#listening to screaming kids and in the heat of the sun and already motion sick from the car ride over

[softquietsteadylove]

We need more Thena and jack stories!

Let’s say thenamesh and jacks family go to a big amusement park when suddenly 4 giant deviants attack.

Let there be action and a little drama!

"Do you want some ice cream, Aunt Thena?"

She smiled, prying her eyes open and looking down at the kindest hearted human in all the galaxy. "You should be enjoying it, no?"

Jack twisted his little lips and turned the heaping dish of ice cream around in his hand a few times. "Hm, I think it'll be too much for me to eat by myself."

Thena smiled. She had heard loud and clear the urging by Jack to get the three scoop cup, despite his father's insistence that it would be too much for young Jack. He had asked for the three scoops with the intent on sharing. She leaned and pressed her lips to his hair, "thank you, Jack."

The boy blushed, offering the dish to her.

Thena picked up the spoon and took a delicate bite of the strawberry scoop. "Are you having fun?"

"Yeah, lots of fun," he mused idly, swinging his feet off the edge of the bench upon which she had been seated for the last hour. He squinted as the light filtering through the tree over them shifted and changed. "Are you?"

This amusement park was a nightmare designed specifically to be her own personal hell.

Jack had insisted she and Gil come with them, though. Jack always wanted them to be included when they went on family outings, and it was endearing to no end. So Thena endured car rides and school functions and the general crowding of city life for her nephew.

He had let her decline to actually go on rides, though. She had found this bench for herself in the shade, close enough to see them but far enough that she wasn't in the depths of the crowds.

"I am," she smiled, and he pursed his lips at her (in the way that she often did). It made her laugh, ruffling his hair again, "so long as you are."

"Well, okay," Jack accepted, taking a scoop of chocolate for himself while she had more strawberry. "I'm glad Uncle Gil is having fun."

Uncle Gil was currently on a ride with Ben which consisted of going through a completely dark section of tunnel on a rickety metal boat at unacceptable speeds.

"I believe he is quite enjoying the experience," Thena smiled even more. She wasn't sure how else poor Gilgamesh was supposed to experience the thrill of a theme park, so she was happy to be part of that for him as well.

"I've tried going on that ride before," Jack said quietly, looking at his black and purple sneakers. "Baba loves it, but it's too dark for me, and I think it makes Dad carsick."

Phastos was better than Thena when it came to automobiles, but it seemed that the accelerated speed and jerky turns of the rides also reduced him to a motionsick mess.

"Then we can enjoy our ice cream together," she suggested gently. If Jack was going to be melancholy for even a moment of his day of fun, she would not have it.

"'Kay!" he beamed up at her, with his teeth becoming less gappy as time went on. According to Phastos, he was in the process of losing all his small teeth and growing new ones.

What amazing processes the human body could endure.

Thena looked around the park. People were mulling around along the concrete pathways. The sun was beaming, but there was at least a breeze to rustle the trees and people's hair. For as little as she had experienced major metropolitan areas, this was by far the most bustling. There were people everywhere, several children crying as loud as they could, the sounds of machinery, of people screaming in joy. It was a lot to process.

She looked around. Something didn't seem right. It was just something at the edge of her mind, but it didn't feel like the beginning of an episode. Although, even then, she needed to have eyes on Gilgamesh. "Where are your fathers?"

Jack watched her looking around, swivelling her head like a bird of prey. "Uh, Dad said he was gonna look up places to eat after we leave. And the ride Baba went on with Uncle Gil is that way."

Thena followed the point of jack's finger to a line of people no more than a kilometre away. She stood sharply, holding their cup of ice cream, "they should be done by now."

Jack scrambled to his feet to join her. He was no longer so young that he was willing to hold hands just for the sake of it. But he was used to the nervousness that existed in her at times. He reached up, tugging at the sleeve of her white dress. "Aunt Thena, are you okay?"

She inhaled. She could feel something in the air. Something familiar, but also distant in her mind. And her Cosmic Energy was crackling inside of her. "Jack, I think something is coming."

"Like," he huddled somewhat closer to her, "bad guys?"

"Possibly," she murmured. She was thinking more along the lines of a horrific creature designed to look like a beast and a nightmare rolled into one. But she gave Jack's hand a gentle squeeze, "nothing will happen to you, Jack."

He looked up at her with wide eyes, "are you gonna fight them?"

"If I must." She would do what was necessary to protect the humans here, most of all, this human child.

"W-What about Uncle Gil, and Dad?" Jack continued, tugging at her sleeve more to dissuade her from seeking them out. "They'll fight whatever it is. You could let them handle it."

Thena stopped in her hurried steps, looking down at the worrisome boy beside her. "Jack?"

His little lip tightened, both of his hands attempting to anchor her wrist where she stood. "Don't go."

Thena's heart ached. In all her years on the planet, she had no experience to compare with this one. She had never felt the desire to turn away from the fight like she did now, just because Jack asked it of her.

Jack squeezed his eyes shut as she knelt down in front of him, kissing his forehead on the way.

She collected his tiny hands between hers. He would grow up so fast, his hands probably becoming larger than her own in no time. He would become a fine young man, then a grown man, just like his fathers. But that could only happen if she used every breath in her lungs to protect him. "I do not wish to leave you, Jack. But I will let the planet split apart at the seams before any harm shall come to you."

Before he could dissuade her further with his big teary eyes and wobbly lip, she turned away, looking through the crowds. A human would have no hope of seeing from their distance, but she picked out the head of her husband in an instant.

He looked their way, already frowning. He knew as well.

Thena scooped Jack up under her arm and jumped. If she moved fast enough she could probably remain undetected. It was a mere matter of dropping Jack at the feet of his father so she and Gil could deal with the danger at hand. "Do not leave your father's side!"

They were gone in a flash. If there were people recording their surroundings, they would look like blurs of motion. And the world was growing increasingly used to happenings like this.

"I thought they were gone," Gil voiced beside her as they ran towards the outer edge of the park.

"I cannot say I'm surprised by anything, at this point in time," she lamented as they skidded to a halt before leaping over the outer fence. The threat was still far enough away that those inside weren't panicked yet. They may be yet able to stop them within the parking lot.

"You two are show offs."

Thena offered no comment to her snarky brother, already summoning her blades to her hands. The bracelets around her wrists tightened around her skin. "You should be with Ben and Jack."

Phastos huffed at her, his rings floating around them with a gentle tinkling of metal. "They're fine. And I am not leaving you two to handle these things alone."

"How many are there?" Gil asked him, needing no further preparation than clenching his fists.

"Looks like four," Phastos looked at the palm of his hand. "And they're big."

"Then we will have to stop them here," Thena declared. She looked at her hands, reminding herself why she was holding weapons in the first place. No matter what, she could not leave this post. What was behind them was far too precious to risk.

"Hey," Gil whispered to her, touching the back of his fist to hers. Their Cosmic Energy sparked and fizzled at the contact. "You're not alone here, okay? Just stay close to me."

She looked at her husband, trying not to think of the last time they had been in combat. She nodded.

"You two take those ones!"

Phastos faced down the two larger ones prowling closer. They looked crocodillian, massive maws of teeth and scuttling legs at their sides. He thrust his fists forward, leashing them together with lassos of energy.

"Gil!"

He didn't need to be asked, grasping her by the waist and launching her up into the air. The flying ones were always the most troublesome. And this one would be capable of flying over the fences and walls and plucking those inside like ripened berries.

Thena grabbed onto its foot, already enough to shifts its balance. She reached up, climbing up its form until she could strike out, driving her blade through the membrane of its wing.

The winged beast roared as they plummeted, crashing to the ground again. Its body was met with the frame of several cars below. Thena tumbled off and away, rolling a few times before scraping her feet against the pavement. She wished she had the durable boots of her armour, but she was in sandals and a light sundress.

"Y'okay, T?!" Phastos called out from holding the other two at bay, with Gil grasping the tusks of the third one.

She didn't bother answering. They would know she was fine by that. It was if she called out them that would mark cause for alarm. She pulled up her blades again, sticking one straight through the underside of the Deviant's 'beak' and through its head. "One down."

Phastos did what he did best - one of several things, to his credit - sending an electrical current through the creatures tethered to him. They writhed in agony. "Finish 'em off!"

Gil tossed away the tusked one's positively mammoth body just to turn around and deliver a bone shattering punch to one of them. It was easy to tell it was effective when the Deviant's eyes exited the cranial cavity.

Thena leapt over the other one, easily landing with her blade pointed down, driving it in similar to how she had taken down the winged one. She was not going to waste time on these things. They were interfering with Jack's fun day. "That one."

Gil shook out his fist after killing one of the reptilian ones, only to look at the tusked one again, which was dragging its front feet to signal being ready to charge. "You ready, baby?"

Thena grinned. She had almost forgotten what a thrill the hunt could be. The battle thrummed through her veins as she took her stance beside her lover. "Always."

Gil focused his energy into his feet, driving them into the concrete and refusing to budge as he caught the elephantine Deviant by the tusks again. "All yours!"

Thena jumped onto one of the tusks as her launching point, twisting and leaping over its head to the back of it. There was quite a hump there, and clearly it was built to b e durable. But she wasn't going to hack at it blindly (who was she, Ikaris?).

The Deviant bellowed as she found the softness where its neck and head connected, and pierced. The creature reared up on its hind legs in one last ditch effort to rid itself of her.

Thena leapt off, flipping over a few times before landing. She'd had her feet out to land, but she found herself in her husband's arms. She blinked at him.

He smiled at her, "one of your sandals is torn, hon. Don't wanna ruin them before we get home."

She laughed; what a sweet Eternal her husband was. She nuzzled and then kissed his cheek as dust and wind rushed around them, signalling the fall of the largest Deviant.

"Seriously?" Phastos rolled his eyes at them, cleaning off his glasses with his shirt collar. "Can we go?"

Indeed, they had to go. New castors were arriving, crowds building. If they wanted even a semblance of a chance of escaping, it had to be now.

Thena sighed, "where is Sprite when you need her."

"C'mon," Phastos motioned to them to follow him, taking a roundabout route closest to the emerging crowds. They could blend in and pretend to be early spectators.

Gil laid his light jacket over her shoulders, "you feel okay?"

Thena looked down at the bracelets around her wrists. Her powers were in check and her mind was clear. She nodded, letting him kiss her cheek as they melded back into the human masses.

"Aunt Thena!"

She blinked, receiving a bundle of human youth hurtling at her. She patted his shoulders, "you should not have run off from your father, Jack."

"Are you okay?!"

She melted; how could she not, in the face of those big puppy eyes? She sighed, letting him cling to her after she had disappeared from his side so suddenly. They continued back into the depths of the park, Ben mere steps behind his son. "I am."

Ben put his hands on his hips as his husband also rejoined them. "Should I expect alligators if we ever go to Six Flags?"

Phastos rubbed his husband's back as they walked towards the other end of the park. "You know we can't go there, babe."

"Why not?" Thena asked with Jack still clinging to her as Gil patted his head to reassure him.

