#it was his router but we AGREED he wouldn’t take it out until another 2 weeks

[orphyd]

Everyday is a test and baby….I’m about to get an F-

[marshmallow-phd]

Bottom of the Glass

Genre: Bodyguard!AU, Angst

Pairing: Jinyoung  x Reader

Summary: It’d been almost ten years since you left the life of glitz and cameras behind, never looking back. But someone refused to let go. When danger comes knocking, your father insists on hiring the best to keep you safe. Reluctant, you agree. Park Jinyoung is constantly by your side, but as the stalker gets closer, will he be able to keep you safe without getting too close himself?

Part: 1 I 2

**

This was the kind of life you always should have lived.

Teenage you wouldn’t be able to understand. That girl was too lost in the flashing lights and the glamor of magazine covers to understand the sacrifices that came with that lifestyle. Those things felt trivial: regular school, normal sleeping hours, being in charge of your own image and your daily activities. What was a classroom compared to flying to Paris for Fashion Week and being photographed on the red carpet?

As a child, you were used to being told what to do and how to behave, so it seemed like routine when your handler changed over from your parents to your manager. You understood that doing what you were told kept you on schedule and in work. They say that hindsight is twenty-twenty. An understatement if you’d ever heard one.

The paperwork and awaiting decisions could feel overwhelming at times, but at least you were the one making the decisions. You had a say and you weren’t treated as a money machine. Yes, as someone with employees, you had people depending on you for their paychecks, but the relationship was different. You weren’t being exploited. Rather, you were looked to for guidance. You might not have been the head honcho of the hotel business, but someday you would be. That was a legacy you truly held on to.

“A package arrived for you, Miss.”

You didn’t even bother to look up as you waved uninterested to your assistant. “Just set it down on the table.” Right now, these budget papers needed your attention. “I’ll open it later.” You hadn’t been expecting anything, but that wasn’t unusual. Partners or sponsors occasionally sent new products to test out or as a gift to keep the mutually beneficial relationship going strong.

“Yes, ma’am.” Jun put the small cardboard box on the coffee table set up on the other side of your office before bowing and leaving.

For another hour, you poured over the suggestions from the different departments of what they believed they needed to fully function for the upcoming fiscal year. All the numbers were beginning to blur together as a headache was starting to pound against your skull. You needed a break.

Yes, this was a much better career for you. Although those looking from the outside might see it as a step down, they didn’t fully understand. It was easy to look at the smiling face on a promotional campaign and stop. They didn’t dig deeper. The need to appear perfect but never reaching that level, the lack of decisions placed in your hands, the lack of privacy. What extremes had you gone to avoid paparazzi or overly adoring fans? How many dates had you gone on that were ruined either because the guy didn’t want all the attention or because that was exactly what they wanted?

Standing up, you stretched your legs by pacing around your office. Thankfully it was spacious enough to give you a good amount of room, letting you make large laps to get the blood flowing again. It was an office fit for a director with its tall windows on the top floor. Your father’s office was a few doors down the hall and even larger than yours. Maybe you should pace in there instead, to get more steps in. With the sun going down on the horizon, the chances of your father still being around were slim. Unlike you, he tried to keep to normal working hours. It made your mother feel more at ease about his health. A troubling concern that bothered you, too. When you were child, your father was Superman, invincible. As an adult, you were no longer shielded from the truths of an ailing body.

Before you could decide to check if his office was indeed empty, the package caught your eye.  The return address was a P.O. Box, absent of a name of whom it belonged to. Strange. It was also addressed directly to you, no formal title preceding it, as was often the case with promotional packages. You didn’t get too many delivers in this manner that weren’t of the router or legal envelopes variety. Grabbing a pair of scissors from your desk, you cut the tape and pulled back the cardboard flaps.

And then you screamed.

The box fell from your hands as Jun came running back into the room.

“Ma’am, what happened?” he asked frantically. With a trembling hand, you pointed to the package that was now spilling out all over your carpet.

Old magazine clippings covered in red smears - smears that were obviously made of blood.

“Don’t touch anything,” Jun swallowed thickly as he backed you away. “I’ll call the police and have security review who dropped it off.”

You nodded, unable to voice anything, too paralyzed by fear. Because this was no ordinary threat. This had nothing to do with who you were today. You knew those clippings, those old articles that you hadn’t thought about in years. That part of your life had long been behind you. The only remnant of it was the rare “Where are they now?” tabloid entry that no one read. So why had someone done this? Why now?

**

No.

No, no, no, no, and no.

There was no way you were going to agree to this. Your life was exactly the way you wanted it to be and you didn’t need some over muscled buffoon messing it all up. In your opinion, you should let the detectives do their work while you let this creep know that you weren’t scared of him. The initial shock of the first package had worn off and now you were just pissed.

“I don’t think that this is necessary. At all.” You were determined to with this argument as you sat across from your father in his living room. His face was scrunched with worry and dark circles pulled at the skin underneath his eyes. When he called you over to your childhood home, you thought he was simply going to give you an update on the police investigation into your stalker.

