#i had a four hour drive where i was just thinking about agent 8 the whole time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shurisneakers · 4 years ago

Text

shut in [2]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Gender Neutral Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, implied violence, drama kings, and stupid tv show references

Word count: 3.4k

A/N: ayeeee, we’re back for part two. i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

Hours were spent on the road in thick silence.

The both of you had been driving around for a while now. You were a considerable distance away from the mansion and Pierce, but you didn’t dare to stop.

Initially you had only put the pedal to the metal without solid plan. Get the fuck away from there was the only objective you cared about.

Hours later a signboard registered in your frantic thoughts. Familiarity struck a chord, and all of a sudden you had a vague idea of where you could go. You were unsure if it still existed, but it was a risk you were willing to take.

Darkness still coloured the sky, but the roads were deserted. No cameras along the highway was a welcomed feature. You eased your foot off the accelerator, carefully assessing the path you were taking for your exit.

You saw a small clearing near the highway, taking a deep breath before pulling the car into a sharp turn off the road and into the woods.

“Where are you going?” your companion jolted up when the car swerved abruptly.

You didn’t answer; just kept your eyes peeled for the structure. You didn’t have a backup plan if this didn’t go right.

It took much longer than you anticipated before you found it, pulling the car to a stop. You were deeper into the woods than you would have liked.

You stuck your head out of the window to confirm you were at the right place. It looked like you were.

“Where the hell are we?”

“My summer vacation house,” you murmured, unbuckling your seatbelt. You stepped out of the car to assess the damage. .

Another door opening and closing told you that he had gotten out of the car as well. However, he trudged ahead, leaving you behind.

The car was pretty beaten up. The metal gates hadn’t done it any favours.The question was whether it would still work if you needed it to.

Probably would, but not for too long.

You looked to the side to see where he went. He was standing in front of the house, arms crossed over his chest as he ran his eyes all over the building.

You trekked past him, walking up the two steps to the door. Pulling at what looked like a doorbell in any other scenario, you tugged off the outer shell to reveal a small scanner underneath.

You pressed your thumb to it, tapping your foot impatiently as it gave a beep of approval. The door gave a soft click. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding, twisting the handle to let yourself in.

“You’re kidding right?” he asked incredulously from a distance behind you.

“Hey, man, stay outside if you want. Suit yourself.” You were sure he could fashion a bed out of leaves and twigs if he was that desperate.

Fumbling for the light switch, you sigh in relief when the room is illuminated.

“Whose safehouse is this?”

“Ransone’s.” You shrugged nonchalantly, moving ahead to inspect the place.

“I have every single one of his safehouses committed to memory.” His voice was becoming fainter as he planted his feet firmly at the doorway, refusing to move. “This ain’t one of them.”

“He’s sneaky. Once watched the next episode of Desperate Housewives without telling me.” The house wasn’t as dusty as you thought it would be, clearly being maintained once in a while although not regularly. “Broke my whole heart, he did.”

“Whose house is this?” he asked once again, tone hard as steel.

“Best that you don’t ask questions, buddy.” You looked at him wearily, a slo warning in itself, ending the conversation there. “Or else you’re welcome to leave.”

The entrance opened directly into what you assumed was the living room, or a sorry excuse for one. It had a couch facing an old cable television set, mounted on a small cupboard.

In the same space was the kitchen, with a microwave, a sink, and shelves lining the wall. A small mini fridge sat atop the counter. There was a dining table with six chairs for a family, almost like a sick joke. You found yourself letting out a short exhale at it, moving onto the next room.

It was bare except for a shelf pressed against a well. Opening it, you found yourself looking at multitudes of what looked like burner phones, microphones, cameras, some as small as a button. Regular security cameras and monitors to go with it, trackers, anything you needed was available in those four drawers.

You pocketed a burner cell to use for later, moving to the room on the opposite side of the hall.

However, unlike the rest of the rooms you had seen so far, this one was empty. Not even a shelf decorating it.

The next door you opened was a bathroom, the final being a bedroom with one bed in the centre pushed up against the wall. A wardrobe in the corner contained numerous t-shirts of black and grey of every size, tactical pants and other necessary items of clothing.

You eyed the last door at the end of the hall before finally deciding to pursue it.

It opened to the patio in the back, two steps leading down from the house into the wooded area. Pillars held up the corners of the roof. It all looked picturesque, meant to blend in as a normal house.

You stood there for a second, taking in the silence around you. Nothing could be heard for miles, so if something were to happen-

You shook your head, forcing your imagination to stop running wild. You shut the door behind you, steadily making your way back to where the guy was.

It appeared that he had caved. He had moved from the doorway, instead taking a seat on one of the dining chairs. He was observing you, eyes keen as you took a seat opposite to him.

Dropping the burner phone on the table, you looked at him expectantly. Silence ensued until it dawned on him what you were implying.

“I’m not calling him,” the guy said, leaning on his palm. Coward.

“Fine.” You pulled it back, snapping it open to dial the number.

You let it ring all the way until the very last second.

“Hello?” the low voice resonated from the other end.

“Ransone.” You rolled your eyes at his tone, somehow letting your exhaustion tear down any kind of filter you usually had while in conversation with him.

“Y/N?” His voice jumped two octaves higher to his usual pitch, dropping the facade immediately.

“Did you set us up?” You ignored the small glance you got from the guy at your name.

“What?”

“Did you set us up?” you repeated brazenly.

“What?”

“Oh, cut the shit Ransone, was this a trap?” The guy next to you exploded impatiently.

“Wilson?” Great. A name to the face.

“Answer the fuckin’ question, Vincent.” The mention of Ranone’s first name had you surprised. No one dared to call him that.

“No, Sam,” came his response almost mockingly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sam Wilson. It sounded familiar. You’d heard it tossed around a few times at the organisation.

“Why were both of us on the same assignment?”

“I told you, I wasn’t sure if Wilson was going to show up.” You could hear his chair faintly creak in the background. “This was his mission first.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” you interjected. Faint memories of a passing comment he made during your briefing were beginning to surface.

“It means,” Ransone emphasised. “I called him first. He was being a bit… difficult. So I sent you as a backup.”

You looked at Sam. He dismissed you with a wave of his hand, as if to say to ignore what he was saying.

“And you didn’t think it was important to tell me that you were sending someone else?” If Ransone had told you, he should have mentioned it to him too.

“Oh, grow up.” Ransone sounded irritated, a tone that he seemed to reserve for Sam specifically. “You’re not children anymore. You can handle a few miscommunications.”

“Bullshit. You and I both know this isn’t an accident,” Sam retorted, dangerously good at not giving a shit.

“You better watch yourself, agent.” Ransone snarled. “I don’t like being questioned.”

“Like I give a shit about what you like or not. We were outnumbered 8 to 2. You tellin’ me you had nothing to do with this? That the stars just aligned to royally fuck with us?”

“Yes, I waited until Mercury was in retrograde to plan this hit,” he drawled sarcastically. “Don’t you for a second forget what you owe me, Wilson. You’d be stupid to believe I’d let it go so easily by having you killed.”

His voice was ice by the end. Sam’s eyebrow furrowed as he leaned back, crossing his arm over his chest.

“Then what about me?”

“Y/N,” he sighed, instantly sounding softer. “I didn’t think he would show. That’s it.”

“You’ve never been unsure of anything.”

“Which is why I sent you in. Pierce had to die one way or the other. Don’t care how.” It wasn’t what you were talking about, but it brought up something else.

You looked at Sam. Should you tell him that Pierce was dead before you got there?

You decided against it, not knowing what his reaction would be and too tired to gauge it over the phone. If someone else had gotten to Pierce before you, it meant that Ransone didn’t get a chance to deliver a dramatic end to his life, which would tick him off endlessly.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Sam broke the momentary pause.

“You don’t.” He paused. “Distrusting me is the wisest thing you could do.”

You scoffed at his stupid Game of Thrones quote. How he was this obnoxious at a time like this was beyond comprehension.

“Give me your location.” He couldn’t sound less interested, like a parent forced to pick up their child. “I’ll send someone to come pick you up.”

Sam’s finger tapped at the table, drawing your attention to him.

He slowly shook his head, mentioning to his ear then drawing his finger in a circle indicating his surroundings.

Disclosing confidential information over the phone wasn’t the wisest idea. You had no idea if anyone was tapping into Ransone’s calls, listening for sensitive information. For all you knew that’s how they got to the mansion before you.

“Forget it. We’ll figure it out,” you told Ransone, eyes still locked on Sam.

“All right, stay low for a while. Keep me updated.”

You cut the call without another word, removing the battery and tossing the phone onto the table.

“What now?”

Neither of you said anything for a while. The silence rested uncomfortably between you as you stewed over what to bring up.

“Did you kill Pierce?”

“Christ, we still on this?” he scoffed.

“It’s a yes or no question.”

“No,” he stared at you. “I didn’t.”

“Did Ransone send you to spy on me?” It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened, although you thought he had moved past the need for that years ago.

“No, I was there for a mission.”

“You got any proof?”

He rolled his eyes. “Scout’s honour.”

He lifted his hand up in a mock-salute. A wince flashed across his face; barely, but enough for you to catch it. His arm dropped back down again.

You examined him silently, searching for any hint of a lie or bluff. You found nothing, only an adamant set of eyes staring right back at you.

Your chair creaked as you pushed yourself away from the table. You could feel his gaze following you as you walked down the hall to the bathroom. Shuffling through the shelves for something you were sure was there, you soon stepped back out.

You had no idea why you were doing this. You didn’t even know the guy.

He had his sleeve pulled up to his shoulder, examining the wound from the bullet graze. Dried blood streaked his forearm, partially covering his tattoo.

You tossed the first aid kit onto the table, watching it slide across to where he was sitting. Sam glanced at the box, then up at you.

You just turned around silently, walking back down the hall and towards the bedroom, shutting the door behind you.

__________

Sleep didn’t come that night, and predictably so.

Whether it was the survival instinct guarding you from the stranger in the house, the adrenaline from the mission or even the anxiety of not knowing what exactly was going on, you were sure that you didn’t catch even a bit of shut eye.

Morning came around after what seemed like days rather than hours. You still stayed in bed well past the sunrise, pulling at the hem of your pillow. Your knife was still strapped to your thigh and your gun found a place on the nightstand, just in case.

When you heard the opening and shut of cabinets down the hall, you finally pulled yourself up, stretching to get rid of the weariness in your muscles. You decided against the gun but left the knife strapped to your thigh as you shifted off the bed.

You paused at the doorway, hand on the knob. Shoving aside your hesitation, you opened the door quietly. You could handle it, easily.

Walking towards the kitchen, the volume of his ruffling and filing through the kitchen only became louder. You stopped at the entrance, watching as Sam slammed a cabinet door shut.

“C’mon man,” he groaned before turning around to lean his body weight against the counter. There was a small bump under the sleeve of his arm, different from the curve of his muscle. You assumed he had bandaged the bullet graze the night before.

He was still wearing the same thing as yesterday. Dust was slightly settled on his shirt and one knee of his pants was ripped slightly.

“Mornin’.” You quickly looked back up at him, not realising when he had seen you. “Get any sleep last night?”

You wordlessly shook your head and he shrugged in understanding.

“Did you?”

“Oh yeah. Out like a light.” He pushed himself off the counter.

“Really?” You watched as he pulled out a chair for himself, taking a place at the dining table, same place he was sitting the night before.

“Sounded like the reasonable thing to do.” He had an unnatural amount of faith in the fact that you wouldn’t murder him. Although you couldn’t judge if he was simply putting on a show, having stayed awake just as you had.

“I'm stuck in a safehouse with a stranger, forgive me for being a little careful,” you muttered defensively, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Hey, never said you were wrong.” He lifted his hands up. “But just to make sure; are you going to kill me?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “No?”

“And I’m not going to kill you. I’d say that’s enough reassurance to get at least a nap in.”

“Give me one good reason to believe you.”

“If you killed me, Ransone would blow the roof of this place with you still in it. I’m one of the best he’s got.”

“Bullshit.” You scoffed, walking around the table to go see what you could find to eat. Ransone wouldn’t do that for anyone, and he knew that.

He didn’t bother responding but you could sense him tracking your movement.

The first cabinet you opened consisted purely of jars of peanut butter, stacked together neatly. The one beside it had jelly arranged in a similar fashion, jar to jar and taking up the entire space. Adjacent cupboard had loaves of bread, probably the most you’d seen together in a house ever.

The next cupboard was... empty.

“You have got to be fuckin’ with me,” you cursed under your breath. “Is there nothing else here?”

Save for a few plates and cutlery, every other shelf was empty. Your frustration only grew with each drawer you opened and shut, finding nothing but the same three components over and over again.

“There’s some soup on the top right, behind the bread.” His voice came from behind you. You checked where he mentioned, finding multiple cans of tomato soup. “I hope PB&J is your favourite, ‘cause that’s really all we got. I checked twice.”

“We won’t be here long anyway. It’s fine.” You walked a few steps towards where the TV was, sitting atop a small cupboard. If you weren’t getting gourmet meals, hopefully it would be compensated with some entertainment.

Rummaging through it didn’t prove to be a major hassle since there were only three DVDs; Die Hard, Notting Hill and Megamind. Beside it sat two books, American Gods, and Pride and Prejudice. That’s all.

“Really made sure to cover all demographics with those movies. There’s only one local news channel, everything else is static,” Sam informed you, unmoving from his position. You sighed, tossing the DVDs back and shutting the door.

“There’s a room over there with some basic shit. Burners, mics, cameras. Clothes are in the bedroom drawer. Should probably take a shower while you’re at it, I can smell you from a mile away and it’s giving me a migraine.” You pushed yourself off the ground, pointing towards the rooms as you walked down the hall. “Backyard’s all heavily wooded. If we try hard enough, I’m sure there are a few trap doors or crawl spaces or whatever around here.”

You could hear him follow you as you gave him the tour of a place you were sure he already had examined thoroughly before you greeted him this morning.

Pushing open the door to the suspiciously empty room, you stepped to the side, allowing him to observe. The both of you had the same thought process as you split up, sticking close to the walls, running your fingers across the plaster to look for any major differences.

“Got it,” he called out. You spun on your heel to face where he was standing. A small chunk of the wall was missing, a small button in the centre of the cavity he had created.

Pressing it lightly, the mechanical sound of sliding doors filled the air as the entire side of the room gave way to shelves upon shelves of weapons. Guns, knives, ammunition, bulletproof vests; enough material to last you years.

The doors slid shut when you pressed the button again, not until you had a mental note of what was available in case you found yourself in a situation where you required them.

“That about covers it. Don’t think we’ll be here long so just think of it as your three day long staycation.”

“I’ve had a better time at funerals than I’ll ever have in this shithole.”

________

“What do you mean they escaped?” Their voice was booming, dripping with slow rising anger. “Someone explain to me how the fuck that’s possible.”

“They took the car and left.”

“They took the car and left,” they said mockingly in a high pitch. “I know that, you fucking imbecile. I’m asking how they were alive long enough to do it?”

“They teamed up. Took out nearly everyone,” the agent was monotone. His arm was in a sling and his partner stood beside him, thick bandages around his midsection.

“They shouldn’t have been there together. They shouldn’t have been sent together.”

No one said a word, not even daring to breathe loudly.

“This wasn’t supposed to fucking happen. We killed Pierce. Everything was perfect,” their voice dropped as they spat out the last word. “So then how did this fucking happen?”

“Boss, we’ll-”

“I want them dead.” They interrupted, casting silence in the room. “I don’t care how you fucking do it. I want you to find them and rip them to shreds. Both of them.”

“Yes, boss.”

“And if you even fucking think of coming back without a proper update-” they brought their hand down harshly on the table. “-I’ll make you wish you were never born.”

The agents just nodded, faces pale as they shuffled out of the room silently.

“Fucking idiots.” They nursed their forehead on their palm, calming the nerve that was menacingly visible on their temple. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Part 3

274 notes · View notes

wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Ch9: Lebanon, Lebagone

Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Summary: A few months post their reconciliation, Jake and Stella run a mission with the rest of the team…

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Word Count: 8k ish.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. We do not own any characters in this series bar Stella Stevenson and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: So the mission detailed here was highly inspired by the second book in the Grey Man series. Locations and a few major details are changed, and the names are completely made up. The Terrorist/Political party- The Lebanese Freedom Party, does not to our knowledge actually exist.

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 8

“Alright, let’s get in position before daylight hits.” Clay looked around as they walked down the narrow alleyway.

“Roger that.” Stella nodded as Cougar replied with a tip of his hat to show he had heard, Pooch also inclining his head.

The four of them stopped by a door to their right, Stella pulling the tool from her utility belt which was fastened around the waistband of her camo pants. She picked the lock in under thirty seconds, a simple job that required a little bit of jiggling, twisting and a good jerk with the torque wrench Cougar was holding to defeat.

“Not particularly high security considering this was a bank.” She mumbled as behind her Cougar chuckled.

Inside it was pitch black, dust rose in clouds, shimmering in the moonlight, which was streaking through the dirty arched windows. Both of them flipped out their flashlights, quickly scanning the room for any sign that someone had been here recently, but there was none.

They crossed quietly and quickly through the main atrium of the old building, taking care to keep to the shadows. The old bank was completely deserted bar a few desks and old telephones which sported thick layers of dust as they moved through, heading for the spiral staircase at the far side.

“We’re clear.” Pooch said as he looked up to the top of the staircase. “This place hasn’t been accessed for years.”

“Lima Six, anything to report?” Clay spoke into his radio and a moment later Jensen replied.

“Nothing on the comms, they’re talking about moving Kilo One out at the time we suspected but it could be a rouse to make sure…but Lima Two knows the code-word should they decide to go early.”

“Okay, as soon as you get movement let me know.”

“Ten-four, One.”

“Okay, let’s get set up.” Clay instructed and the team nodded in agreement as they all set about, placing various pieces of equipment around the place exactly where it needed to be for when their target and his security detail, in which Roque had embedded himself undercover, came storming into the pre-designated building, seeking refuge from an attack outside.

It took them roughly an hour to set up completely, things having to be precisely as Pooch directed. Eventually, when he was happy, they climbed the staircase at the back of the room. Four sets of eyes swept the square below. It was deserted, as was to be expected at such an early hour in the morning.

Stella scanned the buildings, nevertheless, her eyes sharp, looking for any sign of movement around the whitewashed and pebble-dashed sandstone that they had grown accustomed to seeing over the last three weeks or so they’d been in Nabatieh, Lebanon.

“So Khalil should be coming from there.” Pooch raised his arm and pointed to a small road to the right. “The plan is we lay down some fire by his bodyguards as he approaches the podium, and force them to take shelter in the bank, as led nicely by Roque.”

“Why do we want this guy alive so badly, anyway?” Stella mumbled to herself. “If he’s such a bastard, why don’t we just kill him? He’s a terrorist leader.”

“The Lebanese Freedom Party ain’t deemed terrorists all over the world.” Pooch grinned and Stella snorted. “Russia views them as a legitimate socio-political force.”

“Russia basically executes people for being gay” She scoffed. “Forgive me for not taking their viewpoint here as the one to set my moral compass against.” She sighed. “Cougs could take one shot, straight in the head. Boom. Job done.”

Cougar chuckled as he unloaded his rifle and stand, looking up at Clay. “She’s not wrong, Boss.”

“Whilst wiping that particular shit stain off the face of the earth might be appealing, they ain’t our orders. We apprehend alive.” Clay spoke, matter of factly and Stella rolled her eyes.

“Whatever helps us sleep at night, huh?”

****

Stella had to hand it to their Intel department. The start of the hit went like clockwork. At bang on the designated time, Jensen radioed in to say that they were moving out and sure enough, twenty minutes or so later he accounted the SUVs and jeeps had left the compound. He joined the rest of the team little over half an hour later, leaving the dirty van he had been driving hidden down a dark alleyway at the back of the bank, behind the one the rest of the team had arrived in and headed into the dank building, wrinkling his nose at the musty air as he walked in.

“Hey.” He greeted Stella, his hand falling to her shoulder as she sat in the back, her attention focussed through the window, a pair of binoculars raised to her eyes.

“Hey.” She whispered back, her gaze flicking to him quickly, flashing him a smile as she turned back to her spotting.

“So I picked up on their coms that they think Khalil’s personal security have done a sweep of the area.” Jensen looked at them. “Roques done his job nicely. They should be entering the square from the South West corner.”

“ETA?” Clay turned to him.

“Less than five minutes.”

“Excellent.” Clay nodded. “So far so good.”

The next five minutes or so passed in silence, all five of the Officers in the room observing the roads leading to the square just in case. Even though their intel was solid, it was drilled into them that they should never rely on it completely.

“Boss,” Cougar spoke suddenly, his shoulders squaring back, “target approaching. Roughly two miles out.”

“Fuck, I got something coming too from the North East.” Pooch groaned.

“What?” Clay demanded.

“I dunno but it looks suspiciously like an ARV.”

“An ARV?” Clay frowned.

“Yup. They’ve stopped. Six hundred yards out.”

“What do you mean they’ve stopped?” Jensen demanded, snatching the binoculars off him.

“What the fuck do you think I mean?” Pooch replied. “They’re not moving.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Stella growled and Clay took the binoculars off Jensen. She watched as Clay took a look before he sighed heavily and dropped his head.

“It’s the Lebanese Special Service. I recognise one of them from a mission a while back.”

“What the hell are they doing here?”

“I should have seen this coming.” Clay bit his lip. “They’re going to hit him at the rally. The false trail we leaked to them means they think we’re moving on him as he makes his way out of town and up to Beirut. They’re going to get in first.”

“It’s a double cross.” Stella looked at Jake and Pooch as she spoke, the pair of them exchanging a look before all eyes bar Cougar’s, which remained firmly fixed on his target, turned to Clay. “Why?”

“Death to the West and all that.” Clay sniffed. “They’re gonna take him out and try and use USA involvement as cover.”

“Don’t they realise that won’t work?” Stella shook her head. “We’re Black Ops, the thick fuckers. As soon as there’s so much of a sniff that shit is going west, the CIA will leave us high and dry, denying they had anything to do with it.”

“So what’s Plan B?” Pooch turned to look Clay. “I’m hoping you got a Plan B, because Plan A is going to shit.”

“Kilo one still approaching.” Cougar stated.

“You got anything special in your arsenal?” Clay turned to Pooch. “As in blow up an ARV special?”

Pooch blinked. “Yeah, the RPG but…”

“Go get it.” Clay instructed.

Pooch didn’t hesitate, he shot off down the stairs and Stella watched him go before she turned her attention back to the large square, which was roughly the size of two football pitches, busy with people bustling about their everyday business.

“If we get this wrong, the whole square is gonna be caught up in a fucking gun fight,” Stella spoke, her eyes falling on a group of kids in the middle.

There was a pause before Clay spoke again. “Khalil is our main objective; we just need to keep collateral to a minimum.”

Collateral. Stella hated that fucking word. She swallowed and looked at Jensen who gave her a small smile, which she returned before she glanced back at the square.

“One mile out.” Cougar informed.

“Okay,” Clay spoke, clapping his hands together. “Pooch, as soon as the LSS move, you shoot that RPG straight at the fuckers.”

“Gladly.” He nodded, “But, chances are if they’ve got an ARV out there then they’ll already have agents on the ground.”

“It doesn’t matter, all we gotta do is get a shot off first. Once that initial gun crack is heard, Khalil’s security outfit are gonna herd him in here anyway. And hopefully, when the LSS get note their vehicle has gone bang it’ll draw them into blowing cover somehow.” Clay nodded. “At least then we’ll be able to spot where they are.” He took a deep breath. “Cougar, keep watch on Khalil. As soon as you get a viable opportunity to lay down the fire, take it.”

Cougs, who hadn’t taken his eye away from the target sight of his gun simply tipped the brim of his hat again with his finger to show he had understood and Clay turned to the other three of them as they waited instructions.

“What about Roque?” Stella asked. “He doesn’t know about the LSS.”

“He’ll roll with the punches.” Clay rubbed his hand over his chin. “Everyone clear?”

“Clear as, boss, it’s a shoot-out.” Jensen snorted, nodding his head as he gave a chuckle. “Good times.”

“If this is your idea of a good time then I’d hate to see a bad one.” Pooch grumbled and Stella gave a chuckle.

“Hey, Poochy, I just like to see the positive in all aspects of life.” Jensen grinned, holding his hands out to the side, palms up. “You’re just grumpy because Jolene’s finally managed to…ouch!” Jensen gave a yelp as Stella punched him hard on the arm. “What was that for, babe?”

Stella shot him a look which instantly shut him up. Pooch had confided in her, Cougar and Jensen no less than two days ago that Jolene was four months pregnant, but he didn’t want to tell Clay or Roque for reasons that he was keeping to himself, as per his prerogative, she supposed. It had made her and Jensen snort a little, as when Aubrey had found out she was pregnant roughly five months or so ago, the entire world had known pretty much before the pee was dry on the test stick. Jensen’s eyes widened as he realised exactly what he’d been about to say and he grimaced, before turning to Pooch, giving him an apologetic look.

“Kilo One is approaching the square.” Cougar spoke, and they all turned their attention to him, stepping forward to the window, Clay observing their surroundings with the binoculars.

“Okay, focus up Losers.” Clay hushed them all, gesturing to Pooch. “Get ready with that RPG”

Pooch shot Jensen one final filthy glare before he stepped forward, resting the grenade launcher on his shoulder.

“Arty, Jensen, in position.” Clay instructed. “Coms on, code names only.”

They both nodded, Stel picking up a device that had been in Pooch’s big bag of tricks, and made their way back to the spiral staircase.

And then, it all happened at once. Clay gave the order to fire and both Pooch and Cougar took their shots at the same time. The popping of guns, sounds of screaming and yelling and a rather large explosion followed by Pooch’s loud chuckles of glee hit their ears and Jensen looked at Stella as they waited at the top of the stairs.

“I really shouldn’t enjoy this as much as I should.” He grinned, and Stella snorted as suddenly the room below them was full of voices, once of which the recognised instantly as Roque. From their extensive planning, Sella knew that they would likely hustle into the room in a tight cordon, with Khalil in the middle and head to the most secure part of the building, the vault. They had no idea how many of the guard had made it into the building with Khalid, but essentially it didn’t matter. The Losers were one step ahead.

As soon as the group made their way towards the main part of the atrium, through the open double doors which led through the cashier area, Jensen grinned at Stella.

“Hit it, babe!”

Stella smirked as she pushed the button on the device she held in her hand. The large electromagnets that had been placed on the locks snapped into place, firing the four inch thick steel bolts into their slots, securing them tightly, ensuring no one could get out, and no one else could get in. Yells of warnings rang out about the place as the guards instantly wheeled round, their guns raised and Roque’s eyes flickered upwards to where they were hidden on the veranda above. Jensen raised his right hand, his index and middle finger extended and he waved them across his face, indicating that their next move was about to go down. Roque made no sign he’d seen them, bar a quick double-blink.

“I’m sorry, pal.” Jensen grimaced a little as he ducked down and lifted a heavy square box off the floor, flipping the plastic cover up, jamming his thumb onto the red button. “Lima Two is about to deploy, please return to your seats and cover your ears.” He spoke into his coms, giving the rest of the team a warning. As soon as the device beeped to say it was charged, Jensen launched it over the side of the railing where it fell onto the floor below. As soon as it left his hands, he and Stella ducked down, their fingers jammed in their ears, eyes scrunched shut as the device activated.

Referred to merely by Pooch as the S-Fud- ‘Sensory Fuck-Up Device’, the item had been developed by the boffins in the CIA lab to create complete optical and aural disorientation by using ultra violet and bright white lights and a loud, high pitched sound and sonic wave. Even with his eyes screwed shut, the flash of light still bounced off all the surfaces surrounding Jensen, and the hands which were clamped over his ears might have dimmed the majority of the loud wailing siren, which lasted no more than two seconds, but the combination was still enough to leave him feeling slightly woozy as he stood to his feet, blinking furiously, his eyes feeling like he’d stared straight at the sun, his eardrums ringing as if he’d spent hours in a nightclub with music thumping in his ears. Besides him, Stella staggered to her feet and shook her head, pressing the heel of her palm to the space between her eyes. But they had no time to waste. Jake gently shook her shoulder and she nodded to show him she was okay. Together they made their way down the stairs as quickly as they could.

The S-Fud had done its job, all the men were incapacitated to some extent. As Stella’s eyes glanced around she quickly counted six men in total. Three, one of whom was Khalil, were completely unconscious, face down on the floor. Two more, including Roque, were writhing in pain, hand clutched over their ears, and one was attempting to stagger to his feet. In a flash, Stella had nailed him with a kick to the face, and he fell backwards with a thud, his nose shattering as her heel smashed straight into the bridge.

“Did you see that?” Jensen turned to the other three men who had joined them, all looking around the room. “My girl, she’s a bad ass chick.”

“Can you concentrate on the mission in hand for once and not your dick?” Pooch shook his head as Cougar hit the moving guard with the butt of his rifle, knocking him out.

“Your momma concentrated on my dick last night.” Jensen shot back and Pooch groaned.

“Seriously? Momma jokes, now?”

“Shut up.” Stella nudged Jake harshly with her elbow as she walked past, following Clay as they stepped over the unconscious guards, heading towards Roque as he groaned and lay curled up in the foetal position. Clay knelt down and reached out, loosening his tie and the top button of his dress shirt before patting him on the shoulder, as Stella did the same to their target.

“Okay, lets move.” Clay looked up. “Jensen, Pooch, you take Roque. I’ll get Khalil. Cougs, Arty, give us cover to the vehicle.”

The team all nodded, Jensen and Pooch stepping forward, each seizing Roque under his arms. They managed to get him to his feet, each supporting him, their arms round his back as his arms slumped over their shoulders. His feet staggered on the floor as he made an attempt to talk.

“We got you, buddy.” Jensen said softly. “You’ll be alright, just feel like you’ve got one hell of a hangover for a few hours.”