"It's all water," Phastos sufficed to say, and she had to agree. They all sank like stones (them and their semi-inorganic bodies, and all).

"Aunt Thena, will you come to Six Flags if we go?"

This boy--her one weakness! She sighed, "of course."

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs “Dihydrogen Monoxide”

Hello, everyone, I hope you are having a good week, and I hope you enjoy reading. Please feel free to critique comment, ask a question, request an idea or a prompt :)

The humans stood aboard the spaceship in near darkness shuffling nervously as they waited. Captain Kelly stood next to one of the UN representatives: She was a stern woman with a stiff resolve, but she was clearly very uncomfortable aboard the alien spaceship. This would have been her first venture off world. She hadn’t even visited Mars yet

As of that current moment they had been waiting in the ship for almost two hours. They had been told that Lieutenant Vir was being shipped in, one his way from the medical facility, and would be there within the next few hours. The aliens had wanted to wait until all the humans were together before allowing them onto the central planet.

Turns out there was another important reason for Vir’s contribution to alien science. As expected, diseases could be carried over from planet to planet. To allow them onto the planet, the entire population would have to be inoculated against human disease, and in turn, they would have to be inoculated against alien diseases. Vir would have received his at the medical facility, they received theirs earlier in the day. It was a little disconcerting knowing that the vaccines had only been tested on one human, but members of the Galactic Assembly had assured them that, out of necessity, they had become very proficient at creating vaccines.

Either way, no one was experiencing any adverse effects, yet.

One of the soldiers slumped down in the darkness to rest his legs.

The tension remained for another thirty minutes before a door in the side of room hissed open and a human figure stepped into the room. A stream of decontamination fog spilling around him. The youthful face of lieutenant Vir peered at them through the gloom blinking, “Who turned the lights off.” He wondered.

Members of the crew got up to greet him breaking the tense silence with some friendly teasing.

“Look its alien boy, finally got to live your dreams getting probed by aliens.”

The lieutenant rolled his eyes brushing condensation form his skin, “I’ve had army physicals more invasive than getting probed by aliens.” He leaned against the wall as the rest of the soldiers crowded around him. The kid seemed rather excited to be getting all of the attention, and despite herself, Captain Kelly moved closer to listen as he talked animatedly about his lone experience with the aliens.

“What did they want?”

“Mostly like specimens and stuff, skin, hair, saliva. You should have seen them freaking out over stomach acid. Looking at me like they thought I was going to melt into a puddle on the floor. Oh also, they totally think we are nasty. Apparently the amount of bacteria and vaccines they had to synthesize was…. Uh…. What did they say…. Unprecedented. “

The UN official moved forward to listen in, “Really, I never assumed…”

Vir shrugged, “Well we always knew that there was more bacteria on the human body than there are cells of human in the human body.

The crew murmured in surprise, but just then, another decontamination door opened up and one of the aliens stepped in.

It was a Rundi; that much Kelly knew. She was only beginning to learn all the new species names, and was still slow on the uptake. She was sure that lieutenant Vir already had their names, genetic phylum and species memorized. He was like that, the kid was like a sports geek collecting baseball cards, accepted he collected aliens. She walked past his room once, and the entire place was plastered in sketches and drawings of the aliens that they had already cataloged.

The Rundi greeted them with a bow of its insectoid head, “The inoculation has been complete. The atmosphere should be compatible for you.”

The UN woman adjusted her suit, “We thank you.”

The creature bowed at them again, and then scuttled across the room stopping by the far wall before pressing a button. Vir had moved forward towards the front of the room eyes wide with curiosity.

A burst of sunlight flooded through the cargo bay, and the humans lifted their eyes against the light. The Alien seemed rather confused at their reaction. The blinding light took longer to wear off for her than anyone else, she heard the gasps of shock and wonder before finally blinking her eyes open exposing her face to a waft of hot air.

Her eyes widened in shock and surprise.

Exposed as they were to a glittering white city and hundreds of aliens staring at them from a ten meter radius.

***

The strange creatures stepped from the ship and into the light of their Starr, they were tall, and walked on ONLY TWO LEGS. The entire crowd shifted back in mild anxiety upon spotting their eyes. They were forward facing, and pared with two rows of sharp glittering teeth. The eyes rolled around in their head tracking up and down the crowd with those slimy white orbs. The small dots within widened and shrank as if their brains were targeting systems set ready to kill.

Though they waked on two legs, their bodies moved with a fluid, and perfectly balanced grace. Whey they stopped, they still managed to balance even despite their completely unusual distribution of weight. The endo-skeleton allowed the crowd to watch as the muscles moved beneath their skin.

Hesitantly, one of the creatures approached the barricade. The crowd pulled back in worried tension. The creature stopped, “Uh…. I’m not going to hurt you.”

The other creatures jiggled their heads in an odd motion before agreeing with the first.

The crowd finally allowed the strange predators to approach, moving around them like they would ravenous desert lurkers.

***

The first problem they encountered when dealing with the humans happened a few hours into the day, it was hot and the humans were beginning to lag in their energy levels. They had been meeting many very important people throughout the day, and they were all hot and tired, this planet ranged about eighty to ninety degrees throughout the day. They had met up with another member of the council who had attempted to greet them in a human fashion, Moments after their hands made contact, the creature’s arm burst out into a horrible purple rash, apparently very painful.

The UN woman looked down at her hand as medical personnel pulled the representative away holding his arm out in front of him in horror. Humans and aliens staring alike, they all noted no such rash on the woman’s hands. They were quarantined for almost half the day after that incident while they attempted to identify the bacteria that had done the damage. Turns out they found some sort of chemical irritant.

By the tie they came into test, the humans had cooled off, and, once her hand’s had been swabbed, no chemical was found. It was a complete mystery, so the humans were finally let out into the sun, which had only grown more intense.

Soon the heat was growing oppressive as the humans desperately looked around for a water source.

Eventually they made it towards the Galactic assembly entrance, and one of the humans spotted something the assembly hoped they would overlook. It was a dihydrogen monoxide pit quarantined by a high wall and multiple caution lines.

By this time the humans were practically sagging under the sun. The aliens didn’t know what to do for them, they didn’t understand what they needed. Were they about to keel over and die, was there something in the atmosphere. What was happening?

And then the humans saw the pit, and the worst thing imaginable happened, one of them responded, “F*** it, I’m dying.” And broke into a run towards the pit. The aliens screamed confused by the translation.

The human had chosen to die!

They tried to stop him, but he leaped over the caution lines setting off alarms before pitching himself over the wall and into the burbling pit of poison. Screaming all around, security officers raced from the building running as close to the edge as they dared expecting to watch as the human shriveled up as it’s juices were sucked into the water.

But, instead, they found the human floating on his back in the substance ducking under before coming back up gasping a serene look on his face. A couple of the humans joined in unable to contain themselves.

The one named Captain Kelly and their leader stayed behind both looking oddly sick and envious as they watched the other humans frolicking in the deadly liquid.

“What is the meaning of this?!” One of the officers demanded

The UN woman raised her hand playacting, “It’s just water…. I don’t.”

The security officer jabbed an appendage at the water, “Dihydrogen monoxide is a deadly poison to some of the species on this world, you can’t just play in it.”

Knowledge was beginning to dawn on Captain Kelly, “I…. our world is covered 2/3s by water. We need it to survive. Our bodies are over 60% water, and the heat is dehydrating us. If we don’t get water soon we will get sick.”

The officer stared at her incredulous.

“You’re not serious.”

“Yes we are, please they’re just thirsty. It’s the one thing we need before everything else.” Captain Kelly was growing desperate now. She was so thirsty.

“You drink poison?” The guard asked again.

“Yes, yes we do…..” She paused, and then it dawned on her, “I, yes and it comes out of our skin to keep us cool in heat, that’s what happened earlier, the council woman’s hands were sweaty and that’s why the representative broke out.”

All around them the alien creatures paused in surprise and confusion. They hadn’t even considered that.

***

A couple minutes later, Captain Kelly had retrieved her unit from the poison pit, and made them to stand out to dry before bringing them inside. Once there, a hazmat team came bearing bowls of water. Members of the Assembly looked on in horror as the humans downed what must have been gallons of poison. Bowl after bowl was brought to them until they seemed satisfied.

There were going to have to be laws and precautions put in place for this. As it turned out water made up pretty much everything in the human body, making them toxic to a small minority of Gamma class species. The two would be able to interact on a small time basis assuming the human wasn’t sweating, but in a climate like this that was almost impossible to secure.

In short, humans drank poison and could be toxic.

[the-canary]

Sky Full of Song (6/10)

Summary: Giving a recovering amnesiac the proper musical education he was missing, wasn’t supposed to involve feelings, right? (Reader/Bucky Barnes)

Prompt:  “Should I reveal exactly how I feel?”

Word Count: 1771

Masterlist

A/N: This is for @redgillan writing challenge. hbd to myself.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 4.5 | Part 5

“So, why is Six afraid of Seven?” you can already feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head at Four’s joke.

“Why?” Two dares to be the one asking the question.

“Cause her malfunctioning powers destroyed his lab. The poor guy, ” he wheezes out, as Two hits him in the ribs. You hear Six’s strained chuckle in the back of the room.

Cue your groaning, as Two shakes her head at Four’s awful joking. It doesn’t have the intended response, but it eases the tense air within the medical bay. Six had asked them leave saying that you were going to be alright, but they wouldn’t have it after the last mission -- your screaming and afterwards blacking out when the drive you were using your powers on overloaded had caught them both off guard -- you were usually much better this, had your feelings in control. Now, not so much.

“Have you had any nightmares lately?” a tall, dark-haired man comes up to question you sitting on the medical table, while all you do is nod no.

“Any fluctuations of emotions recently?” hazel eyes look up from the tablet they are scanning through to see you frowning.  Four’s ohhh makes you feel like you’re a child being caught stealing cookies before dinner. You all knew what uncontrolled emotions did to your powers and that made them, particularly Six, very protective of you.  

He motions your two partners to leave the room more seriously this time, as they send you hesitant smiles before exiting the medbay. You sit there and swing your legs due to the nervousness of it all, you hadn’t really blacked out while using your powers since you had been found by S.H.I.E.L.D all those years ago. It was worrying and you think Six might be feeling it too.  

“Who have you been commiserating with?” he asks while looking at familiar pair of gloves (that had helped controlled your power as a teenager and young adult), though they seemed a little different from the last time you had seen him, maybe he (or even Mr. Stark) had improved on them since the last time you had used them.

“Sergeant Barnes,” you simply answer, as Six turns to look at you with a raised eyebrow.

Six calls your real name softly, as you turn to look at him, “You know why we keep your circle as tight as it is. You’re an adult, but I hope you take your health into consideration as well.”

“ I’m trying ,” you murmur angrily, as he nods ignoring your outburst and brings up nothing more of the subject before pulling over a chair and placing those gloves and a headphone set on your lap.    

“Okay, what would you like to listen you?” he asks with a smile that reminds you an older brother.

“David Bowie.”