Hah.

Instead he had a bomb to drop on you – no pun intended. His idea of keeping you safe with this stalker on the loose. If it had just been the one package, you would have had a stronger argument. But the phone calls started two days later. No words were spoken, just heavy breathing. You couldn’t even get a creative psychopath.

“I will not lose my only child,” your father insisted.

“I can take care of myself,” you said. “Increase security in the main lobby and start screening all packages that come in. We don’t need to go to extremes.”

Your father was much better at presenting counter arguments. “What if the stalker manages to get through the front lobby? Or if the mail comes to your home next time? Or if he approaches you at a restaurant or the park? Distanced security will only go so far. I need someone who will be there in a split second if something were to happen.”

“Father, please, do not stick some stuck up, full-of-himself babysitter on me at all times.”

“A babysitter is meant for children, and from what I see, you’re a grown woman in trouble.”

In the doorway leading from the main hallway to the living room stood three very different, yet very imposing men in tailored black suits. The one who spoke stepped forward. His black hair was parted on the side, curling slightly over his forehead. Two little dots sat below his left eyebrow. He possessed a fierce sharp face that had the ability to look… bored, almost. The others that flanked either side were complete opposites: one short with light brown hair and a stocky build, the other tall with platinum hair and a lankier frame. Not exactly the run-of-the-mill bodyguards. Were these the ones that would be stuck with you all day and night?

“Ah, Jaebeom,” your father greeted as he stood from his spot on the couch opposite of where you stood. Walking around, he shook this Jaebeom’s hand enthusiastically. “Thank you for coming. Your agency came highly recommended.”

Jaebeom placed his hand against his chest, bowing gratefully. “We’ve worked hard to gain our reputation.”

“And will one of you three be guarding my daughter?”

“Only in the areas where extra protection is needed,” Jaebeom said. “Given the gravity of the situation, I’m putting my best man on this.”

Crossing your arms, you felt like the child who got caught with their Halloween candy under the bed and now the parents were talking about what punishment to deal out. “And who would that be?”

“Park Jinyoung,” the silver haired one smirked.

“He’s finishing up another assignment at the moment, so he couldn’t be with us today,” Jaebeom said.

You raised an eyebrow. “What kind of assignment?”

“A short term one.”

A bit cryptic, but you were smart enough to know when a battle wasn’t worth fighting. Whatever this Park Jinyoung was doing before he would stick to you like flypaper, it was none of your business. A small little prayer that his assignment would take longer than expected and wouldn’t show up at all was cited in your head. Pointless. Surely, Jaebeom would just insert another guard until “his best man” was available again. Your father would insist.

“I thank you for your attentiveness on this.” For the first time in weeks, the tension in your father’s shoulders released. Guilt twisted at your stomach. Though you were sure that, with a little bit of time, this stalker would get bored and move on, your father’s worry was unsurmountable.

You didn’t want to deal with this. Turning away from the others, your arms moved from a defensive position to one where you were holding yourself together. Life wasn’t supposed to be like this. Not now that you were the boss, now that you were behind the scenes, away from the red-carpet premieres and flashing bulbs that burned your retinas. You had a grip on all aspects of your life. Your apartment was decorated the way you wanted, not your mother. You made final decisions for the company. That package was snatching the control of your life from your hands.

“Hey.”

You turned your head to glance over your shoulder. The stockier bodyguard had approached you, his hands in the pockets of his trousers. A sympathetic expression softened the sharper features of his face. He could be intimidating, with his broad shoulders yet lithe build shown off by the tailored suit.

“Jinyoung really is the best among us,” he said. “He’ll make sure you’re safe and I wouldn’t be surprised if he caught this guy in the meantime.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” you sighed as you turned around fully, “but it's not the stalker that I’m worried about. I like my privacy, my life the way it is now. With a guard following me around all day, word about this will get out. And then the paparazzi will be back on me like clumps of sticky rice.” They wouldn’t be able to resist a story like this.

“I know it sucks, but it won’t be forever.”

You nodded, but more in acknowledgment that he had spoken rather than in agreement. It was easy enough to say that something would end; everything does. But what you wanted was to be able to physically be close to the end. You wanted to see it, reach out and graze it with the tips of your fingers. But there was no light in this tunnel. If you ever met this stalker, you would make sure that at least one of you ended up in the hospital.

“Jackson,” Jaebeom called out, catching both of your attentions. The leader motioned out the door with his head. “Let’s go.” He turned back to your father. “We’ll make another round at the office, get to know your security there, and create a rotation that will cover the area sufficiently.”

“I thank you again for all your work. I look forward to meeting this Park Jinyoung.”

“He should arrive by tomorrow evening. If something holds him up, we’ll contact you.”

Your father shook his hand before the three bodyguards left. When it was just the two of you again, you leaned up against the wall and let out a rather unseemly raspberry between your lips.