Meanwhile Clay had managed to hoist Khalil to his feet with Cougar’s help, the man a complete dead weight, which he allowed to slump against his right shoulder. With an almighty heave he ducked and then stood, using his legs to rise up fully, Khalil slung over him in a fireman’s lift, his arms dangling freely down Clay’s back.

Without another word, the team moved as quickly as they could to the dead-bolted doors where Stella reached into her pocket with one hand, whipping her pistol out with the other. She clicked the device, which unlocked the glass doors and they made their way across the atrium, the chaotic noises from outside growing louder as they approached the back door to the bank they’d used to enter. Stella flattened herself against one side of the wall to the right of the door as Cougar took aim with his rifle. He looked at her and nodded, and in a flash she reached out and yanked it open, Cougar darting through, rifle held in front of him.

“Clear.” He spoke and Stella moved to allow the rest of the team to step out into the alleyway, taking up the rear.

She spotted the man hiding in a doorway two down before Cougs even had chance to shout a warning. In a flash she fired pistol twice. The first shot hit the guy in the arm, causing him to drop his gun, the second in the knee and he fell to the floor, screaming in agony. Then came another, and another. As Stella and Cougar continued, Jensen, Pooch and Clay heaved their charges to the side of the van, ducking as shots rained down on them. Pooch wrenched open the door, and Jensen hopped into the back, hoisting Roque in as gently as he could, a sharp contrast to the way Clay simply slung Khalil unceremoniously into the back. As Pooch ran to the front and hopped into the driver side, Stella and Cougar both sprinted towards the van, flinging themselves in as the engine started. With a sharp tug, Clay pulled he door shut as Pooch started the engine.

Seconds later, the van roared back off up the alley, the crackle of gunfire from the square growing quieter and quieter as they put more distance between them and the danger. Pooch drove them out onto the main road, towards the point, some six miles or so away, where they would ditch the van and hop into two separate SUVs and make their way to the agreed Ex-fil point at Saida Port roughly a half an hour or so drive away.

Stella closed her eyes, resting her head against the cool metal of the van, watching as Pooch and Jensen hoisted Khalil into a sitting position, securing his wrists with flexi-restraints behind his back. Cougar was busy offering Roque some water, Stella pleased to see their teammate was finally starting to come round. She smiled as Jensen flopped down next to her, his arm looping round her shoulders as he pulled her to him for a soft kiss.

“I love working with you,” he grinned and she snorted, shaking her head as she chuckled.

“Yeah, we’re a regular nine-to-five couple, aint we?”

****

“Stel?” Jake called through the door of the bathroom of their temporary lodgings before he opened it and to be greeted by Stella led back in the bath, eyes closed. She turned her head to look at him. “I was gonna ask if you wanted head out with the guys for a beer and food but you look pretty comfortable.”

She pulled a face. “I’m feeling anti-social.” Jake laughed at her frank answer and smiled as she gave a small shrug. “Sorry, not sorry, but we spent four weeks in a hell hole motel and I’m extremely grateful Clay’s managed to get us holed up in a nice place and not the Officers’ Quarters on base so I intend to make the most of it.”

“Babes, we were both in the army.” He snorted. “Rocks for pillows and all that.”

“Yeah, well it’s been a while since I did that. What can I say? I’ve grown used to the finer things again.”

“Fair enough, I’ll let Clay know you hate them all and don’t want to socialise.” He teased.

“Jakey, we’re gonna be here for by my guess a week at least, plenty of time to go out sampling the finest bars the UK has to offer.” She shrugged, not bothered in the slightest by his teasing. “If you wanna go meet them, feel free. I’ll grab a take out. There were some leaflets pinned to the board in the kitchen.”

“Or…” Jake smirked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, “I stay here, because frankly, that bed looks really comfy and I kinda wanna test it. See how grossed out we can make Pooch.”

“Jerk.” Stella snorted.

“Well, he’s done nothing but complain since we got here about how he has to share this house with us and can’t go in with the others, so I wanna give him something to really complain about.”

“You’re such a little shit.” She laughed and Jake groaned.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what? Laugh?”

“Yeah, it’s making your boobs wobble under the water, and that’s making me horny.”

“You’re always horny.”

“Hornier than usual.”

“Well, I can solve that problem.” She grinned and Jake smirked.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, turn around and shut the door on your way out.”

“Ouch, Stells.” Jake slapped his hand over his heart. “That’s cold.”

“Hmmm,” She muttered, laying her head back and closing her eyes again. “If you’re getting in here you better hurry, or the water will be cold too.”

Jake grinned and in a flash, reached back to grab a fist full of his t-shirt behind the collar and pulled it over his head. As his hands flew to the button on his jeans Stella nodded to the door.

“You better lock that, I know you said you wanted to gross Pooch out but if he walks in on us he’ll be scared for life.”

“And?”

Stella merely arched her brow, “No locky, no fucky.”

With that Jake spun on his heel and flicked the lock, before he turned round and shoved his pants and boxers down in one full swoop and swung his leg over the side of the tub. Stella moved forward so he could settle behind her, his legs laying either side of hers. It was a tight squeeze, the tub in the two bedroomed terraced house wasn’t built to accommodate two but neither paid it any mind.

Stella took a deep breath, closed her eyes and leaned back, her head laying against Jake’s chest as his hands softly rubbed up and down her forearms, his lips pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

They were silent for a while, the pair of them simply contented to stay there for a moment, relishing the peace after a long and tedious mission and the chance to relax for an evening before the debriefs and analysis started the next day in the War Rooms of the RAF Base in Suffolk, England. Often, the aftermath of a mission was more hard-going than the action itself. They’d hash over the events, listen to the CIA operative justify some of the more morally ambiguous decisions made, no doubt the ramifications and political fall-outs, be informed about how the CIA were going to play it and then they’d have to submit written reports, which would be Classified at the highest levels and stored in the top secret vaults in Virginia.

It was part and parcel of being in a black-ops team. They knew the script, having read and played it many a times before. But it was draining and exhausting, one of the many reasons Stella was glad that the actual missions they ran, whilst they could last months at a time, were on the large few and far between.

“You okay?” Jake broke the silence and pressed his lips once more to the back of her shoulder and Stella nodded, tilting her head round so she could look at him.

“I spoke to Rey before.”

“Yeah, how is she?”

“She said she felt the baby move for the first time.” Stella beamed.

“Oh, that’s awesome.” Jake grinned back, “are they gonna find out what they’re having?”

Stella snorted, “dur. You know what she’s like. She’ll want to decorate and buy it blue or pink clothes, plus if it’s a boy she’s got time to mentally prepare seeing as all she wants is a little girl to treat like a doll.”

Jake laughed. “Is it wrong I kinda hope it is a boy?”

Stella grinned. “Nope, I was thinking the same. She’s asked me to be with her when it’s born.”

“I’m not surprised.” Jake wrinkled his nose. “Dick’s gonna be about as much use as a knife in a gun fight.”

“Knives can be very useful in a gun fight, if you know how to use them.”

“Oooh I love it when you talk dirty, babe.” Jensen smirked and dropped his head to kiss her softly. His right hand moved from its spot on her arm to stroking her hip, tracing a path down the outside of her thigh. His fingers softly traced shapes on her warm, wet skin just to the side of her knee before he moved his touch up her leg again then across to her abdomen. Stella sighed against his mouth, as her head lolled to the right. Jensen’s mouth moved, trailing a line down her neck, nipping at the hinge of her jaw.

He was growing hard against her, Stella could feel it, and the way his fingers were ghosting over her made her skin tingle and her body shiver. "Jake," she whimpered. "Yeah, baby?" His fingers found the tuft of curls and then her nub. "You gonna sing for me, Stells?" He encircled her clit with his fingertip and drew back up. "Let me play that pussy?" “Fuck...” she groaned, leaning further back into him, her body sagging into his. She loved his dirty talk, being so in control for most of the time, she enjoyed letting herself go when it came to this. “Feels good, Jakey.” "Yeah? You like it when I touch you, feel my fingers inside? Stretching you for my dick?" He dipped two fingers inside, his thumb able to press into her sensitive clit. "Jesus, fuck," Stella gasped as he moved into her. The thickness of his fingers felt like she was on fire and had her silently begging his foreplay wasn't long. "So fucking wet already, babe." Jake was enjoying the feel of her on his fingers. It'd been a long while since he'd felt all of her and he hid his desperation well behind dirty words and filthy ministrations. His mouth moved down her neck, teeth gently nipping at her skin as he went, lips curling into a smirk as he listened to her softly groaning. Her hips moving in time with his hand as his fingers curled inside her. Water began to just teeter over the tubs edge but neither paid any mind. Stella's breathy pants bounced off of Jake's cheek as he watched himself finger fuck her. "I love it when you fuck my fingers, baby." "Oh God," Stella squeaked, for she was going to hit that edge and fall right over. The time between, the angst of their mission and Jake's mouth were nearing too much. "Jakey, please," she moaned. "Cum on my fingers, Stells, then I'm gonna fuck you, really...really... good." With each 'really' Jake barely rutted against Stella, just enough to tease her at what he wanted to do to her. He wanted to slide in, slow and deep, her body seated on top his, while he feasted on her nipples and neck. He wanted to be buried into her to the hilt and paint her walls with his seed. Stella came undone as her body quaked against his chest. With a breathy squeak she went rigid and her hand flew from the side of the tub, wrapping around is wrist as she came, her walls clamping around his fingers "Fuck, Stella, turn around baby, sit on my lap." She was as languid as the water around them, her body drowning in ecstasy as Jake helped her turn in the small space. His fully erect and throbbing cock stood at attention, his head just above the water’s surface. He guided Stella just where he wanted her and slowly dipped inside her still trembling walls. The sensation was more than Stella had bargained for and she moaned out loudly as she sank into him. "That's it baby, let them hear you" Jake bucked a bit into her, closing the gap that Stella was slowly shortening, his cock fully inside her and he moaned himself. She felt so good, so tight. Like there was no one else made for him but her. The thought gave him a flutter deep in his belly. She was his, and would be forever, if she'd have him. Stella rolled her hips against his, grinding down the pressure on her sensitive clit while Jake's lips moved over her skin, nearing her pert nipples. His hands wove around her back, fingers pressing into her spine as he bobbed his hips up and down to meet with her rolls. It was a dirty grind, water sloshing out of the tub like waves licking the shore. When Jake found a nipple and rolled it between his lips, his tongue tasting her flesh and his teeth nipping at it, Stella tugged at the little bits of longer hair atop Jake's head as she squeaked out a pleasurable sound. One of Jake's large hands palmed down her back and over the curve of her ass, squeezing her cheek as she rocked all whilst he played with her breasts. The same hand soon found its way between their bodies and pressed hard into her clit before smoothing upward over her tummy and grasping her left breast, kneading it gently. The more he gave, the more she took and before long she was grinding down against him, her breathing ragged as he thrust up, hard, his hands dropping to her hips. “Come on baby,” he groaned as her head fell back, his lips nipping against her collar bone, “fuck, I love you.” “Love you.” She groaned as he thrust up, her hands curling over his shoulders, nails biting his skin. “Shit, Jakey, I’m gonna...” “Cum baby, come on.” His jaw clenched as her body trembled and her eyes fluttered closed, as she let out a broken, whispered groan. As she clenched around him, Jake gave a soft growl of his own, his hips moving slightly faster as he rutted up, pulling her down onto him. The coil in his abdomen that had been tightening and tightening snapped and his entire body surrendered, a surge of warmth spreading from his belly outwards and he stilled, his cock twitching as he came. A few sloppy thrusts later and he stilled with a satisfied him, his hands moving to smooth Stella’s damp hair back off her face as hers cupped his cheeks. She simply looked at him for a moment and he gave her a grin causing her to chuckle as she pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. “Jesus Christ, that was amazing.” Jensen mumbled and Stella grinned, her lips meeting his once more. They stayed still for a moment, soft kisses being shared until Stella shivered a little and Jake helped her move off him so he could get out of the tub and leave her to finish off. He grabbed a towel and his glasses from the basin unit before he dried off, gathered his discarded clothes and headed onto the small landing of the accommodation. Pooch, who was just emerging from the other bedroom shot him a look. “You better clean that damned bathroom before I use it.” He arched his eyebrow and Jensen grinned. “You’re like the best disgusting person I know.” Pooch continued with a snort before he nodded his head to the stairs. “Take it you’re two ain’t coming?” “Already came, Poochy.” Jensen grinned as he walked to their bedroom, laughing as the sounds of Pooch’s groans of disgust hit his ears.

****

Stella woke the next morning to a burning deep in her core and Jake’s face between her legs. Her orgasm roused her much better than any alarm or cup of coffee ever could and as Jake stuffed himself insider her, his mouth nipping softly at her neck, she smiled softly to herself as she realised he’d done this very thing the first morning they’d moved up to college together.

After pulling on her Army Uniform cargo pants, Stella tucked her khaki green tee into the waist and adjusted the belt before she sat down and laced up her heavy boots as Jake fiddled with the collar of his, complaining that it felt tight. When Stella pointed out he was slightly more built than he had been last time he wore it a good few months ago, he grinned and flexed his arms to give her the ‘gun show’ making her snort and shake her head.

They headed out of the house and walked the half a mile to the main gate of the base, flashing their ID and making their way to the Mess for breakfast where they met with the rest of the team, Pooch giving them another filthy look as their antics had continued beyond the bathroom and much later into the night. Once they’d finished eating, they each grabbed a coffee to go and headed down to the War Rooms - a network of conference rooms and IT facilities nestled in a bunker along the runway of the RAF Base - and settled down in the leather seats around the large, polished mahogany table ready for whoever it was from the CIA that would be arriving to give the debrief.

They’d been there for roughly half an hour or so and Jensen was already bored. He was messing around, twirling his pen in-between his fingers, the other tapping against the disposable coffee cup. After a pause, he took his pen and began to draw a face on the white plastic lid.

“What are you doing?” Stella looked at him, having caught his fiddling in the corner of her eye.

“I’m bored, Stelly,” his voice was a childish whine, “where is this guy anyway? We’ve been waiting here for like thirty minutes!”

“Just take the fucking pen off him, Arty.” Roque groaned. Stella reached over for it and snatched it away”

“Hey, that’s mine!”

“Jensen, shut up!” Roque shot back and Jensen turned to him.

“Why? It’s not like anyone is talking anyway.”

“You, you’re talking. As usual. Put a sock in it.” Roque turned to Stell as Clay stood up and walked to the door to see if anyone was coming. “How the fuck do you put up with this?”

“He has his mouth busy most of the time.” Stella quipped as she leaned back in the chair and Jensen gave her a dopey grin.

Both Roque and Pooch let out noises of disgust, Cougar’s chuckle just audible from the other side of the table where he lounged with his feet on the table and his hat pulled down over his eyes.

“Yeah, laugh all you want but next time it’s you sharing the digs with them.” Pooch looked at him. “I’m done.”

“Chill out.” Cougar replied and Pooch blinked.

“Did you just tell me to chill?”

Cougar smirked in response, tipping his hat up slightly to flash Pooch a wink.

“The Pooch is perfectly chilled.”

“The Pooch refers to himself in the third person,” Jensen shook his head, “that’s so not chill.”

“Oh…this just got even better.” Clay’s remark had them all turning towards him, the teasing banter dying off as Roque sat up.

“What?”

Clay simply walked into the room, rolling his eyes. Less than five seconds later, in walked a very familiar face.

“Oh great.” Jake mumbled as Stella blinked, coming face to face with her ex for the first time since he’d stormed out of her apartment all those months ago.

“Good Morning.” Evan greeted them all before he nodded to Stella, a little awkwardly. “Hey.”

“Evan, hi... what are you... what are you doing here?” She asked and Evan took a deep breath.

“It was my intel you guys were running down so I’m here for debrief.”

“That was your intel?” Pooch spoke and Evan nodded.

“Yeah, we’ve been tracking Khalil for a while and reached out to him a while ago to offer him a deal. He declined so we needed to bring him in.” Evan nodded. “His activities were giving us cause for concern, not to mention with the Russians behind him. We needed to make the grab before he got even more power behind his cause.”

Jake sensed Stella tensing slightly besides him and slid his hand over her thigh. Her fingers gently locked over his as she kept her gaze on Evan, who had spotted the subtle movement of Jake’s hand. He didn’t say anything, instead the man’s eyes flicked to Jake’s who simply stared back before Roque chipped in.

“So, we got the guy. Did he give you what you needed?”

“I can’t tell you that.” Evan replied, apologetically. “It’s classified, need to know basis.”

“In that case I don’t wanna know.” Pooch mumbled.

Stella’s mind was whirling. Truth be told, she’d started to think about exactly why they’d been dispatched to capture this particular guy alive, when his type were ten-a-penny all over the place. There was a lot more to it than the fact this guy’s ideologies didn’t fit with those of the Western World. And then, the final little piece dropped into place in her analytical brain and she turned her head to see Clay watching her.

“Did you know?” She asked.

Clay shook his head. “Suspected but…”

“Suspected what?” Jensen looked at Clay then Stella. “Babe?”

She took a deep breath. “There’s a reason why we were on a capture not kill mission. At first I assumed it was to do with not making him a martyr but then throwing him in prison would cause just as much unrest. But that unrest will die down when he’s released in a few months in exchange for his cooperation for details on his Russian backers and arms suppliers.”

The rest of the team looked at her, then to Evan who blinked, his face remaining stoic as Stella shook her head and continued.

“He then lets his supporters know that he and his friends in Russia had a disagreement and he was traded away. He retires to some island somewhere, under the careful watch of the UN and fades away into non-existence.”

There was silence and Evan took a deep breath, “it’s not quite as simple as that, Stel…Stevenson, but yeah, that’s pretty much the basics.”

“God, this is so fucking bent.” Stella shook her head. “It’s no wonder the entire world hates us.”

“You know, considering you technically work for the CIA and the Armed Forces, you kinda signed up for this.” Clay raised his eyebrow as Stella rolled her eyes.

“We tried to negotiate terms with him. He turned them down.” Evan replied, matter-of-factly. “So we sent you in to enforce them. The rest, as I stated a minute or so ago, you really don’t need to know.”

“Yeah, classified, we heard.” Clay replied, leaning back in his chair.

“Did you suspect the Lebanese Special Service would try a double cross?” Roque looked at Evan and the man shot him an apologetic look.

“It was always possible, yeah. But you know how it goes…”

Roque scoffed and Cougar shifted in his seat, Evan’s eyes flicking to him before he took a deep breath and shrugged.

“If it helps, think of the bigger picture. We remove their leader, cut off the Russian support, and suddenly the LFP is nothing more than an overhyped street gang...”

“Yeah, that doesn’t really help.” Jensen wrinkled his nose and Evan shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes.

“Well, that’s your opinion. Not ours.” He cleared his throat, “anyway, it’s done. The mission is over. For now, you guys need to lay low. We’ve cleared it with the RAF for you to stay in the area for a while until all the fuss about Khalil going missing has died down. We’ll be monitoring all the usual lines and channels of communication, making sure no one has your descriptions and doing what we can to keep your faces out of the public eye.” Evan paused. “But, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you what happens if we can’t.”

At that The Losers simply looked at one another. Evan was right, they didn’t need reminding. That was the whole point of the CIA running the number of Black-Ops teams it did. It gave them a way to do the slightly grey area dirty jobs and remain at arm’s length, denying all responsibility if required.

“Any idea on how long that’s gonna be?” Pooch asked.

“Probably be a week, maybe two. But once we’re confident we’re clear, we’ll send word and get you back to the US.” Evan replied.

“So what you’re saying is we got two weeks off?” Cougar spoke and Evan looked at him, giving a shrug.

Pooch grinned and fist bumped Cougar.

“Are you staying here too?” Jensen looked at Evan and he shook his head.

“Don’t worry, I’m flying back to Virginia tonight”

“I’m not really worried…” Jake shrugged. There was a moment where both men simply stared at each other until Clay coughed.

“Right, is there anything else?”

“Mission reports due as usual, next forty eight hours.” Evan turned his head away from Jensen and looked around the team. “I’ve arranged access into the Red Network from the hub on the base. Your liaison officer, Wing Commander Levinson, says he can set you guys up with time on the range or the phys- ops courses too, have you join their drills if you want. Might be an idea to keep yourselves sharp.”

Cougar, Pooch and Jake all groaned at the suggestion of the physical training whilst Roque and Stella looked at one another, nodding.

“Yeah, I can go for that.” Roque agreed.

“And that’s it, other than on behalf of the CIA I wanted to thank you, it was a slick operation. We’re really pleased with how this one turned out.”

The team exchanged looks and soft smiles, before Clay stood up.

“Okay, Losers. Let’s grab some more coffee and then we can regroup. Figure out what we do for the next two weeks.

Movement filled the room as they all stood to leave, and just as Stella had picked up her empty coffee cup, Evan cleared his throat.

“Stella, can I have a word?”

She hesitated and Jake turned to look at her. He opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off. “Jakey, it’s fine. Go, I’ll catch you up.”

He blinked, before he turned to Evan, the glare he gave him positively filthy before he turned and left the room. Evan and Stella stood still watching him go, before Stella turned to Evan, the man giving her a soft smile.

“You look well. Being happy suits you.” His tone carried no anger, and Stella found herself returning his smile before she sighed and shook her head.

“Listen Evan, I...”

“It’s okay Stella,” he spoke, holding his hand up, “I won’t keep you long. I just wanted to apologize. I was an asshole when you broke up with me.” Stella took a deep breath as he continued. “The way I acted and the things I said were horrible. My mother would be ashamed and I just ...” he shrugged. “I wanted to let you know I was sorry, that’s all.”

Slightly surprised at his outwardly contrite tone, Stella simply shook her head. “It’s okay. You were hurt. I hurt you.”

“Yeah you did but that doesn’t excuse the way I reacted. So, like I said, I’m sorry.” He smiled, gesturing with his hand to the door. “And I’m glad that you and Jake are, you know, making it work.”

As he spoke the final like, that tell-tale nerve in his jaw twitched a little and Stella knew that he wasn’t happy, at all. But, given that the rest of his apology had been genuine, she accepted the gesture for what it was.

“Thank you.” She gave a soft smile. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry too. I did like you Ev, it just…”

“It wasn’t meant to be.” He shrugged. “Yeah, I get that now. And hey, no hard feelings. If we hadn’t broken up I’d never have met Talia so…”

“Oh, you’re seeing someone?”

“Yeah.” Evan nodded. “It’s early days, we’ve had a few dates and been away for a weekend. She’s nice, I like her.”

“Good, well I hope it works out.” Stella smiled. There was a pause before she took a breath. “I better…” she jerked her hand towards the door and Evan nodded.

“Of course…”

“I’ll, erm, see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah, take care, Stella.”

“You too, Evan.”

With a final smile at one another, Stella left the room and headed back up the corridor. Jake was waiting outside for her, leaning against the wall of the building.

“All okay?” He asked and she nodded.

“Yeah.”

“What did he want?”

“To apologise for the way he acted when we broke up.” Stella shrugged. “That was it, oh, and he’s seeing someone else. Which is nice. I hope it works for him. He’s a good guy.”

Jensen made a non-committal noise in his throat and Stella looked at him. “Don’t start.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You don’t need to.” Stella rolled her eyes. “Stop.”

“Okay, okay, sorry. I just, well, I don’t know what it is but I still don’t trust him, never have. He’s shady.”

“He’s an intel officer for the CIA.” Stella scoffed, taking Jake’s hand. “We’re a Black-Ops team. Far more shady than he is.”

“Suppose.” Jensen sniffed, as the two of them walked down the side of the building. As they went, Jensen suddenly had a sense of unease. Almost as if they were being watched. He turned his head to glance over his shoulder, but found no one. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head, telling himself he was being ridiculous. They were on a secure Military Base, probably the safest place they could be given the circumstances.

“You okay?” Stella asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” he assured her, “so, the rest of The Losers are in the coffee shop. Pooch is already on his phone checking out local bars, fancy hitting a few tonight?”

“Why not?” Stell grinned up at him, leaning up to place a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw. Jake smiled, and pulled her closer as they headed off to join up with the rest of the team, casting a final glance over his shoulder, once more seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

**** Chapter 10

#too loose and you'll lose it #jake jensen #jake jensen x ofc #jake jensen x original female character #the losers #the losers fan fiction #jake jensen fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans characters

117 notes · View notes

miceenscene · 4 years ago

Text

'tis the damn season

frankie/reader | childhood friends to lovers | pre-canon

wc: 1.8k/2.5k

summary: At one point in your lives, you knew Frankie better than anyone else on earth. When did that change?

warnings: none

an: don't let anyone tell you that second person doesn't work from another character's perspective, least of all yourself while editing

Masterpost | ao3

Chapter 2: Who am I Related to?

December 8, 2012 18:57

Hudson’s was a shitty bar just up highway 210 outside of Fort Bragg, the nearest watering hole to the base as the crow flies.

As a result, it served pretty damn near exclusively military personnel. When it changed ownership about four years back, the new management decided to reflect that and so the place looked like the Fourth of July and Top Gun had thrown up on it. Never mind that Fort Bragg was an Army base. Still, they had cheap booze and greasy food that was far better than the commissary, so it was always busy.

Pope had texted the usual suspects a few hours ago that he was heading to Hudson’s that evening, making Frankie immediately ditch his plans of drinking alone for drinking with Pope and whoever else showed up. Most likely just Benny and Ironhead now that Redfly had semi-retired down to Florida. It was a short drive to the bar from the dorms on base, but it was enough to make Frankie groan and press hands to his lower back as he got out of his car and made his way inside.

Pope was sitting at the bar and didn’t look up from texting on his phone as Frankie gingerly eased into the stool next to him.

“Hey, Fish,” Pope said, rereading the email.

“Hey.” At the bartender’s attention, Frankie pointed to Pope’s beer before daring a slight back stretch.

Pope sent his email and then looked over. “You alright?”

“Yeah, just finished PT.”

He chuckled once. “Back still fucked?”

“More tired than fucked anymore,” Frankie managed, shaking his head and wincing. The bartender delivered his beer, and Frankie took a swig. “When did we get old?”

“¿De qué estás hablando ‘nosotros’, viejo?”

Frankie jabbed an elbow and grinned slightly down at his next swig. “Culero.”

“Hey, before everyone gets here–” Pope looked at him, an oddly serious expression on his face for their usual bar. “I found out today you haven’t re-enlisted yet.”

Frankie immediately dropped his gaze to the suddenly very interesting glass in his hand. “Ah, no. No, I haven’t.”

“I’m trying to pull strings to get Benny into our unit full-time. I think he’d fit well with the team. Then Simmons tells me you haven’t signed your new papers yet. So what’s up?”

Frankie glanced over to see Pope still focused on him. “Nothing, nothing. I… I’m still thinking about it.”

He chuckled. “What’s there to think about?”

“We all want out someday, right? If we’re lucky enough to choose when we leave.”

“Yeah, but there’s thinking and thinking.” Pope smacked his shoulder. “What – are you gonna become a real estate agent like Redfly?”

No. Definitely not. Even just the idea of shilling condos was enough to make Frankie’s eyes glaze over. But still–

“Real estate agents make more money than we do.”

Pope made a considering face for a moment then brushed it off. “Yeah, but you’d miss it. You’re like me. We like the rush.”

Frankie nodded slightly. This is why he was still just thinking about it. It wasn’t a small thing to walk away from fourteen years with the Army. Especially since everyone knew the retirement benefits were absolute shit until you hit twenty. But he could already tell, he didn’t have another six years in him. He wasn’t even sure he had another deployment.

“You know the deadline’s New Year’s, right?” Pope said, cutting through his thoughts.

“Yeah, I know. I have some leave I have to take before the year’s out anyway.”

Pope nodded. “Good. Clear your head, get some perspective. See how fucking boring civvy life is, and then come back Jan 2 and join my team.”

Frankie smiled wryly; Pope always could make anything sound easy. “Something like that.”

“You have holiday plans then?” he asked, leaning an elbow on the bar.

Frankie sucked in breath. “I guess I’ll go back to my parents’. My mom’s been wanting me to visit for a while now.”

“How long’s it been?”

“I saw them in DC last summer, but I haven’t been back home… since I joined Delta.”

“Remind me where they’re at.”

“Up north. Little town in the middle of nowhere. Still in the same house I grew up in.” He could picture the wreath on the door, the twinkling lights his dad always strung across the front fence every December. A matching set used to be hung on the fence exactly opposite across the street. Who lived there now, he wondered. Would they put the tree in the front window too?

“Soldier coming home for Christmas. Sounds like a Hallmark movie.”

“Fuck you,” Frankie replied as the others finally arrived.

Frankie got his answer as he ducked out the front door of his parent’s house about a week later. His breath immediately fogged as he sucked in a few calming breaths of night air, the pressure in his head slowly levelling. Out in the still darkness, the noise level coming from the living room was finally manageable. Inside, with all of his cousins and his aunts and uncles and the music and everyone talking over each other and the heater set far too high for the number of people inside– he… he just needed a break.

Seven hours was a decent stint for his first day. He’d be around longer tomorrow. Wading in. That was the key. Because he was now the kind of person that had to treat time with his family like running a marathon. Apparently.

He walked down to the twinkling front fence, making a mental note to shovel the front walk tomorrow, and stopped. The house across the street – your house, as it would forever be in his mind – was completely dark. A small sign posted in the front yard announced some sort of home refurbishment company was going to be arriving soon. No doubt they would come in, strip away wallpaper and old tile and heart to paint it all beige and granite for the quick resell.

He hadn’t had the heart to ask his mother yet how long the house hadn’t belonged to your family. No need for another reminder of how much time had passed, how much he’d missed. He had more than enough already.

The front door opened behind him, casting a temporary warm glow across the dark snow, and his dad stepped out, pipe in hand. He meandered down the front steps to join Frankie at the gate, puffing a few times before speaking.