“Excellent choice.”

“Okay, so she likes you and you like her,” Sam pauses as he watches the former Winter Soldier pace back and forth, “I don’t see what the problem is here. Lost your touch, old man?”

“You don’t know that,” Bucky remarks while running his flesh hand through his hair in an agitated manner, “What if she just did it out of pity or…”

His voice dies out in the end because he doesn’t want to think of her that way, Sam just shakes his head at the sudden lost puppy dog look that appears on the big, bad former assassin’s face.

“That’s not what Steve’s been telling me,” he chuckles, as blue eyes widen.  Sam gives him a big smile, as Bucky groans.

“So what, I should just reveal exactly how I feel ?” Bucky groans in frustration at finally admitting that there is something other than friendship that he might be feeling towards her. He takes a seat on the couch and puts his head on the palms of his hands.  

“Duh, you’re just cockblocking yourself,” Sam laughs as Bucky keeps wishing that Steve was here to talk to instead.

eight night.

Now, Four likes to think he is the “cool brother” within his little group of colleagues. If Three was the grandfather and Six could sometimes be taken for the father with how he swinged between concern and reprimanding the rest of team, what else there for him to be. He cared about everyone, though he cared the most about his girls -- Two and you. Ok, maybe he cared about Two a little bit more than in a friendship or familial sense, but you were like his kid sister. Maybe that’s why he was spending the third night (middle of the night to be exact) in a row making you pancakes, as he tried not to laugh at the sight of you in those weird gloves and headset trying to cut your food with plastic utensils.

“ ‘m not hungry anymore,” you push the the plate of cold pancakes away, as he looks at you with mock disappointment before laughing. You cross your head over the countertop and lay your head on them.

“Okay, ignore my culinary marvels,” he says with the most serious tone he can muster, before asking the same question he did every night “You’re still not gonna talk are ya, sweets?”

You shake your head, as bright light suddenly glows from underneath your face and Four knows he shouldn’t ask anymore. He was aware of your talk with Captain Rogers and that after that you didn’t seek out a certain soldier anymore, Sergeant Barnes didn’t seem to seek you out either, but Four was fully aware that he still played the songs you had shown him. So, Four wasn’t sure exactly what was the problem, though it seemed --from his point of view-- that neither of you were very good with emotions.

“Okay, so what song are we going to play tonight?’ He questions as he sits on a bar stool not too far away from you. Playing some songs you knew until you fell asleep was usually how these types of nights went, then he would carry you to your room.

“ Heroes ,” you murmur, as F.R.I.D.A.Y to begins to play his Best of Bowie playlist with that song. He is ready to throw in the towel for the night, that is until a familiar figure slowly enters the room. Weary and bloodshot eyes turn to meet his green ones, as your soft and sleepy voice drags blue-gray eyes to look at you. A small smile blooms on Barnes’ face, which causes Four to start putting the pieces together in his head.

“Kid, what’s your favorite David Bowie song?” you stir a little and Bucky takes it as his cue to leave the room, but he pauses when Four puts his hand in front of him and mouths a   please.  

“R-Right now, As The World Falls Down ,” you shake your head, it’s sort of obvious who is behind you alongside Four, but you decide not to turn around and spare yourself the grief and whatever emotions might bubble up to the surface. You let David Bowie’s voice lull you to sleep, and hopefully not into those dreams  with the goblins again.

“ Damn , kid,” Four harshly whispers as he watches the soldier lean into the the countertop and take in the music for a moment. As much as Four might hate your love for The Labyrinth , he’s pretty sure you got a certain feeling across with this particular song.

You’re sleeping and snoring rather peacefully in that strange position when the song finally ends. Four signs and Bucky opens his eyes before glancing back at your form sweetly.

“What’s wrong with her?” Bucky asks quietly, his eyes completely taken by you.

“Her powers are extremely tied to her emotions,” Four explains,”if she gets too stressed, she gets sick and can’t recharge or let out her powers out properly.”

Bucky steps past Four to where you are seated, he places his right hand over your cheek timidly and Four looks away on the moment, though he’s probably being completely forgotten of at this very moment.          

“You should probably take her to her room,” Four nods at his brilliant idea,”I am sure that F.R.I.D.A.Y can tell you where it is, j-just watch out for the sparks and your arm.”

Four is already jogging down the hall before he can get a negative response.

It takes  Bucky awhile to figure out how to move you from the chair and not touch your hands,  though it does catch his fascination that there is a light glow of blue and white underneath the leather and mesh material covering them. F.R.I.D.A.Y tells him exactly where your room, which is three floors down from his where most the recruits are housed. The elevator ride is silent outside of your light snoring and his thundering heart, especially when you let out a little sigh and move in closer to take in his body heat.

What are you doing to me, doll?

Because Bucky Barnes isn’t exactly sure what he is feeling, he wasn’t sure he had ever felt something like this back in the 40’s and he wasn’t expecting anything like this after the horrors he had inflicted as the Winter Soldier -- but, here he was. He wasn’t sure is he was lucky or cursed, but looking down at your face made him think that neither one was so bad.

Your room is down the hall where most of the wall is just glass panels and he briefly wonders what it would be like to see you in the rays of sun each morning. However, he quickly shakes those thoughts away as he taps the door gently, and even though it is completely dark Bucky can make out some movie and concert posters, varying in decade, on your walls and a record player on the other side of your bed.

He walks to the opposite side of the bed, where the the blankets and sheets are thrown haphazardly together. Bucky places you gently on the bed and for a moment gets lost in watching your face scrunch due to the sudden lack of warmth. You groan and turn to your left side, facing him, and mumble something as he smiles softly at the sight -- something that he clearly doesn’t deserve. So, he’ll indulge himself slightly before leaving your room.

“Goodnight, doll,” is all he says as he closes the door, hoping you’ll get better without him in the way.

“‘Night, Buck…”you murmur before turning over again, not knowing exactly what you needed either.

Part 7 

[concussed-to-pieces]

Restless

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: Roman Reigns/OFC

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Thirsty Crew! In the spirit of the month of Halloween, I give you a lengthy AU tale of ghosts, lake houses and policemen. Tagging @toxiicpop, @oraclegazes and you know it, @hardcorewwetrash! Enjoy! (And when I say lengthy I mean lengthy. I apologize in advance.)

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains vivid depictions of death, corruption in the police ranks and allusions to previous abuse. Stay safe!]

When Jacqueline pulled up to the tiny house, she didn't know what to expect. The listing Shane gave her had been too good to be true. A beautiful old house on the lake, 'Yours For The Renting!'.

God knows she needed a change. Her circumstances had left her reeling. Twenty-nine years old and single again? She needed to get away from the city, from him, from everything. So when Shane had offhandedly mentioned that his family owned a lake house, she’d pounced on the information.

“We used to rent it out a lot more. Dad hasn't really been interested as of late, but I can have one of my guys show you around.”

She crossed her fingers as she got out of the car, shooting a quick, hopeful prayer to whoever might be listening.

“Hi there, you must be Miss Weston! I'm Corey. I'll be giving you the grand tour.” The tattooed man on the steps grinned down at her awed expression. “Nice spot, isn't it?”

“How has no one snagged this for the season?” Jackie asked incredulously. “It's so gorgeous.” Her fingers danced over the roughly carved lion heads at the end of the porch step's wooden railing.

Corey shrugged. “People don't seem to stay here very long. One thing or another, I guess.” He unlocked the front door and they stepped inside. It was still cool inside, despite the abundance of spring sunlight that poured through the windows.

She was smitten with the place, ceiling to floor. Granted it was a little huge for one person, but the monthly rate was perfect for her. Heat and hot water were included in the rent, and the security deposit was easily managed. Jackie left the house thrilled to go back to her cramped apartment and finish packing, signed lease papers neatly put in a folder titled 'My Own'.

...

Jackie regretted not having many friends with every trip down to her small truck for another box. She finally stopped for a minute on the front porch, rubbing her lower back and sighing heavily. “C'mon lazybones. It won't do you an ounce of good if you keep slacking off like this.” She said aloud, jumping when the porch door slammed behind her. “Jesus.”

She was still twitchy at loud noises, still wanted to hide. But she was strong, so she picked the box back up.

“And who knows!” She huffed as she climbed the stairs inside the house to the second floor. “Maybe there's a cute lumberjack who lives near here, interested in dating a homely-looking damsel. Or what about mysterious water folk in the lake, hell bent on getting their webbed fingers on a worthy creature to spawn with?”

Her laugh was breathless when she finally plopped the box down in the smaller of the two upstairs rooms. There was a larger room which was clearly the usual 'master suite', but she could use the extra space and good lighting for a drawing room. Or a reading room. Anything really. This much freedom was incredible. Jackie felt light for the first time in years.

“My own place!” She said with a grin, permitting herself to spin wildly and flop into her oversized armchair in the living room. “I have to clean these floors. I've tracked so much crap in. I'm sorry, beautiful, magical house!” She called, getting up and running a loving hand over the banister that bore the same carved lions as the outside railing. The wood was a rich honey gold, warm under her touch despite the chill of the house.

Jackie put her handmade rag rugs everywhere. Two in her bedroom, one specially made for the bathroom, a large one taking up the empty space in the living room and a small one next to the sink in the kitchen. She decided to leave her drapes in a box for the moment, loving the way the sunlight streamed into the living room at all hours of the day. And what with them just coming off of winter, she could use all the sun she could get.

She talked avidly to the house as she unpacked, asking it what it would like and pretending that it answered her. It helped with the loneliness. It had been quite a while since she had been alone.

“I like your paint the way it is! It's a nice shade of blue, sharp. No cracks at all. The wallpaper in the hallway upstairs looks silly, though.” She mused as she put her food away. Mostly canned goods, some milk, a few fresh things. Nothing extravagant. Jackie squealed quietly to herself, still having a hard time believing that this house was hers. “When it gets warmer I am definitely going swimming every day, mysterious water folk or no.” She promised, starting when a door slammed upstairs. “Sheesh. I must have left a window open. Stiff breeze off the lake.”

She went up the stairs. She had indeed left a window open in her new bedroom, the ragged-looking white drapes from the previous tenant fluttering in the wind. Jackie tugged the drapes to the side. “Alright, party's over...” She trailed off while she closed and locked the window, looking in wonder at the beautiful view of the lake bathed in the golden light of the sunset.

Something shifted, breaking her out of her trance. Jackie glanced up, startled when she clearly saw the reflection of a large man standing behind her.

“Corey?” She turned around, brow furrowing when no one was there. “Phew. That would have been embarrassing. Not to mention creepy as hell.” She joked, trying to disperse her nerves. “You can come out, I promise I don't bite!”

She was secretly relieved when no one popped out at her screaming 'Gotcha!'. Jackie shook her head at her own imagination.

“Seeing things already, not even twenty four hours into being a hermit. That's got to be a record.” She closed the bedroom door behind her, heading to the bathroom. “Guess I'll take the face off now. I'm not expecting company.” She said to herself in the mirror, opening her bag of scrub pads and beginning to lather her face with her favorite soap.