“Please, don’t be like that,” your father begged. “I’m only trying to do what I think is best to protect you.”

“I know, I know,” you said, exasperated. “I just… I feel like I’m sixteen again.”

Your father chuckled. “If I remember correctly, you enjoyed your bodyguards back then.”

“Because I was stupid and it made me feel important.” Very important, indeed. Not just anyone had big burly men surrounding them as they walked through airport to get to the blacked-out van waiting for you in the car park. They were the ones who kept the photographers and overzealous fans at bay. When you were young, you looked at those pictures where you were wearing sunglasses to block out the flashing and thought you were one of the coolest people in the world. Now the very thought of that situation made you feel pity – whether it was old pictures of yourself or newer one of the latest generation of young stars. There was nothing to envy. Not when all you wanted was to be able to walk through the airport and make it to your flight without worrying around being crowded or pulled at or hear the constant screaming. And you weren’t even a heartthrob popstar. You’d dated a few, though.

“Well, things are different now,” you father said in an attempt to be comforting. “and I spoke to others who had used Lim Jaebeom’s services and they said it was like his men were hardly even there.”

It took a lot of self-control to bite down and keep your tongue from spouting off. Because it didn’t matter how invisible the guards felt to the others – they were probably used to treating employees like they didn’t exist. You were not going to be able to do that. You were going to be too hyperaware of the extra presence in your life. Like a shadow creeping behind you down a dark alley. Always there in the corner of your eye, lurking and waiting.

“I should probably be getting home,” you said.

Your father nodded in agreement. “I’ll have Seonjo see you there.”

“Father, I-” One quick, stern look cut off any argument. “Yes, sir.” So much for being a grown woman.

Seonjo was one of your father’s own security. He was loyal to the family, your father most of all. He once sent a disgruntled employee to the hospital for trying to harm your father. He never directly admitted to having a license to kill, but you wouldn’t be surprised. As a child, he’d intimidated you. One time, he caught you trying to sneak out through the back kitchen door past midnight so you could go hang out with your friends. You thought that being thrown over someone’s shoulder was a stunt you would only have to perform in front of a camera. Needless to say, you didn’t try that again.

Out front, Seonjo was already leaning up against your car, waiting for you to unlock the doors. You didn’t fight him on who got to drive. You simply pulled your keys out and tossed them to the bodyguard before jumping into the passenger’s seat.

“How do you plan on get home?” you asked once you were down the road a ways.

“Rideshares are very common, you know,” Seonjo snorted. He’d become more playful as you’d gotten older. Your only guess as to why was perhaps he wasn’t very comfortable around children. Those little creatures were even more unpredictable than adults and from you had observed, Seonjo liked things… quiet. And orderly. Kids tended to be neither.

“But wouldn’t that break protocol?”

“They won’t enter the property,” Seonjo countered. “I’ll have them drop me off a little down the road and walk the rest of the way.”

“Always the man with a plan,” you laughed.

“That’s the job,” he replied with a smile.

Safe and sound in your own apartment, Seonjo bid you a goodnight and headed down the elevator to meet his rideshare driver down on the sidewalk. You were a bit surprised that he wasn’t staying the night to watch over you, but you were thankful. One last night of freedom in your own home before the lion came a’ prowling. It didn’t feel fair at all. But it just goes to show that the past never stays asleep for long.

**

“So, wait, let me get this straight: you… are… complaining at the fact that a man has to protect you and keep you safe from your crazy, maniacal stalker?”

You rolled your eyes at your best friend, knowing that you should have been prepared for this.

Dan had been by your side since the two of you costarred in a short-lived comedy series about high school students. Not that either of you were that sad about its less-than-a-season lifespan. Right after that, you snagged the lead in the show was the defining role of your acting life and Dan was able to move on to create his own fashion line. You couldn’t say what your other costars were up to now, but Dan was always – and would always be – a constant in your life.

“Its not that serious,” you said again as you leaned forward on your desk. Dan had come to your office to have dinner with you since he was sure that it wasn’t safe for you to eat out in the open in a crowded restaurant. You know, where witnesses were present.

“See, you keep saying that, but I’m not sure if you’re aware of the actual definition of serious.” Dan folded his hands and pulled up on his knee as he crossed his legs. “The phone callss might be passable, but the package of pig’s blood with old magazine articles about you isn’t as easily overlooked.”

“I get it. I really do. But I like how my life is right now. I don’t want to think about that pompous brat of an actress I was.”

“Okay, first of all,” Dan held up a finger, “you weren’t that bad because I never would have been your friend if you were.” Now a second finger. “Second of all, you can’t control other people, honey. I don’t know why they’re suddenly fixated on you after nearly eight years, but they are. And you have to deal with it.” A cheeky look came across his face as he lifted his glass of wine to his lips. “Besides, you never know. Maybe this Park guy will be handsome and the two of you will fall in love while he protects you from the axe wielding maniac.”

You gave him your best deadpan look. “You’ve watched The Bodyguard too many times.”