He shook his head. “It’d break his heart to see it so empty, but I understand why she sold,” he said, looking at the forlorn house with him.

“How long ago?” Frankie asked.

“Few months. Not too long after the funeral.” Dad looked his way for a moment. “I’ll give it ten minutes before I tell your mother you left.”

“I… thanks,” he replied weakly.

“Will you be back tomorrow?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be back.”

Dad nodded slowly, leaving just the pipe smoke wafting between them for a minute. “Take it slow, no need to rush.”

“Thanks.” He stepped through the gate, fishing in his pocket for his car keys.

“Francisco,” he said, making Frankie stop and look at him. “We’re glad you’re back.”

Frankie just nodded and went to his car. Even though he couldn’t bear another minute in the noisy press of his loved ones, the idea of going back to his lonely hotel room was truly abysmal. So after some finagling with the ignition, he started the engine and headed to the one bar he’d ever been to in his hometown.

There were Christmas lights in the window and a dancing Santa on the bar as Frankie walked in. Some sort of forcibly cheery holiday classic played over the speakers tucked between quirky memorabilia that hung over every square inch of wall space. And even though public smoking had been outlawed by the state well over a decade ago, cigarette stench had sunk into the very foundation of the place.

It was nothing like Frankie remembered. But it would do.

Eyes automatically sweeping across the moderately busy room for a Thursday night, he headed for a stool at the far end of the bar, ordering a beer when the bartender came by. It was just one step up from swill, but comfortably numbing in its mediocrity. He looked across the room again, checking for familiar faces this time and finding none. No surprise there. A decade was a long time, and really he hadn’t been around too much for the years before that too.

There were couples on dates here, friend groups, some sort of girls’ night happening in the corner, a few loners like him hovering at the bar. Most everyone was smiling, talking, laughing so hard their whole bodies shook. A whole world of Normal. And Frankie was a tourist.

Pope was right. He couldn’t go back to this. He couldn’t make it through one whole day with blood relatives anymore. What was he thinking? That he could just settle into a normal life like the last decade of his work was nothing? Get a 9-to-5 and a mortgage and a girl – not that he’d ever had too much luck in that department. Especially when there was one girl that eclipsed all others, and he didn’t even know her phone number any more.

The door opened, making the Santa on the bar dance, and every thought in Frankie’s head immediately stopped. His eyes drew wide as he stared, jaw barely restrained from slapping against his chest. Was it really – course it was, there wasn’t anyone else it could be. A whole century could pass, and he’d still know that face.

It was you.

Live, in the flesh you. Cheeks pinked from the wind, haloed by the street lights outside, wrapped in a truly astonishing number of woolen layers. Not a half-remembered fantasy, but Real and breathing and even more beautiful than his memory had claimed.

He watched you shake a few flurries out of your hair and stomp the excess snow off your boots, shutting the door behind you as you waved to the bartender. Your gaze swung across the bar, completely skimming past him, and landed on the girls’ night in the corner. You smiled. He stared.

You began to head over to the people you were obviously here to meet. On nothing but pure instinct, he immediately got out of his stool and followed you. Falling into step behind you, he stretched a hand forward to hook a few fingers inside your elbow.

You looked back at him, and for a heart-breaking breath there was no recognition in your eyes.

Till he gave you a half-smile and said, “Hey Bo.”

You blinked, mouth dropping open. “Frankie?” you asked.

He nodded.

Your astonishment ballooned so wide it froze your whole face solid for a moment. Then you laughed, out of far more shock than amusement, and gave him a smile all his own. “Oh my god!! You’re here!”

You immediately wrapped him in a hug. And though it took him a moment to return it, for the first time in ten whole years, he was home.

Chapter 3: Not my Homeland Anymore

taglist: @kelenloth ; @darnitdraco ; @gracie7209 ; @616wilsons ; @icanbeyourjedi ; @astroboots ;

#frankie morales #frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fic #triple frontier #frankie morales x reader #my writing #ttds

82 notes · View notes

heliads · 4 years ago

Text

Radio Silence Chapter Four: I Verify

Poe Dameron has been assigned to work as an intel receiver to Acer, a Resistance recon agent. They’ve only ever talked through the comms, so when she’s captured by First Order troops he assumes she’s lost forever. When Poe accidentally rescues the absolutely infuriating Resistance spy Y/N L/N from a First Order Star Destroyer, he knows she’s got nothing do with with Acer. Right?

previous / series masterlist / next

Poe waits. Y/N does not show up. To be honest, he’s not sure why he cares. He’s only met her a few hours ago, and they’ve been clashing ever since. Yet there was still something strange about seeing that brief flash of unease in her eyes, the waver in her voice when she was questioning Leia. Stormtroopers and the threat of torture back in her First Order cell were never enough to shake her, yet something at the base had washed all of that away. Isn’t that something to be concerned about?

Poe watches the corridors, the rooms, the training centers, but Y/N is conspicuously absent from all of them. It’s not like he’s actively trying to search her out, he just keeps noticing that she isn’t there. If he went to all of the trouble of breaking her out of a First Order Star Destroyer, he should at least know that she’s alright, right? He sounds like a lunatic.

After a couple of days, Poe finally sees her. She’s walking purposefully through the corridors of the base, listening to some coworker yammer on next to her. When Y/N’s eyes catch on him, she seems to hesitate for a second, then she raises a hand in greeting. Poe smiles in return, and just like that, the moment is over. Poe isn’t sure what he was expecting- he and Y/N had been fighting almost all of the time they spent on the Needle. So what if they had been civil on the base- did he really expect that they would trade insults in front of Leia? Nothing’s changed except the location, and Poe shouldn’t find himself disappointed that it hasn’t.

Life on the base goes on as normal. Poe sees rebels sent out on missions, they return with more scars and tales of high-stakes chases through the stars. Eventually, Poe gets tired of sitting around and politicking with Leia’s advisors, so he puts in a request for an off-base mission. He doesn’t know how long he’ll have to wait, but at least the prospect of leaving this system is somewhere in reach.

The mission ends up coming around sooner than he’d expected- barely a week goes by before Poe finds himself packing for another expedition. He’ll be taking his trusty X-Wing this time, no more sublight cruises or Mandalorian Needles. To be honest, Poe is okay with this- if there’s only room for him, there’s no chance that he’s bringing back snarky mechanic spy officers who can rival his knowledge of ship parts or be able to bother him with a single smirk and step.

As Poe is tossing his gear into his X-Wing, he notices someone walking up behind him. He turns to see Y/N, arms swinging casually at her sides as she takes in the ship. “Have you been downgraded from the Needle?” She asks, grinning. Poe ignores the sarcastic grin. “The Needle was temporary, the X-Wing is my favorite. If you say anything bad about her I’ll kick your ass myself.” Y/N raises her eyebrows. “Defensive, I see. Does that mean a lot of people have said bad things about your X-Wing or are you just very prepared?”

Poe turns to look at her, folding his arms across his chest. “Are you always this exasperating or is it just for me?” Y/N grins like a lynx. “What, are you asking if you’re special to me? Not a chance. I just wanted to see if Finn was going with you or not.” Poe leans up against the metal fuselage of his ship. “That’s a good excuse, but I’m pretty sure that you came all the way out to the hanger just to see me off.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “I was so excited to see you leave that I couldn’t help myself. Don’t take it too seriously.” Poe flashes her a grin. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I know you’ll miss me.” With that, he jumps up into the X-Wing, holding back a laugh at the sound of Y/N’s outraged retorts. Yet when he checks one last time over his shoulder as he flies out of the hanger, he notices that Y/N is still watching him go, a soft smile on her lips. Maybe she wasn’t so unfeeling after all.

The mission itself is nothing major. He’s not going into the Kinoss system or anywhere near Starkiller Base, just treading lightly on the outskirts of the Unknown Regions. There’s a backup copy of Resistance data files that needs to be collected and brought back to base. It contains lists of recon officers and spies, their assigned locations, and everything they’ve been able to find out over the last month. To put it simply, it is imperative that Poe finds this data file and brings it back before the First Order catches wind of its presence.

BB-8 whistles at him from over his shoulder, and Poe grins. “No, I’m not worried. This isn’t like Kinoss, we shouldn’t have to get anywhere near a Star Destroyer. Nothing’s going to happen.” There’s a whirring and clicking, and Poe shoots the droid a look over his shoulder. “Will you stop talking about her? She was just there to get in one final jibe in case I died, and I’m not going to die, so it’s no big deal.” He pauses for a second, listening to the series of beeps, then speaks again. “If you don’t drop this I’m going to send you over to Finn and get a new droid that doesn’t bother me all the time. Yes, I’m joking, stop your chatter.”

Poe touches down just outside of some backwater town. It’s not so different from the planet D’Qar, where the Resistance base is currently hidden, or even Yavin 4. Manageable gravity, only one sun, except there are significantly fewer forests and more of these massive stone outcroppings that block off the sun to create areas of shadow on the ground that are miles long. Farms have to be built on moving bases so that they can constantly stay in the sun as the sun passes overhead, forever shifting back and forth to avoid the shade of the stone cliffs.

Poe received intel that the data files were stored in a cave on the northeastern part of the planet, in a hollow in a rock face. He’s been sent the exact coordinates, and he makes his way deliberately along the surface of the planet, dodging behind large crags of rock whenever stormtroopers or civilians pass his way. He doesn’t want to be spotted, because he won’t be able to talk his way out of this one. A Resistance officer getting caught on a city planet is understandable, but here? He would obviously be hiding something.

After about half a standard hour of walking, Poe finds the cave entrance. He flicks on a lightstick from his multitool, shining it around. His eyes quickly catch on a plasteel crate tucked away under a rock ledge, and he hurries over to it, picking it up and carrying it out of the cave. Once he gets out into the light once more, Poe can recognize the faded Resistance insignia, and he knows he has the right box. Just to be careful, though, he opens up the box once he’s back inside his X-Wing, telling BB-8 to pilot him back so that Poe can direct his full attention to the crate.

The box is empty except for one datapad. Curious, Poe lifts it from the box, flicking it on and allowing a wash of bluish white light to cascade over his face in the dark of space. BB-8 whistles something from behind him, and Poe waves a hand dismissively at the small droid. “I’m sure it’s fine that I look at this. I have to make sure it isn’t a First Order decoy, right?” Besides, Poe makes knowing things a habit in the Resistance, and he’d like to make sure he stays on top of things. Even without his pride, however, there’s still a fairly good reason to check the files: they might contain something on Acer.

This is wrong, yes. He shouldn’t be checking it, shouldn’t know anything about her at all. But he isn't interested in finding out the name, only the status. If she’s dead or still considered missing, the file will state it. After a few minutes of paging through the data sets, Poe finds the entry he’s looking for: Sender code name: Acer. Receiver code name: Bravo. This is her. At first, Poe’s eyes flick over to the status bar, and he feels his chest fill with silent, overwhelming gratitude when he reads the few words labeled there: Alive. Returned to base. But then he keeps reading, and Poe feels a sudden piercing shock drive through him like a vibroblade.

His real name is there as the receiver: Poe Dameron. Next to that, though, is her name. Acer’s real name. Sender: Y/N L/N. Poe leans his head back, letting it thunk against the seat. For a second, he can’t think about anything at all. His eyes watch as the stars flick past behind him, but he isn’t taking in a thing. Then all of the emotions hit him at once. Acer is Y/N. Y/N is Acer. This must be what she was talking about that day, wasn’t it? Poe had told her that he was Bravo, that he was Acer’s receiver. Of course she had seemed stunned, she was going through the same revelation that Poe is undertaking right now.

But it’s different for Poe. Y/N had only had to realize that the man in front of her was Bravo, and she had chosen to not say anything. She had kept it entirely to herself, except for a frenzy of questions delivered to Leia. Why hadn’t she said anything? Yes, they’d been arguing for a while back on the Needle, but that wasn’t enough for her to damn him to never knowing if she was dead or alive. Why would she have lied to him?

By the time Poe is docking at the Resistance hanger once more, his anger and betrayal have faded into an overwhelming numbness. He walks over to Leia at the command center, handing her the box with the data files still securely inside. He doesn’t say anything more than he has to, and then he leaves the room once more. Poe has scarcely gone ten paces from the room when Y/N rounds the corner, and a cocky smile lights up her face at the sight of him. Poe can’t bring himself to return it, even when she hurries over to him.

“Look who it is, the returning hero! I thought I’d have a little longer until you came back. I think I might be disappointed.” On any other day, Poe would have scoffed, and said something about how every minute in that ship away from her was a blessing, but he stays silent today. Instead, he looks over at her, starting to veer away from the hallway and towards a door leading to an empty room. “I need to talk to you.” Y/N’s grin falters at the look on his face, at the stiffness of his words.

“Sure, Dameron. I’m a little worried now.” She follows him into the room and Poe closes the door behind him once he makes sure that they’re alone. When he turns back from the door, Y/N is facing him, the soft light of the room hanging over her eyes in a gentle wash of brightness. “What’s wrong?” She asks. Poe just looks at her coolly. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He doesn’t have to say anything more- Y/N knows what he’s talking about. Her gaze falls away, and when she speaks again, her voice is quiet. “You know.”

Poe feels a surge of anger starting to twist up in him once more. “Of course I know. How long were you planning on keeping this from me? A month, a year? What, you thought you could never tell me and it would be okay? I would have spent the rest of my life thinking that my Acer, my best friend, was dead or tortured, and you were fine with that.” He breaks off, shaking his head. “I would never have done that to you.”

Guilt is spun around Y/N’s every feature, but it hurts too much to look at her. “I wanted to tell you, but I know you wouldn’t want to hear it. Not from me.” She laughs, the sound twisted and broken in the quiet room. “You would never have wanted to find out like that. What, that ‘your Acer’ was the girl you’d spent the last few hours hating and arguing with on that ship? If I had told you, you would have wished I kept it to myself. When you told me you were Bravo I realized that Leia had never told you, and I figured it would be best if I went along with it. You would never have wanted it to be me, not in a million years.”

Poe just stares at her. “What, you thought that this was you doing the right thing? Maybe I would have been surprised, but you don’t get to decide how I would have felt. You don’t know what I would have said, so you made the choice for me.” Poe rakes a hand through his already disheveled hair. “Stars, I don’t know anything about you.” Y/N’s gaze turns cold. “No, you really don’t.” With that, she turns and walks from the room. Were it not for the hunch in her shoulders, Poe would have thought she was fine. Yet he can still see it in her stance, in the rhythm of her steps as she walks away. He’s really done it now.

Poe waits until he can no more, slipping away from his quarters to go find Y/N. He’s not sure what he would say to her- apologize? Promise he’s not going to leave? But it doesn’t look like he’ll get the chance- no matter where he goes, Poe cannot find her. Eventually, some comms officer notices him walking back and forth down the halls and offers to help him out. When Poe explains that he’s looking for Y/N, the officer visibly winces.

“I’m sorry, Dameron, but Recon Agent L/N left on a mission two standard hours ago. It was really hush-hush, almost nobody knew except Leia and a few others. All I can tell you is that she was in a team with two other soldiers, and they were going somewhere in the Core Worlds.” Poe starts. “But that’s in the middle of First Order territory. That’s practically suicide.” The officer nods sympathetically. “It’s dangerous, that’s for sure. It’s a shame you didn’t get to see her off, I thought I saw her looking for you. Well, keep your hopes up. I’m sure she’ll be back here before we know it.”

The officer continues on down the corridor, leaving Poe reeling in his head. That was why Y/N wanted to see him- to tell him about the mission. And how had he left her, minutes before she left on what would probably be the most dangerous mission of her life? With angry words and accusations of betrayal. He wishes he could take it back, redo that moment. Even his anger from before seems dull and pale now.

What if Poe never sees her again? What if that was his last moment with Y/N, with Acer, and he just left a broken memory with the most important girl in his life?

radio silence tag list: @kesskirata, @ubri812, @itsnottilly, @20th-centu-fairy-girl, @imabeautifulbutterfly, @cp11, @chocolitelady

#poe dameron #poe dameron imagines #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron series #star wars #star wars imagines #star wars x reader #star wars series #star wars poe #star wars poe imagines #star wars poe x reader #star wars poe series #swtfa #tfa

84 notes · View notes

satansjit · 5 years ago

Text

Reflections on the Color of My Skin

By Neil DeGrasse Tyson

Wednesday, June 3, 2020

My colleague had other encounters with the law that he shared later that night, but his first story started a chain reaction among us. One by one we each recalled multiple incidents of being stopped by the police. None of the accounts were particularly violent or life-threatening, although it was easy to extrapolate to highly publicized cases that were. One of my colleagues had been stopped for driving too slowly. He was admiring the local flora as he drove through a New England town in the autumn. Another had been stopped because he was speeding, but only by five miles per hour. He was questioned and then released without getting a ticket. Still another colleague had been stopped and questioned for jogging down the street late at night.

As for me, I had a dozen different encounters to draw from. There was the time I was stopped late at night at an underpass on an empty road in New Jersey for having changed lanes without signaling. The officer told me to get out of my car and questioned me for ten minutes around back with the headlights of his squad car brightly illuminating my face. Is this your car? Yes. Who is the woman in the passenger seat? My wife. Where are you coming from? My parent’s house. Where are you going? Home. What do you do for a living? I am an astrophysicist at Princeton University. What’s in your trunk? A spare tire, and a lot of other greasy junk. He went on to say that the “real reason” why he stopped me was because my car’s license plates were much newer and shinier than the 17-year-old Ford that I was driving. The officer was just making sure that neither the car nor the plates were stolen.

Among my other stories, I had been stopped by campus police while transporting my home supply of physics textbooks into my newly assigned office in graduate school. They had stopped me at the entrance to the physics building where they asked accusatory questions about what I was doing. It was 11:30 p.m. Open-topped boxes of graduate math and physics textbooks filled the trunk. And I was transporting them into the building, which left me wondering how often that scenario shows up in police training videos.

We went on for two more hours. But before we retired for the night we searched for common denominators among the stories. We had all driven different cars—some were old, others were new, some were undistinguished, others were high performance imports. Some police stops were in the daytime, others were at night. Taken one-by-one, each encounter with the law could be explained as an isolated incident where, in modern times, we all must forfeit some freedoms to ensure a safer society for us all. Taken collectively, however, you would think the cops had a vendetta against physicists because that was the only profile we all had in common. In this parade of automotive stop-and-frisks, one thing was for sure, the stories were not singular, novel moments playfully recounted. They were common, recurring episodes. How could this assembly of highly educated scientists, each in possession of the PhD—the highest academic degree in the land—be so vulnerable to police inquiry in their lives? Maybe the police cued on something else. Maybe it was the color of our skin. The conference I had been attending was the 23rd meeting of the National Society of Black Physicists. We were guilty not of DWI (Driving While Intoxicated), but of other violations none of us knew were on the books: DWB (Driving While Black), WWB (Walking While Black), and of course, JBB (Just Being Black).

None of us were beaten senseless. None of us were shot. But what does it take for a police encounter to turn lethal? On average, police in America kill more than 100 unarmed black people per year. Who never made it to our circle? I suspect our multi-hour conversation would be rare among most groups of law-abiding people.

As I compose this, about 10,000 chanting protestors are filing past my window in Manhattan. And because of the intermittent looting and related violence, the curfew for this evening has been pushed earlier, to 8 p.m., from 11 p.m. in the preceding days. The most common placard was “Black Lives Matter.” Many others simply displayed the name George Floyd, who was handcuffed face-down on the street with a police officer’s knee on the back of his neck, applied with a force of at least half the officer’s body weight, resulting in his death. Curious irony that NFL star Colin Kaepernick offered a simple demonstration of care and concern for the fate of black people in the custody of police officers, by taking a knee during the Star Spangled Banner before football games. (One media outlet mangled the moment by describing him as protesting the national anthem.) The outrage against his silent act of concern for a national problem persisted through the 2017 season when, as a free agent, he went unsigned by any team to continue his livelihood.

So, we went from a peaceful knee to the ground to a fatal knee to the neck.

The way peaceful protesters and the press are being shoved, maced, tear-gassed, pepper-sprayed, and tackled in the streets of our cities (when the police should have focused on arresting the looters) you would think the protestors were doing something illegal or un-American. But, of course, the U.S. Constitution has something to say about it:

Congress shall make no law … abridging the freedom … of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.

Which amendment was that? The First Amendment. So, the founders of this nation felt quite strongly about it, empowering one to declare that protesting for redress of grievances is one of the most American things you can do. If you are the police, pause and reflect how great is the country whose Constitution endorses peaceful protests.

What do we actually expect from our police officers? To protect the peace and arrest the bad guys, I presume. But also, to be armed with lethal force that they can use when necessary. That part clearly requires training on how and when to use (and not use) the power of your weapons. The rigorous Minneapolis Police Academy training lasts 4 months. The slightly more rigorous NYC Police Academy lasts 6 months.

Yet to become a certified pastry chef at a prestigious culinary academy requires 8 months. The perfect croissant demands it. So maybe, just maybe, police recruits could benefit from a bit more training before becoming officers.

In 1991, Rodney King (age 25) was struck dozens of times, while on the ground, by four LAPD officers, with their batons, after being tased. The grainy 1990s video of that went media-viral, inducing shock and dismay to any viewer.

But I wasn’t shocked at all.

Based on what I already knew of the world, my first thought was, “We finally got one of those on tape.” Followed by, “Maybe justice will be served this time.” Yes, that’s precisely my first thought. Why? Since childhood my parents instilled in me and my siblings, via monthly, sometimes weekly lessons, rules of conduct to avoid getting shot by the police. “Make sure that when you get stopped, the officer can always see both of your hands.” “No sudden movements.” “Don’t reach into your pockets for anything without announcing this in advance.” “When you move at all, tell the officer what you are about to do.” At the time, I am a budding scientist in middle school, just trying to learn all I can about the universe. I hardly ever think about the color of my skin—it never comes up when contemplating the universe. Yet when I exit my front door, I’m a crime suspect. Add to this the recently coined “White Caller Crime,” where scared white people call the police because they think an innocent black person is doing something non-innocent, and it’s a marvel that any of us achieve at all.

The rate of abuse? Between one and five skin-color-instigated incidents per week, for every week of my life. White people must have known explicitly if not implicitly of this struggle. Why else would the infamous phrase, “I’m free, white, and 21” even exist? Here is a compilation of that line used in films across the decades. Yes, it’s offensive. But in America, it’s also truthful. Today’s often-denied “white privilege” accusation was, back then, openly declared.

The deadly LA riots associated with the Rodney King incident are often remembered as a response to the beating. But no. Los Angeles was quiet for 13 months afterward. Everyone had confidence, as did I, that the video was just the kind of evidence needed to finally bring about a conviction in the abuse of power. But that’s not what came to pass. The riots were a response to the acquittal of the four officers in the incident, and not to the incident itself. And what is a riot if not the last act of helpless desperation.

The 1989 film by Spike Lee “Do the Right Thing,” which explored 1980s black-white-police tensions in Brooklyn, New York, ends with a dedication to the families of six people. Eleanor Bumpers (age 66), Michael Griffith (age 23), Arthur Miller (age 30), Edmund Perry (age 17), Yvonne Smallwood (age 28), and Michael Stewart (age 25). All are black. One was killed by a white mob. The rest were unarmed and shot by police or otherwise died while in police custody. All deaths occurred within the 10 years preceding film, and all occurred in New York City. None of the police-induced deaths resulted in convictions, as continues to be true for 99% of all police killings.

We know of these events because they each ended in death. But even so, back then, it was just local news. Was this just NYC’s problem? I asked myself. But for every police-related death anywhere, how many unarmed victims are shot by police and don’t die, or are wrongfully maimed or injured? Most of those cases didn’t even make the local news. But if you lived there, you knew. We all knew. For what it’s worth, NYC now has the lowest police-caused death rate per capita among the sixty largest cities in the US. Is it that extra two months training in the Police Academy?

The corrosion and ultimate erosion of our confidence in the legal system in cases such as these, even in the face of video evidence, has spawned a tsunami of protests. With sympathetic demonstrations across the United States and around the world. If the threat of prison time for this behavior does not exist—acting as a possible deterrent—then the behavior must somehow stop on its own.

Some studies show that the risk of death for an unarmed person at the hands of the police is approximately the same no matter the demographics of who gets arrested. Okay. But if your demographic gets stopped ten times more than others, then your demographic will die at ten times the rate. I suppose we first have to get the bias factor down to zero, but then there’s still the matter of police killing unarmed suspects, white people included.

I talk a lot. But I don’t talk much about any of this, or the events along this path-of-most-resistance that have shaped me. Why? Because throughout my life I’ve used these occasions as launch-points to succeed even more. Yes, I parlayed the persistent rejections of society, which today might be called micro-aggressions, into reservoirs of energy to achieve. I learned that from my father, himself active in the Civil Rights Movement during the 1950s and 1960s.

In a way, I am who I am precisely because countless people, by their actions or inactions, said I could never be what I am. But what if you don’t have this deep supply of fuel? What becomes of you? Who from historically disenfranchised communities, including women, LGBTQ+, and anybody of color, are missing—falling shy of their full potential because they ran out of energy and gave up trying.

Are things better today than yesterday? Yes. But one measure of this truth is a bit perverse. Decades ago, unarmed black people getting beaten or killed by the police barely merited the local news. But now it’s national news—even breaking news—no matter where in the country it occurs.

So how to change all this? Organizations have surely assembled demands for police departments. Here, I offer a list of my own, for policy experts to consider:

Extend police academies to include months of cultural awareness and sensitivity training that also includes how not to use lethal force.

Police officers should all be tested for any implicit bias they carry, with established thresholds of acceptance and rejection from the police academy. We all carry bias. But most of us do not hold the breathing lives of others in our hands when influenced by it.

During protests, protect property and lives. If you attack nonviolent protesters you are being un-American. And you wouldn’t need curfews if police arrested looters and not protesters.

If fellow officers are behaving in a way that is clearly unethical or excessively violent, and you witness this, please stop them. Someone will get that on video, and it will give the rest of us confidence that you can police yourselves. In these cases, our trust in you matters more to a civil society than how much you stick up for each other.

And here’s a radical idea for the Minneapolis Police Department—why not give George Floyd the kind of full-dress funeral you give each other for dying in the line of duty? And vow that such a death will never happen again.

Lastly, when you see black kids, think of what they can be rather than what you think they are.

Respectfully Submitted

Neil deGrasse Tyson — trying hard to Keep Looking Up.

#neil degrasse tyson #reflections on the color of my skin #reflections #black lives matter #justiceforfloyd #blm movement #blm #support blm #science #george floyd #justice for black lives #justice for poc #no justice no peace #know justice know peace #white silence is violence #physics #amerikkka #blacklivesmatter

765 notes · View notes

greekowl87 · 4 years ago

Text

Fic: Embracing Parenthood 5/?

Get caught up: (1) | (2) | (3) (4) or AO3

A/N: I’ve been writing while trying to figure out my depression but it’s not as much as I would like. I finally got this done and have two other things I am working on. Looking at episodes 4-D and Lord of the Flies, I decided to consolidate this chapter and do a focus on “Lord of the Flies”. I’m still not 100% on the direction this will be taking. I borrowed lines from the episode so, just an fyi. I used the transcript from Inside the X. Bit of light smut at the end.

Tagging @baronessblixen @suitablyaggrieved @today-in-fic @improlificinsarcasm

After a few more months, they seemed to finally be hitting their stride. This new...whatever it was...took some getting used to for Mulder and Scully. Aside from the one time they caught William’s mobile spinning under its own accord, they had not caught anything else. Scully was fine with this and shut down any attempt Mulder made to bring it up. She kept telling herself that their son was just fine and normal like any other baby. After a couple of weeks, Mulder gave up. It became an unspoken agreement between them. Aside from this, things at the academy and x-files remained quiet.

Agent Reyes settled in an apartment in Foggy Bottom. A few x-files have been solved. Despite Agent Reyes’s claim of an interdimensional serial killer nearly ending his life, Doggett was still alive. Mulder and Scully settled into their teaching roles at the academy, William was growing in size, and they both were beginning to believe that they were getting that happy ending that they both deserved.

On a regular Wednesday afternoon, as Mulder graded quizzes in his office, he heard a light knocking at the door. “Come in,” he called looking up from his desks.

Scully smiled at him. “How’s the grading, Agent Mulder?”

“I want to know your secret,” he confessed. He held out his hand, offering a chair across from him. She surprised him instead by taking his hand, squeezing it, and kissed him deeply. “Well, hello to you too.”

“I like this, Scully.”

“I’m glad. I have to go to New Jersey though. Agents Doggett and Reyes need my medical opinion about a matter.”

“Do you need me to tag along?”

She didn’t answer his question. She sat in the chair across from him. “Teaching suits you, Mulder. Are you happy?”

“I can do without the grading,” he confided. “So, back to the case? Is this what...for an afternoon?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe. I’m sure it’s fairly straightforward. A teenager was found with half of the head collapsed in, and many flies came swarming out.”

“Flies? Is this a case of Lord of the Flies? Or Jeff Goldum’s The Fly?”

“Thankfully not. I just suspect something weird. However, I need to travel to New Jersey to lend a helping hand.”

“You never answered my question. Do you need me to tag along?”

“No. I’ve already called my mother to let her know. I’m taking a car from the pool and I’ll be stopping by the apartment before making my way to New Jersey.”

Mulder shifted uncomfortably in his chair. The suddenness of this news made him feel very uncomfortable. He did not have much time to sort through these new feelings as Scully continued. “It’s a three-hour drive from Washington. I’ll be spending the night up there. I should be back in a day or two.”

Mulder cleared his throat. “Just like that?”

She titled her head. “Why? Is there something wrong with it?”

“No,” he lied. He fiddled with the pen in front of him, rolling it back and forth on his desk. “I’ll pick up William from your mother.”

“It’s only for 48 hours,” she said.

“It’s not a big deal, Scully. Do you not have faith in me taking care of William?”