“Hey there Jack, how's things?” Her father asked when she sat down on the end of the hospital bed. He was so sick but still managed a smile for her. “That new boy treating you okay?”

“Easy, Jack.” She breathed, bracing her hands on the sink. “Dad's gone, yeah, but you're safe out here. Get a grip on yourself and get this crud off your face.” The bruises around her wrists and up her arms from her and Nate’s final disagreement had faded to the point of vanishing, but she rolled down the sleeves on her shirt anyway.

“You thought you could leave without my permission? I own you!” Nate yelled in her face, twisting his fingers cruelly through her long hair--

“Hey.” She said sternly, eyes shut tight against the onslaught of memories. “Enough. You came here to shake off those thoughts, not get hauled back into them. This is a beautiful house and you're safe here. So stop being a baby and deal with your black eye like a big girl.”

Jackie scrubbed furiously at her face, irritated with how hard it was to get the foundation off. Her battered skin slowly came back into view, the bruise blossoming a faded yellow-green around her left eye. A cluster of broken blood vessels on her cheek still accompanied the bruise. Altogether, she thought she was a pretty sorry sight.

“Damn, kid. Look at you. You're a mess.” Jackie sighed, touching the sensitive area with a wince. “Policeman’s daughter at her finest.” The bathroom door clicked open, making her turn. No one was there, of course. Why would there be anyone there? “Drafty place, I guess.” She decided that it was high time for supper, rubbing her stomach absently as it rumbled while she put her makeup pads away.

She padded back downstairs to the kitchen to fix herself something to eat, settling on the simple 'cowboy' dinner she had helped her father to prepare many nights of her childhood. As the hot dogs sizzled and she pried open a can of beans with her pocketknife (note to self: buy another can opener), Jackie wondered on her luck at getting this place for what was probably the hundredth time. Must be Dad looking out for me. She turned back to the stove and was confused to find a small scrap of lined paper sitting on the windowsill over the sink. That wasn't there before...

She put the can of beans down and picked up the paper. “Did I...?” Jackie trailed off when she realized the writing on the paper was definitely not hers. It was just one word, 'Hello', the ink still fresh as it smudged against her palm.

Her eyes darted around, this experience rattling her a little more than she'd like to admit. “Um, is there someone else here?” She called loudly. Her other hand slid into her pocket, tightly gripping her phone. “I mean, I would have tidied up a little if I'd known I was getting company.” She gestured to the boxes around the island as she raised her voice, happy when it only shook a tiny bit. She could have sworn she heard a low chuckle to her left and she whirled, yanking her phone out. “And now I'm going to call the police. If Nate sent you, you can tell him he's shit out of luck!” Jackie announced, more angry than scared at this point.

At least, that's what she told herself while she hastily turned off the stove and grabbed her keys, the number for the town police line ringing away in her ear.

It felt like it took an eternity for the officers to show up, but she knew that she was probably pretty low on the pole when it came to rapid response. So it was a surprise when it turned out to be the police chief himself driving the SUV with the blinding flashers currently parked in her front yard.

“There been any more motion, Jackie?” Police Chief Vincent McMahon asked, those watery brown eyes fixed on her. He was a tall man despite his advanced age, his frame holding echoes of the strength he must have possessed in his youth.

“No sir, nothing to report. I haven't seen anyone in the windows or anything.” Jackie was beginning to feel stupid, and the way he was looking at her busted-up face while she shivered on the front porch wasn't helping. It shouldn't even be cold enough for her to shiver!

He gestured at the SUV. “Hop in, it's probably warmer in there. You know Officer Shane will keep you safe while I sweep the property.”

She nodded and handed him the keys to the house, trying to smile up at him. Of course she trusted Shane. “I'm sure it's nothing, but I figured it was better to be safe than sorry. I'm alone, after all.”

“I doubt that.” The police chief muttered cryptically before giving her a nudge in the direction of the SUV.

“Hey there, Jack.” Shane McMahon greeted her as she slunk into the back seat of the white vehicle. “How's the face?”

“It's healing, y'know. How's your everything?” Jackie asked, leaning forward and rubbing her hands over her chilled legs.

Shane shook his head. An early gray just like his father, he'd taken to wearing a baseball cap in a vain attempt to conceal this fact. “So-so.” He mused, giving her a rueful grin. “He's still trying to run details and stuff even though he's pushing seventy.”

“It's a difficult life to slow down from. My dad held onto the motion of it for so long.” Jackie remembered her father's frustration at his forced retirement with a melancholy smile. There was an odd ruffling sensation by her shoulder, making her flinch and swat.

“You okay back there?” Shane asked.

“Yeah, I think there's a Junebug hitchhiking in my hair though. See anything?” Jackie raked her fingers through her brown hair, shaking it out as best as she could. Something brushed over the back of her neck and she shuddered involuntarily, making Shane pull his hand away.

“I don't see anything, Jack.” He paused, his face bearing a worried expression that she was more than tired of seeing. “You uh...are you sure you're alright? I'm not just talking about the bug.”

“If everybody doesn't stop treating me like I'm going to break apart at the littlest thing, Shane, I'll snap and start eating faces.” Jackie threatened, smiling when he chuckled. “Seriously, I'm okay. Thanks for worrying, but I promise I'm okay.”

“Alright, I'll stop asking. You know you can come to us for anything. The McMahon door is always open to you, whether Dad is around or not.” Shane yelped suddenly, swatting at his shoulder. “Ow, shit. I think your bug friend found greener pastures.” There was a stain on his shirt sleeve when he turned back, and Jackie watched in confusion as it slowly blotted the fabric.

“Shane?” She pointed and he glanced down, making a sound of confusion and yanking up the crisp white shirt sleeve. Imprinted on the skin was something that looked startlingly like a bite wound, like teeth divots, stark against his skin and blood trickling sluggishly from a few of them. Jackie flushed, feeling dumb for doing so. If he had...partners, partners who were interested in biting the living hell out of him, who was she to judge? She wished she'd kept her mouth shut instead of drawing attention to-

“Jesus, what the hell?” Shane grunted, seeming just as startled as she was. “What kind of Junebug was that? The wolverine variety?” His fingers grazed the area and he quickly grabbed a paper napkin and pressed it to the wound.

The police chief suddenly whipped open the driver's side door, making Jackie yelp. The older McMahon raised an eyebrow at her. “Everything looks clear. No footprints around the perimeter. I even checked the attic. Do you have anywhere else you can stay for the night?”

“No, if you say it's okay it was probably just my imagination or something.” Jackie tried to smile reassuringly but she got the feeling that it came off as more of a wince. “I'm sorry to have bothered you guys.”

“This is what we're here for, don't worry about it.” Shane assured her, his smile kind as always. “I'll swing by in the morning to check up on you, if that's okay?”

“Please. I have a half-shift tomorrow so you won't have to come by super early.” Jackie scooted back out of the vehicle and took her keys from Police Chief McMahon. “Thank you again, sir.” She said a little quieter. There was that strange feeling on her shoulder again, stronger this time. More weight to it. She didn't dare to look at what it might be, but as the older man's face remained neutral she wondered if she was imagining things. It had been a long day for her.

“Take care of yourself, kiddo.” The police chief’s eyes wandered from her face for a moment, and then he cleared his throat loudly. “Hurry back inside now.” A firm pressure spread across the small of Jackie's back as she climbed the stairs of the porch, and when she turned to wave goodbye to the two officers she thought she saw something out of the corner of her eye.

I must have taken more hits to the head than I thought. Hallucinations. Nate's got a mean right hook. She tapped her knuckles against the side of her head, sighing. Get your rattled skull in the game, kid. You're hungry and tired.

She headed back inside the house and sat silently at the tiny island in the kitchen, the pan of now-rubbery hot dogs cold and forgotten on the stove burner. Slowly, her head ended up resting in her palms, elbows propped up on the island. What the hell was wrong with her? Calling the cops at the first creaky floorboard? Jesus, she wasn't long for this fresh start if she kept this up. Next stop, padded cell.

Jackie groaned, rubbing her eyes hard and wincing when the bruise flared up. “Alright enough of that, time to pull yourself together. Food. Then bed.” She hopped out of the chair, dumped the can of beans into the pan and cranked the heat back up. Jackie put her hand down to lean against the counter and something brushed the back of her neck. At this point all she did was roll her eyes and continue to stare pointedly at her slowly-reheating dinner. “Nope. Not even worth it.” She grumbled to herself, fighting the urge to whip around.

After she had eaten her supper, Jackie double-checked the lock on the front door. She also checked the ground floor windows, relieved that everything was still nice and tight. It still took ages for her to fall asleep though, and she may have left her laptop on playing music as a nightlight of sorts.

…

They were always silent to the people on the other side. It hardly mattered whether they stomped or tiptoed.

But she had heard Roman's bemused little snicker, and that had them curious. So once they were sure she was asleep, Dean led the proverbial charge up the stairs to her room.

“Jackass, why did you bite Shane?” Seth hissed.

“Can't bite his old man, now can I?” Dean replied in a low growl.

“Mac was always good to us, why do you have to be such a punk?” Roman scolded.

“Listen, we need to be quiet. She can hear us, remember?” Seth sighed after watching the two men act like they were shoving each other around. They weren't actually able to touch one another, their incorporeal forms seeing to that. Dean nodded finally, moving forward to test the door to her room. Out of all of them he was the best at doors, using less energy to pass over than either Roman or Seth.

Being in two places at once was exhausting. Seth could write for short bursts, but the pen or pencil always felt so heavy in his hand. Roman had been the strongest of the trio from what little they could recall, so it was a source of grim entertainment that his size did nothing for him once they had become...stuck. He couldn't so much as move a sheet of paper, no matter how hard he focused. All he could do was make himself visible, and even then the ability to do so was sporadic and not easily controlled.

No one had ever been able to hear them before. Seth couldn't deny how funny it had been to startle a few of the new tenants once they realized that no matter how much they shouted, yelled or stormed around the place, they couldn't be heard or seen. Seth would move things like keys and Dean would open doors and cupboards at strategic times, maybe wiggle a chair or two. Roman, in the rare moments that he wasn't chiding the other two men for being so stereotypical, would flicker in and out as best as he could behind people's backs.

She had heard them, though.

They followed her out and stood silently on the porch with her, each man's curiosity piqued. She couldn't hear them move but she felt, she kept glancing at where they were even though Roman wasn't flickering at all.

Dean hadn't been able to resist accompanying her into the SUV, his teeth bared in a snarl at the police chief who could see them but pretended that he didn't, and for whatever reason they couldn't touch him. The worst part of it was not being able to remember why they didn't trust the man as far as Dean (or Roman, or Seth) could throw him. So he might have gotten a little frustrated and yeah, he might have taken it out on poor Shane O' Mac because he couldn't touch his old man. And yeah, alright, fine, that was wrong and he definitely shouldn't have bit him that hard.

She thought he was a bug when he rumpled through her hair. His touch must be weaker than he'd realized.