“Whitney Houston is an icon. She created one of the greatest ballads of all time with that movie.”

“Actually, the song was originally written by Dolly Parton.”

Dan jumped at the third voice, nearly spilling his wine. Thankfully, the liquid didn’t leave the glass, and he was wearing black pants anyway.

Standing in your open doorway was a man in a sharp black suit with a simple cut. It was the causal kind, like your father never wore. Hair almost as dark as the suit was parted on the side and slicked back away from his forehead. The smallest of smirks rested in the corner of his mouth, giving a little bit of light to his otherwise serious expression.

Surprised that he finally showed up after waiting all day, you stood to your feet and walked over to your new bodyguard. You held out your hand for him to take. It was a strong grip, but not so much so that it was intimidating. He kept eye contact with you, but in a way that was creepy or uncomfortable. “Hi. I’m (y/n).”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, (y/n). My name is Park Jinyoung. Jaebeom already informed you that I was assigned to watch over you until this stalker is caught.”

“Yes, he did.”

Dan hopped up from his seat and came to stand beside you. With his own hand stretched out, he took the liberty of introducing himself. “Hi, I’m Daniel Larken. The fashion designer? You might have heard of me.”

Jinyoung shook his hand, obviously amused by the forwardness. “The one with the reflective suits?”

“It’s actually a shimmer sewn in with the thread,” Dan corrected.

“Ah,” Jinyoung nodded. “Good work.”

“Thank you.”

Jinyoung’s eyes flickered back and forth between you and Dan, smirking. He was enjoying this. Well, at least one of you would be. And now that Dan was fully onboard, there was no one left to stand by you. It was official. You were stuck with this Park Jinyoung. As long as he agreed to stay out of your way and not completely upend your life, then this shouldn’t be too bad of an arrangement.

With a brewing smile of his own, Dan turned to you. “I want one.”

You crossed your arms sternly. “No.”

[alphacygni]

The one with the interdimensional snogging.

****************

Crowley’s Flat

The Night of the (Not) End of the World

 Evil, it had been established, never sleeps. Crowley himself indulged, of course, but otherwise, on the whole, the maxim stood.

The question occupying Crowley at the moment, however, as he watched Aziraphale circle his flat like a jumpy mouse dropped into a maze, was the inverse proposition: does Good sleep?

Given that Evil is boundless and ever abroad, Good would have to keep up, wouldn’t it? Good couldn’t be seen slacking. There was a whole deadly sin for that: one of Crowley’s favorites, in fact[1].

Metaphysics aside, however, Aziraphale did look tired. The first yawn had been understandable enough, coming as it did while Crowley tried to explain, with little success, the purpose of a wireless router.

The second yawn had burst through the angel’s admiration of Crowley’s tropical orchids[2].

The third came just as Aziraphale’s circuit brought him to the statue, where it battled a puzzled smile and a lean in for a closer look. “What the deuces are they—“

“Fancy a lie down?” Crowley interrupted, directing the angel away. “The bed’s through there if—”

The look on Aziraphale’s face told him he’d been dangerously misunderstood.

“If you want to rest.” As if to illustrate, Crowley stretched his arms theatrically. “I’m knackered myself. Could do with another century-long kip, probably.”

The mouse in the maze appeared to have gotten an electric shock. “Oh…well. Yes. I suppose I wouldn’t say no to a rest. Tiring business, the Apocalypse. I’ll, uh…I’ll take the sofa.”

They both looked at the black sofa skulking in the center of the room. Corners glinted and pristine leather menaced. It looked as inviting as a metal bench in a heatwave. When Aziraphale finally worked up the courage to sit, the cushions growled resentfully.

“Modern furniture,” Crowley explained. “Not really about comfort.”

“I should have known modern design was one of yours.” The angel gave him a small smile.

It bolstered him. “We could…I mean, if we’re both going to lie down, I don’t see why we couldn’t…?”

A swallow. “Oh, I don’t know.”

“Your virtue’s safe, angel. Besides, we’re about to spend Devil knows how long wearing each other’s faces and bodies around. I think we’re past the point of blushing about lying in the same bed.”

As it turned out, however, they weren’t.

The moment they were lying beside one another, the angel blushed furiously. It was uncomfortably charming[3].

They stared at each other, as far from sleep as two beings—celestial, infernal, or otherwise—could possibly be. Neither suggested sobering up. Alcohol, at the moment, was a marvelous ally.

“Well,” Crowley said unhelpfully.

“Yes.” Aziraphale agreed. “Rather.”

Sheets whispered as they turned away from each other, back to back, Crowley on his side, the angel on his—a miniature cosmos on thousand thread-count silk.

“G’night, angel.”

“Um…yes. Good night.”

Silence.

The first few minutes eked past, and Crowley was sure he’d never been less relaxed in his life. Each shift registered Richter-like; each sound poured through a funnel into his ear.