“I didn’t say that but you are pouting.”

“I’m not pouting. Look, I probably need a guy’s night anyway.”

“The Gunmen?” She asked.

“I was just thinking about me, Will, and Plan 9 From Outer Space. You know a guy’s night.”

“Maybe pick a less depressing film?”

“We’ll be fine, mom. Promise.” Scully arched her eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Promise, Scully. Nothing will go wrong.”

Her cellphone started to ring and she sighed, looking at the caller ID. “It’s Agent Doggett,” she sighed. She got up from her chair and hastily kissed his cheek as she left. “I’ll call you when I get there. Love you.”

“Love you too.” He replied, watching her retreating form.

As the emotions welled in his chest. Mulder pushed the rest of the ungraded quizzes to the side and began to search for movies. As a psychologist, he knew pushing his emotions aside and burying them was unhealthy. He and Scully spent seven years doing that. Unfortunately, he was no longer a bachelor and had a baby to worry about as well.

* * * * * *

Traffic was a beast in driving the length of I-95 to Quantico to drive the hour to Annapolis to Marget Scully’s house. Two accidents just added to Mulder’s sour mood. As he sat in traffic, he tried to distract himself by switching it to NPR and ultimately switched it off. As traffic inched towards Maryland, he finally identified and named just a few of the emotions that were swirling in his chest. Jealousy. Feelings of inadequacy. Sadness.

He sighed, finally sighting the exit to Mrs. Scully’s and signaled the right turn signal. As he pulled off, he was bitterly reminded of the initial shock and awe he felt coming back from the dead. He struggled to find this place in a Twilight Zone-like universe where he no longer had the x-files and had Scully seven months pregnant. They struggled to find their footing. Mulder remembered feeling left out and bitter that Scully had a new partner in Doggett. He didn’t necessarily dislike this man. He was a good agent, just like Scully had said, but he was the one investigating x-files with Scully. Mulder wasn’t. He didn’t mind Agent Reyes either. He liked her and thought her addition to the x-files office in place of Scully would help balance the skeptical Doggett. But that didn’t stop him from feeling jealous and left out.

As he slowed, pulling into a residential neighborhood, he saw Mrs. Scully’s white sedan in the driveway and the lights throughout the house. He jogged up the front steps and raised his hand to knock. Mrs. Scully opened the door before his knuckles could rap against the wood. “Fox, I’m glad to see you weren’t caught up in traffic too badly!”

“I still hit a couple of accidents, Mrs. Scully.” He forced a smile. “Were you expecting someone?”

“What? Oh, no! I saw your headlights in the driveway. Come in! I was just about to pull out dinner.”

“I couldn’t…” he stammered out of instinct.

“Nonsense. Besides, William will be very happy to see you.”

Oh yeah, he thought, I’m a father. “You need to get past the formalities, Fox. Don’t you think Maggie will do? You are the father to my grandson after all.” Mrs. Scully was already pulling on his hand, tugging him inside before he could put up a fight. “Besides, as much as I love my daughter, Dana does not know how to cook.”

“Actually, she’s quite good,” Mulder defended.

Mrs. Scully chuckled to herself. “What I meant is she doesn’t know how to cook for a family. I raised four children by myself for the most part when the Captain was at sea. Now that William is here, I’m not going to dismiss the possibility. Take off your shoes, Fox.”

Mulder slid off his polished Oxford shoes and loosened his tie. “The possibility of what?”

Maggie stopped and smiled. “Of what could be. Come on. I bet William will be excited to see you.”

Mulder followed Mrs. Scully into the kitchen and saw his son light up. William began to babble happily and stretch his arms for his father. He smiled and bent down to kiss his forehead. “I think he is going to have Scully’s eyes.”

“They might still turn brown. I don’t know, Fox. I think William is beginning to look like you. Have a seat. Do you want a beer with dinner?”

“Water would be fine.”

Mulder sat closest to William as Mrs. Scully served them. “William was fine today,” she said. “Dana called and let me know. If it is more convenient, I can come to Georgetown and watch William tomorrow if you want.”

Mulder nodded and replied, “I would appreciate that. I wish I could simply take the time off.”

Mrs. Scully played with her shepherd’s pie. And how are you feeling, Fox with Dana in New Jersey and you here?”

He was caught off guard with the question. “What do you mean?”

“Seven years you two were practically glued together. She would always answer your calls. Now you’re here and she's out in the field.” She paused. “I know you two had some difficulties when you came back.”

He chuckled hollowly. “Not every day you come back from the dead.”

“Exactly. She was alone for six months.”

“I didn’t leave her intentionally,” he defended quietly.

“I’m not saying that you did. I’m not my oldest son, Fox.”

“I’m that bad?”

“Worse than Dana,” she chuckled. “I know what it’s like to feel left behind and on the sidelines. I imagine you felt some sort of jealousy with Agent Doggett when you first met him?”

“I, uh, punched him in the jaw.”

Mrs. Scully nodded. “Dana mentioned something about that. The point is, Fox, I know what is like feeling out of the loop when your partner is out doing something. I felt the same way when Bill was out to sea and I was left to raise four kids of my own. He would joke that I was the admiral in the family.” She gave a small smile. “And you find yourself in a similar situation.”

“I guess so,” he whispered. He pushed his food around. “Even though we’re both teaching at the academy, it doesn’t feel the same.”

“You could always propose.”

William squealed eagerly and threw something across the table making Mulder jump. “Excuse me?”

Mrs. Scully shrugged. “I just figured after 8 years, a child, and sharing an apartment...it’s time you make it permanent, Fox.”

“I…”

She held up her hand. “You don’t have to say anything. Just think about it. In the meantime, are you sure I can’t get you anything else right now?”

“Yeah,” he stammered. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

As it neared 8 o’clock, Mulder gathered his son and Mrs. Scully piled leftovers into a brown grocery bag to walk him out. “I’ll be up by 10 tomorrow. What time will you be home?”

“About six,” he replied, shifting William in his arms. “Scully said she might be home by tomorrow.”

“Well, I’ll set one extra place at the table.”

Mulder, still feeling insecure, interrupted. “You don’t have to, Mrs. Scully. I can take care of William. I don’t want to trouble you.”

“Nonsense,” she dismissed. “I love seeing my grandson.” She kissed Mulder’s cheek goodbye. “And I don’t do these things because I pity you or think you unworthy of Dana, Fox. I do it out of love for you and William. Now, I’ll see you tomorrow!”

As the door closed behind him and Mulder tucked William into his car seat, his thoughts became distracted yet again. Scully did need him, right? He hadn’t brushed aside. And what did Mrs. Scully insinuate with their dinner conversation?

* * * * * *

A few states away in Manahawkin, New Jersey, Scully retired from examining the half-collapsed head of “Captain Dare” and the persistent flirting of Dr. Rocky Bronzino earlier than she anticipated. She politely declined the dinner invitation from Agents Doggett and Reyes as well. She found her attention drifting towards various journal articles about the Spanish fly and their mating rituals. After a few hours, Scully abandoned her research.

She tried to take a bath and felt distracted. Her mind couldn’t wrap itself around the facts of the case. As she dressed for bed, she sleepily looked at the motel clock and saw it was nine o’clock. How could she have let time get away from her? Without a second thought, she found her cell and called the apartment’s landline. When there was no answer, she quickly called Mulder’s cell phone. He answered the third thing.

“Mulder,” he greeted automatically.

She could hear him hiding a yawn in his voice. “Mulder, it’s me,” she spoke softly. “Did I catch you at a bad moment?”

“No,” he sighed. “I just put William to bed. A late bath, a lot of crying, and a partially read bedtime story and he is down for the count. He misses you terribly.”

“I bet,” she said. Scully shifted the files around. “And what about you?”

“What about me?” He yawned again.

“How are you?”

“Tired,” he admitted simply. “And very much missing you. Your bed is too big without you. But never mind me. Tell me about the case?”

“I am dealing with a human head half-collapsed in with flies exploding it before I arrived. Agents Doggett and Reyes are chasing down a teenager suspect.”

“Oh,” he hummed. “Bugs. Is this like those teenagers from Pittsfield, Virginia, Scully?”

“Not at all,” she said. “I’m not entirely sure if this is an x-file yet. I mean it has bugs. It’s all about the bugs, Mulder.”

“Washington state. One of our first cases.”

“Well, no one has been found cocooned in the web.”

“Yet.”

“Yet,” she repeated. Scully sighed and looked at the empty side of the motel bed. “I should be done by tomorrow evening. Hey, we have the weekend at least. One perk of teaching at the academy: normal 9-5 jobs.”

“Unless you get called away on another case.” Scully could hear a hint of bitterness in his voice. “But yeah, I’ll look forward to it.”

“Mulder, are you okay?”

She could hear the phone shifting on his end. “Hm? Yeah. I was just getting the blankets pulled down. I thought about putting William in the bassinet but I guess he needs to learn about sleeping in his room.”

Scully groaned inwardly. “You’re not helping,” she told him.

“What did I do?”

There was a weariness in his voice she could not place. “Mulder, what’s wrong? What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing, nothing. Everything is okay. I’m handling it just fine.”

She heard his voice rise defensively and the baby crying in the background. “Look, Scully. I’m going to check on William. I’ll talk to you later okay?”

“Okay but…” Mulder hung up the phone before Scully had a chance to reply. “Great.”

Scully looked back at the clock, wondering if she should call her partner back. She felt hurt about the shortness in her voice. What had happened? Did her mother say something to Mulder? Did she do something? Did something else happen to William that he wasn’t telling her? In the end, she decided not to call him back lest she wake the baby again and cause Mulder to lose any sleep. As she settled in the motel bed, she turned onto her side and swept her arm up and down the empty side. She missed being away from him and their son.

Three hours away in Georgetown, Mulder, unable to sleep found himself on the couch in front of the television. William held contently against his chest. William sleepily watched his father as Mulder settled on TCM for a black and white horror film. A small gurgling brought Mulder’s attention back to his son. “We’ll just keep daddy sleeping on the couch a secret from mom,” he said.

William yawned and twisted his head towards Mulder’s chest. “Well, the important thing is that you’re comfortable,” Mulder continued. “You’re just like your mother; she can sleep anywhere too. I think her favorite place is to fall asleep on me.”

He shifted his attention back to the television and then back at his son. “I can’t help but feel forgotten,” he confessed to William. “I mean, your mom was all by herself when she found out she was pregnant with you and I was abducted. She got a new partner.” Mulder thought of Doggett’s straight-laced demeanor. “He is just the opposite of what I expected. And of course, I am jealous of him. He was the one watching Scully’s back because I ran off to chase down a damn UFO. Look at what that got me, Will. Six feet under.” He looked down at his son. “Does that make me a bad person?”

William met him with silence.

“Well, I value your opinion so don’t hold back,” he told the baby. More silence except for a sleepy blink. “I think that is why I was so distant tonight. I’m jealous. I’m upset. I feel left behind.” Mulder watched his son grow sleepier. He had Scully’s blue eyes. “I feel like she’s moved on without me. I have since I came back. Even with you and all your glory, bud, I still feel inadequate.” William grabbed a fistful of Mulder’s t-shirt as his eyes grew heavier. “Are you trying to reassure me?” Mulder chuckled slightly. “I wish I could tell Scully how I felt.”

One day, he promised himself. As William drifted off to sleep, Mulder found himself wide awake still, his thoughts going to Scully and the bitterness he felt over the fact she was out in the field and he felt left behind.

* * * * *

Back in New Jersey, Scully left the motel to head straight to the medical examiner’s office. Agents Doggett and Reyes had texted her that they were going to follow up with some matters at the high school before meeting her at the medical examiner. On her way there, Scully tried to call Mulder again first at his office and then his cell. This was the second time since last night that he hadn’t answered his phone. Trying to dismiss the growing insecurities into the back of her mind, she tried to focus on the case instead. As Scully strolled into the main medical lab, it was much to her dismay that Dr. Bronzino was waiting for her.

“Dr. Scully,” the overly tanned scientist greeted. “How are you this fine morning?”

“Well,” she greeted with some reserve. “Have Agents Doggett and Reyes arrived yet?”

“Not at all! But I’ve been examining the flies that exploded from that young man’s skull. It’s quite fascinating really. Being a forensic pathologist, you might find this particularly interesting. Have you ever heard of the coffins fly?”

Scully took a step back and forced a smile. “I can’t say I have.”

“Well, they’re amazing creatures. A female coffin fly has been known to bury its way through over two meters of dirt just to lay its eggs on the cadaver. That is the equivalent of a human digging two miles into the ground.” He flashed her a dazzling smile of whitened teeth. “Isn’t it amazing of the lengths one will go to procreate?”

“Fascinating,” she replied quickly, “but what does this have to do with the victim?”

“Oh,” the entomologist exclaimed, “all the flies that came for the young victim’s head were female. There is probably nothing to it but isn't it fascinating?”

Scully’s mind was already firing and meaning connections. “It is. And it could be nothing or it could mean everything. Did you set any aside for the examination?”

Dr. Bronzino waved to the other end of the room where the microscope was. “I was going to prepare some samples to examine.”

She moved towards the microscope. “Why don’t I start on that and you do whatever it is that you are doing, Dr. Bronzino”

“Excellent suggestion, Dr. Scully! Divide and conquer! I like the sound of that!”

“I’m sure,” she answered.

“Which reminds me. I’m going to run back to my lab real quickly to gather another instrument of my invention. I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be here,” she said.

Scully was secretly glad to see him retreat as she set to work. She laid out her research of flies that she had started the night before and her morning coffee. She paused, trying to collect her thoughts before she delved into the day’s work, however, she couldn’t. Her thoughts kept going back to the abrupt conversation that she had with Mulder the night before. He sounded distant and aloof. She was reminded of his jealousy when he came back from the dead. She found her phone and dialed his office at Quantico. At nine a.m., he should have been strolling right then. However, it went straight to messages. She hung up before she could leave one. Growing disgruntled, Scully called the Georgetown apartment. To her surprise, it was her mother that answered.

“Hello?” Her mother answered.

“Hi, mom,” she greeted quickly. “What are you doing at the apartment?”

“Oh, I thought I would save Fox driving to drop off William with me this morning,” she said. “One less hassle to do. I also picked you and Fox up some groceries that you desperately needed.”

“We were fine,” she said. “Where is Mulder? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” her mom replied vaguely. “I found him sleeping on the couch last night with the tv on. William must have kept him up all night.”

She felt a twinge of regret twist her heart. “Is he okay?”

“I guess so. He seemed fine and left for the office with no issue. Why? Is there something that I should be aware of?”

“No, no,” Scully said. She pushed the thoughts of insecurity deep down. Now was not the time. “He seemed distracted last night. We only chatted briefly. Is William okay?”

“He’s a fat, happy baby who can sleep through anything. Just like you were. I’m here until Fox comes home if you need anything. Do you want me to tell Fox that you called?”

“No, no. Everything’s fine.”

Her mother was silent on the other end. “Well, if you do need anything, Dana, I’m here with William. Love you.”

“Love you too, mom.”

She hung up her phone and tried to ignore the new signs that taunted her. Nothing was fine except she was not going to say anything. Scully sat at the microscope and began to work.

A couple of hours later, Dr. Rocky Bronzino rejoined her with a crude-looking invention to he promised to give a giant break in the case. She half-listened to ramble on about the various mating rituals of insects until she noticed a pattern emerging with the insects. It took Bronzino to confirm her suspicions and identify the peculiar fact about the case. As she continued to examine the flys, at a quarter till noon, Agents Reyes and Doggett walked in. Scully looked at both of them and announced, “I’m glad you’re here. I think we just got our first real break in the case.”

“What did you find?” Reyes asked.

“Well, it's what the entomologist Rocky Bronzino found. The flies that ate at the brain and skull of the victim are all female. Every last one of them.” Scully motioned to a fly under the microscope as she spoke.

Doggett looked towards Monica Reyes and asked, “Exactly how is that a break”

Scully thought for a moment and answered, “Well, what are the chances of that?”

Agent Reyes clarified, “You mean that the absence of males suggests there's a reason for the attack. Behaviourally.”

“Well, something biological is going on. Whether it's hormonal or chemical something has caused these bugs to attack,” Scully theorized.

Doggett added, “Or a need to express themselves.”

Scully asked, “To what?”

Agent Doggett continued, “This is a kid that calls himself "Sky Commander Winky." Agent Reyes and I were interviewing him as a suspect when this happened.” He showed photos of the victim’s back were the words ‘DUMB ASS’ shined a bright, red welt. “The paramedics arrived and treated him for an aggressive attack of bodily lice.”

She took the photos to examine them closer. “Hmm. Lice are not altogether uncommon in a school environment.”

Doggett snorted. “Except that these are better spellers than most of the kids.”

“Maybe they stayed late for after-school lessons,” she snorted. “So what are you saying? That this is just another dumb ass stunt?”

Reyes interjected, “Well, that was my first thought. But the victim here was just too freaked out by this incident to make me believe he'd staged this. Which leads me to think that while you may be right about this being a matter of biology, someone is directing the biology.” She paused. “Maybe you might want to consult Mulder?”

“Why?” Doggett asked. “These are bugs we are talking about.”

“And how does one direct bugs?” She added.

Reyes shrugged and replied, “I don't know how but we've been running down a long list of witnesses.” She passed Scully the rest of the photographs. “A loner who was present at every dumb ass stunt and who had a run-in with this kid Winky at school just prior to the lice attacking. His name is Dylan Lokensgard. We're going to want to talk to him.”

“He seems like a promising start,” Scully replied. “Dr. Bronzino should be back soon. He promised to bring a piece of equipment that will help break the case.”

“We’ll be back then. Call us if you have anything. Let’s head back, Monica.”

“I’ll call you when I have something,” Scully replied.

She watched the two agents retreating. She glanced at the clock on the wall and did the math in her head. She probably wasn’t going to be home that evening that she had promised.

* * * * * *

Having Mrs. Scully watch William in Georgetown instead of Maryland was a bigger relief than Mulder had realized. Although he hit traffic on the way to Quantico, the extra hour of not driving had put him in a somewhat fairer mood. However, as the morning dragged on and he did not hear anything from Scully began to sour his fair mood. By lunch, he was mad. Well not mad, but pouting and being gloomy. If Scully were here, she would have chewed him out and told him to pull his head out of his ass. But that was just it. Scully wasn’t here to do that.

As noon droned on, Mulder heard a light knocking at his door and looked up with some surprise to see A.D. Skinner standing in the doorway. “Wow, Mulder. Even having an office out of the basement and looking depressed as hell.”

“And it’s good to see you too, sir.” Mulder rose to greet the man and offered his hand. “I suspect you did not come down to comment on my office.”

“No.” Skinner paused. “I had a meeting I needed to attend. I wanted to check in on you and see how things were. You know, just to see if you threaten to burn down the establishment yet.”

“Haha,” Mulder said lamely. “No. Things are normal. Just perfectly normal.”

“And you are a terrible liar. Why don’t you come to lunch, Mulder? Get your head out of your ass and get some fresh air.”

“I’m fine where I am,” he said.

“And I know you well enough to know when you’re lying. You’re jealous aren’t you?”

“About what?”

“I know Scully’s out in the field,” Skinner stated, “and you’re not.”

“Way to rub it in.” Mulder glanced at his computer clock and relented. “Fine, fine. It isn’t like I have anything else to do today.”

“Good. You could use the distraction.”

. . . . . .

Back in New Jersey, Doggett and Reyes were still canvassing the school looking for more witnesses, Scully found herself out in the streets with the brazen etymologist, Dr. Rocky Bronzino. His continued efforts of flirting with her wearing down on her last nerves. She surveyed the empty street and how idyllic it reminded her. Dr. Bronzino focused on the tool he had brought from his lap that was designed to help them. He took a step back from the tracker to examine the surroundings.

“So many flowers ... so little time,” he murmured

Scully looked up from the trunk of the Land Rover. “Excuse me?”

The etymologist stated excitedly. “Pheromones, Dr. Scully. Heavy in the air. Nature's natural attractions. Driving the insect world to go forth and pollinate.”

As Dr. Bronzino began to advance on her, she took a few steps back. She shifted her gaze to the device he had brought with him. “I'm aware of how pheromones work. But according to this device, there isn't a single pheromone to be found out here.”

He began to tweak his machine and Scully rolled her eyes, looking back up to the sky. She smirked, remembering the time she was with Mulder when frogs rained from the sky. Dr. Bronzino was growing frustrated. “Well, that can't be right. The biosensor uses an actual fly antenna over which the pheromones pass. But I modified the EAG to measure in picograms which makes it sensitive to traces a mile in any direction.”

Scully watched an overly casual Rocky lean against the car, a confident hand on his hip, as he tried to charm her. Scully tried to remain professional and keep them on track. “But I'm still not sure why you think that pheromones might cause an otherwise harmless fly to attack a human so violently, Doctor…”

“Rocky,” he corrected. His whitened teeth shined as brightly as he flirted with her.

“Rocky,” she repeated

He smiled, thinking his charm was working. “Bugs are small-minded creatures, and therefore very predictable. They don't have moods. They react to circumstance and stimuli as they have been doing for millennia.”

“How wonderful.” She tried to keep it professional. “So what do you suppose they're reacting to out here?”

Dr. Bronzino puffed out his chest like a mating dove and took a few steps forward. “It may be the bugs are being somehow driven crazy with desire. You know, they say we humans respond to pheromones, too.”

Scully put her hands on her hips, clearly uncomfortable. “Yeah, I tend to agree with that, yeah.”

Rocky pressed on. “‘Women's dormitory syndrome.’ It's believed that pheromones are the reason that women who live together share the same menstrual cycle.”

“Fascinating,” she deadpanned.

Dr. Bronzino felt emboldened. “You know, when a male and female calliphorid fly mate they stay joined for up to one and a half hours. One and a half, doctor.” He punctuated the last few words for emphasis. “What do you think of that?”

Scully stood unfazed. This was not the first time she had to deal with this, however, this time was different. “You know, Rocky ... I'm a mother.”

He arched an eyebrow, not dissuaded. He looked at her left hand. “Mothers are women, too.” He took a moment to look at Scully surveying her. “I noticed a lack of a ring. And what does it matters? Women have biological needs, just like men do.”

“You are drawing dangerous conclusions without lack of evidence, doctor.”

“Well, as a trained scientist, I observe you are a woman. There is no ring on your finger to denote a marriage or a serious relationship in what we consider legally.”

“I can assure you that I am very serious. I am in a committed, nine-year relationship with the baby’s father.”

“Well, he is not here. You are.”

“Doesn’t matter, Rocky. Let’s keep focused here, please.”

“Well, relationships aren’t known to be monogamous,” he countered.

“Seahorses, macaroni penguins, gray wolves, barn owls, and bald eagles,” she said.

“What do those animals have to do with relationships?”

“If you were a real scientist,” she pressed, “you would be aware of some of the animal species that are known to mate for life. There are some cracks in your argument. ”

“Well, there are numerous insects that perform a variety of mating rituals. Give it time, Dr. Scully and I’ll win you over.” She was about to reply but was interrupted by the beeping of the pheromone bio-sensor. Dr. Bronzino turned excitedly to the machine. “Big hit!”

“What is it?”

“A high concentration of c-13 calliphorone...incoming.” He looked up at the sky. Scully did the same and heard the beeping increase and then suddenly dissipate. “What? What happened?” He quickly went to check his machine.

“Nothing, apparently,” Scully commented drily. “We should get back to the lab. Agents Doggett and Reyes might have something for us there.”

“Are we going to continue our discussion of animal mating and ritual habits?” He asked, his voice heavily laced with innuendo.

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s done.”

“Dr. Scully, are you blushing? As the great Charles Darwin once said, ‘Blushing is the most peculiar and most human of all expressions.’”

“Don’t make me shoot you,” she sighed.

“I consider it a challenge.”

. . . . . .

“How do you like teaching at the academy,” Skinner asked. He watched Mulder use his plastic fork to push the mac and cheese around on his plate. “Mulder?”

“Um, interesting. A lot better than having to deal with the profiling cases in VCU even though I’m sure I will come calling. That’s part of the deal with teaching? We help out and consult as needed.”

“Are you that bitter that Scully is on an x-file and you’re not,” he asked.

“Am I that obvious?” Mulder asked.

“I’ve had hemorrhoids that weren’t as annoying with you,” he replied. “Or is it the fact that you don’t have the x-files anymore?”

The bluntness of Skinner’s observations caught Mulder off guard. He looked up from his food and took a few moments to reflect. “In theory, I shouldn’t. I have Scully and our son, things are about as normal as we can make them. But I can’t help but feel connected to them in some way. Seeing Scully out in the field, me not there…” He shrugged. “It brings up a lot of baggage.”

“Especially with Doggett?”

Mulder was quiet. “I blame myself. I should have stayed with her instead of chasing UFOs.”

“Doggett’s a good agent, Mulder. It was hard watching her, Mulder, during those months she was gone. Having to keep her pregnancy a secret. It was tough.” Skinner took a napkin and wiped his mouth. “You know, Sharon used to get mad at me when we first got married. I was still a field agent but the jealousy she would get. She felt inadequate with everything that was going on between us. Said she felt left behind.”

Well, Mulder thought, certainly hitting everything on the topic. Skinner continued to stare at Mulder. “And?” he asked. “What did Sharon do?”

“Well, we had a real nasty fight that was the start of our quarrels at the very beginning of our quarrels. I was in the field, missed an important date, you know how it goes.” He smiled to himself, remembering her. He thumbed at the wedding band thoughtfully. “But we made time. Communication wise. It didn’t always go well but we tried.”

“So, in addition to being an assistant director, you are secretly a marriage counselor. Wow, sir.”

“Knock it off, Mulder. All I am saying is that something is bothering you about this...arrangement, then make sure you take the time to talk to Scully.”

Mulder nodded. He decided to change the subject. “So, how is our old buddy Kersh?”

Skinner chuckled. “Tap dancing his way on the top floor so that you’re no longer there to bother him.”

“Well, at least some things never change,” he answered. “My advice, Mulder, from one man who tried to balance a career and relationship? Make sure you always leave time to talk and communicate. If not, the whole thing can go to shit.”

“Thanks, sir,” he nodded. His mind drifted to Scully. “I appreciate the advice. You should come down to Quantico more often. Skinner’s Lunch Hour wisdom.”

“Knock it off, Mulder,” he dismissed.

. . . . . . .

After getting John’s call from the school, Scully took her car to investigate and meet them there. According to Monica, Dylan had somehow controlled the bugs during their confrontation. She was surprised by the number of cops, firefighters, and EMTs. She was even surprised to see people in hazmat suits. But to her surprise, Monica had found them a clue. A used tissue. They rode back to the medical examiner. As they rode the elevator to the second floor. Scully was the first to emerge carrying the tissue in a metal container with Doggett and Reyes flanking her. “Where did you get this again?” She asked.

“Dylan Lokensgard provided it to us when we interviewed him,” Doggett answered.

“I have to warn you, there's typically not a lot to be found in a teenage boy's sweaty kleenex.”

“Well, a teenage boy can produce other things,” Reyes replied.

“Don’t remind me of the future,” Scully laughed thinking of William.

“But we were looking for pheromones. Aren't there pheromones produced in adolescent sweat?” Reyes continued.

“Yes, it's what causes B.O., But all too obviously it's not all that attractive--to anything,” Scully countered. “While I was out with Dr. Bronzino this morning, we thought we had a possible hit this morning but it turned out to be nothing.”

“A possible hit?” Doggett asked.

“Well, Dr. Bronzino was more than trying to hit on pheromones.”

“Well, at least Mulder isn’t here to punch him in the face,” Doggett chuckled.

“Yeah,” she said distantly. Scully’s brief thought of Mulder drifted away as she entered into the medical examiner’s office where Dr. Bronzino was bent over a microscope. She still needed to call him. The lack of communication between them was growing. “Let’s see what we uncover.”

As they entered, the biosensor’s beeps became progressively faster, startling the etymologist grew excited. “Finally! I knew it wasn’t broken!” He glanced up seeing Scully, Doggett, and Reyes. “Dr. Scully, I’m so glad you’re back! I've got a reading here that's going right off the scale. Holy Toledo! We've got pheromones coming out of the ying-yang here. C-13 calliphorene and how.”

As they got closer, the beeping became a steady tone, and then suddenly stopped. Doggett raised an eyebrow. “What happened?”

“I think my electroantennogram just... tilted,” Bronzino spoke in disbelief.

“What's c-13 calliphorone?” Reyes asked.

“Insect pheromone,” Scully supplied.

Dr. Bronzino’s attention shifted to the sample the FBI agents had brought. “Where did you find this mother lode?”

Agent Reyes answered, “A boy named Dylan Lokensgard. That specimen came from him.”

Rocky Bronzino sputtered, “A boy ... is secreting bug pheromones? That's impossible. Preposterous.”

Doggett glanced at Scully who met his gaze, trying to hide her smirk. He glanced back at the doctor. “You're the expert, Dr. Bronzino. How else do you explain it, then?”

When he didn’t respond, Scully asked, “Rocky?”

“A boy is a boy, a bug is a bug. You can't have it both ways,” he explained trying to wrap his mind around it, “science doesn’t allow it. Period.”

“I have a few theories,” Scully began, “Okay, so this boy's going through puberty, right? I mean, maybe his body chemistry is somehow just going crazy and it's his raging teenage hormones that are attracting all these insects.”

Reyes nodded in thought. “What if it's more than chemistry and hormones? More than biology? Dylan's not just attracting these bugs he's using them to act out.”

“Yes, but against what?” Scully asked.

“We saw him talking to a girl,” Reyes answered.

“Well, that makes sense. In a way. Teenage love,” Doggett connected. “The girl is the one in the dumb ass video. Captain dare's girlfriend.”

“How on Earth are you all making these connections,” Rocky said.

“We’ve experienced with cases like these,” Scully said. “Agent Doggett, why don’t you and Agent Reyes try to chase down the girl and check on her. Dr. Bronzino and I will check on Dylan.”

