what he knows about Cyrus and Victor? Well, that's if he'll even speak to me after...err never mind, not important. Then again, maybe I shouldn't. I don't want to cause him more grief with his dad. Craig is not fond of him whatsoever. Hey, speaking of, you said Craig was at Jason's funeral with Sonny?"

"Yes, the officer that attended confirmed that. You were there. You didn't see him?"

"I...um, I, no...because I never looked at or spoke to Sonny."

"Well, just ask Craig then or better yet, he never told you he was there? I mean, he IS your landlord and you two seem to know each other quite well. What's the deal with you and him anyways? You know, it don't matter if he hates his dad and it don't matter if you think he's some good guy. It's no different than it was with Jason. This guy is still mafia and there is nothing good in that world, but you know this. Either he'll hurt you, maybe not physically or intentionally, or you'll get hurt because of him."

"Funny, you and Lee aren't mob and look where that got me? I'm not sorry that I said that either."

"Right well, guess I deserved that. Anyway, I need to get back. I promise, I will swallow my pride for you and go talk to Megan if you still want me to, or I should say if she or your mum will let me....and...I will apologize."

"My mom said she was going to go see Victor as soon as I got back."

"Alright, I'll speak to her then."

Gerry stood up and then leaned down, taking her hand and kissing her on the cheek as he whispered in her ear. "I'm sorry for today and for...everything. Your mum and sister can stay at the mansion."

With tears in her eyes, she smiled at him and as his hand began to slip away in his departure, she clutched it and stood. "Hey...can I...come with you? I'd like to see Victor too...if that's ok?"

A soft smile curled on his lips. "Sure sweetness. He always liked you."

As Gerry and Josie stopped at the ICU nurse station outside of Victor's room for any updates, Cyrus had followed them and lurked in a corner, watching them with a sinister stare and a wicked grin.

Under his breath, he then quietly spoke. "Ring around the rosie. A pocket full of posies. Ashes, ashes, they will all fall down....just like the dearly departed Liz.

It was then that Cyrus' beady eyes glided over to the room Elizabeth had been in the night she died and he began to proudly reminisce about how he put her out of his son's and granddaughter's misery. A simple injection of Digitalis in high concentration to cause heart failure, a few tweaks here and there of her toxicology report and being a hospital CEO with a handful of sought out staff in his pocket finished the attacker's botched job and that was that. Liz was no more.

With a hearty cackle and a snicker, Cyrus strolled on his way, hands in his pockets and a devilish grin from ear to ear as he gloated. "I have big plans for little Salem detective. I've done told you once you son of a bitch. I'm the best that's ever been."

@redeemer46

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We provide premium-grade rubber, vinyl, and foam floorings for home and commercial gyms in Dubai. Additionally, you can get our high-quality interlocking rubber tiles and heavy-duty carpet tiles for a unique look. All these floor coverings will improve the comfort and energy efficiency of your space. Rubberflooringuae.com is the best Suppliers & Installation of Gym Flooring, Gym Rubber Mats and Rubber flooring in Dubai and all over UAE. Upgrade your gym with the best flooring solutions that combine functionality and style. Visit our website to explore our range and find the perfect flooring to enhance your fitness space.

For More Info. Visit Us: https://rubberflooringuae.com/ Email Us : info@rubberflooringuae.com Call Us: +971 545911811

[greenclean]

A clean and orderly environment is essential for productivity, health, and overall comfort. Whether managing a fitness center, medical office, industrial warehouse, or government facility, maintaining superior cleanliness standards ensures safety while creating a welcoming atmosphere for employees and visitors alike. Spaces that meet these high standards foster trust and enhance the functionality of any business.

A clean and orderly environment is essential for productivity, health, and overall comfort. Whether managing a fitness center, medical office, industrial warehouse, or government facility, maintaining superior cleanliness standards ensures safety while creating a welcoming atmosphere for employees and visitors alike. Spaces that meet these high standards foster trust and enhance the functionality of any business.

Professional services are designed to meet every requirement, from Industrial Deep Cleaning Services that address heavy-duty cleaning needs to fitness-specific cleaning solutions. From the sanitizing of equipment in fitness centers to fresh, safe spaces for workouts to the stringent cleaning protocols relied on by medical offices to ensure patient and staff safety, industrial settings with their very specific challenges benefit from deep cleaning services that enhance both safety and efficiency.