One of the nice[4] things about linear time, however, is that it just…moves on, continues, end over end, until a person can grow accustomed to even the most unnerving events. And so, eventually, as time ticked forward, the strangulated muscles in Crowley’s back loosened, the whites of his eyes faded. Shoulders rounded forward, and he let himself stretch: all of him, corporeal and non-corporeal bits alike. It was a hellishly good feeling. Manifesting in a physical body wasn’t terrible, but it was irritating: something like walking around with a pebble in your shoe except, in this case, his body was the pebble and the shoe was a radiant form of demonic energy that permeated all that had been or would be from the beginning of creation to the end of time.

Beside him, the angel’s breathing stopped, which Crowley took for a good sign.  He’d relaxed enough to give up the illusion of oxygen-carbon dioxide exchange and had even begun to release his corporeal hold a bit. In the space at their backs, reality slackened, fluttering between this world and beyond.

It was in this way that Crowley got a peek.

It wasn’t the sort of peek one got, say, through a lit window from behind bushes. This was in a mirror, darkly, and had nothing to do with eyes. Crowley stayed turned away, but he saw it nevertheless: the angel, Aziraphale—all of him, dazzling as a beam of sunlight might be if it could multiply itself infinitely and blaze across every wavelength and color at once.

Had Crowley been pretending to breathe, the sight would have taken his breath away.

So rapt was he, in fact, that he startled stupidly when the angel spoke.

Spoke is, perhaps, an inaccurate term. What Aziraphale said was not aloud nor in any language that has ever sounded on the Earth. It was a celestial tongue—one Crowley had not heard in more than six-thousand years and one no human could ever hope to comprehend. To human ears it would sound like nothing so much as Beauty shaped around Truth: the cool whisper of wind on a spring morning. The ache of bowed strings. The ecstatic crash of waves on a still and empty shore.

The closest translation into human English, however, would be in the decidedly less transcendental vicinity of: I’ll show you mine…

Crowley forced a useless breath. And another.

He was vaguely aware of the spot where he gripped the sheets.

He wanted to throw open the curtain and let the angel look—yearned for it in a way that had 6000 years at its back. He longed to show and to be seen as he hadn’t been seen since Before. Since his wings had burned black.

But he knew better. He had to measure it. Tread lightly.

He didn’t want to go too fast.

A fraction—as titillating a fraction as he could manage—Crowley released his hold on reality, too. Between their backs, matter bucked and waved as if caught in a breeze. For the first time in his corporeal existence, Crowley felt the prickle of hair on the back of his neck. The uncanny thrill of being watched by a hundred eyes.

When the angel’s wing touched his in that space between it was soft and almost. Feathers and light slid for no more than a held breath. Nothing to see.

But to feel…

Crowley still remembered—still relived often in the pit of his stomach—the sensation of his Fall. The pull and the terror, the blistering heat that that gave way to creeping cold and to the gleam of amputation.

This was the opposite—not a Fall but an Ascent, electricity pinging to both poles at once. It worked down his spine like a teasing finger, stroked up his leg like a wanton hand. It grabbed him, firm, about the middle and filled him until there was nothing left but surrender and a hunger too hot and immediate to name.

It was warmth. That warmth of the Beginning, before everything else.

Around them ions rattled, every atom singing, echoing in those hollows between electrons.

He was panting (uselessly), he was sweating (uselessly), and he’d cried out, he was sure, whether in this reality or the one beyond he didn’t know. A moan, a prayer or both at once.

How does a demon say hallelujah?

At the sound, the angel startled, and the curtain drew taut once more.

Another fall.

A diz z y pop and

a lack.

“I…I don’t know if this is a good time to…”

Everything settled back into the mold of reality, sliding around the angel’s tiny, earthly voice. Crowley became aware of his eyes again, sight and color returning in patches as if he’d stared too long at the sun. When he touched them, he found them damp.

“There…there’ll be a lot happening tomorrow.” The angel’s voice juddered as he stood, renewed breaths uneven. “I’ll, um, I’ll keep a watch.”

But Crowley heard the words behind—a different sort of unspoken language.

It was that same question again.

What if I did the wrong thing?

And Crowley wondered, as always, if there was ever a right one.

Alone again, he rolled over until he was on the other side. It was still warm.

He breathed in that familiar scent and tried, desperately, to rest.

**************

[1] In the same way waiters at posh restaurants are asked to try dishes so as to make recommendations, demons are required to indulge in each of the deadly sins in order to more effectively tempt humanity. Crowley had spent much of the doldrums of prehistory trying them out one by one. For his money, sloth had the others beat by a country mile, though lust could come a close second when the timing was right. He’d never quite got the hang of acedia, so he was glad when they knocked that one off and replaced it with a proper, respectable sin like envy.

[2] Tropical orchids did not typically thrive in London, but Crowley’s orchids knew what was good for them.

[3] Crowley was, in fact, briefly tempted to rearrange his rank ordering of the deadly sins.

[4] And terrible.