“We will?” He asked, confused.

“We are,” Scully confirmed. “Call each other in about two hours and meet back here?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Doggett nodded.

. . . . . .

It was evening by the time they got to the Lokensgards’ home. As Scully and Bronzino pulled up in front of Dylan Lokensgard’s house, her mind was elsewhere. She did not remember to call Mulder. As they walked up the sidewalk to the front door, Scully slowed and saw the front door slightly open. Scully slowed and drew out her flashlight. She knocked lightly on the door. “Mrs. Lokensgard? Dylan?” She called out.

Rocky Bronzino behind her was fiddling with the machine, trying to fix it, and it started emitting a series of steady beats. “Ah, got it! I'm getting a reading here. Trace levels inside the house.”

Scully shifted her gaze and replied, “Well, I guess that's probable cause.” Scully began her trek up the stairs when she was stopped by Rock Bronzino. “What now?”

Bronzino said quickly, “Dr. Scully? I just wanted to say this while I had a chance.” He smiled with bleached teeth. “This is so exciting. I've never had a partner before. And this isn’t a thing. This is a professional collaboration that happens only one time.”

Scully thought of Mulder and felt her heart twist. “I have. Don’t forget what I told you, Dr. Bronzino.”

“Semantics, Dr. Scully. I'd like to think of it as a hymenopteran relationship. Two scientists using their special knowledge reaching higher than either of them could ever reach alone. And if I may say so, Doctor, you complete me.”

“I’ve already completed. I already have a partner. I’ve told you this. Now, I got upstairs, you takedown.” She shook her head and thought of Mulder. She needed to call him once this was done.

“All right,” he exclaimed, “Partner!”

She rolled her eyes and jogged up the stairs. As she slowly examined the upstairs, her thoughts drifted back to Mulder and how she hadn’t communicated with him. Or her mother. As she neared Dylan’s room, Scully spied Natalie’s class picture on the bed. As her phone rang, she jumped, digging it out. “Scully?”

“Where are you?” It was John Doggett. He sounded rushed.

She looked around the room. “I’m with Dr. Branzino at the Lokengard’s house. But there’s nobody here.

“Yeah, well, I'm afraid the kid's on a tear. He's caused a car accident out here on Glenhaven road,” Doggett explained.

“How'd he do that?”

“You'd better see for yourself.”

“I’m on my way.”

Scully turned to make her downstairs while Rocky was just getting his equipment working properly. He looked up. “It’s everywhere, Dr. Scully. C-13 calliphorone. I'm getting a stiff new reading from up here.”

Scully nodded, “Yeah, Dylan's bedroom's up there. That’s probably what you’re reading. Unfortunately, he's not in it.”

“Where are you going?”

“The kid's on a rampage. I’m going to meet Agent Doggett.” The pheromone machine began to beep loudly and Dr. Bronzino cried in surprise. She called, “You got my number.”

Dr. Bronzino smiled and called out. “Does that mean you’ve changed your mind, Dr. Scully?”

“Not in your wildest dreams, Rocky.”

. . . . . .

Mulder came home, hoping to see, Scully but his heart fell when it was only Mrs. Scully smiling with William. He should be happy to have his son but he was missing his partner more. After a simple dinner and promises of coming to dinner Saturday night, Mrs. Scully left Mulder alone with William on a Friday night. William was quick to fall asleep and Mulde put him to bed. He surveyed the empty apartment. It felt foreign without Scully there with him.

He went back to the couch and tried to get comfortable. Flipping on the TV, he found the Sports Center. He glanced at his cell phone. He checked it one last time before turning it off. If she wasn’t busy saving the world without him, she would find a way to let him know what is going on.

. . . . .

As Scully drove to meet Agent Doggett, her phone started to ring again. She sighed and answered, “Scully.”

“Agent Scully,” Doggett’s voice filtered through the voice piece, “I need you to turn around and go back to Dylan’s house. Monica just called. She got knocked out and Natalie is gone. I think Dylan got her.”

“Is Agent Reyes okay?”

“Yes, I think so. I found her covered in some sort of web. Like a spider.”

Scully’s mind flashed to one of the first cases she and Mulder had on what was supposed to be a walk through the forest. “Call the EMTs and make sure they bring hazmat gear. I’m on my way back to Dylan’s house.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“Take care of Agent Reyes first. And call back up for me as well.”

“You got it. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

She tried to dial Rocky’s number but it was disconnected. As Scully pulled back up at the Lokensgard home, it was still eerily quiet and something felt amiss. She drew her weapon and flashlight and took a few steps in. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Natalie Gordon, the girl that Doggett and Reyes had been after, sitting in a chair and crying. She asked, “Where are they?” Natalie shook her head, unable to speak. “Natalie!”

Natalie’s crying continued. She pointed upstairs wordlessly. Scully pointed her weapon upstairs and began to make her way to the attic. She widened her eyes in disbelief to see large human-sized sacs of web hanging from various positions. She instantly recalled the mysterious web-slinging, glowing insects from Washington state and how her, Mulder, and the park ranger were almost swallowed alive. As she examined them, a small voice emitted, “Help me. Dr. Scully, help me!”

Scully bent down to tear off the web. “Dr. Bronzino?”

“It’s the boy! And the mother!”

“Where are they?”

“I don’t know.” His voice sounded faint. “I don’t feel so good.”

In the distance, she could hear sirens. That must have been Doggett and Reyes coming with the cavalry. She tried to tear the webbing away as she heard the sirens sound to a stop. Bronzino looked faint suddenly and lolled his head backward and his eyes shut. She dragged him out and checked for a pulse. Feeling one, although faint, she began CPR. She heard footsteps running up the stairs and as the flashlight shined on her.

“Agent Scully!” Doggett greeted. “Is that Branzino?”

“He was in one of the web sacks,” she explained quickly, continuing CPR.

“He’s smiling,” Reyes observed.

“He’s what?”

Scully looked down to see Bronzino with his eyes closed but he was smiling. “That sonofabitch,” she cried.

Caught up in the moment, she slapped him against the cheek and got to her feet. The smack was resounding and caused Dr. Bronzino to sit up suddenly and place his hand against the red cheek. “What kind of care was that?”

“A dose of reality,” she snapped. “Make sure the EMTs check him out.”

“I thought we were partners,” he pouted.

“We worked together on this one case. That’s it.” She turned to Doggett and Reyes. “I found him cocooned up like these unknown victims. I had seen something like this once before when I first started on the x-files. That might be worth checking out.”

“We will,” Doggett said, trying to fight from grinning. “But um, do you find any signs of Dylan?”

“Gone. How is Natalie?” Scully answered.

“Fine. Shaken up but I think she’ll be okay,” Reyes said, trying to fight the urge to laugh.

“What?” Scully asked. She turned as the two agents stared at Bronzino who was now trying to charm a female EMT about his close brush with death. “Oh, come on!”

“I’m just saying,” Doggett said. “If Mulder were here, he would have slugged the guy.”

“Just because you were on the receiving end of the man’s fist once, John doesn’t mean he would slug another guy.”

Scully rolled her eyes and cast one lingering glance at Bronzino. “Speaking of Mulder, I need to call him.”

“Let him know about the human fly trap?” Doggett grinned.

“Both of you knock it off,” she grumbled.

“Agent Scully,” one of the police officers called, “I need to get your statement!”

“Can it wait?”

“I’m afraid not, ma’am unless you want to do it in the morning,” the officer said.

Scully sighed. “Fine, fine, I’ll do it tonight.”

Her plans of going home or evening calling Mulder disappeared as she was left with Agents Doggett, Reyes, and the cops investigating the scenes.

. . . . . .

Saturday morning. The sun was just peeking through the windows of the Georgetown apartment as Mulder sipped his coffee. He was preparing to wake William up to take him to do a morning run to the shop down the street for donuts and a newspaper. Despite the jealousy and sour feelings, he had with Scully being in the field, being home on a Saturday morning with his son was nice.

His attention was drawn to the door when he heard a key sliding into the lock, the deadbolt turning, and the door open. In came Scully, still wearing the suit from the night before. She came in, kicked off her boots, and dropped her keys on the table next to the door. She sighed and Mulder stood quietly. “You look like you’ve had a tough case,” he called softly.

Scully looked surprised. “You’re awake.”

“I’m not much of one for sleep. You should know that by now,” he replied. “You didn’t call.”

“I’m sorry,” she started. Her tired mind tried to piece the past 24 hours. “I got busy and distracted. Everything came to a head last night. I didn’t want to wait to see you so I drove through the night…”

“You drove through the night,” he said.

“Yeah.”

“As a doctor, you should know better.” He made his way to her in a few steps and wrapped his arms tightly around her. Scully was shocked by the greeting but relaxed a few seconds later. Her arms came under his and she hugged him tightly. Mulder squeezed his eyes tightly and buried his face into her hair and breathed deeply. “I missed you.”

Scully buried her face into her chest. His cotton shirt smelled of William, old sweat, and just home. “I missed you too.” She lifted her head and kissed him. Mulder smiled and kissed her deeply, not relinquishing his grasp. She chuckled tiredly. “You missed me.”

“Words fail to describe it.”

She smiled again and looked about the empty apartment. “Where is William?”

“Still sleeping. He’ll wake up in another hour or so. What about you? When was the last time you slept?”

“I napped at the station before I hit the road.”

“You’re a doctor,” he admonished.

“I know, I know.”

“So you know bed rest is the thing you need right now. I’ll call your mother later and cancel dinner plans.”

“Dinner plans?”

Mulder nodded. “We thought you were coming home last night so we were going to have dinner as a family. No worries. We can do it tomorrow.”

“Mom usually goes to church first thing.”

“I’m sure she’ll make an exception.”

Scully was already moving towards their son’s bedroom. The need to see her son was killing her. She opened the door slowly to see William still sleeping soundly. “He sleeps like you but like clockwork, he’ll be up ready for his bottle. We were going to run to the store to get donuts and the Saturday paper. I can pick you up for breakfast if you want?”

“That’d be nice.”

At the sound of his mother’s voice, William sleepily opened his eyes and gurgled happily. “He was up earlier, about three, with a diaper. Go ahead. I’ll get his bottle ready and get you some coffee. Unless you want to change.”

“No, no, this is fine.”

Scully bent down to pick up her son, cradled him, and sat in the rocking chair. Mulder smiled at the image before he went to fetch the bottle and coffee. As he came back and saw Scully, still disheveled from her case, smiling and cooing at their son, the anger and bitterness he had been nursing the past few days momentarily vanished.

. . . . . .

“Is William asleep?”

“Yeah,” Mulder replied, crawling into bed with her. “He’ll probably be up around two or three. He’s been consistent the past few nights with you gone. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take the first shift when he wakes up.”

Scully flipped the covers down for him further. “I missed this.”

“Missed what?”

“You, William, us.”

Skinner’s advice came back to him suddenly and Mulder said, “I have something to ask you. Rather something to tell you?”

“What?”

“I was quite moody and jealous when you were gone. I felt...I felt left behind,” he confessed searching for the right words. “I know I screwed up being abducted and dying and putting you through all that before William was born. With you gone…” He sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“You did nothing wrong. I may have gotten caught up in the work,” she said. Scully reached for his hand. “But this parenthood thing, our relationship, we just need to strike a balance and find out what that is. I enjoyed Saturday with you and William. That’s something we wouldn’t have if we were still on the x-files.”

“True. But I still feel bad.” He pulled her suddenly towards her and she let out a yelp of surprise. He kissed her neck and nuzzled her pajama top open. “William can sleep through anything. And, correct me if I’m wrong, doctor, you’ve healed enough.”

She giggled and slide down so he had better access. “On the case, there was this etymologist that had helped us. Rocky Bronzino. The man kept flirting with me to no end. He ended up in a cocoon…”

“A cocoon you say,” Mulder murmured.

His fingers were already unbuttoning her pajama top, his hand sinking beneath the elastic waistband of her undergarments. She shivered to feel his fingers touch her. “Yes. I got to say I was in a relationship,” she smiled. She sought more kisses from him. “Publicly. Openly. I am in a committed relationship with my partner.”

Mulder smiled and whispered, “You sound so sexy saying that.”

“What? I am in a committed relationship with my partner?”

“Yes.” Scully found herself topless and pulled off Mulder’s shirt. “He made me perform CPR on him.”

Mulder paused. “He did what?”

“Don’t worry. I gave him a good dose of reality.” She snickered. “By slapping him.”

“There’s the Agent Scully I know,” he breathed. “And good. I don’t share.”

Scully let him continue his ministrations, relishing being home and with him again. Her thoughts about the case as she just let herself be present and let herself be free. Mulder moved and loved her, silently thanking whoever was listening he had her and William in his life. After a passionate reunion, Scully cuddled against Mulder, resting her head on his heart. “I missed you.”

He held her and gently played with her hair. “I missed you too.”

On the baby monitor, William began to make noses, crying from one of his parents. “I got it,” Mulder whispered. He kissed her quickly. “And you’re right, we’ll try to find a balance.”

Scully laid back down in bed and watch his naked behind jog to the nursery. She lay back down to watch the shadows on the ceiling and he was back five minutes later. Mulder slid effortlessly back next to her, embracing her again. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “He was just talking in his sleep. Like you do.”

“You mean you,” she yawned.

“I mean you.” He pulled her closer. “It’s good to have you home, Scully.”

“It’s good to be home.”

#xfiles #xf fic #msr #txf #txf fic #msr fic #embracing parenthood fic #mulder #scully #mulder and scully #season 9 #au

21 notes · View notes

mimisempai · 3 years ago

Text

Wait for me on the other side 4/8

Chapter summary :

Where we learn more about the past of Mobius and Loki... Where Croki is uncontrollable... And where everything ends in surprise...

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32948254/chapters/82165354

2021 - Loki's apartment

Loki steadied himself with a pounding heart and picked up, "Hello?"

-Loki?

-Yes?

-It's Sigyn.

It took Loki a moment to realize who it was and let the slight disappointment fade away.

-Sigyn?

-Yes, I'm in New York. I came for a conference but it got canceled, so I figured I'd call you. To see if you were free.

An hour later, Loki and Sigyn were walking around in awkward silence. Loki hadn't wanted Sigyn to get any ideas, so he'd preferred to meet her on neutral ground.

"Thanks for coming."

"Sure, no problem." replied Loki.

"It's been too long."

Loki didn't answer, he didn't want to start a sensitive discussion. Actually, he didn't want to be here at all.

"How is Croki?" continued Sigyn.

"He's fine."

"Is he adjusting to life in the city?"

"Yeah, he's doing well."

"Good. I miss him."

Here we go... get out your handkerchief...

Exactly the kind of discussion Loki didn't want to start. Again he preferred not to point out, and again let the awkward silence settle.

"Have you eaten, by any chance?" asked Sigyn.

"No, but..."

"Me neither." replied Sigyn, not even letting Loki speak. "I just realized I'm starving. Maybe we can get a quick bite somewhere."

Loki reluctantly nodded. They passed a small, elegant restaurant, "Freya's restaurant".

"What do you think of this? It looks good." raved Sigyn.

Loki protested, "Oh, no, Sigyn, this place is way too...".

But Sigyn was already heading inside and Loki had no choice but to follow her. The place was small, elegant and serene. And it was completely crowded. Sigyn approached the hostess.

"Good evening, table for two, please."

The hostess looked taken aback and asked her, "For tonight?"

"Yes, please."

The young woman replied with an apologetic tone, "I'm sorry, Miss. We are completely booked for tonight."

She looked at the reservation book before continuing, "But in three... no, I'm sorry, four months from now we have an opening for dinner if you want to make a reservation. Five-thirty or eleven-thirty?"

Sygin, turned on her heel, clearly disappointed and Loki followed her.

A little later, they were eating in a pizzeria on the corner.

Seeing Sigyn's dejected look, Loki took pity on her and said gently, "Don't feel bad. This is one of the best restaurants in town. It's okay that there's no table, that's what I was going to tell you."

Sigyn sighed, "It's not that..." she paused and then resumed, "I didn't do it right."

Loki realized she had lied to him, "You didn't have a conference, did you?"

She shook her head and Loki waited for her to continue.

"I thought you'd see me if it didn't seem like a big deal, a surprise, a quick coffee... But coffee could turn into dinner. And dinner could turn into..."

"What?" asked Loki dryly.

" Anything." replied Sigyn sheepishly.

"So it was an ambush."

"Yes..." sighed Sigyn again.

Loki exasperated, said, " Another one."

Sigyn, on the defensive, asked him, "What do you mean?"

Loki replied wearily, "Sigyn. You were always jumping ten steps ahead. A week after we met, you were already planning our entire lives. When I was still in college, you were picking out real estate. I'd come visit you for the weekend and you'd invited all your high school friends, the whole town to your house to meet me."

Sigyn replied defiantly, "At least I didn't go out with anyone else."

Loki surprised her by asking, "What do you mean?"

"At the party..."

"Oh my God Sigyn. I didn't go out with him! I kissed him once, and he was just a random guy and it was years ago.... I can't believe you remember that."

"Okay. You're right. I don't want to fight. It's just... part of me wonders... if I had moved to New York when you wanted me to..."

Loki replied firmly, "You didn't and leaving was the hardest decision I've ever made. I hope you know that. But that's water under the bridge and it's time to move on."

Sigyn looked disappointed but nodded, "I'm sorry. I never should have called. I just... miss you."

Loki didn't answer. He didn't want to, because if he was honest he would have to tell her that he didn't miss her anymore.

He couldn't stop his thoughts from slipping to his mysterious pen pal and the connection he had with him.

They finished their meal in a heavy silence. Loki was eager to get back to his apartment.

2019 - In front of the TK building

Mobius got out of his pickup, let out a big sigh and entered the imposing building.

When he reached the third floor, he knocked on the door.

The familiar voice answered, "Come in."

Mobius paused in the doorway, waiting for Ravonna to look up.

"What a surprise, the prodigal son has returned," the woman said by way of greeting.

"I was in the neighborhood..." he paused, uncomfortable, then continued, "How are you?"

"I'm fine." replied Ravonna who said nothing more.

Mobius entered the room with an uncertain step.

"Why don't you get to the point, Mobius."

Mobius stepped forward and placed an envelope on Ravonna's desk.

Ravonna took it and pulled out a check.

"What's this?"

Mobius replied calmly, "It's what I owe you."

Ravonna looked puzzled, "I beg your pardon?"

"It's about the same amount of money I would have made for TK if I had stayed on for the duration of my contract. So there you go, we're even."

"So you wasted your money," Ravonna replied, "You didn't owe me anything."

Mobius replied firmly, "I feel better. We were both in on this project originally and I feel like I let you down, so we've come full circle."

"If it makes you feel better. Good for you. Is that all?"

"I bought the house on the cliff."

"I heard about it. Finally, despite your high principles, it seems you don't mind making money right?"

Ravonna looked briefly at the check and pocketed it.

Mobius, annoyed by her coldness and what she had just said, said, "You know it's not the same thing... but you know what? Let's just forget it, we'll never agree. Everything is perfect the way it is! Have a nice life!"

Mobius stared at her for a moment. Then he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Ravonna jumped at the sound of the door slamming and pulled out the check again. She looked at it, then slowly tore it in half and threw it in the wastepaper basket. Then she opened a desk drawer and took out a photograph.

It was a picture of the House on the Cliff under construction. Ravonna and Mobius looked about 7 or 8 years old and were holding hands. Mobius was pointing at the house and smiling. She remembered that day, the orphanage had taken them on a field trip to the New Asgard forest and as usual, Mobius and Ravonna had slipped away and stumbled upon the house under construction.

At the time the picture was taken, Mobius was telling her that one day he would move back here. This is where they had decided that they would work together one day, that they would make plenty of money to come back and live in this house. Stupid childhood dream. An utopia.

Ravonna looked at the picture for a moment, started to throw it in the wastebasket, then decided not to and put it back in the drawer.

An Autumn Afternoon - 2019

Mobius had taken Croki to the veterinarian for a regular check-up and had taken the opportunity to pass by Sylvie's store, to see if she had any old daggers. Maybe he would find something to send to Loki. Although offering a blade seemed a little weird for him. But after all, their relationship itself was weird.

They were going through some daggers that Sylvie had selected, the young woman a little too close for his liking.

He had well noticed that she often tried to attract his attention, but Mobius was not interested at all. He just didn't know how to tell her without hurting her feelings.

"Mobius..."

"Yes Sylvie."

"You told me you were here with Croki, your alligator, didn't you?"

"Uh yes, he's in his crate, in the trailer of the pickup."

"So that can't be him I just saw running past the store then?"

"What?" Mobius ran over and said as he drove away, "How many people do you think are driving around with an alligator in their car?!"

He looked to the right and then to the left, and saw Croki disappear around the corner.

"Croki!"

Mobius shouted but the alligator didn't stop, Mobius ran after him, vaguely aware that he was being followed by Sylvie.

He chased Croki into a nearby residential street. Croki was really fast. Mobius swore and speeded up his pace.

Croki snuck through someone's garden and Mobius was still chasing him. They arrived at a house where Croki seemed to have stopped. Finally.

In front of it, a woman was unloading the trunk of her car and was watching Croki with a slightly frightened eye. Mobius managed to walk up and grab Croki.

"There you are, you rascal. What's gotten into you?" Then turning to the woman who looked familiar but whom he didn't think he knew, he added, "I'm sorry, this is the first time he's run away like this. He's never done this before. But he's harmless, don't worry."

The woman asked him with a curious look, "What's his name?"

"Croki."

She walked over and bent down to Croki, "Hi, Croki. I should get one like you for my boyfriend.He loves animals and especially anything reptilian."

Mobius noticed how much the young woman had to unload, there were many cases of wine and offered, "Do you want help with that? To apologize for the inconvenience caused by Croki."

She shook her head, "Oh no, I have time. Besides, you're already loaded" she replied, pointing to Croki in Mobius' arms before continuing, "in case you're wondering, I don't intend to drink all this alone."

The young woman is very talkative and Mobius listens politely.

"I'm a real estate agent, and you, do you live around here?"

"I have a house on the cliff above the lake in New Asgard."

"Really?"

They were joined by Sylvie, out of breath.

"Thank God! You've found him!"

The young woman greeted Sylvie with a nod.

"Hi, I'm Sigyn."

Then she continued, turning to Mobius, "Concerning the wine cases, I'm having some high school friends and neighbors over tonight. You're both welcome to come if you feel like it. It's always nice to have new faces."

Mobius and Sylvie exchanged a look.

Sylvie replied, "Thanks. We have plans."

Mobius wondered what plan they were supposed to have, and what was sure was that he had only one plan, to go home, see if Loki had written to him and write to him. Alone.

Sigyn shrugged and replied, "No problem. It was nice to meet you anyway. See you later maybe, Croki. Oh, hey, Mobius..."

Sigyn reached into her pocket. "Here's my business card, I could look into renting a place on the lake myself. If you hear of anything, let me know."

"Will do."

"Thank you. That would be very helpful. I love this house, but my boyfriend doesn't. You know how it is."

"No worries." replied Mobius starting to leave, he inwardly ranted, wondering how he managed to stumble upon the chattiest women on earth, when Sigyn added, "I promised him a view of the lake if he moved in with me after art college."

Mobius paused.

"He's in art college?"

"Yes in Brooklyn, he wants to be a professor of literature and is majoring in Norse mythology. He visits here on weekends."

Mobius froze and realized that Sigyn was the one he had seen with Loki on the station platform and that Loki had kissed.

Sigyn continued, not noticing Mobius's confusion, "He's coming tonight, a little later, actually. That's why I'm having this little party."

Under Sylvie's exasperated gaze, Mobius inquired, "What time does it start?"

The same evening - 2021

Loki went out after work, tired, and started to head home. When suddenly he changed his mind and stopped to turn around. After a few detours, he found himself where he wanted to go, "THE BIFROST", the bar where the other professors had wanted to take him on his first day.

The place was almost empty. Loki went to the bar and sat down, looking gloomy and ordered a glass of white wine.

At the same time - 2019

When Mobius and Sylvia arrived at Sigyn's house, the party was already well advanced inside and there were many cars parked in the driveway and on the street.

As they entered, Sylvia turned to Mobius with a pouty face, "This better be good. I had something else planned for us."

Mobius rolled his eyes, because he had never intended to spend the evening with her in the first place anyway.

In the hallway, Sigyn was among her friends and neighbors, talking and laughing.

She came over to Mobius and Sylvie as soon as she saw them, "Hey! Glad you could make it. The bar..." she emphasized the word with quotes in the air, "is in the kitchen..."

They moved around greeting people here and there, Mobius looking for Loki with his eyes, Sylvie then gave him a look and asked in an acid tone, "Why are we here?".

Mobius pretended not to have heard her, the noisy discussions around them giving him a good excuse.

They ended up sitting on the couch next to a couple in their thirties. They exchanged greetings and chatted, Mobius half-listening, wondering again where Loki was.

Same time - 2021

When Loki was halfway through his drink, someone came and sat next to him. Surprised, he saw that it was Thor who ordered a drink before turning to him and saying with the smile that was his, "According to most social norms, a person shouldn't drink alone after 10 p.m. unless they have a good excuse. What's yours?"

Loki shrugged.

"I don't have one."

"I do. My fiancée just left for six months for her research. She's an astrophysicist, and we won't be able to see each other for that long."

"Tough." replied Loki, "And your relationship will put up with that?"

"Of course!" replied Thor, "It's not the first time, and luckily there's facetime and stuff." He pointed to Loki's glass before adding, "I see your glass is empty, do you want another one? My treat."

Loki nodded, "Yeah."

Thor ordered and two minutes later their drinks arrived.

After a moment of silence, Loki said quietly, "Actually, I have an excuse to drink alone after 10pm."

Same time - 2019

Mobius and Sylvie were still on the couch with the thirty-something couple. Mobius was honestly getting bored and apparently so was Sylvie, because she turned slightly to Mobius and whispered from the corner of her mouth, "Go get our coats."

Mobius stood up and excused himself, before going in search of the coats.

Just as he was about to reach the coat racks, he saw Sigyn, who was looking out the window, suddenly turning around and saying rather loudly, "Okay, everyone! It's time!"

She switched off all the lights in the room and everyone fell silent.

Mobius saw a figure appear behind the glass door. The door slowly opened and he heard Loki's voice for the first time, "Hello?"

Sigyn abruptly turned on the lights and everyone started shouting "Surprise!" and "Happy Birthday!"

Someone brought in a cake with lit candles on it.

Loki looked stunned as Sigyn threw herself into his arms and kissed him full on the lips while Mobius could do nothing but watch.

__________

Will Loki and Mobius finally meet?

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 (End)

#lokius fic #alternative ending #no powers au #loki #mobius m mobius #loki series #lokius #loki x mobius #time husbands #timefrost #developing relationship #penpal

14 notes · View notes

galaxyofmyown · 4 years ago

Note

could u do a fic where reader is scared that hotch is cheating on them and hotch learns that its bc their past partners had cheated?

anon, i think i may scream. not because of your request (it is lovely and original and i like it). but i think my brain is bye-bye GONE. this took me like four days to write for literally no reason. so i’m writing this note to apologize in advance for errors or literally just bad writing. brain-machine say no. but PLEASE! feel free to send another request and i promise i will craft it as the gods crafted man (well, i’ll try). AHHHHHH. i hope you enjoy anyways!! :))))))

NOTE: I FINALLY MADE IT GENDER-NEUTRAL THOUGH AHAHAHA

aaron hotchner x reader - i know not

“Hey, baby,” Hotch says over the phone. It’s almost midnight and you’re alone in your bed once again.

“Hey, Aaron. How’s the case going?” You ask. You’re curled up under your clean sheets, freshly showered and in your favorite sleep clothes. But for some reason, you don’t feel comfortable at all.

“It’s… coming along. I should be home in a day or two.” He says. He sounds genuinely tired, and you trust this man with all of you, or at least you try to. Sometimes, though, you can’t help but get paranoid, the darker memories creeping in, clouding your vision.

“Okay. I love you.” You say softly.

“I love you more. And I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I understand.”

“You are extraordinary, (Y/N).”

“Ditto, Agent. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight. Love you.” He says again, easing your worry.

“Love you too. Stay safe.”

You plug in your phone and set it on your bedside table. Your room is lit only by one small lamp, and you stare at your ceiling. Your mind wanders even though you did not give it permission to do that. Usually, Hotch asks you to watch Jack part-time when he’s on a case, but in the last couple instances he assured you that Jessica could take care of him. It was probably nothing, but you couldn’t help but jump to a worst-case scenario. Were you getting cheated on again? Or was he about to break up with you?

No. Bad (Y/N). Stop.

But he was always so annoyingly vague about his cases. What if, and we’re just spitballing here, what if he isn’t even on a case when he says he is? What if he finishes the case, and rather than going home to you, he goes to some other person’s house?

You sit up in bed, suddenly wide awake. You know you’re being ridiculous, but you can’t help it. Aaron is a great guy. He loves you. He wouldn’t even cheat if he didn’t love you. He wouldn’t do that to anyone. You’re reaching for your phone before you can convince yourself not too.

“Hello?”

Just hearing Hotch’s voice makes you feel better.

“Hi. Sorry. I didn’t mean to call you.” You say.

“Are you sure? Is something wrong?” He asks, and his concern makes you want to laugh and cry at the same time.

“No, everything’s fine. Sorry again. Goodnight.” You hang up before he can probe more.

You sigh and walk to the kitchen to get a snack. You don’t think you’ll be getting much sleep tonight.

---

You wake up at 7:30 the next morning for work, your eyelids drooping and feet dragging. You make coffee in your biggest travel mug before heading out. Your day at the publishing house is slow and you think it’s a miracle it ends at all. You check your phone as you’re leaving the building and you see a text from Hotch.

Agent: Hey (Y/N). I’ll be home tonight around 8. Want to come over? Jack will be home and I know he misses you as much as I do.