The chief had narrowed his eyes when he saw Dean in the SUV and Dean had snapped his teeth again, baring them at the man. He kept a hand on her shoulder, moving it to the small of her back as she returned to the porch.

Roman hadn’t been able to help a brief flicker when she turned around to wave goodbye to the two officers, cringing in embarrassment while Seth dug a chastising elbow into his ribs.

She couldn’t feel him though, she didn’t even react when Roman grazed his fingers over the nape of her neck. She just mumbled to herself and continued to fix her dinner. Touching her was���odd. There were echoes that rattled around in Roman's skull, a man’s voice shouting and the slow, droning beep of a heart monitor. She had said something about Nate earlier, the note of fear in her tone not going unnoticed.

Dean managed to silently open the door and the three of them filed in from the hallway. She had some music playing softly but she appeared to be sound asleep, sprawled out on her mattress on the floor.

She whimpered in her sleep and the three men froze while she rolled over, tugging the blankets tighter to her body. She stayed like that for about five seconds and then suddenly sat bolt upright, staring into the darkness of the room. Dean held his breath, praying that Roman could keep his flickering under control. No need to scare her to death.

She just…dissolved into tears, wrapping her arms around her knees and holding herself tightly as she cried.

Seth bit his lip, reaching for her and Dean quickly grabbed his hand, shaking his head. Bad move, Seth.

…

“God this is pitiful.” Jackie sniffed, wiping her nose with her sleeve. “What the fuck. Lost Dad, got away from Nate and now a crazy nightmare.” She put her head into her hands, still shaking a little with hiccups.

There had been some kind of black, three-headed dog that tore through the wallpaper at the end of the hallway, its eyes a laser-sharp blue that left a burning trail when it moved. It opened three sets of jaws and said...something in three different voices at once, the words slipping from her mind frustratingly fast.

She couldn’t remember what else had happened. The nightmare was quickly fading and she was more than relieved, slumping back down in her bed. “Christ.” She muttered, pulling the blankets up to her chin. “It was just a dream, Jackie. Just a dream. It's okay. You're safe here. The kitchen is a mess and the living room is full of totes that need to be unpacked but this is your place now. You don't need anybody else. You're fine by yourself, you're tough and scary and you've been eaten alive so many times that the next person who tries that shit is going to find out the hard way that you're poisonous.” Jackie tried to give herself a pep talk as she crossed her arms behind her head, staring up at the dark ceiling.

You're safe here. Stop being such a baby.

She rolled onto her side after a minute or two, sighing heavily when she saw that it was only a little past three in the morning. The blanket shifted down over her shoulder and she shivered, tugging it back up because nothing could get her if the blanket was there. Jackie shut her eyes tight and tried to will herself back to sleep, breathing deep and slow in an effort to calm her heart rate back down.

“Air goes in and out, blood goes round and round. Any deviation from that norm is when you call the medics.”

She smiled unconsciously at the oft-quoted wisdom from her father, relaxing against her pillow.

“Jack, you're a beautiful young woman and even more importantly, you're my precious, beautiful daughter. Don't hang around with anyone who doesn't treat you right, you hear me?” He'd said, tipping her chin up from where she was staring at her knees. “I know you're a grown-up and all, you don't need your old man to tell you this stuff. But it's kinda' my job, have to do it.”

If only she'd been stronger. If only she had been able to listen. Jackie frowned even as she felt sleep finally tug at her again, wrapping her arms around herself and curling into a tight ball.

…

“We’re keeping her.” Seth didn’t know where the conviction came from, but it wormed around where his heart should be to squeeze like a vise.

Dean scoffed at the younger man. “What the hell do you mean, 'keeping her'? She ain't a fuckin' bunny rabbit, Seth.”

“I think he means more along the 'we shouldn’t scare her', lines.” Roman elaborated, dropping a hand to rub at the air above Seth's shoulder. “Or at least, try not to chase her out, right?”

“Yeah.” Seth nodded. “I mean hell, we don't know much but I think we can all agree she's been through more than enough.” He gestured at the small army of totes and boxes in the living room. “This is a lot of gear for one person, Dean.”

“So?”

“So, she's on her own as of recently. Damn, Dean, I used to be able to bounce theories off you all the time.”

“Yeah and look where all that fuckin' detective work got our asses.” Dean spread his arms with an exasperated huff. “We can't even remember our last fuckin' names, can't remember how we got stuck here. All we know is that fuckin' Chief McMahon has somethin' to do with it.”

“She can hear us.”

“I ain't bein' fuckin' loud, Roman.”

“No no, I mean...that's important. That's different, right? A break in the modus operandi. A...deviation.” Dean just stared at the larger man, obviously not comprehending the point. “Dean, she can hear us. As in, we can tell her things.”

“You're assumin' a hell of a lot here, Big Dog. She heard you. And she thought we were fuckin' home intruders.” Dean pointed out. “She's a jumpy sunova and I'm sure it's entirely within reason. I mean hell, we dealt with enough of that 'I walked into a door' bullshit to practically smell it before we see it.” He grunted.

“She said, 'lost Dad, got away from Nate'.” Seth knew that while Dean tended to bluster and act like he didn't care, the truth was he had a keen eye for details most people would miss. So the younger man tried to keep them on track.

“When she was in the SUV with Mac she mentioned somethin' about her dad havin' a hard time slowing down from the lifestyle. So her dad was a cop, too.” Dean said grudgingly after a moment of silence. “Or a medic? Maybe a firefighter. But he's obviously gone now.”

“We don't remember her from around here though. How long has it been? Four...Five years? Six? Shit, they all blur together.” Roman swore, running a hand through his hair. “We knew everyone's kids on the force. Her dad wasn't in our chapter. At least, I don't remember an Officer Weston. Either of you?”

“Nah, doesn't ring a bell.”

“So he wasn't with us.”

“Shit man she could be from halfway across the U.S., we can't exactly leave the fuckin' property to get the census data. The driveway is our oyster. The only thing we know for sure is that ol' man McMahon is still kickin' and Shane O' Mac is offerin' his shoulder to the chick upstairs. Because I'm sure he's such a sweetheart.” Dean growled.

“Did you bite him because of that? Jesus Christ Dean-”

“Hey! I already told you why I bit him. Fuck you.”

…

Jackie woke groggy the next morning, a dull headache reminding her of her crying jag. She dragged herself out of bed, rolling onto the floor and gazing up at the ceiling for a long minute before getting to her feet and stretching with a yawn. Down in the kitchen, she blearily hit the switch on her coffee maker and propped her elbows up on the counter while she waited for it to brew.

She only realized that she hadn't actually plugged the machine in (or added any of the essential ingredients for that matter) once she had stared at it for almost ten minutes. Jackie threw her hands up in silent exasperation and then shoved the plug into the outlet. She could have sworn she put the coffee filters up into one of the cupboards, but when she turned to open the cabinet the packet of filters was sitting on the counter. With the jar she kept her coffee in.

Jackie narrowed her eyes. Did I leave that out last night?

A loud knock on the front door startled her into letting out an undignified squeak and she caught herself a second before she dove for cover behind the tiny island.

“Jackie?”

It's just Shane, it's just Shane. Calm down. “Coming! Sorry, one second!” Jackie tripped over one of the boxes she'd left by the stairs, making an absolute racket as dishes shifted against one another in their newspaper wrappings. She finally managed to unlock the door and get it open without causing further harm.

Shane had obviously been toying with the snap latch holding his pistol in its holster, straightening up and offering her a broad smile once he seemed to realize she was in one piece. “Morning ma'am!” He said cheerily. “I know it's sort of corny, but I brought you some donuts.”

“Oh my God, you stereotypical son of a bitch.” Jackie had to laugh. “Come in for a sec? The coffee hasn't actually been made yet, but I'm getting there.”

“I can't stay, Jackie, got a few things to go over with the old man this morning. Just wanted to make sure you were okay. No other disturbances?” Shane asked, pressing the box of donuts into her hands.

“All's quiet on the home front, Shane O' Mac.” Jackie tilted her head at the way Shane grimaced. “You alright?”

“It's just been a while since anyone's called me that.” Shane's brow furrowed, the older man looking confused. “Did my dad call me that last night or something?”

She hadn't actually realized that she'd called him anything different, her brain scrambling back over her words in a panicked rush before she got hit easy easy it's only Shane. “No, I have no idea why I said it. It just kind of came out.” Jackie bit her lip. “I'm not usually one for nicknames, sorry about that.”

“No, you're fine. It's...I mean, it's bittersweet is all. The guys that used to rib me with that aren't with us anymore.” Shane's softer tone indicated that they hadn't moved out of town or anything quite so innocent.

“Oh God, Shane I'm so sorry.” Jackie apologized, feeling that weird weight settle down on her shoulder again.

“Hey, the memories aren't all bad. They were good kids. I mean, you know the risks, from your dad and all. It's so strange, I haven't thought about them for ages.” Shane mused, still looking confused and a bit sad. “I guess what with my last name starting with Mc, it was only a matter of time before someone began calling me that again.”

“I promise it was a one time slip, Shane.”

“Don't worry about it, Jackie.” Shane tried to smile, but now it didn't reach his eyes. “I'm gonna' be late if I keep shooting the shit, though. Last thing I want is the old man trying to fire me for the hundredth time.” He chuckled.

Jackie could have sworn she heard...something beside her, like a gasp or a smothered sob. The weight vanished from her shoulder as suddenly as it had arrived and she was left to wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was more to this situation than met the eye.

…

The shop was chaotic all week. What with the snow finally melted and the ground officially thawed, everyone and their mother needed their plant bulbs. Especially crocuses. Jackie sighed, jotting down 'order more crocuses' on the clipboard next to the register. Daffodils. No matter what they did they always seemed to run out. And they'd already gotten two dirt shipments today alone, six pallets each! The parking lot of the plaza was bustling with activity when Jackie finally got a look at the calendar. Her eyes widened at the red marker on the current date and she swore under her breath.

Mrs. Reigns is going to be here any damn minute for her lei! Please, please be late today! Jackie begged mentally, dashing to the tropical flower 'cooler' and shuffling through the boxes. Finally reaching the one labeled 'REIGNS: kika; REIGNS: ar. jasmine; REIGNS: standard red', she carefully pulled it off the shelf and set it on the counter to wait.

The widowed Mrs. Reigns had ordered her memorial lei through the small flower shop for as long as Jackie had worked there. She would come in for odds and ends almost every week, but the lei were her big order. It was the same order every year, same flowers, same dealer. She seemed a creature of habit. Jackie loved talking with her because she always had such an interesting snippet of news to share, or a recipe she'd written down that Jackie 'had to try!'

“I was just thinking about you!”

Speak of the devil. Jackie grinned at the smaller, white-haired woman who stepped through the doorway, her gardening gloves hanging out of the pocket of her light jacket. She looked well, as always, not a hair out of place. “Mrs. Reigns! I was hoping you'd be a little late. Place kinda' blew up on me and I barely snagged your order out of the 'cooler'. I'm sorry.” Jackie apologized. “Give them five minutes?”