Explore the full spectrum of janitorial services across the U.S., from innovative solutions such as sustainable green cleaning to specialized approaches for every type of facility.

Introduction: Why Professional Cleaning Services Are Essential

Professional cleaning services do not stop at just surface cleaning. They make spaces sanitary, safe, and visually pleasing. For example, health, fitness, and industrial operations have different requirements for meeting high standards in health and safety without affecting operational efficiency. Janitorial Cleaning Services Dallas is all about spotless environments that create an impression, while Industrial Cleaning Services Akron caters to the demands of heavy-duty facilities.

Cleaning is the process of removing unwanted substances, such as dirt, infectious agents, and other impurities, from an object or environment. Cleaning is often performed for aesthetic, hygienic, functional, safety, or environmental protection purposes. Cleaning occurs in many different contexts, and uses many different methods. Several occupations are devoted to cleaning.

These services cater to diverse needs, including the highest touch areas in medical offices or deep-cleaning industrial equipment. In addition, solutions such as Industrial Deep Cleaning Services make it safer by removing difficult grime and maintaining the functioning of machines.

Cleanliness directly impacts employee morale and customer satisfaction, as it creates trust and loyalty. A clean environment demonstrates commitment to quality, making sure that clients and staff feel valued. Professional cleaning transforms any space into a beacon of health, safety, and professionalism.

Regional Focus Areas: Tailored Cleaning Services Across the U.S.

Fitness Cleaning Services

Gyms and fitness centers require detailed cleaning to manage high-traffic areas and sweat-prone equipment. Fitness Cleaning Services Dallas focus on cleaning gym floors, machines, and locker rooms using disinfectants to prevent bacteria buildup.

Similarly, the Fitness Cleaning Services Cincinnati put hygiene in their forefront by addressing yoga mats, treadmills and other frequently used equipment.  

A clean, fresh gym will keep clients healthy and loyal by ensuring a safe and enjoyable fitness experience.

Medical Office Cleaning

Medical offices require heavy-duty cleaning due to healthcare standards. Medical Office Cleaning Akron emphasizes creating a sterile environment for patients and their staff. There is a special focus on high-touch areas, including countertops, door handles, examination rooms.

In Detroit and Austin, medical cleaning services use industry-grade disinfectants to mitigate infection risks. These services operate around clinic schedules to minimize disruptions, ensuring uninterrupted patient care.

Industrial and Warehouse Cleaning

Industrial spaces and warehouses require heavy-duty cleaning to ensure safety and efficiency. Warehouse Cleaning Services Charlotte cater to facilities handling logistics, focusing on debris removal and machinery maintenance.

In Detroit, industrial cleaning services specialize in deep cleaning machinery, floors, and storage areas to enhance operational safety. Customized plans ensure that the unique challenges of industrial spaces are effectively addressed.

Green Cleaning Solutions

Green cleaning techniques and products avoid the use of products which contain toxic chemicals, some of which emit volatile organic compounds causing respiratory, dermatological and other conditions.

Environmental consciousness is at the forefront of modern cleaning. Green Cleaning Services Cleveland use eco-friendly products and methods that are safe for both humans and the environment. These services employ biodegradable solutions and energy-efficient equipment to minimize environmental impact.

By opting for Commercial Cleaning Cleveland, businesses align with sustainable practices while maintaining hygiene. Green cleaning not only reduces the carbon footprint but also appeals to clients who value sustainability.

Government Facilities and Day Porter Services

Government buildings require discreet yet thorough cleaning. Government Facilities Cleaning Services Charlotte focus on maintaining high-security standards while addressing hygiene. These services are ideal for courthouses, municipal offices, and other public spaces.

Day Porter Services atlanta provide ongoing support for high-traffic facilities. Day porters manage tasks like restroom maintenance, spill cleanups, and trash removal throughout the day, ensuring spaces remain clean and functional.

Hospital Cleaning and Commercial Services

Hospitals are held to the highest cleaning standards. Hospital Cleaning Services Columbus use medical-grade cleaning agents to ensure patient safety. These services target operating rooms, waiting areas, and diagnostic labs with precision.