You smile like an idiot and quickly respond that you’ll be there on the dot. You’re walking to your parking space when a familiar silver sedan passes you.

“I know not.” You say, your suspicions confirmed by the familiar license plate. You rush to your car before you start crying in the middle of the parking lot.

Why else would he lie to you and pretend he wasn’t back yet? Was he going to his place to meet someone right now? You start your car and pull out of the lot before you lose your nerve. You don’t know what you’ll say, but you have to confront him. You had your suspicions in your last relationship, but you ignored them. The only good that did was give you four more months of ignorant bliss before you realized you were being cheated on yet again.

You’re shaking by the time you pull up to his apartment building. You climb the stairs with the nervous anticipation you used to get as a kid when you had to get a shot. You have a moment's pause before you reach the door, your knock strong despite the weakness in your knees.

Hotch is still in his suit when he opens the door, but his tie is loose and his jacket is wrinkled.

“(Y/N). Wh-what are you doing here?” He asks, looking more confused than anything else.

“What are you doing here? You said you wouldn’t be back for hours. What am I supposed to think when you drive by me in your car when you’re meant to be four states over?”

Hotch still hasn’t opened the door enough for you to see inside, which all but confirms your worst fears.

“(Y/N), I can explain what-”

“Hotch,” You can’t call him Aaron right now, “Just tell me. Is there someone else?” You say, voice breaking. Aaron’s face can’t hide his emotions. His eyebrows furrow and he tilts his head up at you in that condescending way you hate.

“(Y/N). No. Why would you think that?” He says, but his voice isn’t reassuring. If anything, it’s angry.

“Can you blame me for feeling a little insecure, Hotch? You’ve been home three days out of the last two weeks. You don’t want me watching Jack in your apartment all of a sudden. You lie about whether or not you’re home? Is this the first time you came home without telling me, or is this something you’ve been doing. Do you laugh when I believe you?” You’re lashing out and you know it, but you can’t help the way your voice rises as you let out all of your pent-up feelings.

Hotch is silent, staring intently at your face. You know his profiling look, and this isn’t it. This is his boyfriend look. He’s concerned, but guarded, analyzing his best move. The amazing thing about Hotch, the thing you love about Hotch, is that he’s always determining the best move that will make you happy.

After a moment of tense quiet, he sighs in resignation and opens the door all the way.

His apartment is a mess. Clothes everywhere, dishes stacked in and around his sink, overflowing trash bags strewn about.

“Oh,” you say, tilting your head and willing yourself not to pass judgment, “hmm.”

Hotch looks sheepish.

“I, I’ve been having a tough couple of weeks. That’s why I lied about when I was getting back. I wanted some time to clean.” He says.

“You could’ve just told me.” You point out, and he nods.

“I know, I know, and I should have. I don’t know what I’m so afraid of. It’s just the thought of you thinking of me as weak…” He trails off, and your anger dissipates.

“Aaron, baby,” You say, taking his face in your hands, “I love you. I know who you are. You’re the strongest man I know. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t come to me for help. I would do anything for you.” You whisper your last statement, and yet it still carries the most force. Hotch leans into your touch.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I love you,” He pauses, at a loss for words, “I love you.”

You huff out a laugh.

“You already said that.”

“It wasn’t enough.”

You hug him, and he melts into your arms.

“I could’ve watched Jack at my place, you know. It doesn’t bother me at all.” You say, leading him over to the couch (and clearing off some clothes as you do so.). He rests his head in your lap.

“I didn’t want to ask that of you. You work a full-time job, and I know you didn’t sign up for being his babysitter-”

“Hey. No. When I started seeing you Jack became just as important part of my life as you are. I would drop everything for both of you.”

You notice Hotch’s eyes are getting red, and you stroke your hand through his hair.

“I adore you, (Y/N). You are absolutely amazing. And sometimes the thought of you leaving is so scary that I shut down.” He says.

“I get it. I just want you to know I’m all in.”

“I know you are. I am too.”

Both of you just sit there for a moment, basking in one another’s company.

“Speaking of scared,” you begin to say, and Hotch sits up to look at you, “I’m sorry I accused you of… you know, cheating.” You’re ashamed.

“I’m not mad. I’m sorry I was rude to you. I don’t blame you for not trusting me with how I’ve been acting lately.” He says, and you sigh in relief.

“Thank you. I’ve just had bad experiences, so it’s hard sometimes to not get worried.”

“Bad experiences? What do you mean?” Hotch asks, protective mode activated.

“My last three boyfriends all cheated on me.” You say quietly. Hotch stands up and paces back and forth past the coffee table a few times.

“Aaron?” You ask carefully. He stops when he hears your voice and the tenseness of his shoulders seems to melt away.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, returning to the couch, “how could anyone do that to you?” He asks, taking your hands in his. You don’t know how to respond, so he kisses your forehead.

“Listen to me,” he murmurs, “I would never, ever, in a million years do anything to hurt you like that. Never. You are my world.” He says. You nod, fighting back tears.

“I love you so much.” You say because it’s never enough.

“I love you more.” He responds. You shake your head. Impossible.

“Get up, then.” You say, hopping off the couch.

“Why?” He asks but gets up anyway.

“We’re cleaning. Both of us. And then we’re picking Jack up. Both of us. And then we’re making dinner. Both of us. Got it?”

Hotch smiles and picks up a trash bag.

“Got it.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #ssa hotchner #hotch #hotch x reader #hotch imagine

131 notes · View notes

hotchgan · 4 years ago

Text

Winning a Battle, Losing the War: Chapter Two

Summery: The team rushes the decode Mr. Scratch’s message

A/N: @yourlocalheartbreaker helped me with this idea so thank you to her! Disclaimer: I don’t know what’s it like being in a mental hospital so this may not be accurate.

Taglist: @ellyhotchner @unionjackpillow @eleanorbloom

Warnings: drugs, mention of serial killers, mental hospital, attempted murder, mention of murder and death

Here is part one!

The team left the hospital and went to the Behavioural Analysis Unit building and went to the briefing room. Garcia just told us that Peter Lewis emailed her. Knowing the serial killer, he is probably offering some deal in exchange to telling us what drug he used on Aaron. We told Jessica we had to go and she said she should also go because staying there was no use. Jack is still pretty shaken up after seeing what happened to his father.

The team went into the briefing room and waited for Garcia to come with her laptop. She quickly came in and projected the screen on the wall. She opened up the email that Peter Lewis sent her.

I see you’ve figured out what happened to Agent Hotchner and who did it. Well this is going to be so much fun now that I’m offering you a deal. You have 72 hours to decode this message. Decode the message and I’ll give you the antidote to cure Agent Hotchner. And to make this more exciting, every day you fail to decode the message, I’ll kill an innocent citizen. Good luck. - Mr. Scratch

The team all looked at each other after reading the email. They didn’t have any choice. They have to help Hotch and in order to do that is to play along his game.

“Well, what’s the message we have to decode?” Emily asks.

“Uh right here”, Penelope says as she clicks on the PDF in the email. Inside the PDF is a message that writes ...

18424 )90”8; 49@$ (49753 619) 17@;58+9, 048:+3 28””8@: +97;56, =84*i;8@, 22172 7#@

“Reid, do you recognize this? Is it some code spies used back in the days or something?” Morgan asks Reid. Reid looks at the screen and frowns.

“No ... it’s just random numbers and symbols. I don’t think it has any significant meaning”, Reid replies.

“Well it has to, he said we have to decode it in seventy-two hours”, Emily says.

“Ok well what do you think the message will tell us, like would it be a riddle or a phrase?” Rossi asks Reid.

“I uh ... I don’t know. I’m trying to think all the possible things each symbol would mean but I just ...”, Reid replies.

“How about you just trace back the email. We’ll arrest Lewis and force him to tell us where the antidote is”, JJ says.

“I tried that at first but he had deleted his email address after sending us the email which means I can’t do that ... this is our only option”, Garcia replies to JJ. The team says silent for a moment.

“Well what do we know, Lewis somehow drugged Hotch so I think we should start there”, Morgan says to the team, immediately taking leadership since Hotch isn't around.

"What about the code?" JJ asks Morgan.

"Emily, Reid, and Rossi will stay here and figure out the code while the rest of us go figure out how Lewis drugged Hotch", Morgan replies. The team nods and starts working on their tasks.

Meanwhile, Aaron is still isolated in the room. Every once in a while, a nurse would ask if he needs to go to the bathroom or is hungry which Aaron would shake his head. He doesn't know who those people are or why he is here. All he knows is that he's supposed to kill anyone he sees or else something bad would happen to him.

But he can't do that since he's chained to the wall. He hopes the voice in his head will understand. But who was that little boy? And why did he call him dad? He tried to remember if he had met the kid somewhere but he doesn't remember him. But he does look familiar ... He looks like someone Aaron used to love.

“Aaron! Come!”

Aaron looks at Haley and smiles. He runs over to her.

“Look ...”, Haley says, pointing at the sunset. Aaron looks at the sun that is setting down.

“It’s so pretty”, Haley says. Aaron stares at her.

“Yeah ... it is”, Aaron says. Haley turns to face Aaron and smiles. They both share a kiss. At that time, the only thing that mattered is that they both love each other.

Haley ... Aaron thinks. He doesn’t know who she is but he knows he loved her. And that the little boy looked like her. Was that boy actually his son? Is that why he didn’t seem scared of him? Suddenly the door opens and Aaron flinches. A nurse walks in with a tray. And puts it down in front of him. Aaron backs away.

“I’m not going to hurt you”, the nurse says softly. She walks up to Aaron and takes the cage out of his face. Aaron doesn’t say anything and just stares at her.

“I’m guessing you’re hungry right now so I brought food”, the nurse says. Aaron looks at the tray. There is beans, a piece of bread, and some vegetables. Aaron stares at the food. The nurse gives him a water bottle.

“And here is some water. Don’t worry, it’s not bad as it looks”, the nurse says with a smile. Aaron shakes his handcuffs that is still cuffed to the wall. The nurse calls the security guard and he come to unlock it.

“Try to attack someone and we’ll strap you to the bed”, the guard grumbles. Aaron rubs his wrists and nods. The nurse and guard leaves and Aaron starts eating. It’s not bad but not good either. He wonders though, what is happening to the boy right now.

Morgan, JJ, and Garcia go into Hotch’s house where Jessica was staying. It was late at night and Jack was probably sleeping. Jessica opened the door and let them in. Jessica is still wearing a turtleneck to hide the bruises. They all go to the living room and sit down.

“Coffee?” Jessica offers. Morgan nods and JJ and Penelope ask for tea.

“So what brings you here?” Jessica asks.

“We were wondering how Peter Lewis drugged Hotch and was hoping you would tell us”, Morgan replies.

“Well I told you that we were eating ice cream and then suddenly he just ... snapped”, Jessica says.

“You said that he came into the house for maintenance”, JJ asks. Jessica nods.

“Do you know if he went to the kitchen?” JJ asks.

“Yeah he went to the living room and then into the kitchen”, Jessica replies.

“Can you show us?” Penelope asks. Jessica nods and shows them the kitchen. She told them how he went through the cabinets and the washing machine.

“Did he went through this?” Morgan asks showing Jessica the drawer.

“Yeah, why?” Jessica asks. Morgan opens the drawer to show all the spoons, forks, and knives in there. Jessica gasps in realization.

“JJ, put all of these in separate bags so we can go test them”, Morgan asks. JJ nods and starts doing as he’s told.

“I-I didn’t see him. I just left a for a second- I swear and-“, Jessica starts rambling again.

“Jess, this wasn’t your fault. It was his, ok?” Morgan says to Jessica. She nods wiping a tear from her eye. It took a while to get the utensils into separate bags but they did and sent them to the lab. They then go into the briefing room where Rossi, Emily, and Reid is staying at.

“We think Lewis infected the spoon Hotch used and it’s why he’s acting like that”, Morgan says to the team.

“Well we noticed that these symbols were only used in the twenty-first century as codes. Some serial killers used them to send to police stations and news reporters”, Emily says.

“Yeah and we’re trying to see if we can use those messages to decode this message”, Rossi adds.

“Ok, I’ll go check up on Hotch”, Morgan says. The team nods and continues working on the message Peter Lewis sent them. Morgan leaves the building and drives to the hospital Aaron is staying at. Twenty minutes later, Morgan is following a nurse to Aaron’s room.

“He seems to be in a calm state right now”, the nurse says. Morgan nods and was about to go in when the nurse stopped him.

“Wait! I know Hotch is some sort of nickname but stick to his first name. It seems to trigger him”, the nurse says. Morgan nods and goes into the room. Inside he sees Aaron who is sitting on his bed. He wasn’t handcuffed this time. Aaron immediately back away as he sees Morgan walking towards him.

“Aaron ... it’s just me”, Morgan says. But the voice in Aaron’s head says something different. Aaron suddenly jumps up and attack Morgan. Morgan freezes in shock as Aaron starts punching him. Morgan kicks Aaron off him and holds his wrists so he won’t hurt him.

“Aaron! It’s me, Morgan. Remember?” Morgan says again but Aaron doesn’t seem to hear him. Aaron kicks him in the stomach and Morgan releases his grip. The nurses and security guards quickly come in. The guard handcuffs Aaron to his bed and the nurses pull Morgan away.

“Are you alright?” The nurse asks Morgan.

“Yeah, just a few punches. But why did he act like that? You said he was in a calm state”, Morgan asks the nurse.

“We don’t know. We’re still figuring out what is triggering him”, the nurse says. Morgan nods as the nurse starts stitching him up. Suddenly his phone rings. Morgan tells the nurses to wait as he answers his phone. Emily was calling him.

“Yeah, Emily?” Morgan asks into the phone. Morgan then frowns.

“What do you mean there is a dead body?” Morgan asks. He then checks the time. It’s been twenty four hours. Morgan then remembers what Lewis said in the email. Everyday the team doesn’t decode the message, he kills someone.

18 notes · View notes

imjustthemechanic · 4 years ago

Photo

The Price of a Soul

Part 1/? - Agent Russel Part 2/? - The Letter Part 3/? - Miss Lake Part 4/? - The Stewardess Part 5/? - An Assassination Part 6/? - Fallout Part 7/? - Face to Face Part 8/? - Deals, Details, and Other Devils Part 9/? - Baggage Part 10/? - Private Funding

Howard, of course, is all for this plan.

Howard Stark’s hours were unpredictable at best. Sometimes he was awake for days on end working on a pet project, running on coffee, cigarettes, and whiskey until he simply ran out of steam and collapsed. Sometimes he’d been overseas for too long and had not yet reset his internal clock, so that he was up all night and slept all day. Sometimes he napped in strange places like a lazy cat. Peggy had no idea what to expect when she rang his bell in the morning.

The first thing she heard was the barking, followed by a yelp from Mr. Jarvis and a cry of, “Anna! Would you please contain this beast?” Some scuffling and more barking followed, and then the door opened. Whatever had just happened, it didn’t stop Mr. Jarvis from looking as tidy and composed as ever when he opened the door.

“Agent Carter, good morning,” he said cheerfully. “What can we do for you today?”

Behind him, Anna Jarvis was kneeling on the floor in her dressing gown, cooing Hungarian endearments to the animal Peggy assumed was called a ‘Bernese mountain dog’ not because it came from the Swiss Alps but because it was simply a mountain of dog. Its tongue was lolling out and its eyes closed in bliss.

“Good morning, Mr. Jarvis,” said Peggy. “I was wondering if Howard were out of bed yet.”

“He’s in the backyard, nursing a hangover by the swimming pool,” said Mr. Jarvis. “I’m sure he’ll be delighted to see you.”

Peggy stepped inside and nodded to Anna and the dog. “Good morning, Anna. Zoltan.”

“Lovely to see you, Peggy,” Anna said, fondling the dog’s red and black ears. “Sorry I’m not dressed. I just have to get this fellow his breakfast.”

“It’s quite all right,” Peggy assured her. “I don’t know how long I’m likely to be here, anyway.”

Behind the house, Howard was sprawled across a chaise under the canopy, wearing his brocade bathrobe, a pair of sunglasses, and probably nothing else. Jarvis picked up a discarded newspaper and laid it discreetly over his employer’s lap before touching his shoulder to wake him. “Mr. Stark?”

“Huh?” Howard twitched.

“Agent Carter is here.”

“Oh.” Howard’s head tilted back again. “I guess there’s no chance of telling her to come back later?”

“I don’t do later, Howard,” said Peggy. Jarvis pulled up a chair for her, and she sat down across from Howard. “I need a favour… in fact, Daniel and I both need a favour.”

“Is this the part where you remind me again that you kept my ass out of jail?” he asked.

“It is.”

“All right.” Howard made an effort to sit up and look slightly more presentable – at least as much as a man could when there was only yesterday’s Examiner to preserve his modesty. “What’s going on?”

Peggy had spent a good deal of time in her bath the previous evening thinking over exactly how she was going to present this idea. “I’m sure you remember the time you had me steal back a vial of Steve Roger’s blood for you under the pretense that it was a superweapon.”

“Technically, it could be, in the wrong hands,” said Howard. “But I definitely remember where you hit me. Did you find it?” he asked, peering over his sunglasses with bloodshot eyes.

Howard did not know that Peggy had thrown the vial in the East River, and she was not about to tell him. “No. But before I tell you what I did find, I need you to assure me of your honourable intentions. If some piece of Captain Rogers or his property were to turn up, what would you do about it?”

“Depends on what it is,” said Howard, “but if it were his body I’d throw him the hero’s funeral he deserves, and if it’s the shield I’d build him a monument out of it.”

Peggy leaned closer. “You swear?” she asked.

“Cross my heart,” he said. “What have you found?”

“A set of coordinates. Seventy-four, forty-seven, thirty-five. Ninety-five, twenty-five, three.”

She could almost see the gears in Howard’s head turning as he placed them. “That’s… that’s further north than we ever looked… way up in the sea ice.” He started to get up, then grabbed at his newspaper. Peggy politely turned her head while he fixed his robe. “I’ve got a map here somewhere…”

“I know,” she said, getting up to follow him inside. “I already looked.”

In the library, the atlas Peggy had used was still sitting out on a table. Howard quickly found the same page, and the same point. “Cornwallis Island.”

“Daniel and I aren’t sure the tip is trustworthy,” Peggy explained, “so we need this to be discreet, no taxpayer money. I’m on medical leave for the occasion.”

“Of course. Not a word,” said Howard. “Just you and me and a few of the locals to carry stuff. There might not be anything visible on the surface anymore.”

“No?” Peggy asked. “Our source described the crash in some detail, as if they were there when it happened, and seemed to think there would still be parts of the plane caught on the rocks of the island.”

“Yeah, but sea ice isn’t static,” Howard said. “It moves around, and snow builds up and doesn’t melt. If the wreck’s in the ice it’ll be torn apart, very slowly, and will eventually melt out the bottom and fall onto the sea floor. The ice up there isn’t transparent, either, it’s yards thick and full of cracks and bubbles. We need a way to see what’s under it.”

“And you happen to have just the thing?” Peggy guessed.

Howard nodded eagerly. “I’ve been working on it on and off for a while now… an ice-penetrating sonar. The big problem was keeping the sound of the plane itself from interfering, but the last month or so I’ve actually had your buddy Dr. Wilkes up there troubleshooting on it. He’s a great guy for acoustics. His work on the vibration frequencies of the Zero Matter…”

“Is it ready for testing?” After knowing him for nearly ten years, Peggy was an expert at gently encouraging Howard to stay on topic.

“Yes! That’s why we moved it to my hangar in upstate New York,” Howard said. “Closer to the ice, less shipping hassle than getting it to Alaska. It’s installed on one of my planes there.”

“So we can simply fly it up to Canada and take a look,” said Peggy. That would cut down on their search time enormously, if they didn’t have to trek across the ice for days on end. “Wonderful. But as I said, we can’t have any fanfare. Absolute secrecy is best.”

Howard pouted. “You don’t think I can keep a secret, Peg?” he asked.

“You do tend to get over-excited,” she said. “And we know, by the way, that there are more of those Russian girls in the country, so you’re not even allowed to hint at it over drinks. How soon can you be ready to go?”

“I can be ready to go right now,” Howard replied. “It depends on if Jason’s got the thing ready in New York. I’ll give him a call right away.” He checked his watch. “Yeah, he’ll be up by now.”

“I should hope so,” Peggy said. “Dr. Wilkes tends to be far more regular in his hours than you. But don’t tell him over the phone where we’re going,” she added. “Treat it as just another test flight. You never know who might be listening in.”

“You can count on me, Peg. After all… you did keep my ass out of jail.” Howard grinned at her.

“Thank you, Howard.” She smiled back. “I’ll head home and pack a bag.” That wouldn’t take long. Peggy knew how to travel light.

As she was heading back to the front door, she met Mr. Jarvis coming the other way. “Agent Carter?” he said. “Are you leaving?”

“Yes, I’m afraid I have a lot to do today,” she said. “I can’t stay for tea.”

“I wasn’t about to ask you to, but I’ve just taken a phone call from Chief Sousa,” Mr. Jarvis said. “He was unable to say why, but he would like you to stop by the SSR offices as soon as possible.”

He probably wanted to know how her conversation with Howard had gone, Peggy thought, though it was strange that he’d called rather than waiting for her to contact him. “I’ll do so on my way home. Thank you, Mr. Jarvis. Give my best to Anna, would you?”

“I shall. Will we see you again soon?”

“I certainly hope so,” Peggy said.

She probably could have done more to warn Howard how unlikely they were to find anything up there, Peggy thought as she drove back to the office, but for the moment it was probably best to let him ride the initial wave of enthusiasm. The whole story could wait for their flight back to New York and the subsequent journey to the Northwest Territories. Howard and Jason’s sonar, though… that was exactly what they needed! If this were indeed some sort of trap, there was no way the Soviets would be expecting them to fly over at a height rather than hiking out from the island. If there were something there, they’d be able to get at least an idea of it without so much as setting foot on the ice. Then if it appeared dangerous, they could contact Daniel and ask for further suggestions.

“Afternoon, Rose,” said Peggy cheerfully as she entered the reception area. Rose was sitting at her desk, tiredly watching a trio of midgets in matching sequined costumes perform an acrobatic routine.

Rose did not smile back. “Oh, you got Mr. Auerbach’s message?” she said.

“I did,” Peggy nodded. “He’s upstairs?”

“Yes. So is Mr. Masters.”

Peggy’s spirits, which had been high on her drive over, sank straight through the floor. It wasn’t that there was no reason for him to be here – Peggy could think of half a dozen things he might have decided to stick his unwelcome fingers into – it was that whatever he wanted was always at odds with whatever Peggy was trying to accomplish. Daniel had rung her at Howard’s because he was trying to warn her.

She took a deep breath, stood up straight, and nodded. “I’ll head right up.”

Peggy stepped into Daniel’s office with her head held high and determination in her step. Daniel himself was not there. Vernon Masters, however, was. He was sitting in Daniel’s chair, where Peggy had sat for her interview with Lake as Agent Russel, waiting for her.

“Carter,” he said.

“Mr. Masters,” Peggy replied.

“Care to explain how another Soviet spy got into the country undetected and killed one of our most important political prisoners while you were a dozen feet away?”

He certainly did get straight to the point, didn’t he? “It is my understanding that Miss Lake drilled through the glass of the cell window and shot Dr. Zola using a police revolver with a home-made suppressor,” she replied.

“While you stood right next door and did nothing.”

“Our best information at the time suggested that Miss Lake was here for Underwood and Fenhoff,” said Peggy. “I was acting on that. We had no reason to think Dr. Zola was in any danger.”

“You sure didn’t try to protect him,” said Masters.

“We did our best to keep the entire prison secure,” Peggy said. “Perhaps you ought to question the people in charge of the Sing Sing Correctional Facility, rather than me.”

Masters sat up. “I’m going to be straight with you, Carter,” he said. “We sent an FBI agent to investigate your potential involvement in Underwood’s escape – he was drugged and robbed by a colleague of hers, who then went on to kill Zola right under your nose. You understand why this doesn’t look good for you.”

“I do,” said Peggy, keeping her body language as neutral as possible. Since Masters’ last visit she’d been telling herself not to worry about him because he had nothing on her… but now events were conspiring against her. The situation he described could easily make Peggy look like a traitor to somebody sufficiently paranoid… or at least incompetent. He couldn’t possibly have any real evidence, though, because if he did he’d be having her arrested. His ‘case’, if it could be called that, must be entirely circumstantial.

“I’m going to have a full investigation look into your conduct, Carter,” said Masters. “If you haven’t done anything, you have nothing to fear, but you’re suspended from duty as of now.”

“As it happens, I’m already on medical leave,” she said. “Chief Sousa insisted I take time off to recover from the chemical Miss Lake attacked me with. Apparently Dr. Mroczek in New York worries there might be permanent damage to my lungs.”

“From what you’ve said about these Russian girls you should be grateful she didn’t shoot you,” said Masters. He stood up from Daniel’s chair. “I’ll be checking in.”

“I’m sure you will,” said Peggy, wondering what he would think when she left the country… and how he would fit it into his personal conspiracy theory when she came back.

#fanfic #captain america #agent carter #peggy carter #steve rogers #howard stark #steggy #fix it fic

8 notes · View notes

tamorasky · 4 years ago

Text

Rise to Me Chapter 11 - February 1947

Summary: 1947. It had been nearly four years since she had received a letter from her sister. Now with the end of the war and her impending wedding, Anna Rendelle is more determined than ever to find her sister.

1943. All her life Elsa Rendelle had been told to be good, know her place and to marry well. When an opportunity arises to make something of herself, finding herself in Occupied France as a part of a larger network of secret agents.

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Anna/Kristoff, Elsa/Honeymaren, Anna/Hans (Briefly)

AO3

Note: Not the greatest chapter, I know. But we're starting to get the ball rolling with this one! My partner pointed out to me that Gerda is like a mix of Dwight and Angela from the office, so we're just gonna roll with thatAlso thank you all so much for the support, leaving kudos, comments and reblogging/likes on tumblr. It means so much to me to see support for this fic and I always look forward in what you guys think 💕 💕

Her auburn hair is tied up in a messy bun and is dressed in a green satin robe as she stands in front of her closet, pulling out various outfits and throwing them over her arm. At this point, Anna has removed most of her clothing out of her closet. She carries her clothes to the single bed with her arms straining, discarding the garments on the bed next to her suitcase.

Anna places her hands on her hips as she stares at all the items; there is no way she’ll be able to get all of this into one suitcase. But Kristoff had made her promise only to bring one reasonably sized bag.

“You won’t be able to get everything into that.” Gerda’s voice startles the young woman out of her trance. Anna glances over her shoulder to see the Norwegian woman entering her room, placing fresh towels on the dresser next to the door.

“I know.” Anna sighs. Gerda places the laundry basket, resting on her hip, onto the ground as she comes to stand next to the auburn-haired woman. The older woman looks at the pile of clothes.

“That blue dress looks better with a hat.” Gerda points at the dress second on the pile.

“I don’t have room for hats,” Anna responds with her hands on her hips. “Mr.Bjorgman said I’m only allowed one suitcase.”

The older woman hums in response. “Smart man, you have too many clothes.” Gerda steps forward, grabbing the blue dress she just pointed at.

“Hey, wait!? What are you going with that?” Anna’s brows rise as the other woman makes her way across the room, placing the dress into the closet.

“You agreed it looks better with a hat, yet you can’t bring one. So, this stays behind.” Gerda responds, meandering back toward the bed. Anna sigh, glancing back at her pile of clothes.

“I-I guess I haven’t done this in a while.” Anna giggles, embarrassed at her inability to pack for her journey.

Gerda shrugs her shoulders, grabbing any dresses or outfits that she’s seen Anna wear to work or formal gatherings. “I came to England on a boat with only my purse. No silk, you’re going to France with a man who is not your fiancé. You don’t want to look like a whore.”

Anna stares at her landlady, taken aback at the blunt insult. Although the older woman did have a point, it did reduce the number of her clothing. “Alright, no formal wear.”

Gerda shuffles back towards the closet, hanging up the pieces she had rejected on behalf of Anna. She returns to the young woman’s side, handing appropriate items to Anna.

“Take your brown tweed skirt and the olive blouse with foxes on them.” Gerda hands the outfit to Anna, who quickly packs the garments into the suitcase. She flattens the pussy bow on the blouse as Gerda passes her a navy cable knit sweater to match.

Gerda hands Anna an a-line tartan skirt along with a white blouse while saying. “You can match the navy sweater with this outfit.”

The younger woman nods, placing the second outfit next to the other. She is given a slim grey skirt which stopped a few inches below her knee along with a short sleeve light blue collared blouse.

They pack a few more pieces, mostly short sleeve and collared dresses; blue, mustard yellow and a tartan patterned. All of which would match with her navy and burgundy sweaters, along with a pair of grey slacks.

“So, this Mr. Bjorgman…” Gerda trails off, handing a pair of heels to the young woman. “Is he respectable?”

Anna raises a brow at her landlady. “What do you mean respectable?”

“I mean, you are a single woman and man travelling together. I worry about your reputation.” Gerda shakes her head, handing a pair of black flats to her.

“I’m not a single woman. I’m happily engaged, remember?” Anna sighs, placing them into the suitcase. Her gaze shifts to the large square diamond ring on her finger.

“Even still. You’re an engaged woman, travelling with a man who is not your fiancé.” Gerda shakes her head. Anna suppresses the urge to roll her eyes at the older woman. The notion of travelling with a man who isn’t her fiancé being scandalous is completely ridiculous.

“It will be fine, Gerda.” Anna sighs, placing her undergarments into the suitcase. Much to the young woman’s relief, the doorbell rings throughout the house. Gerda glances towards the door, shuffling out of the room without another word.

Anna shakes her head, placing her three pairs of stockings into the suitcase along with a few pairs of socks. With a sigh, she puts her hands on her hips, glancing around her room while contemplating what else she needs to pack.