[zombierunfiction]

Season 2 Mission 8: Chicken Payback

A few weeks had past and Abel was beginning to look more back to normal.  Walls had been reconstructed and buildings had been repaired.  Charlotte was in Sam's coms room helpping him get some new tech that Jody had brought in attached to the scanners.  

Charlotte was getting the cords under the desk set up while Sam checked the scanners to make sure the tech was accepted.  Sam had been uncharacteristically quiet all morning which made Charlotte a little worried.

"Penny for your thoughts love?"  Charlotte asked as she tightened a zip tie around a bundle of cords.

"Just... uh... thinking about something."  Sam said nervously.

"And that something is?"  Charlotte probed again.

Sam sighed softly then squated down so he could look at her.  "You know I love you right?"

That made her incredibly worried.

Charlotte sits up on her elbows looking at her.  "Of course.  I love you too.  What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong... just... I was talking to the Major yesturday... and she told me and I agree with her but I don't know how you would feel about it because I know how private you are-"  Sam rambled on.

"Sam."  Charlotte said making him stop.  "What did you and the Major talk about?"

Sam took a slow breath before looking at her.  "I know beds are rather limited so the Major suggested that... we share living area together."

Charlotte felt her heart flutter and a smile moved over her lips.  "Your asking if I would move in with you.  Essentially."

"Well uh... considering we're already living together in the township I guess it wouldn't change much but we would be sharing one bed-"

"I'd like that."  Charlotte said making Sam stop.

"R-really?  You would?"  Sam asked smiling brightly.

Charlotte laughs softly.  "Yes.  I'd love to live with you."

Sam smiled even more as he crawled under the desk kissing her deeply.  Charlotte happily returned the kiss running her fingers through his hair.  She hummed as he laid completely on top of her carding his fingers into her hair.

A cleared throat broke them apart making Sam slam his head into the desk.  "Ah!  Ow ow ow ow!"  He whined holding his head.

"Are you ok Sam?" Maxine asked with a small laugh.

"Yeah. I'm fine."  Sam said tensely as he got off Charlotte standing up still rubbing his head.

"Didn't mean to get you hurt but I figured Charlotte would like to hear about a mission that is needing to be done quickly."  Maxine said.

Charlotte got up from under the desk and gently checked Sam's head.  "Sure what's going on?"  She said once she was done with Sam.

"We need barbed wire for the perimeter wall and you will be running with a New Canton runner."  Maxine said somewhat carefully.

Charlotte's smile fell instantly as Sam took his hands away from his head.  "After what Nadia tried to pull I don't like the idea of Charlotte being put with someone who might try and hurt her again."

"I get it, Sam, really, I do. But the Major's been explaining how important working together with New Canton is.  We've got that summit coming up - peace discussions!"  Maxine countered before looking at Charlotte.  "For the survival of the human race, we have to share resources and expertise, and not keep on with this backbitting, childish tit for tat."

Charlotte glared at MAxine.  "Childish tit for tat?  Are you saying that deliberately trying to get me killed is just what?  A game?"

"Charlotte relax... I didn't mean it like that.  Look we've got a larger enemy, here.  Van Ark is the one who attacked us.  He's the one who fired that rocket launcher at Five's chopper.  He's the one who keeps sending his zoms against us.  He's got Paula!"  Maxine said trying to push the issue.

Sam and Charlotte both sighed heavily as Charlotte kisses Sam's cheek.  "I'm going to go get ready."  She moved past Maxine and headed to the packs.  She put on her bag, grabbed the axe she used since her outing with Simon to clear their path, and her head set with the headcam attached.  "Can you two hear me?"  She asked.

"Loud and clear Five."  Maxine said.  

"So how are you?  Since we found out Paula's, um... working with Van Ark?  How are you?" Sam asked softly.

"Fine.  Yeah, I'm fine."  Maxine said softly.

"Okay, yeah, fine.  Hearing that.  Raise the gates!  I guess, well... open the gate."  Once the gate was raised Sam spoke again.  "And go!"  Gun shots rang out taking out a few zoms as Charlotte took off down the path sighing softly.

"New Canton have put that operator Nadia under house arrest.  They know what she did was wrong.  They're trying to make amends in all ways they can."  Maxine said as Charlotte looked up seeing Archie running over to her with a smile.

"They've sent me!"  Archie said happily as they met in the middle and headed down a connecting path.

"Yeah... I, uh..."  Sam started before whispering.  "Is that amends, exactly?  It's not quite-"

"It's going to be lots of fun, today!"  Archie said happily.  "We need barbed wire to make your township secure so you can come to the meeting.  And maybe we'll find some apples?  I love apples!  So crunchy!  Well, the old ones are soft and sweet."  Archie snorts almost angry about it.  Suddenly her smile returns.  "All apples are good apples!"  

Charlotte looked at her oddly as Maxine whispered softly.  "Can you believe she has a PhD in protein crustallography, Sam?  From Cambridge."  Suddenly Charlotte did a double take on Archie.