Mrs. Reigns waved her off, already looking at their new orchid selection with interest. “That's fine honey, it's fine. I am more than willing to wait, if only for the convenience of not having to make the things. They're beautiful, but so darned fiddly.”

“I would imagine so.” Jackie commented, recalling what little she'd actually seen of the lei in years past. They looked very intricate. Mrs. Reigns had unboxed them inside one year, the fragrant scent of the small white flowers more than making up for the gentler smell from the red carnations. Jackie had often wondered who (or what) they were in memory of.

Jackie made her way through a few more customers as the minutes ticked on. It had been almost fifteen when Mrs. Reigns finally approached the register, her arms full of red tulip bulbs and a small box of food for her lilac bush. She tapped her chin theatrically while Jackie punched in her items, before the young woman paused.

“A bag of triple ten also? Or something new this time?” Jackie's hand hovered over the keys.

“I think I'll skip the triple ten today. My back's been giving me some trouble. Don't look at me like that! I'm not worried about getting it in the car, silly. Just out of it.” Mrs. Reigns chided, paying for her items.

Jackie's coworker Baron was abruptly beside her, the large man gamely slapping her open palm as he 'tagged in' for register duty. Baron Corbin was a two-time reject from the district police academy. He swore up and down that it was because they hated tall people when he failed out the second time, definitely had nothing to do with him pummeling the daylights out of one of his fellow recruits when the other young man couldn't keep his opinion of Baron's mother to himself.

“About time, Corbin! I've sold more crocuses than I could ever count today. Good luck.” Jackie laughed at his heavy sigh, hanging her apron up next to the register.

She moved quickly to scoop Mrs. Reigns' items up off the counter, ignoring the older woman's customary protests. She always helped customers load their vehicles, and Mrs. Reigns was no exception.

“Mrs. Reigns, I uh...I mean, let me know if I'm out of line. But who are these for?” Jackie asked once they were in the parking lot. “The lei. I know you get them every year and stuff.”

Mrs. Reigns sighed, unlocking the trunk of her car and then leaning against the vehicle while Jackie loaded her things. “For my youngest son, and his...” She paused, looking suspiciously like she was going to cry. “He was only twenty-five when he died.”

“I'm sorry.” Jackie mumbled, feeling like an idiot for bringing it up. God, how much of an ass can I make out of myself in the span of a week? First Shane the other morning, now this.

Mrs. Reigns shook her head. “Don't be sorry, honey. I put these things out on that bridge every year like it'll bring him and the others back, but I think his father would do the same thing if he were alive. They both loved the flowers.”

“What was your son like?” Jackie queried tentatively, curiosity overwhelming her sense of manners.

The older woman smiled, seeming to pull happiness from another time. “He was a wonderful young man. I'm sure you would have gotten along. Too charming for his own good. Huge! He towered over his brother and sister even when he was young.” Mrs. Reigns slipped her car keys back into her pocket, fiddling with them while she spoke. “He wasn't much for talking when he got older. He preferred to watch and listen. He was a thinker.” Her smile faded as she continued, “I guess that field of work kind of pulls people like him. Hearts of gold, all that stuff.”

“What field of work?”

“Police work, of course! I figured you'd know, what with your father having been on a force before.” Mrs. Reigns chided, making Jackie shake her head.

“I only started working at the shop in the October of that year, ma'am. By that time I guess whatever had happened to your son blew over.” She explained, something nagging at her. On the force...

Mrs. Reigns huffed, squinting up at the younger woman. “It didn't blow over so much as get swept under the rug by that damned police chief, but I see your point.” She grumbled.

“I'm sorry, Mrs. Reigns. I didn't mean to upset you. I just know that you get them every year and I wanted to know the reason.” Jackie apologized again, scuffing the toe of her boot against the ground. Mrs. Reigns had made it abundantly clear many times that she didn’t see eye to eye with the chief, the older woman obviously well beyond the point of giving a damn about the opinions of others. If she didn’t like you, then you would hear about it.

Mrs. Reigns surprised her by laughing. “Honey, I am over sixty years old. It takes a lot more than that to upset me. Roman used to do the same thing when he was young; he'd ask a hundred questions and then apologize for it afterward! But that was my curious little boy.” Mrs. Reigns sighed. “If you want more dirt on the situation instead of just my silly old ramblings, you really ought to ask Baron.” She said slyly after a moment. “Or that Shane boy. Make sure his father doesn't know you've been snooping, though.”

“What do you mean? Why would the chief care if I-”

“He's...peculiar that way.” Mrs. Reigns patted her shoulder, the gesture of fondness one that Jackie had come to expect from the older woman. “I've taken up too much of your time already. Try not to work too hard, alright?” Mrs. Reigns sent her off with a wave, smiling kindly at her.

Jackie trudged back inside once her break was done, her mind in a million places as she absently greeted Bray, the bearded man who always stocked up on their meager selection of incense. Baron had to practically bellow her name before she snapped out of it, the large man immediately apologizing afterwards for raising his voice.

“It's okay. Baron, do you remember a guy named Roman at all?” Jackie asked, wondering if maybe now wasn't the time to have this conversation when Baron shot her a look that could only be described as skittish.

“I uh.” Corbin swallowed hard, waiting to start speaking until he’d cashed out Bray. “Yeah. He was in my first police academy run. He and Ambrose and Rollins were the reason I tried again, actually. I got ribbed a lot for my weight when I signed up, but Reigns and his buddies never gave me shit, even when I flunked out.” He ran a hand through his long hair, seeming almost self-conscious. “I...I figured to honor their memory I'd really get in shape, actually prepare so I could ace my second try.”

“What happened to them?”

“You don't know?” Baron sounded incredulous. “Hell, I figured everyone knew. Reigns, Rollins and Ambrose hopped the guardrail on the old bridge. They were in response mode, lights and sirens, it was dark and rainy and...I mean, I guess that was enough.” Baron shrugged. “Hell of a way to go.”

“Oh.” Jackie said weakly.

“The chief doesn't like people talking about it. I think he feels responsible.” Baron said, lowering his voice a bit and cutting his eyes at Bray, who was still lingering at the counter putting his wallet in order. “When I did my second run through the academy, he took me aside and asked me to keep my reasons to myself. 'People don't need to be reminded about that tragedy', was his wording.” Baron paused, wiping down the counter as Jackie continued to take stock. “If Orton hadn't shot his mouth off about my mom...and also if I'd uh, had a better grip on my temper, I'd be in a cruiser right now making them proud.” He mumbled. “Instead, I'm a washed-up jock working at a fake Tractor Supply.”

“We're way prettier than a Tractor Supply, how dare you.” Jackie stuck her tongue out at him, making Baron snort. “Besides, you’ve still got one up on Orton because even his pop’s influence couldn’t get him through that police academy.”

“You always know what to say to make me feel better.” Baron said dryly, reaching out to tousle her hair but stopping at the last second. His hand hovered awkwardly in midair and then he coughed, retreating to quickly re-wipe the counter he had just cleaned. “Sorry Jack.”

“Baron, Christ, not you too.” Jackie groaned, “I'm fine.”

“I don't want to assume anything.” Corbin protested, black-brown eyes serious as he leaned on the counter. “You gotta' understand Jack, I know I'm big and I can be loud.”

“I'm not scared of you, Baron.”

“You don't have to be scared of someone for them to hurt you, Jackie.”

…

Jackie had only gotten this job after her first workplace had closed down. Her father had taken her for a drive one bright Sunday morning. He had sensed her depression at losing her old job and offered to bring her on a tour of the countryside. “To clear your head, Jack!” He had stated cheerfully, and she hadn't been able to help smiling back at him.

The town was thirty minutes from the city she had grown up in, across old backroads. They had come across the small flower shop in a plaza. A grocery store, a pizza shop, a pet food place...she didn't know why she'd grabbed an application form for the flower shop over the others. She liked cooking. She liked dogs. She'd never gardened in her life, though. No room for it in the city.

“Flowers, eh? Of course you go for the tough one, you're my daughter, aren't you?” Her dad had said proudly when the call came a day later asking her to come in for an interview.

He was always celebrating silly little things, like 'Breakfast In Bed Day', or 'Mismatched Sock Day'. Jackie could remember the way he sounded over the phone while describing his mismatched socks.

She still missed him immensely. It had been a little under three years since he'd passed away. He had been one of the few people who knew something was wrong between her and Nate, but he'd been so sick she hadn't wanted to burden him with her problem. And once he'd passed away...

Jackie shook her head ruefully, dismissing the memories as she settled down into the large chair in the living room. She had work to do.

“Roman Reigns.” She said aloud, tugging her phone out of her pocket and unlocking it. Roman Reigns Ambrose Rollins Jackie typed into her phone, along with the name of the town for good measure. A list of links came up, one for the local police blotter. She tapped it and scrolled down the page, the sandwich she had made for dinner laying forgotten on a plate balanced on the arm of the chair.

Officers AMBROSE, REIGNS and ROLLINS responded to the scene at 2308...

…

Dean's head snapped up to stare at the woman muttering in the chair across the room from him. Were his ears playing tricks on him, or had she said Roman? The blond man slunk over the thick rag rug to crouch beside her, craning his neck so he could see the screen of her phone.

He hurriedly covered his own mouth to keep his startled sound at bay, but Jackie looked up all the same. Dean made a mad dash for the attic, scaring the hell out of Roman and Seth when he phased himself bodily through the small trapdoor without any warning.

“Quiet!” Dean hissed, silencing the two men immediately. “Reigns. Roman your last name is Reigns.”

Roman stared at him, brown eyes wide in shock. “I...” Understanding seemed to dawn on him, his body solidifying as he didn't flicker but slowly settled to the attic floor. “Ambrose!” He gasped, staring down at his hands and then back up at Dean in astounded delight.

A shudder ran through Dean's body at the sound of his name and then Roman was hugging him furiously, actually hugging him and he was wet and alive and what the hell is going on?! “Rollins-” He managed to wheeze through Roman's stranglehold on his chest.

Seth, to his credit, lasted a whole three seconds of being agog at his brothers before his eyes filled with tears. “Oh my fuck.” He breathed, reaching out hesitantly to Dean and getting dragged into the hug. “Oh my fucking God, oh my God, how?” He half-sobbed, touching all over Dean's face.

“I don't know man! Jackie was looking up Roman and I-”

“Hey!” The sharp yell interrupted Dean's explanation and the three men froze. “Alright shitheads, you've called down the thunder! Thought I was imagining shit before but I can fucking hear you and I'm phoning the authorities!” She sounded livid. Dean heard Seth gulp.

“Wait, wait!” Roman begged frantically, tearing free of the other two men to all but dive towards the trapdoor. After failing to phase through it, he fumbled to open it the old fashioned way.

“Roman don't-!” Dean tried to stop Roman but it was too late. The larger man dropped into the hallway below with a graceless thud. Jackie screamed and Dean closed his eyes, exhaling hard while he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fucking wonderful. You break anything, Reigns?” He called, getting a groan in reply. “Fuckin' wonderful.”