The letters are in her purse, and she still needed to pack her makeup. Although due to Kristoff’s instructions, she couldn’t bring her hard makeup case. She had to pack them into the small side pockets in the suitcase. Even still, she had to limit herself to four lipsticks, one grey eye shadow for the evenings, her liquid mascara, powders and blush. However, she had cheated and packed three more lipsticks into her purse.

Her ears perk up at the sound of someone walking up the stairs, turning toward her door to not see her landlady standing in the doorway, but her best friend. Olaf gives her a toothy grin, taking off his hat as he enters her bedroom.

“Bonjour, comment ça va?” Olaf asks as he settles himself in the desk chair. Anna shakes her head, rolling her eyes as she places in a third pair of shoes; her oxfords.

“I don’t need to speak French until arriving there,” Anna responds, closing the suitcase and buckling it shut.

“Yeah, but you haven’t spoken it since you were in fourth year.” Olaf points out, opening the drawers in Anna’s desk. “You’re going to need to practice.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m sure it’s like riding a bike.” Anna shrugs, sitting on her bed’s edge with a sigh. Her friend’s brows are raised in surprise, staring at her with amusement.

“I don’t think it is.”

Anna shrugs, unconcerned about her language skills. “I mean, if you’re more confident in French than I am, why don’t you join us?”

“I have a job. Besides, if you want someone to join you and your second yank, why don’t you ask Hans?” Olaf inquires, pulling out light green ribbons from the desk.

“Because Hans doesn’t speak French, and he’s busy trying to plan our passage to America,” Anna explains, resting her hand on the leather suitcase.

“And how does Hans feel about you travelling with Kristoff?” Olaf crosses his arms, leaning back in the chair. She shrugs, her fingers now running against the bag.

“He’s fine with it.”

“He is?” Olaf raises his brows, not entirely convinced.

“We talked it over, and he trusts me.” Anna shrugs.

“I wouldn’t.” He states bluntly. “Have you seen Kristoff?”

“Olaf.” Anna groans, throwing her head back in exasperation. “It isn’t like that, at all.”

The blonde man chuckles, staring at her incredulously. “No? because I’m not entirely convinced, and honestly, if Hans noticed anything around him, he should be concerned about his fiancé running away to France with a handsome man.”

“Ah yes, post-war France.” Anna sighs, rolling her eyes. “The most romantic place to run away to with a rude drunk yank.”

Olaf stares at his friend. His smile fading as he regards the young woman. “Why didn’t you ask Hans to go?”

“I just told you.” Anna’s brows furrow. “He’s busy here and trying to arrange our travel to America. I can’t just ask him to up and leave with me.”

“Anna,” Olaf stands from his chair, grabbing Anna’s suitcase and placing it on the ground. He sits next to her, slipping his hand into hers. “We’ve known one another since we were children.”

“And?” She questions, drawing out every syllable of the word. Completely unsure where her childhood friend is going with this.

“Why isn’t Hans going to France with you?” Olaf questions again, not convinced of his friend’s excuse for her fiancé. Anna’s gaze falters from Olaf’s going to the ground, staring at the brown knit rug.

“H-he’s just busy.” Anna insists. She didn’t want to get into it with him at the present moment, Kristoff would be here at any point, and Anna knows that the American would not take well to waiting for her.

“Alright.” Olaf nods. It falls silent between them, both of them knowing that she is lying. “So, when does Kristoff come?”

“He said he’d be here quarter to 10,” Anna responds, meeting Olaf’s gaze once again. “It’s about 2 hours to Portsmouth, so we’ll have lots of time to catch the ferry to Le Havre at 12:30. And then a 3-hour drive to Arras. We should be in Arras by 8:30 or 9 at night.”

“That’s quite a journey.” Olaf comments. He gives her a sympathetic smile, knowing Anna’s attention span did not fare well on long travel, as he recalls their road trip to Dover last summer.

“I’d rather spend 10 hours travelling with the grump than spreading it out into days. Something tells me that a lengthy road trip would result in the death of one of us.” Anna jokes, her heart swelling as Olaf chuckles.

“As long as your body doesn’t end up in the bottom of a steamer trunk, I’m happy.” Olaf quips back, nudging his shoulder against Anna’s.

She looks up at him, beaming. “I would also be very happy, if I don’t.”

“I’m going to miss you.” Olaf places his free hand on top of their clasped hands.

“I won’t be gone for long. Maybe only for two weeks at the most.” Anna shrugs, trying to reassure her best friend.

“Two weeks?” He questions, brows raised. Unconvinced that his friend would be able to complete this undertaking in only two weeks.

“Yeah, I mean. We know she deployed to Arras; it really shouldn’t take us a long time.” Anna explains as if trying to convince herself. She and Kristoff only have until the end of this month to find Elsa. She leaves for America at the end of the month.

“Well…” Olaf trails off, squeezing her hand. “I guess I’ll see you in two weeks.”

He smiles at her reassuringly. She leans her head against his shoulder. “You will.”

They hear a car honk from the street below her window. Olaf laughs, shaking his head. “Wow, he is impatient.”

“You have no idea.” Anna rolls her eyes, standing from her bed. She goes to pick up her suitcase, only for Olaf to slap her hand away and pick it up for her. She smiles, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Plus, you pack so much I’m not even sure you have the ability to carry this.” He jabs, stalking towards the door.

“I didn’t even pack that much!” Anna huffs, grabbing her purse and green reefer coat from the end of her bed. Olaf disappears through the door without another word as Anna places her reefer coat over her navy overalls and white-and-black striped sweater.

Her purse hangs on her shoulder as she walks towards the door. Anna sighs, glancing around her room, flicking off the overhead light and closing the door behind her. She makes her way downstairs, her hand sliding against the polished wood railing, expecting to see Kristoff standing in the foyer with his arms crossed.

Instead, Hans stands in the foyer next to Olaf, staring up at her with a grin and a bouquet of roses in his hand.

“Hello.” Her fiancé’s voice rings throughout the old house.

“Hi!” Anna beams down at the auburn-haired man, tripping on the last step of the stairs and catching herself on the bannister before falling on her hands and knees. Hans chuckles at her catch, shaking his head. “I wasn’t expecting you to show up this morning.”

“of course, I’m going to say goodbye to you.” He shrugs, taking a step forward. Pressing a kiss to her cheek, Hans lingers near her ear, whispering. “You left so early this morning; I didn’t get to give you a proper goodbye.”

Anna feels her flush at his comment as he flashes her a smile. “W-well I’m glad you came.”

“These are for you.” He hands the roses to her, which she takes, burying her nose into the flower closest to her.

“They’re lovely!” She beams up at him, somewhat saddened that she’ll have to leave them behind. “I’ll put these in water.”

Anna withdraws from the foyer, her fiancé following after her into the kitchen. She pushes on the swinging kitchen door with her shoulder, flashing a smile at him as she backs up into the room. Hans stands against the wall next to the door, watching Anna as she places the flowers on the counter temporarily.

“Is um…what is his name?” Hans pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to recall the other man’s name.

“Kristoff.” Anna answers, standing on her tiptoes to grabs a crystal vase from a high shelf.

“Right, Kristoff. Has he arrived yet?” The auburn-haired man inquires, folding his arms across his chest.

“No, he hasn’t. I thought I heard him honk, but I must’ve been someone else. I have the feeling he would be banging down the door if it had been him.” Anna responds, turning on the tap to fill the vase with water. Hans simply chuckles at that, glancing around the small kitchen as she unwraps the flowers and places them into the water.

“Well, I’m glad to see the Nazi will enjoy my flowers on her dining room table while you’re gone.” Hans comments, changing the subject. Anna rolls her eyes, turning to her fiancé to scold him. In the corner of her eye, Gerda stands in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. Her eyes narrowed at the young man.

“Anna, your other American is here.” The older woman announces, shuffling through the kitchen to take the flowers from Anna as she mutters. “Calling me a Nazi in my own home, fucking Yankee.”

Anna snorts in response to Gerda’s not so quiet mutterings, glancing back to her fiancé with a smirk. “You deserve that.”

“I know I do.” Hans sighs, opening the kitchen door for his fiancé, following after her into the foyer. Kristoff stands in front of the door, making small talk with Olaf as he waits. The blonde turn towards the couple, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets.

Kristoff offers her a polite smile, standing up straight. “Are you ready?”

“Yes…” Anna trails off, surprised that he didn’t immediately snap at her for making him wait. She and Hans inch closer to Olaf and Kristoff, preparing to say goodbye to her fiancé and best friend. “Hans, this is Kristoff. Kristoff, this is my fiancé Hans.”

“Nice to meet you.” Kristoff states, extending his hand out to Hans, who accepts the gesture. The auburn-haired man smiles at the other man.

“You’re American.” Hans states, grinning.

“Uh…yeah, I am,” Kristoff responds with an awkward smile.

“I’m from Arlington. What about you?” Hans inquires, clearly pleased with running into a fellow patriot, travelling with his fiancé.

“Ah, Sheridan.” Kristoff blinks, his gaze flickering at Anna briefly. He had tried to disclose as little information about himself to Anna as possible. She is about to insert herself in the conversation, not needing to know her escort’s personal life but is interrupted as Hans holds a hand up.

Hans’s brows furrow in confusion, trying to recall the name of the city. “I’m not familiar with that name. What state?”

Kristoff clears his throat, saying almost inaudibly. “Wyoming.” Anna stares up at Kristoff with knitted brows. She had no idea such a place could exist.

“Oh… I’ve never been,” Hans says politely, quickly adding. “But I’ve heard it is quite beautiful.”

“It’s nice…I guess.” Kristoff nods. The two men stare at one another quietly, neither of them knowing what to say. Anna glances between the two men, figuring out if they are finished with their odd exchange.

“This is very awkward,” Olaf announces to the room, playing with the buttons of his gray peacoat. Anna slowly turns to her friend with a small smirk, shaking her head in disbelief at him. She glances back toward Kristoff with raised brows.

“Are we all ready?” Anna clasps her hands together.

“Yes! We are.” Kristoff announces. She nods, walking over to where Olaf had discarded her suitcase. Kristoff is the first to leave the house, going to start the car for their long journey. Anna follows the large blonde outside, while Hans and Olaf remain in the foyer.

As she exits on the street, she glances to see Kristoff standing in front of a truck, an old one. Looking at Kristoff in horror, she begins to shake her head. “No, no, no, no. You did not tell me about that.”

She points at his green ford truck, the metal around the wheels beginning to rust and ready to break down at any moment. Kristoff glances back at the truck with wooden slates making up the truck bed’s edge. “What? It’s fine.”

“That is not fine. That.” She points to the truck, puttering. “Is barely a vehicle.”

“Oh, Jesus. It’ll be fine.” Kristoff takes the suitcase from her, carrying it to the truck. Anna stares at the car; she hadn’t been expecting this. He is about to place her bag into the bed, but she calls out to him. “Wait! Is there like a little space behind the front seats?”

“Why?” Kristoff cocks a brow as Anna takes the suitcase from him with force. Opening the door, Anna comes face-to-face with a large brown Irish wolfhound. The dog stares at the woman in front of him, lifting his head from the seat of the car.

“Oh, hello.” Anna greets, reaching out to scratch the dog under his chin. She begins to panic as the massive dog shifts forward, attempting to leave the truck.

“Sven, stay,” Kristoff calls, standing behind the woman in case the dog made his escape. The wolfhound looks at his owner with wide eyes before laying back on the seat. Anna raises her suitcase over the seats, placing her suitcase in a small space behind the front, which holds another bag.

Anna turns away from the car, nearly running into Kristoff, still standing behind her with his hand resting on the door. She stares up at the man wide-eyed. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Oh no, I’m…sorry,” Kristoff repeats, sidestepping out of the woman’s way. Anna walks back towards the building as Olaf and Hans emerge onto the street. She hears the car door slam behind her; glancing behind her, she sees Kristoff walking around the truck.

Anna approaches Olaf with a smile, throwing her arms around his neck without any hesitation as she states. “I’ll miss you so much.”

“Me too.” Olaf chuckles, withdrawing from his friend. “I’ll see you when you get home.”

“Absolutely!” Anna beams up at him, squeezing his hands before reluctantly letting go of her friend. She turns to her fiancé with a smile, allowing herself to be swept up in his embrace as he crushes his lips to hers. She gasps in surprise as he dips her slightly, making her grasp the lapels of his jacket in case his hold around her waist were to falter.

Hans pulls away from her with a smile, as Anna feels her head spin. He tucks her hair behind her ear as he cups her cheeks. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She responds, placing her hands over his. They stare at one another tenderly as Hans runs his thumbs against her cheekbones. “I’ll be home in 2 weeks.”

“I know.” Hans nods. “I’ll have our travel arrangement for home ready then.”

She nods, standing on her tiptoes to press another kiss to his lips, lingering as she doesn’t want to pull away from him just yet. But Anna knows she has to. Reluctantly, she pulls away with a sigh, peering up at him.

“Goodbye.” Her hand lingers in his for a moment as she walks away from him. Only detaching as she walks an arm’s length away from him. She opens the car door, glancing at the dog sitting on the seat next to Kristoff and her own.

Anna slips into the seat, closing the door hard with her purse on her lap. Immediately the interior of the car smells like the dog’s breath and is humid. Kristoff turns the wheel as Anna glances out the fogging window, waving to her fiancé and best friend as her driver pulls away.

As they pull onto Charlotte street, Sven whines, staring at Anna with wide eyes shifting closer to her until his head rests on her lap. Kristoff glances down at his dog, patting his bottom before re-focusing his attention on the road.

“You’re in his spot.”

“Oh, is that right?” Anna coos, scratching the hound’s head and behind his ears. “I’m sorry, but you’re such a good boy. Aren’t you Sven?”

Sven begins to wag his tail, hitting Kristoff in the process. “Don’t talk to him like that.”

“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes, rubbing one spot behind Sven’s ear. She stares out on the street, her heart pounding in her chest as it finally hits her.

She is finally doing this. She is once and for all going to bring Elsa home.

#kristanna #elsamaren #anna #elsa #kristoff #honeymaren #Rise to Me #Post WWII AU #WWII au #frozen #myfic

15 notes · View notes

letsperaltiago · 5 years ago

Text

i don’t wanna miss you like the other girls do

#12: I can't stop thinking about you, #22: Sometimes I just can't control myself when around you and #28: I have never felt this way about anyone

Jealous! Amy and brand new relationship-Peraltiago

Also: Do I need to make a statement saying that Amy obviously isn't the kind of person to think she owns anyone, but means it well and in an endearing way? There you go.

Enjoy!

Read here or on AO3

It had all gone down in a spur of the moment-kind of moment that no one, even less Amy, had seen coming and honestly would’ve preferred to be without. It wasn’t really her place to say or do what she did, nor even as much as react upon it, alas… she did; she was in so deep with Jake Peralta and so she did it anyways.

Said moment had gone down during a weekend spent in Hartford, Connecticut, where the squad had attended a two day-seminar hosted by their brothers and sisters in the HPD.

Since the drive to Hartford was one of two hours, plus the seminar took place Saturday through Sunday, the squad had huddled together in two cars and were spending the entire weekend, Friday through Sunday, north of their respective homes in Brooklyn.

Immediately from the moment they arrived at the the hotel slash conference venue where the seminar was to be held everything seemed to set the scene for a pretty smooth, perhaps even fun, weekend where the squad would get to be entertained by other things that the wondering of why they weren’t at home on a weekend.

No one on the squad had any kind of expectations for the unknown city, except Holt who mentioned The Mark Twain House and Museum as a highly ranked point on his to be done-list, which meant their collective surprise upon exploring the city after checking into their rooms Friday afternoon was indeed positive enough for them to not hate the fact they were spending their weekend away from home doing work-related activities.

The very second the clock obnoxiously signalled 7 AM the following day, because not being home wasn’t an excuse, Amy Santiago was up and out of bed leaving Jake to regret, just for a tiny second, that he shared a room with his brand new paramour. It’d only been two weeks since coming to terms about “screw light and breezy”, and so far everything was smooth sailing although that morning was clearly an example of the two still figuring out this new dynamic of theirs.

“Ugh, can you stop being a decent person and get back in bed,” Jake groaned in pain when Amy without hesitance pulled aside the curtain to let in the bleak east coast-sun. If they’d been away on vacation in Mexico, even just as far as California, then maybe Jake would’ve accepted this. But there sure as hell was nothing less motivating than a sad barely there-sun hiding behind puffy clouds but still shining brightly enough to rip him out of his comfortable sleep. Especially when all there was to “look forward to”, quote Amy, was seminars; learning and powerpoint presentations that would haunt him in his next sleep.

“Stop whining and get up! The seminar starts at 8!” Amy hurried carelessly at him used to his many complaints of this childish nature. She didn’t let it take up too much of her time and had already moved on to grab clean clothes from her duffle bag to put on after her routine shower.

From where he had indeed not moved an inch Jake could hear the shower being turned on, door to the bathroom still open, and if it wasn’t for the fact that he was exhausted from staying up just a bit too late watching stupid videos on his phone then he would’ve attempted to sneak into the steaming water with Amy because he could do that now… Insane.

On the other side of the shower curtain Amy had expected the same. There was very good reason why she’d added the little detail of leaving the door open and hoped would lure him out of bed. To her disappointment she quickly noticed her so-called sneaky plan was in vain leaving but one last attempt up her sleeve.

“Jake, the breakfast buffet closes at 7.30!” she called out momentarily turning off the shower to allow her to pick up on potential sounds which could indicate her victory.

Indeed the last attempt was the right one: seconds later she heard the sound of quick footsteps and the ruffling of what she guessed was clothing items before a messy-haired, baggy-eyed Jake stumbled into the bathroom stark naked and on the edge of out of breath. The way to a man’s heart really was through his stomach, Amy though to herself amused.

“Mind if I join in real quick?” he smiled sheepishly trying his best to hide exhaustion.

All complaints and opposing to her morning ritual went down the drain with shower water the moment Amy turned it back on and smiled through biting down on her bottom lip.

Santiago: 1 - Peralta: 0

—

Perhaps Amy had twisted the truth just a tiny bit to get him out of bed so early. Jake figured this out when they 20 minutes later walked downstairs and saw a sign announcing that the first part of the seminar wasn’t scheduled for 8, like Amy had said, but rather 9 and buffet as well only closed an hour later than Amy’s information had told him. Lucky for her he was so infatuated that he let her off the hook with a playful jab to her sides and a comment about how she probably didn’t even want to date him but was simply a double-agent sent to improve his habits and lifestyle. This in return earned him a very familiar by now laugh, roll of this eyes and smile-combo: a combo he’d never get tired of and already felt like getting an eternal subscription to.

The seminar was okay, he guessed; either that or watching Amy furiously yet impressively neatly take notes with the speed of light beside him was enough to make it feel so. He was convinced of the latter when she afterwards with the brightest smile on her face showed him all the knowledge she’d managed to boil down to a few neatly organised pages in her notebook. It felt dangerous so early on in whatever they would turn out to be, yet also so very natural that in his world nothing was greater than the sight of Amy Santiago smiling at him. A sight he’d quickly grown addicted to already years back although without coming to terms with it until some months prior.

“Are you sticking around for the Q & A?” Amy interrupted his wandering thoughts whilst getting a new page in her notebook ready as a few people started leaving their seats and the conference room.

“Nah,” Jake shook his head honestly knowing that it would be lying to both himself and her if he tried to act like he genuinely cared about sticking around for an additional 30 minutes of re-explaining what he’d already spent 2 hours zoning in and out of. “I think I’ll head to the lounge. I’m feeling snacky.”

“Of course,” Amy smiled shaking her head in an evident manner. “See you at lunch then?”

“Yup,” he got out of his seat before adding a “see you at lunch, nerd,” accompanied by one last teasing smile before joining Rosa on her walk towards the exit. The comment combined with his soft brown eyes and warm smile was enough to have Amy feeling like a puddle of mush in her seat. To know that said brown eyes and warm smile were… hers? It felt weird to say or even just think it since they hadn’t officially declared themselves boyfriend/girlfriend but definitely were something; something not light and breezy; perhaps solid was the appropriate antithesis to use?

No matter what - light, breezy, solid or whatever they could be defined as - when her eyes trained after Jake walking off for just tiny bit longer than intended, Amy definitely noticed how a group of four women, colleagues, she assumed, sitting on the other side of the middle isle between her and them where Jake was walking chatted and giggled as their eyes switched back and forth between each other and Amy’s favorite partner. In spite of the fact that she was en excellent lipreader Amy, to her curiosity’s dismay, couldn’t exactly tell what these women were saying or giggling about however two things were certain: one was that they were in one way or another very interested in Jake, even after he’d left the room, and two was that Amy didn’t like it. An uneasy tightness formed in her stomach telling her so and she for the following 30 minutes of a Q & A she had looked forward to couldn’t focus enough to take any actual notes. All she was left with post Q & A were mindless doodles on an otherwise blank page which was both a waste of paper and but even worse of no good use for her knowledge.

The second the seminar was officially completely over which was everyone’s cue to leave for lunch, Amy did her best, notebook and pencil case held tightly to her chest, in an attempt to get as close to the giggly group of women from before as the room’s population walked out of the room in one big stream. Completely forgetting that she was supposed to meet up with the Jake and the others for lunch she automatically followed the four women to the hotel bar where they settled down - and so of course so did Amy simply opting for a few seats further down in conjunction with ordering herself a soda as to not attract herself any suspicion or attention.

“Oh my gosh, Sydney, you have to figure out who that guy from the seminar was!”

This definitely caught Amy’s attention, both to her pleasing and bitterness: pleasing because she’d been right about her gut-feeling and bitterness because that guy was her guy. Not whoever this Sydney was.

“Yeah, he was pretty cute right?” Who Amy guessed was Sydney, a tall, beautiful blonde clad in a nice pantsuit, Amy had to admit, answered just as enthusiastically.

“Totally! And since he’s here, probably, also a cop,” the same friend who had started the conversation chimed in and Amy wished to God she’d just shut up rather than stuff her friend’s head with bad ideas like hitting on Amy’s own guy.

“I smell work place-romance, ladies,” a third friend giggled riling the other’s up along with her. To them it was all a joke, fun, some kind of competition of cat and mouse but Amy, at her respective end of the bar, was feeling herself starting to boil, more than she’d like to admit, at the thought of someone else taking away from her what she’d just struggled for so long to obtain. It was her cute cop-guy from the seminar; her work-place romance; her… whatever! And also what kind of dumb name was Sydney even? Jake and Sydney? So dumb.

“I mean we are here for another entire day so I’ll have to make sure to run into him at some point. Tonight…” the tone of Sydney’s voice took on a sultry undertone that had Amy shuffling uncomfortably in her seat. “… wouldn’t be a bad time to run into him.” The smug smile on the blonde’s face had Amy feeling like punching it right off of her.

As if on cue, like timing couldn’t have been any worse, friend number four made her presence be known and squealed with excitement while pointing which of course immediately earned herself the three other’s full attention. “Girls! There he comes! Right there!”

Within seconds all four girls heads snapped to the side with wide hungry eyes reminding Amy of what a flock of vultures looked like prior to ripping apart an animal cadaver in a documentary she’d watched a few days ago.

Vulture-like or not, Amy’s head was included in this collective redirecting of focus and followed the direction in which the friend had pointed to.

And there he was indeed: Jake Peralta, clad in his navy blue long-sleeved NYPD-shirt and freshly cut hair with the tiniest hint at a beginning forehead curl, was walking into the lounge that very moment seemingly looking around for someone and also completely unaware of the people watching him as his entrance seems to unfold in slow-motion. Amy almost couldn’t blame the girls for drooling because the cocky detective looked really good walking into the room completely oblivious to the attention he’d brought upon himself.

“Damn… He looks even cuter than what I remembered. I have to give it a try, don’t I?” Sydney questioned, obviously rhetorically already knowing what she wanted as she almost drooled like an agitated Doberman.

“I mean if you won’t, Sydney, then I will!” the friend who’d noticed Jake enter the room playfully challenged, and even though it was all fun and games to them, Amy felt like her seat was on fire making it almost impossible to stay passive and seated for much longer.

“Oh, hell no. Stay away from him. This one’s mine, Jasmin!”

There was no telling if the line had already been crossed multiple inappropriate remarks ago and she’d managed by the grace of God to stay seated or if this last comment was the one to exceed what Amy considered her very flexible limits. Either way, no matter what, the first one option or the other, this time Amy failed to bite her tongue. She threw a comment out into the open without thoroughly considering its consequences out in the open fora first thus letting the group, especially Sydney, know what was weighing on her mind.

“You've got a lot of nerve to call a complete stranger ‘yours’,” the borderline growl of a tone in which the words came out in had Amy feeling like another person: not one she specially liked. This person, or perhaps even primitive beast was a better way of describing this persona, rooted deep down in her apparently found it very necessary to protect what she already within two weeks had come to mark as her territory. Never before had she felt so green-eyed, so absolutely reckless. This being said her instincts were more vigilant than ever before and it virtually felt out of her hands.

In the meantime, while Amy was looking at her decision in retrospect yet not at all since she wasn’t doing anything to prevent any further complications, the women had turned in their seats to collectively shoot quizzical, annoyed looks resembling daggers with their eyes at Amy.

“Excuse me?” The blue-eyed blonde challenged Amy to take her statement back which roughly said only goaded her raven-haired opponent further down the warpath.

“I said: You've got a lot of nerve to call a complete stranger ‘yours’.”

Feeling herself so ice-cold, so sure about something partially dumb and actually really petty would normally have Amy back down right away but something deep inside of her, like a raging fire, had her stand her ground. Apparently that’s what Jake Peralta could bring out in certain people, both Amy and Sydney included, because the blonde was not backing down just, rather instead coolly took another shot at Amy in the hopes to have her back off.

“Why shouldn't I? It’s not like he’s everyone, right? I’m for sure not letting any of these girls run off with him,” she pointed to the her friends behind her, the switch from threatening Amy to mindlessly joking and giggling with her little girl-squad having Amy metaphorically slack-jawed. Luckily not physically: there was no way she was showing this bimbo any sign of weakness.

“Okay, well…” Amy had had it for good and all consideration of rationality was out the window. Crowded police seminar or not there was no way in hell this light haired pest with her greedy crystal blue eyes and three flippant followers were getting the last word.“…let me explain to you why how you shouldn't assume and make people your property. Especially when you don’t even know them.”

Yes, she was being a hypocrite saying this but she was actually Jake’s special someone and not just some stranger: she did have a say in this.

For a brief second Sydney seemed shocked and like she actually considered Amy’s bold statement, but it didn’t last and before long blondie was back in the game apparently not satisfied with the way things could be left off. They way things should be left off, if you asked Amy.

“Oh, so you’re his “girlfriend” or what?,” the tone of Sydney’s voice clearly implied she didn’t believe anything Amy said.

All the, not doubt per se since she knew she wanted to be with Jake and he with her, but perhaps the insecurities about what stage they were currently at melted and slipped away as water off a duck’s back. It didn’t matter what exactly they were when one thing, the most important fact, was sure: they liked each other and they were going… steady. They were each other’s, politically correct to say or not.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I am,” Amy’s voice and eyes drilled into Sydney’s with a kind of confidence she’d never felt before, perhaps something Jake had brought into her life along with himself.

In return it earned her a mocking scoff.

“Easy for you to say. He might as well be a random guy you’ve spotted in the crowd,” one of Sydney’s friends stepped in to help her friend in what Amy knew was a lost cause on their part.

“He could be a stranger,” Amy paused very briefly biting her lip as to refocus, hopefully managing to not say anything that could potentially make the pointless, stupid conversation even worse. This but also she still did want to make very clear that the random, cute cop walking into the lounge (who even knew where exactly he was at this point?) was hers.

“But he’s not: he’s my boyfriend.”

It was as Amy allowed herself a small halt to provide her lungs with fresh air, just in case Sydney felt like dragging out the discussion, when cute cop-guy very suddenly made his exact position known. He was walking straight up to the bar and them displaying smiley lips and eyes plastered on Amy. All the women’s eyes - Amy, Sydney and friends - immediately forgot about their opponent to focus on newly reappeared target who obviously had no clue about the fact that he was walking into the belly of the beast when he made it to his destination next to Amy.

“Hey, Ames.”

He nonchalantly stretched out his right arm to place a hand on the bar behind her crating a point of support for him to lean his weight onto.

“You catching up with some old friends?”

Oh, sweet naive Jake, Amy thought but also lowkey melted as he very credulously sent Sydney and her friend’s a warm, welcoming smile wanting to make a good impression on who he believed were part of Amy’s social circle.

“Eh,” Amy smiled culpably knowing telling Jake the truth about the situation would be the epitome of an embarrassment so early on in this new relationship of theirs. “I was just making small-talk, I guess. You know… meeting new people - yay.”

She couldn’t have sounded any less awkward and enthusiastic, even if she tried. Jake, on his part, was either really openminded or had figured out there was a good reason as to why she acted like she did and didn’t want to dig deeper into it, settling for an understanding nod.

“Well, anyhow… I don’t mean to interrupt anything but you never showed up for lunch and so I just popped in to try and find you.”

Even head turned to look at Jake who was slightly behind her meaning she could only see Sydney out of the corner of her eye, Amy could tell her smug, confident look from before was faltering with every exchange of words between Jake and Amy though they were far from flirty or telling about their relationship in any way. And, yes, she could’ve left it at that, as undramatic at it had all managed to turn out but Amy, well aware of how petty it was, she knew, couldn’t help but want to conclusively knock in the nail of victory.

“Aw,” Amy spun a quarter of a round on her barstool to face Jake behind her before affectionally placing a hand on his chest - both for the sake of the show but also because, wow, she could actually do that as she pleased now. Something she was still getting used to.

“That’s very sweet of you, babe,” the word in focus was always said in an affectionate tone but this specific context definitely had it over-enhanced and laced with extra sweetness to make her message very clear.