This girl's head was so far in space that she could be passing Jupiter!

"I still think she might stop dead in the middle of a zom attack to look at an interesting cloud."  Sam whispers back.  "'Dead' being the operative word."  

Archie smiles looking at Charlotte.  "Come on!  There's barbed wire around one of the Rofflenet transmitter stations that way.  We can cut it off for now.  Borrowing is okay!"

"Right.  Let's make it a good one.  Mission to retrieve barbed wire from Rofflenet station: go!"  Sam said as they continued down the path.

A while later Charlotte had a thought.  "Who put up these Rofflenet stations, anyway?  I mean, it's rather foreward thinking to have set them up prior to the outbreak."  

"I think it was mostly done piecemeal by survivors, using old transmissions stations, that kind of thing?  Some dedicated radio and communications people left transmitters powered by solar or wind generators to be a repeater stations."  Maxine explained.

Charlotte raised an eyebrow but before she could say something Archie jumpped in.  "How would they do it?  Hmm... I expect any old Linksys router would do.  Just grab two APs with microwave dishes, flash the router with DD-WRT, simple BGP routing table, and hook the whole thing up to a car battery, and it would work just fine!  If you would put on a wind turbine, the LEDs would probably keep on blinking for years.  Very clever of them."  She said seriously.

"Ok... that's just went 35,000 feet over my head."  Charlotte said as Archie giggled.

"I... uh, yeah.  Um.  That sounds about right, yeah..."  Sam said slowly.

Soon enough they came upon a tall radio tower with a small building below it.  There was a wire fence with the barbed wire wrapped around the top of it a good 6 yards away from the building.  

Something about this seemed odd to Charlotte.  

Why would they put so much space between the fence and the building?

"This one's very well looked after.  A fence, and barbed wire.  Like a little bird in a nest!  It won't mind if we take some of the wire for now.  And then you can come and visit New Canton, because you'll know Abel will be..."  Archie stopped for a moment looking around before gasping.  "chickens!"

Charlotte blinked looking at her then following her line of sight.

"Abel will be... chickens?  Is... is that some kind of tech jargon?"  Sam asked very confused.

"Look, she's right!  On our cams, just to the north of the repeat station.  It looks like a small flock of chickens!"  Maxine said.

"They must have come from some farm."  Charlotte said seeing the half a dozen chickens clucking softly and pecking at the ground.

"Now, I don't know how to, um, flash a router with a WD-40 or whatever it was, but I am pretty sure that chickens produce eggs?"  Sam suggests.

"And sometimes baby chickens!"  Archie said gleefully.

"Which makes more eggs?"  Sam offers again.

"Her graps of biology is really impressive."  Maxine whispers sarcasticly.

"So, if you're thinking what I'm thinking..."  Sam starts.  

"Come on, Charlotte, with me!  After the chickens!"  Archie said as the two of them ran towards the chickens.  Archie tried to dive for one only for it to jump away.  Charlotte couldn't help but laugh as she ran to the side of the now running chicken and cut off it's escape by scooping it up.  "Come here chickie chickie chickie."  Archie said as she dived for another missing again.  

Charlotte laughed again smiling.  "Archie just stay there and I'll herd one over to you."  She said as she held onto her chicken chasing one then jumpped close to it making it leap right up into Archie's arms making her squeal.

"That's okay, little chicken, we're going to take you back to Abel and give you a nice life, with grain and things to peck!"  Archie said happily petting her chicken as Charlotte took of fher pack and gently put the chicken inside with only it's head sticking out.

"At least until we roast you with a wild mushroom sauce."  Sam whispers before humming happily.

"Hmm, but how are we going to cut the barbed wire around the transmission station?"  Archie asked.

"Put it under your arm, wings folded so it's not uncomfortable."  Maxine started before obviously recieving an odd look for Sam.  "What?  I grew up on a farm, okay?"

"I didn't say anything."  Sam replied.

"You didn't have to say anything."  Maxine countered.

The chicken in Archie's arms clucked softly as they walked back over to the fence.  "Oh, she's so happy now!  I'm going to give her a name!"

"Oh, don't do that!  We might want to, well, you know, eat it!"  Sam stressed.

"I will call her Mildred!"  Archie said happily.  "Or maybe Van de Graaff?  Do you think she's more of a Mildred or a Van de Graaff, Charlotte?"

Charlotte looks at her.  "Mildred Van de Graaff sounds good to me."

"Me too!"  Archie said happily.

"Yeah, okay.  Uh, so, with the chicken under that arm, and Five's chicken rather more sensibly nestled in a back pack, off to get that barbed wire now?  To defend Abel against attack by zombies?  You remember the zombies?"  Sam prodded.

"Come on, Mildred!  Let's go for a run!"  Archie said as they headed for a section of the fence they could start to take from.  "Okay, I see.  There are strips of barbed wire attached around the fence keeping zombies from the transmission hut.  So if I stand here, and-"

"Yes.  You stand there, with the chicken in your hand, and snip the barbed wire, and Five, you run around the fence and reel it in.  You've got gloves, yeah?"  Sam asked as Charlotte reached in the side pocket of the bag trying to get her gloves.  "We sent Runner Five out with gloves to get barbed wire, year?"