“You're dead! Oh my God, no, no, you can't be here!” Jackie sounded on the verge of hysterics and Ambrose wasn't too certain that adding more ingredients to this already volatile mixture was a good idea, but he needed to make sure Roman was alright.

He poked his head over the side of the attic door. Jackie was curled up in a ball as far away from the still-floundering Roman as she could get, her phone held out in front of her like a protective shield. Reigns finally got to his feet, practically clawing his way up the bedroom door to stand on wobbly legs.  He tried to take a step but nearly collapsed again.

“Sit the hell down and stay put, Reigns.” Dean could feel the fatigue eating away at his own body. It had been a while since they were corporeal. How the hell is this even possible? “Miss Weston!” He said curtly, shoving his own disbelief out of the way. “I can promise you there's a perfectly logical explanation for all this,” yeah fucking right Ambrose!, “but you need to remain calm.”

“Oh? Logical, huh? Do fucking tell!” The brown-haired woman retorted, still brandishing her phone and staring up at Roman in wide-eyed fear. “There is a fucking dead man standing in front of me, please tell me the logical fucking explanation!”

“I'm uh. Not dead anymore?” Roman went so far as to smile at her and she fainted dead away.

“Fucking. Wonderful.”

…

The dog was huge. Three heads, sharp teeth dripping saliva and black ichor; it circled her while she laid there helpless. “He did this to us.” Each head's voice was different, but they spoke in unison.

“Who?” Jackie whispered.

It paid her no mind, continuing to pace around her. The ugly pattern on the wallpaper began to bleed into it until it slowed, crippled for some reason. “There are still pieces missing.” It said faintly. “We are not whole.”

“What do you mean? What's wrong?” She found herself gripped by some strange fear for the beast's well-being, still terrified when it focused those burning eyes on her. One head lowered to rest in her cupped hands.

“Help us.”

A hand touched her forehead; someone was holding one of her wrists. Jackie dimly understood that she was coming out of a faint. Why had she fainted? The only time she'd ever fainted in her life was when she had been twelve and very feverish. One second she had been standing, the next she was curled up on the bathroom floor with her forehead pressed to the cool linoleum.

“She's recovering, give her some space.”

“Her pulse is still boundin' Seth.”

“That's okay, Ambrose. Check her fridge for some juice. She's gonna' have a pounder so we need to get the sugar into her. Reigns, make sure she can roll if she needs to puke. We don't know how long it's been since she ate.”

Her father had scooped her up in his arms. It had always just been the two of them, her and Dad. He held her and stroked her hair, still in his uniform from work. His name badge had dug into her shoulder and she had wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tight and starting to cry. “Poor Jack.” He had said softly.

Poor Jack.

She slowly opened her eyes, but when she was met with three worried faces she wished she'd kept them shut. So she hadn't dreamed that. Three men, faces familiar from her research, dressed in full uniform right down to the uncomfortable polyester pants. Looking as real as she did, if a bit damp (and also strangely faded).

“How are you all alive?” She asked weakly. “I was just...” She gestured to where her phone was sitting on the floor. “I...how?”

“We're not one hundred percent on that.” Rollins admitted. “But holy crap we are flushed, warmish and wet to the touch so there's some good news.”

“I don't understand.” Her eyes flitted to Roman and she watched water droplets drip sluggishly from the ends of his hair. “Your mom was...I just saw her earlier. I have to be imagining this.”

“Is she okay?” Roman asked, his expression suddenly fierce.

“She was picking up her memorial lei like she does every year.” Jackie answered automatically, her brain still screaming you're not real none of this is real! “Lei which I found out today is for you. And him, and that guy. Explains my hallucinating, I guess.”

Ambrose huffed indignantly at being called that guy. Rollins took her hands, his fingers feeling very real against her own. Chilly, but real. It was becoming increasingly difficult to convince herself that this was all in her head. “Listen to me, okay? Up until a few minutes ago, we were pretty sure we were ghosts, stuck in limbo, whatever the hell you want to call it.” His voice was earnest. “Nobody has been able to hear us or see us. Roman would flicker but that's seriously it. We couldn't even remember our own last names.” Realization crept over his face and he gritted his teeth. “Apparently there was a reason for that, because once Dean said our last names we...well, you can see us now.”

“That I certainly fucking can. So how long have you assholes been living in my attic?”

…

Roman still didn't feel right. He couldn't tell if it had anything to do with how terrified their housemate was, or if it was just an aftermath of being deprived of his senses so long.

The floor in the hallway was freezing under his fingers and knees, leeching through the soaked fabric of his standard-issue pants and screaming for his attention. His whole body felt worn, like he'd gone for a sixty mile hike. Uphill. She knew his mother. “Please.” He said finally, interrupting her and Seth's conversation. “What did my mom say?” Jacqueline (Jackie, it's Jackie) pushed her hair back out of her face and gave him a hard look over her glass of orange juice. Roman could practically hear her saying fuck off I was in the middle of something. “I haven't seen her in...Christ, however many years it's been. Just tell me that she's okay at least.” He pleaded.

Something loosened, her brown eyes softening.

“Jesus, yeah, tell us about Ma.” Dean chimed in. “She all but adopted Rollins and I into her brood. Nicest lady I ever met.”

“I see her a lot actually, I work in the little garden shop in the town plaza.” Jackie said. “She gets her memorial lei every year around this time.”

Roman put his head into his hands, fingers digging into his scalp. “Easy Big Dog, deep breaths.” Rollins said kindly, his hand cold on Roman's shoulder.

“What the hell happened to us?” Roman asked.

“You guys drove off a bridge, according to Baron and your obits.” Jackie supplied helpfully.

Seat belt strangling his neck, water pouring into the car-

Roman lunged to his feet, staggering steps taking him down the stairs. “Reigns!” Seth called after him, sounding confused. “Where you going, man?”

“My mom.” Roman replied numbly, fumbling with the front doorknob. His fingers...nothing was cooperating. All he could think about was memorial lei. The door finally opened and he fell out onto the porch.

“Reigns, hey, whoa! Cool it!” Dean was at his side, trying to get him on his feet again.

“My mom Ambrose, she thinks we're dead.” Roman knew he probably sounded like an idiot. “She thinks we're dead, I have to tell her...” He moved across the yard like a sleepwalker, his boots dragging through the spring mud. “...Have to tell her, Dean, have to-” The end of the driveway stopped him dead and Roman wanted to scream, no no no, something's wrong! He raised his hands, fingers pressing against the invisible barrier. It's still here, it shouldn't still be here!

Ambrose made a horrified noise. “Fuck, we're still trapped. Fuck!”

The relief that had flooded Roman's body in the attic quickly abandoned him, leaving the larger man feeling empty and sick. He beat his hands against the barrier, a howl building in his throat as he sank to his knees at the end of the driveway.

How many times had they attempted to leave the property? Seth had tried to jump over whatever was keeping them back, and Dean had mapped it out to no avail. Roman had rammed headlong into it again and again during the first months, searching for a weak spot. They could venture into the lake a little ways, and into the woods surrounding the house, but sooner or later they would hit that barrier at the property line.

Roman didn't know how long he knelt there in the mud, pounding his fists into the invisible wall that stood between him and freedom. Long enough for Ambrose to leave him alone.

He finally dragged himself upright, vaguely aware of the fact that his hands should probably be broken at this point. So they weren't whole, not alive, not really. It was a cruel joke, some trick by whoever had done this to them. Roman clawed down his own face, trying to get himself under control. He trekked slowly back across the yard, crouching by the lake to splash some water onto his face. It didn't feel real, granted he could barely remember what real water felt like but it wasn't like this.

The first splash was ice-cold enough to make him shudder involuntarily and he raised his eyes, taking in the opposite side of the lake. A few houses, the road and way off in the distance...the bridge stood out starkly against the fresh green foliage.

Roman's fists dug into the dirt on either side of him as he remembered the early spring rain pouring down in torrents, Ambrose working the radio to try and call for backup. They had finally gotten a lead, a break in the case, and Rollins wasn't paying attention and there was the shriek of brakes, the clatter of the old wooden railing giving way--Roman dragged himself out of the water, hacking and wheezing up the liquid in his lungs. Seth was so cold in his grip, his head lolling limply to the side. Ambrose had an arm wrapped around Roman's waist, holding onto his belt as he screamed at Seth. The house loomed up out of the darkness, the house they had been heading to.

“Well well, isn't this a surprise.” Police Chief McMahon's grin was unsettling at the best of times--

Someone was holding his shoulders and Roman just leaned into them. “Something's wrong.” He said thickly. “Something's wrong.”

“You need to come back inside.” Jackie's voice was soft, her fingers straightening out his hair. It didn't feel right, like the pressure of her touch was too light for her to be real. The water had been cold, but it didn't feel like it was actually making contact with his skin.

“Something's wrong.”

…

“We went off that bridge. Rollins was driving. Dark and stormy night.” Dean paced back and forth, doing his best to sift through the details that had been absent for so long. That's what he was good for, the details. “Damn Challenger sank so fast. I'd had the window open because of how hot Rollins always had the thing and that shit just poured into my lungs like a waterfall. Seth hit the steering wheel on impact and got knocked out. Reigns was the only one of us with a fighting chance.” He noticed with a touch of amusement that he was leaving a trail of water in his wake, his boots squeaking more and more.

Seth tipped his stool back from the island, rubbing his hand over his facial hair. “I was out for all of this, I just remember cracking my skull into the steering wheel.”

“I unbuckled myself.” Roman stared down at the mug of hot tea in his hands. His fingers and uniform were still caked with mud. “Dean got free. Had to cut Seth's belt.”

“Roman was a fuckin' Saint Bernard, straight out of some Swiss Alps bullshit. He had me hanging onto his waist like a fuckin' barnacle and Seth's dead weight to drag, current pulling us downstream.” A few more pieces slid into place for Ambrose. “We...washed up here. This was where we had been going and-”

“He was waiting for us.” Roman filled in dully.

“Who?” Jackie asked, her confusion evident as she looked to Dean for answers.

“Police Chief McMahon.”

“I assume he wasn't here to be your backup.”

The chief stood in front of them, smiling that damn smile. Dean was shaking all over, adrenaline slamming and fury licking hot at his insides. He clawed at the muddy riverbank. “Do you know what happens to officers that don't stay out of my business?” The old man asked.

“Fuck you.” Dean seethed.

“We had him pinned for...shit, I can't remember. There was something, funds had gone missing. I can't remember.” Dean grunted in frustration. “I can remember the sound of him cocking his handgun.” He twitched uncomfortably. “He put a bullet into Seth's head. Just a quick pull and that was it. Roman was...was still coughing up water but he tried to stand.”

The sound Dean made was ugly even in his own ears. A wounded animal scream of Seth’s name, he couldn’t believe that had happened.

“He killed him like it was nothing. He didn't even think about it. Safety off, done. He knew exactly what he was doing.” Roman snarled.

“We were exhausted, waterlogged. Could barely move. Must have been like shooting fish in a barrel for the old bastard.”