Then breaking her own no making out at work-rule, the only rule to have survived “screw light and breezy”, she couldn’t help herself and gave into the enraged possessiveness inside of her. She leaned in to place a soft, just a bit longer than a peck, kiss to Jake who automatically lightly bent his neck to eliminate the remaining space between their current height difference. The kiss was good, they always were with him, but it definitely had to send a signal that hopefully Sydney would pick up on: do not touch.

Amy, not wanting to break her own rule too much and give in to straight up inappropriate PDA, then pulled back to throw the women-squad a smirk over her shoulder as her hand never left the safety of Jake’s blue shirt.

“Anyways… I think we’re done here? Right, girls?”

To her immense pleasure Amy was met by a mixture of bitterness and surprise which had to mean she’d proven her point. Finally. Jake Peralta, officially boyfriend or not, was not to be considered anyone but hers - apart from being very much his own person as well.

In the meantime, slightly shocked but also far from displeased by Amy’s very out of blue-kiss, Jake stood passive by waiting for his partner’s upcoming directions. He didn’t have to wait for long because whoever these other women were, Amy was done with them and hopped off of her stool promptly grabbing his hand to walk away with. It took him a few feet of walking in silence before Jake could fully assemble and give meaning to everything that had just happened. He turned to question a still smug, also a bit guilty-looking, Amy.

“Okay, so are you going to tell me what all that was about?”

They kept walking out of the lounge and down one of the many halls of the hotel.

“Nothing.”

Jake was perhaps naive at times as he saw a lot of good in everything, which Amy loved, but he knew a guilty lip bite when he saw it and it was currently on full display on the raven haired beauty.

“Hey,” he pulled her aside into one of the many small wall pockets leading to individual hotel rooms as he wished to seclude them in hopes of it easing her into telling him the truth. “What’s up with you?” he smiled knowingly taking some intensity out of the moment. It’s not like he was angry or anything, curious being a better word for it.

“Nothing,” she smiled sheepishly trying to hurry out of the secluded area but quickly realising she’d failed once she felt his hand wrap around her upper arm to gently pull her back in. Her back gently fell back against the wall before him forcing her to face him.

He lightly tilted his head to the side much like a puppy would when feeling peculiar which was hard to resist when his eyes, soft and brown, had so much resemblance with a sweet puppy’s as well. She could tell he was teasing her, aware of the fact that he knew something she didn’t and it drew her insane in both the worst and best way - Jake Peralta summed up for you.

“Now I don’t believe that… girlfriend.”

In contrast to the playfulness controlling her body seconds ago Amy Santiago suddenly felt much more put on the spot, it clearly showing by the way her blood all at once seemed to fire up her cheeks. He’d overheard her talking to Sydney and the others; he’d heard her declare herself as his girlfriend when they hadn’t even agreed on calling each other that yet. The nervousness tricked her into making a loud swallow; yet another tell.

“Oh… y-you heard that?” She stuttered.

Jake nodded firmly almost encapsulating her against the wall when he took a step forwards, but made sure to leave just enough space for her to not feel straight up trapped against her will. A small smug smile on display. Why was he enjoying this? Didn’t he see that he was torturing her?

“I’m sorry - I really didn’t mean to. I know we’ve just barely begun seeing each other as more than friends, it’s just these girls were saying things about you and sometimes I just can't control myself when around you and then it just kind of-“

He cut off her rambling by pressing his lips to hers, much needed, gently pressing her up against the wall although. Only because they were hidden from the majority of the hotel’s population, Amy allowed and excused this - or so she told herself. The feeling of his welcoming lips made her forget the mess for a few seconds, just giving into how good of a kisser Jake Peralta was, and even for a few seconds after their lips parted again she was speechless and dumbfounded by how she’d gotten herself a guy this great.

“Stop apologising,” he chuckled quickly using his thumb to wipe the corner of his mouth which inevitably made him look that much hotter.

“I know we didn’t exactly “agree on it” and that it’s still all very new, like you said, but, Ames…” his eyes mellowed after looking just a tad too cocky and alluring before, during and right after the kiss. This was definitely a different shade of Jake looking into her eyes and talking: a very soft one. “… I don’t need a certain trial period or approval from anyone to know that I’m your boyfriend and you’re my girlfriend.”

Upon hearing these words coming from the one and only Jake Peralta with recipient being herself, Amy Santiago she felt her heart shoot through the roof, take a trip around the moon and fly straight back into her chest where it had her feeling like crying, smiling, screaming and laughing all at once: a very maniac-like but also wonderful feeling. The most wonderful as far as she could recall.

“And I’m not going to force you to tell me exactly what happened, but just based on the way your fists were basically clenched when I walked up to you, am I wrong to assume that they were, let’s say, treading on your territory…”

If she’d been blushing before then now her face was definitely on fire and looking down at her feet apparently didn’t help cover it at all. The silence was enough of an answer, one which he chuckled in reaction to.

“It’s okay, Ames. At least I came around before you could Jimmy Brogan them.”

At this sympathetic joke reminding her of a time that seemed to be so long ago she had to look back up. She couldn’t hold back a chuckle and it warmed her heart to share it with him just like when he shared his with her. All the previous insecurities: had she gone too far? Let her tongue run away with her? Given too much of herself too fast to something as brand new as her relationship with Jake? It had all been answered by a few simple words, caring eyes and a kiss that told her everything she needed to know.

“I just don’t want you to think I’m this crazy-jealous, possessive type. I’m normally not like this, I promise. I guess I have never felt this way about anyone before and maybe that’s why I’m acting up. Amy I crazy?” a tingling feeling of vulnerability made an encore.

“No, you’re not because I’m right here freaking out, in the best kind of way, because of what you just said. This is the first time I feel like this too, like I can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s scary and great all at once.” Jake was quick to wash away said vulnerability she was feeling and replaced it with a prickling affection and hope.

“So… no more feeling insecure about us?” he offered some kind of peace-offering, partly to her but mostly to their shared insecurities, trying to not come off as too gluttonous as he slid his hands onto her waist wanting to soak in a new feeling of belonging. A feeling he’d found in her.

“Deal,” Amy accepted the offering with a sheepish smile as her insides flipped upside down witch excitement. All she wanted was to be with this guy, fully and greatly, and this confrontation and mutual agreement would allow her to not give a damn about future external factors.

“Noice. Smart,” escaped him in optimistic relief but before she could roll her eyes at it he leaned in to softly kiss her again. Being held by him, hands gently tracing the front pockets of her pants while his lips took her to another world, was something she could never deny him or herself - screw the rules. Lips collided over and over again, one tug bringing on the next until they lost sense of anything and were full on making out like a pair of horny high schoolers in-between classes. This is what they brought out in each other: happiness, fire, want and so many more things they’d both spent the last two weeks wondering how they’d lived without before.

Unfortunately their movie-like moment had to be cut somewhat short as people coming back from lunch started flooding the hall passing by their little intimate pocket in the wall. Amy liked Jake but she also liked staying professional and this Jake respected. They jumped back, creating an exaggerated amount of space between them before sending passing strangers innocent smiles as if they hadn’t just spent the last few minutes declaring feelings and making out at an interstate police seminar.

“So, Detective Santiago…” his voice took on a brand new tone of gravity - a tone she also recognised as acting. “Shall we head over for lunch?”

“I’m sorry to come bearing such bad news, Detective Peralta, but people are flooding the hall as per consequence of the fact that lunch is over,” Amy played along taking on a serious tone and posture.

“Aw, man… Seriously?” he whined childishly, his recent serious persona from seconds before immediately forgotten.

“Sorry… boyfriend,” she smiled sheepishly in an attempt to cheer him up which she had to praise herself, as it obviously worked seeing his face instantly lit up.

“Whatever… It was worth losing lunch over, girlfriend.”

96 notes · View notes

crackedoutgiraffe · 5 years ago

Text

To the Moon and Back

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

A/N: Chapter 6

You had left your phone on the conference room table while you looked through the files. It started ringing unexpectedly. It was Garcia.

“Hey Garcia,” you eagerly greeted her, you hadn’t spoken to any of the team for about 6 hours. They were all out doing FBI things.

“How much do you love me?” she asked

Confused, you answered the peculiar question, “I love you very much, Garcia.” “What would you say if I told you I had the name of the unsub?”

“Wait, you figured it out?” you jumped out of your chair with excitement.

“Sure did,” she giggled, “I believe your unsub is one Robert Adams.”

“Do you have a location, Garcia?”

“His credit card just made a purchase at the Seven Stars Restaurant,”

“Thank you, Garcia,” you said as you ran out the door. “Wait, why did you call me?”

“No one else was picking up,” she replied. “Good luck, be safe,” she hung up after that. The team left one SUV for you just in case you needed to go anywhere. You hopped in and started for the restaurant. You tried to call Hotch, but he wouldn’t respond.

Then you tried Rossi, and thankfully he responded, “Rossi, where are you right now?” you asked frantically

“We’re at the school. Why? What’s wrong?” he could hear how scared you were on the other end of the line.

“Garcia called me and told me that she has the unsub’s identity,” you breathed out, trying to drive at the same time.

“Y/N, I’m going to put you on speaker,” he added. “Alright, you have me, Hotch, Morgan, and Reid.”

“Garcia, she called me and said that the name of the unsub was Robert Adams and that he was at the Seven Stars restaurant, I’m pulling into the restaurant now,” you got out of the car and headed toward the entrance.

“Alright, Y/N, do not engage wait outside we’ll be there in five minutes,” Hotch sounded scared

“Alright. Is there anyt-,” you started but you were knocked out by an explosion from the restaurant.

“Y/N, hold we’ll be there soon,” Hotch calmly said, but you couldn’t respond.

You were knocked unconscious by the blast, you finally awoke to sirens and people surrounding you. You could see all the team members around you.

Everyone stayed by your side for a few moments until Morgan received some news, “Hotch he’s still in there.”

“Ok. Prentiss, come with Morgan and me to catch the unsub,” Hotch started. “Rossi, take Y/N to the ambulance.”

Rossi helped you to stand up while you were holding your head. He led you over to an ambulance, “Rossi, I’m fine, really.”

“I’m sure you are,” he said, “but you may have a concussion.” The paramedic checked your vitals and performed a concussion test. You passed, so a hospital visit wasn’t necessary.

While the paramedic was checking your health he was also checking you out, “Alright Ms. Y/L/N, your vitals are good and you don’t seem to have a concussion,” the paramedic briefed. “Make sure that you visit your primary care physician. Also, do you think I would be able to get your number?”

He wasn’t bad looking, he seemed nice, “Sure,” you smiled. You looked past some of the cops at the restaurant and saw Reid looking your way. It seemed like he was giving the paramedic a death stare. You got up off the ambulance and hobbled over to the rest of your team. Prentiss and Hotch had apprehended the unsub, and they loaded him into a police car.

“What did the paramedic say?” Hotch asked.

“He said I’m good to go,” you responded happily.

Reid looked upset from where you were standing, “seemed like he said more than that,” Reid mumbled.

“Alright, go pack up your guys’ stuff and meet me at the airfield in 30,” Hotch continued. You all went to the SUVs. You decided to ride in the back with Rossi driving and Prentiss in the passenger seat. The three of you promptly arrived at the hotel just behind JJ, Morgan, and Reid. Rossi came to help you out of the car, which was quite sweet, but you didn’t need it.

You got to your room and started to pack. Starting with the bathroom then going to the main room, double-checking that you had everything. As you were cleaning up, you made the bed and straightened out the pillows.

Just then your phone rang, “Hello?” you answered.

“Hi, this is Jeremy. I was the paramedic that treated you tonight,” he said gingerly.

“Oh hey, how’s it going?” you giggled while grabbing your bags and heading toward the door.

“We had to take a few people to the hospital, but other than that pretty good,” he commented.

You left your room and started to close the door, “So, a pretty slow night?” you joked. In the hallway, you saw Morgan and Reid waiting and staring at you. “Hey, Jeremy. I’m going to have to call you later, ok?”

“That’s cool,” he sighed. “It was nice to meet you, Y/N. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” you finished and hung up the phone.

“Who’s Jeremy?” Morgan asked, poking you in the side.

“That’s classified, Agent Morgan,” you replied with a smile. “Who’s driving?” you asked, trying to change the subject.

“I’ll drive,” Morgan replied as the three of you got in the elevator.

The drive to the airfield was quiet. You were sitting in the back seat staring out the window, when you did look through the windshield, you could see Reid look at you occasionally. Finally, you got to the plane. You chose a seat at the back, put your headphones in, and pulled out a book. The volume of your music was low just in case anyone needed you. You looked up to see Morgan with a confused look on his face, then he took off his headphones and you could hear screaming coming through them. “Very funny, kid,” he quipped at who you could only suspect was Reid. His phone started to ring and he picked it up, “Hey baby gir-,” he quickly pulled the phone away from his face, more screaming.

You gave up trying to figure out what that was about and went to sleep. When you woke up, you were starting to land. Hotch stood up once the plane landed and told all of you to be in the office at 9 tomorrow. You grabbed your bag and got off the plane, rushing to get to your car and get home and see your cat. The second you got to your car, an immense wave of relief came over you, your first case with the team was done. You had done pretty well. One thing you were less than pleased about was the way you felt toward Spencer. Could you really not fraternize with your co-workers? It’s not that hard, Y/N. Get it together. You got to your house and plopped down on your bed. Checking the time, you groaned. It was 3am. You dragged yourself out of bed to take a shower, you ended up falling asleep wearing only your towel.

You woke up to your alarm at 8 and sighed. Realizing you slept, in a towel, you went to your closet to grab some semi-professional clothes. You put on as much makeup as you could stand, which wasn’t much, and headed to the kitchen for coffee. Checking the clock on your oven, it was 8:30, so you didn’t get to eat breakfast and settled for stopping at Starbucks for another coffee. You were able to arrive at Quantico at exactly 8:50 leaving you just enough time to get up to your desk at 9.

Walking into the office was a nightmare, everyone at their desks seemed so tired. Walking past Reid’s desk, you noticed that he was working away, he didn’t seem tired at all, “How are you so chipper right now?” you asked, sitting down at your desk.

“This is my fifth cup of coffee,” he smiled at you with that lovely smile of his.

Garcia was walking past his desk right as he answered you, “Alright, Dr. Reid, I’m cutting you off for now,” Garcia insisted grabbing the coffee cup from his hand. He looked up at her and frowned.

“Thank you, Garcia,” Morgan added from his desk. “If he would have finished that, I don’t think he would shut up for hours.”

You giggled from your desk, trying not to pass out.

“We have a new case,” Hotch walked out of his office toward the round table room. Everyone groaned as they pulled themselves up from their seats. You all hobbled over to the roundtable room, Reid was practically skipping in front of all of you. “Go ahead Garcia,” Hotch instructed while sitting down.

“Alright, friends, this week you are traveling to the lovely Los Angeles. Four women have all been found in the woods. They were all sexually assaulted, stabbed 13 times, and their hair was burned off. Next to their dumpsite, CSI found the bodies of four men, they were all shot in the heart,” Garcia explained while flipping through the slides on the TV.

“They were all y/h/c-haired and y/e/c eyed in their early to mid-twenties,” Reid added. “Was there any relationship found between the women and the men, Garcia?

“Good eye, Dr. Reid, and yes. The women were all dating one of the men,” Garcia smiled. “Your first victims are 21-year-old Alisha Davis, liberal arts major at UCLA; she was dating 23-year-old Joseph Marin. Next was, 22-year-old Brittany French, chef at a local restaurant and her boyfriend Michael White, 24. Then was 23-year-old Paulette Queen, a nanny for an established family, she was involved with 23-year-old Daniel Roberts. Finally, Jemma Boone, 24, was working at a jewelry store, dating 25-year-old Nicholas Phillips.”

“How far apart were the killed?” you asked.

“The coroner estimates two weeks apart,” Garcia sighed. “Jemma was killed approximately 10 days ago. There also is evidence that he was keeping his victims for about 2 days before killing them.”

JJ spoke up from her side of the table, “The killings seem very ritualistic. They were each stabbed 13 times, they were all y/h/c.”

“The number 13 is considered an unlucky number in some countries. The end of the Mayan calendar's 13th Baktun was superstitiously feared as a harbinger of the apocalyptic 2012 phenomenon. Fear of the number 13 has a specifically recognized phobia, triskaidekaphobia, a word coined in 1911. The superstitious sufferers of triskaidekaphobia try to avoid bad luck by keeping away from anything numbered or labeled thirteen. As a result, companies and manufacturers use another way of numbering or labeling to avoid the number, with hotels and tall buildings being conspicuous examples (thirteenth floor).It is also considered unlucky to have thirteen guests at a table. Friday the 13th has been considered an unlucky day. There are a number of theories as to why the number thirteen became associated with bad luck, but none of them have been accepted as likely,” Reid started to ramble.

“Colgate University also considers 13 a lucky number. They were founded in 1819 by 13 men with 13 dollars, 13 prayers, and 13 articles. To this day, members of the Colgate community consider the number 13 a good omen. In fact, the campus address is 13 Oak Drive in Hamilton, New York, and the male a cappella group is called the Colgate 13. In the Mayan Tzolk'in calendar, trecenas mark cycles of 13-day periods. The pyramids are also set up in 9 steps divided into 7 days and 6 nights, 13 days total. In the standard 52-card deck of playing cards, there are four suits, each of 13 ranks. In a tarot card deck, XIII is the card of Death, usually picturing the Pale horse with its rider. A baker's dozen, devil's dozen, long dozen, or long measure is 13, one more than a standard dozen,” you started rambling too, everyone just stared at you.

“He is focusing more on the women,” Prentiss noticed.

“What makes you say that?” Morgan questioned.

“There is no evidence that the men were held in captivity,” Prentiss continued. “Also, more things were done to the women than the men, their hair was burned and they were sexually assaulted.”

“So it’s more about the women than the men,” Rossi chimed in, “What does that tell us about the unsub?”

You had an answer to the question, “He may have had his heart broken by a y/e/c-eyed, y/h/c-haired girl.”

“I know we just got back but there is going to be another murder in 4 days. Wheels up in 30,” Hotch sighed.

Everyone got up to leave, including you. You headed for the elevator to head home and grab your go-bag. On your drive home, there was one thing on your mind, a serial killer who only killed y/e/c-eyed, y/h/c-haired, and was going to kill someone who was 25, how could this go wrong?

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds

69 notes · View notes

stxrrywildflower · 5 years ago

Text

cat fight

pairing - spencer reid x brenner!reader (platonic)

summary - after being recruited by the bau for a singular case, maxine brenner’s little sister ash has to work with a team she’s never met but has one familiar face. (set around season 11, reid has already met max and are together)

warning - cursing, violence

word count - ?

walking into the bau building on monday morning, ash brenner was a bundle of nerves.

the previous day, ash had received a call from agent hotchner requesting her to work with their team on a case that was being presented the following day.

ash worked in a different building than the bau, mainly focusing on sex crimes and counterterrorism as well as doing minor research into bombings. each had also taught her the skills of a profiler which ash thought would be why she was called in.

after walking through the glass doors, ash was unsure on where to go. she glanced around at the various agents moving throughout the floor area until an older man with black hair approached her.

“ash brenner?” he asked. in response ash nodded. “i’m agent hotchner, we spoke on the phone last night.” ash nodded, everything suddenly clicking. “yes we did sir,” she replied. “please, hotch is fine.” hotch led her up to his office and motioned for her to take a seat across from his desk

“i called you in to work on this case due to your experience in a variety of fields especially profiling and sex crimes. the case will be explained more in depth when we brief in the conference room but to some it up, the unsub is attacking people of all ages. some are killed while others are just kidnapped. we believe that it has something to do with the human trafficking ring or possible sex offenders,” hotch spoke

ash opened her mouth to respond but was cut off by a knock at the door. a blonde woman appeared and looked between her and hotch. “were briefing in the conference room now,” the woman spoke before turning and walking down the hallway. hotch stood up and motioned for ash to follow him. she did and a few seconds later were in a large room with a circle table and a tv monitor.

she glanced around the room, observing her soon to be teammates. none looked familiar until a tall man with short brown hair walked in. ash narrowed her eyes at him with a slight smile which he returned. ash had forgotten that spencer reid, her older sisters boyfriend, was apart of this team in particular. judging by the rest of the teams reaction, none had realized that they had already known eachother.

“everyone this is ash brenner, she will be working on this case with us while emily is in london,” hotch announced, “that’s agents morgan, rossi, j.j., reid, and then our technical analyst garcia.” ash nodded along to the introductions before taking a seat next to morgan.

“over the past month in westfield, indiana, there have been a series of kidnappings and murders. 4 male murder victims and 4 children kidnapped. the unsubs have left notes revealing that the children are alive and well which is part of the reason we haven’t been called in. but after this recent murder, they figured they would need our help,” garcia spoke as she moved through the images. after finally settling on the 8 pictures of the victims, ash decided to speak up.

“between the killings and the kidnapping, there’s two possible motives, either involvement with the human trafficking ring and the ones killed are preventing this unsub from partaking in it. or there is the possibility that the unsub sees themself as a savior and is protecting these children and hurting those who aren’t.”

morgan nodded and added on. “by sending notes about the safety of the children it shows that the unsub has some remorse for them. maybe they work in a school or around children.”

the team discussed other possible motives before hotch announced “wheels up.” ash stayed behind for a moment and glanced over the case file. “funny seeing you here,” a voice spoke from behind her. thankfully she didn’t jump.

“hey spencer,” ash greeted, quickly putting the pictures back into the folder. “i forgot you worked with this team for a quick minute.”

spencer smiled at that. “yeah well i hope you know i’m going to have to be looking out for you extra during this case. because if you get hurt, max will literally kill me.” they both laughed. “yeah well then at least one fbi agent will be able to solve your murder.”

after take off, the team re-grouped in one end of the plane. ash sat in one of the seats and examined the pictures of the victims. the top four murdered were all males while the children were mixed. it didn’t make sense to her or to anyone else.

she was taken out of her thoughts by hotch’s voice. “reid, you and ash go to the most recent crime scene and then meet back at the station.” ash and reid smiled at eachother before listening to hotch’s instructions.

_____

three days later, the team still had nothing. another body was found but this time no children were taken. everyone on the team had agreed to work through the early hours of the morning to hopefully have a lead.

morgan and j.j. had passed out on the chairs in the conference room they set up in. hotch just shrugged and let them sleep as he and rossi went back to going over victim files. reid was going over the notes while ash stood at the board.

the team had profiled the unsub to be a male in their late 20s to early 30s and have a job revolving around children. as ash examined the profile, she realized a flaw.

“i think i figured it out,” ash called out, getting the team members who were awake attention.

“the unsub is a woman, it has to be. statistically, children are more comfortable around women due to mother like bonds. it also explains why we didn’t see a struggle with any of the children. they willingly went. and the fact that all the adults killed were males shows that they may have been seduced by this woman,” ash rambled.

hotch pondered for a moment before speaking up. “so you’re thinking a babysitter?” he asked. “that or a tutor of some kind,” ash responded. “good work,” rossi spoke as hotch called garcia.

some time later hotch returned. during his absence, morgan and j.j. had woken up. “we have three potential suspects. the best way to do this is to split up and each pair take a house. two are in the same neighborhood and one is further away. reid and ash you take that one and rossi, j.j., morgan, and i will take the closer ones.”

ash and reid rushed out to the suv as they both put their vests on. “you think she has a victim with her now?” reid asked. “i sure hope not.”

in the time that it took for reid and ash to arrive at the house of one of the suspects, the other two were already clear. they had collectively decided that they would head over to that location as backup. on the way, garcia had pulled up the cameras that were inside the house and displayed it on a computer for the team to watch during the drive.

reid and ash drew their guns and moved to the front door of the house. from inside they heard a faint yell which was their signal to move in. ash kicked the door down and the two immediately went to clearing the first floor.

from the teams view, they were silent as the pair moved throughout the house. “come on, i can’t be the only one who sees that,” morgan spoke up. “they’re moving perfectly together. you think she already knows him or something? that’s my only explanation,” rossi asked. hotch just shrugged and kept driving.

meanwhile, the two had cleared the first floor. “check the basement, i’m heading upstairs,” ash whispered. reid nodded and moved towards the door heading further down into the house as ash climbed the stairs. she cleared one of the room but felt a presence behind her.

as ash spun around, she was met with the unsub who was holding a fairly long knife. before she could react, the gun was knocked out of her hand. the unsub soon charged at her with the full intent of stabbing ash.

she dodged most of the hits and had landed a couple punches on the unsub. however, ash was currently pinned down with a knife to her throat. if she spoke, her throat would surely be slit. the unsub taunted her as she moved the knife down her forehead, cutting the skin open. it wasn’t that deep of a cut but it wasn’t shallow either.

however, with one swift move, ash managed to kick the unsub in the stomach which made her roll off. just as she grabbed her gun, the unsub was already in the back bedroom.

“reid!” ash shouted down the stairs before taking off.

the sight she was met with absolutely terrified her. the unsub was behind a man who was tied to the bed. the knife was pressed up against his throat and he was gagged but she could still hear his protest.

“you don’t have to do this maria,” ash spoke calmly, using the unsub’s real name.

“but i do! he will kill me if i won’t!” she called back, tears begining to leak from her eyes. at this point, spencer had arrived and moved behind ash.

“who will maria?” ash responded, taking a risk and slowly dropping her gun on the ground.

“my father!” maria sobbed.

“your father is dead, he can’t hurt you anymore. just drop the knife tell me where the children are,” ash made sure to speak softly.

at this statement, maria dropped the knife and sat back defeated. “attic,” she cried over and over. reid moved out of the room to the attic as ash pulled out handcuffs and successfully caught the unsub. sirens could be heard in the distance and she sighed.

once hotch jumped out of the car, ash appeared holding the unsub. morgan ran over and took her away to one of the cop cars.

“reid’s in the attic with the missing kids. there’s a guy on one of the beds upstairs who also needs help and probobly medical attention,” ash informed the team and cops who had arrived. the group rushed in leaving just hotch and ash who moved to lean against the car.

“you’re bleeding,” he informed her. she reached up to her forehead where the unsub had cut her. blood had dropped down her face and was continuing to bleed.

“yeah well getting in a cat fight with the unsub isn’t too fun,” she responded. hotch ordered her to go see the ambulance that arrived and she did just that.

in the middle of being patched up, spencer came over and sat next to her. “you call max?” she asked him. he nodded, “she’ll head over to the bau when we land. expect a scolding about your injury,” spencer informed her. she just smiled.

on the way home, everyone had pretty much passed out due to the long hours and knowing they would have to work late on paperwork. there were no nightmares due to this case being a fairly big win.

with only 10 minutes left on the flight, everyone had slowly began to wake up, all expect for ash.

“when we get back i need to see you all in the conference room. garcia has already been informed as well as emily is going to be there via phone call, don’t mention it to ash,” hotch announced before allowing reid to wake her up. everyone was beyond confused.

once arriving to the bau building, ash had told the team she needed to go down to her car to grab a bag before coming up to do her paperwork which would most likely be a lot due to her involvement with the case.

up in the conference room, hotch had grabbed a cup of coffee before begining to speak to everyone. “with emily’s absence, i’ve been thinking about something for awhile and i wanted to get all of your opinion on,” hotch started, “how would you feel about adding a new member to the team?”

everyone glanced up, a little shocked. a new member hadn’t been mentioned before. “i have someone in mind but it obviously has to be a team descision,” he added.

“i’m all for it. i think adding another mind to this team can be nothing but helpful,” morgan spoke up first. obviously garcia was on board with having another person around. “i agree, it would be nice to have a new person here,” j.j. added. reid nodded alongside her, obviously voting yes. next was rossi and prentiss, who also voted yes.

“now who do you have in mind?” rossi asked.

hotch sighed for a moment. “i was thinking about recruiting ash full time. judging her performance on the last case, she solved it and took the unsub down with mininmal harm. plus her strength and intelligence would be a great addition,” hotch suggested.

everyone smiled at his thought and instantly agreed. emily has spoke up and expressed her excitement to meet her. “i’ll go talk to her now,” hotch announced as he exited the conference room. ash walked in a few moments later and placed her bag at emily’s desk which she had been allowed to use.

“ash, can i see you in my office?” hotch called.

she nodded and began her way over to the stairs. on the way she passed the rest of the team who was grinning widely at her. that added on to her confusion.

“with your performance on the previous case, the team has come to the conclusion that we would like you to officially work with our team permanently,” hotch said, getting right to the point.

ash’s eyes widened at this. “a job offer?” she asked, hotch nodded in response. “i would love to,” ash spoke after a moment. hotch smiled and shook her hand.

“i’ll be in contact with your superior about the transfer immediately. expect to start here next week,” he told her. ash thanked him one more time before leaving his office and slowly moving back to her desk. “what did you say?” rossi called from his office.

“i said yes!” ash exclaimed resulting in cheers from her various team members. once the commotion died down, ash stood next to spencer, striking up a conversation with him.

“ash brenner,” a voice called from behind her. upon recognition, she sighed and spun around, feeling the team’s eyes on her.

“hi max,” ash greeted her sister, accepting the hug she offered. “i can’t believe you got hurt,” max groaned going into her ‘mom stage’. “i’m fine max. spencer had my back the entire time.”

upon hearing that, max moved away from ash and over to her boyfriend. she smiled softly at him before leaning up to place a kiss on his cheek. “that true? you looked out for her?” max asked. spencer nodded, “yes i did, and she even took down the unsub herself.”

max turned around. “way to go baby sis.” ash now figured it would be a good time to tell her. “and i got offered a job on the team,” ash added.

after a congratulation from max, she now had to leave. with a quick squeeze to ash’s shoulder and another kiss to spencer’s cheek, max was moving out the doors of the bau.

“brunch at 9 tomorrow!” she called on her way out.

the two smiled and turned back to the team. “they did know each other!” morgan exclaimed throwing his pen down making everyone in the room laugh.

65 notes · View notes