"I'm pretty sure."  Maxine said softly.

Charlotte pulled out her gloves and slipped them on.  "We have gloves."

"Good for getting chickens too!  Not so good for stroking chickens.  Hm... I wonder if chickens like to be stroked.  Do you think they do?"  Archie asked as she started to snip the barbed wire while Charlotte started rolling it up.  After the first roll was done she set it on the ground near them.  

"Good job with the barbed wire, Runner five!"  Sam said as Archie cried out suddenly.

"Ow, ugh!  Ew!"  Archie whimpered.

"What is it?"  Charlotte asked.

"Mildred Van de Graaff has gone poo poo all over my hand!"  Archie cried out as Charlotte snorted looking at the horrified look on Archie's face.  "Oh, it's coming out of her bottom!"  She  tried to knock it off before the chicken hit the ground with a loud cluck.  "Oh!  I dropped her!"  She said as Mildred took off away from her.  "Come here, Mildred, come here!"  Archie said chasing after her.

"Five what's going on?"  Sam asked.

"Archie is now chasing Mildred around.  I have to say this is a the funniest mission I've been on bar none."  Charlotte said as she followed after Archie.

"Mildred! Van de Graaf!  You naughty girl, come here!  ?No, don't, don't!"  Archie cried as Mildred ran through a break in the fence and into the area between the fence and the transmission station.  "No..."  Archie whined as she looked at the chicken walking around.

"The chicken has gone under the fence. I repeat, the chicken has gone under the fence."  Sam said half serious half bored.

Charlotte and Archie both looked through the fence at Mildred.  "Van de Graaff, come here!"  Archie said.

Charlotte looked around then walked over to the spot they had started to unwrap the barbed wire.  She took Archie's dropped shears and cut the remaining barbed wire and pushed them away.  "Here a bit of fence that you could climb over and get it Archie."  She said as Archie ran over.

"Okay, I'm going to climb over."  Archie said as she grabbed onto the top of the fence as Charlotte cupped her hands letting Archie step on it slowly getting up.  "Come here, Mildred Van de Graaff!  There's nothing for you in that transmission hut!  When I get over this fence, I'm going-"  As Archie's leg got over the fence Mildred took a step and the ground around her exploded up in a flash of orange light.  Charlotte and Archie gasped closing their eyes as debris flew at them  After a moment the two of them looked over seeing Mildred had been obliderated.  "Oh..."  Archie said softly.

"What was that?!"  Sam asked.

"Mildred Van de Graaff has exploded."  Charlotte said as Archie pulled her leg back over and hopped down.

Archie and Charlotte walked over to where they could see the hole that was left trying to see what happened.  "So, what, we're thinking - spontaneous chicken combustion?  Chicken, uh, destruction rays from space?"  Sam asked.

"Landmines."  Charlotte said simply.  

"Yeah, I was pretty much thinking landmines."  Maxine said.

"Yeah, yea, well that was my first thought, too.  We should send someone back to put up warning signs, in case anyone else thinks of scaling the fence."  Sam said as Archie was visibly deflated.

"I'm sad... Mildred Van de Graaff is dead."  Archie said as Charlotte wrapped her arm around Archie who laid her head on Charlotte's shoulder.

"And she didn't even end up a supper."  Sam sighed softly.

"Sam!"  Charlotte and Maxine snapped.

"Listen, um, I didn't make a joke about an 'egg'splosion, did i?"  Sam justified as he chuckled softly.  "Don't say I'm not respectful."

Maxine laughed softly.  "Yeah, well, that's a 'poultry' excuse."  She said laughing as Charlotte shook her head as she grabbed the barbed wire heading back towrads Abel.  "Oh well, it looks like we got enough barbed wire to patch that hole.  Come on home."

"I will miss Mildred Van de Graaf.  She was so rebellious and naughty."  Archie said with a smile.  "And why would someone put landmines around this little hut in the middle of nowhere?  Why have they nought thought of chicken safety?"  

"Yeah, it is a bit weird. Whoever designed the protection aorund this little comms hut did a... 'bang up' job?"  Sam started as Charlotte pursed her lips.

"Did you honestly just say that?"  She asked as she chuckled dryly.  

"I think I did, yeah.  I mean, I started, and I just couldn't make it stop."  Sam laughed as they continued back down the path.

"It is sad about Mildred.  But I will come back another day to find a new chicken.  I will call it Hubert Vexillology.  Or... no, that's a silly idea.  Hubert is a boy's name.  Instead... Ramona Newton!"  Archie said back to her excitable self.

There was a long pause before Sam spoke up.  "For the first time, probably ever, I think I have nothing to say to that.  Come on home, runners."  He said softly as the chicken in Charlotte's bag clucked softly.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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