For businesses, Commercial Cleaning Services Columbus focus on creating clean, appealing environments. From office spaces to retail stores, these services boost employee productivity and customer satisfaction.

Choosing the Right Cleaning Partner for Your Needs

Finding a cleaning partner starts with identifying your space’s unique needs. For industrial settings, consider Industrial Cleaning Services Atlanta or Industrial Deep Cleaning Services that focus on machinery and heavy-duty cleaning. Medical offices benefit from specialized providers offering Medical Office Cleaning Austin to ensure compliance with health regulations.

It’s also important to choose a company with strong reviews and certifications. Whether you need Janitorial Cleaning Services Detroit or Fitness Cleaning Services Detroit, always verify their track record. Customizable plans and transparent pricing are additional factors to consider.

Conclusion: A Cleaner, Greener Future for All Spaces

Janitorial services go beyond routine cleaning; they transform spaces into safe, welcoming, and productive environments. By investing in services like Warehouse Cleaning Services in Charlotte or Fitness Cleaning Services in Cincinnati, businesses enhance their operations and build trust with employees and clients.

Cleveland green cleaning solutions are leading the way to a sustainable future. With customized services and a focus on quality, expert janitorial teams ensure every space thrives-from bustling fitness centers to quiet medical offices. A cleaner, greener future starts with choosing the right cleaning partner today.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs)

Q1: What are medical cleaning services?A1: Medical cleaning services are specialized cleaning practices designed for healthcare facilities, using industry-grade disinfectants and protocols to maintain a hygienic and safe environment.

Q2: Why are medical cleaning services important?A2: They play a crucial role in preventing the spread of infections by ensuring proper sanitation in clinics, hospitals, and other healthcare facilities.Q3: How do medical cleaning services minimize disruptions?A3: These services work around clinic schedules, often during non-operating hours, to avoid interrupting patient care and medical procedures.

[rubbertechinternational]

What Types of Commercial Floor Mats Are Best for High-Traffic Areas?

High-traffic areas in commercial spaces require durable, high-performing floor mats that not only withstand constant wear and tear but also enhance safety and aesthetics. Choosing the right type of floor mat is essential for creating a clean, professional, and safe environment for employees, customers, and visitors. Below are some of the best options for high-traffic areas:

1. Entrance Mats

Entrance mats are the first line of defense against dirt, moisture, and debris. Designed to trap dirt and absorb moisture, these mats protect interior flooring and reduce cleaning costs. Look for options made of heavy-duty rubber or coir with a slip-resistant backing for high durability.

Best Use: Building entrances, office lobbies, and retail stores.

Benefits: Enhances cleanliness, prevents slip hazards, and improves first impressions.

2. Anti-Fatigue Mats

Anti-fatigue mats are ideal for commercial areas where employees are required to stand for extended periods. These mats provide cushioning to reduce fatigue, improve posture, and enhance comfort.

Best Use: Workstations, assembly lines, and cashier counters.

Benefits: Boosts employee productivity and reduces discomfort.

3. Scraper Mats

Scraper mats are made of tough materials like vinyl or rubber to remove mud, snow, and dirt from footwear. These mats are especially useful in outdoor or semi-outdoor areas exposed to harsh weather conditions.

Best Use: Outdoor entrances and heavy-duty industrial zones.

Benefits: Extends the lifespan of interior flooring and ensures a cleaner workspace.

4. Logo Mats

For businesses looking to make a statement, logo mats serve as both functional tools and branding assets. These mats feature customized designs, showcasing the company logo or message while maintaining their ability to trap dirt and moisture.

Best Use: Reception areas, hotel lobbies, and showrooms.

Benefits: Combines branding with practicality.

5. Carpeted Floor Mats

Carpeted mats are stylish and versatile, offering a softer, more refined look for indoor spaces. They are effective at trapping dust and moisture while being easy to clean.

Best Use: Conference rooms, office corridors, and retail spaces.

Benefits: Adds aesthetic appeal while protecting floors.

6. Rubber Floor Mats

Rubber mats are incredibly durable and versatile, making them suitable for various high-traffic areas. These mats are resistant to wear, stains, and slips, ensuring safety and longevity.

Best Use: Commercial kitchens, gyms, and warehouses.

Benefits: Highly slip-resistant, easy to maintain, and long-lasting.

Tips for Choosing the Right Floor Mats

Durability: High-traffic areas require mats made from robust materials like rubber, vinyl, or coir.

Safety Features: Look for mats with slip-resistant backing to prevent accidents.

Ease of Maintenance: Opt for mats that are easy to clean and maintain, especially in areas with heavy foot traffic.

Aesthetic Appeal: Choose mats that align with your brand or décor, such as logo mats or carpeted mats.

For businesses looking to find the best solutions, partnering with a Commercial Floor Mats Supplier in UAE ensures access to a wide range of high-quality options tailored to meet specific requirements.

What Are the Top Benefits of Using Commercial Floor Mats in Your Workplace?

Commercial floor mats are more than just a functional addition to your workplace; they are an investment in safety, cleanliness, and aesthetic appeal. From ensuring employee comfort to enhancing your brand image, the benefits of commercial floor mats extend far beyond their surface. Let’s explore why they are a must-have for any professional setting.

1. Enhanced Safety and Accident Prevention

Slips, trips, and falls are among the most common workplace accidents. Commercial floor mats are designed to provide a slip-resistant surface, especially in areas prone to moisture or heavy foot traffic. Anti-fatigue mats further help by reducing the risk of accidents caused by fatigue-related errors.

Key Features:

Slip-resistant surfaces.

Moisture-absorbing capabilities.

Cushioning to minimize impact from falls.

2. Improved Cleanliness and Hygiene

Floor mats act as the first line of defense against dirt, debris, and moisture entering your workplace. Entrance mats trap dust and water, reducing the amount of cleaning required and extending the life of your flooring.

Benefits:

Keeps floors clean and dry.

Minimizes maintenance costs.

Reduces allergens and improves indoor air quality.

3. Increased Employee Comfort

Standing for long periods on hard surfaces can lead to discomfort, fatigue, and long-term health issues. Anti-fatigue mats provide cushioning, improving circulation and reducing pressure on the lower back and legs. This enhances employee productivity and well-being.

4. Brand Image and Aesthetic Appeal

Custom logo mats can double as a branding tool, making a great first impression on clients and visitors. They also add a professional touch to your workplace by blending functionality with design.

Customization Options:

Logo and branding integration.

Variety of colors and styles to match your interior decor.

5. Protection for Your Flooring

Flooring is a significant investment, and wear and tear from high foot traffic can lead to costly repairs or replacements. Commercial mats act as a protective layer, reducing the impact on your floors and extending their lifespan.

6. Eco-Friendly Options

Many commercial floor mats are now made from sustainable materials, making them an eco-friendly choice for businesses looking to reduce their carbon footprint.

Green Benefits:

Recycled materials.

Long-lasting durability reduces waste.

7. Cost-Effectiveness

Although they may seem like a small addition, floor mats save money in the long run by reducing cleaning expenses, minimizing floor damage, and preventing costly workplace accidents.

8. Compliance with Safety Standards

Many industries require adherence to strict safety and hygiene standards. Commercial floor mats help businesses meet these requirements while demonstrating a commitment to employee and customer safety.

Where I Can Get Best Commercial Floor Mats Supplier In UAE

When searching for a reliable commercial floor mats supplier in UAE, Euro Rubbertech International L.L.C. stands out as a top choice. They specialize in providing high-quality, durable, and functional floor mats tailored for various commercial environments, including offices, retail spaces, and industrial facilities. Their wide product range includes entrance mats, anti-fatigue mats, and ergonomic solutions designed to enhance safety, comfort, and aesthetics. Known for their commitment to quality and customer satisfaction, Euro Rubbertech International ensures their products meet international standards and offer customization options to suit specific business needs. As a trusted name among commercial floor mats suppliers in UAE, they provide competitive pricing, timely delivery, and exceptional after-sales service, making them a preferred partner for businesses seeking premium flooring solutions.

[fitfix12]

Durable Rubber Flooring For Fitness Equipment - Perfect For Gyms

FitFix Inc. provides superior, heavy-duty rubber flooring for gyms and exercise facilities. It has slip-resistant, noise-reducing, and shock-absorbing capabilities, making it perfect for gyms, home exercise spaces, and professional training facilities. FitFix flooring is simple to install and maintain, ensuring safety, comfort, and style. For more information visit :- https://fitfix.ca/equipment-service/