“We woke up in the attic who knows how many days later.” Seth said softly. “I fell through the floor into the living room.” He rubbed his eyes, looking worse for the wear. “So something is fucked up. We can't leave. We're still missing a piece, I guess.”

“Drink your tea before it gets cold.” Jackie murmured after a moment of silence. “We'll figure this out.”

“This isn't your issue, J-”

“Oh yes it is, Dean.” Her expression had gone sharp. “Shane is the one who suggested this place to me.”

“There's no way Mac was in on what his dad was doing. There's no fuckin' way.” Dean protested. “Shane O' could never stomach that corrupt shit. Hell, I remember when he got into a fistfight with the old man for cheating on his mom.”

“Even if he's not in on it, I...” Jackie trailed off. “What's that noise?”

Tires in the driveway. It was dark outside, and none of them had noticed any lights. Foreboding sat in Ambrose's stomach like a brick. The creak of the front steps made them all jump and Jackie quickly got to her feet.

“Hello?” She called, peeling Seth’s fingers off of her wrist when the younger man grabbed at her. She pushed him towards the broom closet built in beneath the stairs.

There was a knock on the door. “Jacqueline?”

McMahon.

The three men looked at each other. Dean saw equal amounts of fear and fury in the eyes of his brothers and then Jackie had grabbed his wrist and was shoving him into Seth, gesturing frantically at the closet.

It was empty, thank God, because there was no other way the three of them would have fit. Roman had to hold the door shut as it was.

…

Seth knew he didn’t have to hold his breath but he did for as long as he could.

“Come in sir! Would you like some tea?”

Oh fuck, there are so many mugs on that table. He’s going to know. He’s going to know something is up.

“No, but thank you for the offer. I only stopped by for a minute anyhow. Wanted to ask you a question.”

Seth shifted nervously and he heard Dean clench his teeth in a quick snap! The younger man found Ambrose’s hand in the dark and gave it a squeeze. Touch still felt strange, like whatever he was grabbing wasn’t fully real.  

“Kiddo, I’ve heard that you were asking about those poor boys we lost from the force.”

Roman’s whole body went eerily still.

“Oh, well, yes sir. One of the ladies who lives in this area gets these memorial arrangements from my store every year and I had never asked her who they were for.” Jackie sounded entirely disinterested with the subject. “Did I do something wrong, sir?”

“It can be difficult, keeping this town in order. You know from your father that this job is…thankless. But it’s also difficult to cope with the loss of a child. I’m afraid Mrs. Reigns’ mental health is a bit deteriorated.” McMahon said, the low rasp of his voice making Seth feel like someone was dumping ice water down his back. “You can’t believe everything that she says, kiddo.”

“What do you mean, Mr. McMahon? All she told me was that they were for her son.” Jackie was lying, she was lying to Vincent McMahon. “She said he died in a car accident. Is that not true?”

“That boy and his two cronies had gone off the grid hours earlier in the day. They came screaming back onto the comms after dark, making some insane accusations and driving recklessly fast. We all assumed they’d been drinking, but…”

Dean was shaking. Seth had to remind himself that none of this mattered, none of it mattered. They were still chained to this place, but obviously they were closer to cracking the mystery than they had been a week ago. He squeezed Dean’s hand again, making a soft noise of reassurance. It doesn’t matter.

“…know how it works on the force, kiddo. We couldn’t just say that they had been under the influence. Would have tarnished the town’s reputation.” McMahon was still talking, still lying through his teeth to Jackie. “It’s a rough subject for anyone involved, I would know. But we wanted to remember those boys for the good they did, not the harm they could have done.”

“Of course sir. I completely understand.”

Seth couldn’t tell if Jackie was pandering or if she actually believed McMahon’s skewed tale. Roman had started to shiver so Seth stroked a hand down his back, over and over.

“Alright. I’m sorry to intrude on your solitude, kiddo. Didn’t mean to interrupt your tea. You uh, always brew four cups at a time?”

Seth froze.

“I got some new flavors I wanted to try mixing. You sure you can’t stay for a cup? I have clove, raspberry, some lemon-“ Oh she had to be screwing with him, there was no other explanation.

“Sorry kiddo, I think I’ll pass.”

“Actually sir, I had a question. I was going to email Shane about it, but since you’re here I might as well ask.” Seth heard footsteps climb the stairs over their heads. “I wanted to know whether I was permitted to remove the wallpaper or hang something on that wall at the end of the hallway? I’d like to get my deposit back, otherwise I would have already taken down that old paper.”

Seth’s brow furrowed. Why on earth was she wasting time talking about the wallpaper? Had she forgotten that they were stuffed into a broom closet?!

“Absolutely not. My ex-wife loves that design and she’d have my head if anything happened to it. I think it’s ugly as sin, but what the wife wants, she gets.”

“Glad I asked before I did something, then! Thanks for your time, sir. Drive safe.”

…

Roman fumbled with the buttons on his shirt as Jackie stood there, arms folded across her chest. “Okay so I…have apparently forgotten how to work buttons.” He said after a long silence. “And shoelaces. And zippers. Because none of this shit is coming off.”

His boots were still covered in a thin layer of mud, the knees and seat of his pants were absolutely filthy and yet he couldn’t seem to take anything off so Jackie could toss them into the wash as she had  kindly offered to do once Vince had departed.

“What? C’mon, just-“ Jackie tugged at the top button on his shirt, her expression quickly turning from skeptical to annoyed. “-just--God, did you superglue this?!”

“I’m not dignifying that with a response. Look, I’m a big dude but I wasn’t that worried about button strength.” Roman retorted, yanking at the zip on his pants while she continued her efforts with his top button. “What the hell, come on.” He grunted.

“It’s like there’s a layer of grease on it or something. I don’t know if I’m even touching the actual button.” Jackie observed, still fighting with it. “Okay you know what, fuck this. Scissors.”

“Scissors?”

“Scissors.” She rummaged through the kitchen drawer and came up with a pair of old metal shears. “Hold still.” Jackie pulled the seam of his shirt out to the side, trying to untuck the fabric from his pants. But it refused to budge. “Okay, this is just obnoxious.” She muttered, bringing the shears down with a final-sounding snip on the bunched seam.

The blades passed right through the material like it wasn’t there.

“Oh of course, how could I be so dumb? Ghost clothes.” Jackie huffed. “Ghost pants and ghost boots tracking very real mud through the house. What the hell.” She knocked her forehead against his chest, the weight of the motion still feeling less heavy than it ought to.

Roman cleared his throat and she raised her face to look up at him. “I’m…I’m sorry about all this.” Without any conscious thought, his hands had somehow ended up on her hips. He noted absently that her eye looked miles better from when she had moved in.

“It’s not like it’s your fault that you have…ghost clothes, I swear to God, how dumb. How fucking dumb.” She groaned. “You’ll just have to live with the mud until we figure something else out. Go outside with the broom and brush it off once it’s all dry, I guess.”

She placed her forehead back against his chest, heaving a sigh. Roman stayed where he was, figuring if she didn’t want him to touch her she would probably say so. He also didn’t want to be the one to point out that for whatever reason his clothes and body seemed to be maintaining a dampness which would definitely hinder the mud-drying process.

“Thank you.” The words were so soft he almost missed them, mumbled into his chest.

“For what?” Roman asked in confusion.

“Letting me rest for a second.” She hesitated, then continued, “After what happened everyone’s been treating me like I’m a ticking time bomb. Nobody wants to touch me or upset me.”

“What happened?”

“Your textbook domestic dispute. Policeman’s daughter ought to know better.” Her fingers toyed with the seam on the side of his shirt aimlessly.

“I’m sorry.” Roman didn’t know what else to say. He had never had much luck with words of comfort.

She stayed nestled silently in his chest for a few more minutes, then murmured, “Thank you.” again.

“Reigns!”

Roman was already reaching for his gun, popping the snap on his holster and half-turning at the yell before he remembered that idiot, you don’t have a gun anymore.

Dean stood in the doorway of the kitchen, looking a little too bemused at Roman’s muscle-memory reaction. “Rollins wanted you in the attic, said he had some ideas to bounce off of you. I guess he got tired of dealing with me.” He chuckled. “You can let go of her now, man.”

Roman hadn’t realized he had a death grip on Jackie’s side and he quickly released her, mumbling an apology. She stayed put for a second, then shook herself and said good night to the both of them in a voice that wavered a little.

…

Jackie couldn’t stop thinking about that damn wall. She had already sorted through all the new bulbs they had gotten (finally, some crocuses!), swept the store, even given the orchids new ice cubes. Her shift was dragging in the worst way possible.

So she perked up instantly when Bray entered the shop. “Afternoon, Bray! How’s things?”

“Well, aren’t you the chipper one! Things are goin’ alright I’d say, quite alright. I have a request for you, Jacqueline, an expansion to the store’s wares.” Bray leaned on the counter, his perpetual good nature comforting. “I don’t suppose you could talk to the powers that be about broadening the selection here? I must say, it’s been ages since I could pick up some Saint John’s Wort.”

“I’ll make a note of it, absolutely.” Jackie said, scribbling it on the clipboard even as she spoke.

“How is that new house treating you, my dear?” Bray asked. Jackie froze mid-letter when he continued offhandedly, “Not restless at all, is it?”

“R-Restless?” She stammered out finally. “What do you mean?”

“Oh don’t mind me, just ramblin’ like always. I think you might be the tenant with the longest track run there is all. Most folks seem to up skirts pretty quick, one thing or another.” Bray unconsciously echoed Corey’s words to Jackie when she had first gone to see the house.

One thing or another.

“Did something happen there?” Jackie did her best to keep her tone level, busying herself with making a new checklist. “Something that would cause…ah, what was the term you used the other day?”

“Spiritual unrest!” Bray said after a moment of hard thought, blue eyes almost vanishing when he smiled. “I don’t want to scare you. I know what folks around here say about me and my brood. There’s far worse in this town than me, though.” He leaned in a little, suddenly serious. “Have you thought about interior design?”

“I…” There was a split second where Jackie wondered whether she was talking with a madman. Bray’s expression had darkened considerably. “Um. Maybe?” She answered weakly.

“Watch out for the wallpaper glue. It’s an absolute nightmare gettin’ it off your skin.” His smile seemed hollow and Jackie couldn’t help but think about the fact that this guy was almost certainly in the local cult. “You may want to glove up before you do anythin’. Can’t hurt.” Bray suggested.

“Thanks for the uh…the advice, Bray.”

“Be careful, Jacqueline.” Bray took her hands in his own. “You’ve been through enough, from what I can see. It would hardly be fair to put you through more.”

“I can handle it.” Jackie said firmly.

“I’m sure you can.” Bray gave her a thoughtful look. “But it’s not your responsibility to fix this.”

It’s not your responsibility.

Like hell it isn’t. Jackie thought sourly while she picked at her lunch. What am I supposed to do? Ignore the three sort-of ghosts living in my house? She shook her head. No, hell no. I don’t know whether this has anything to do with unfinished business like that Casper crap, but something went wrong and they need my help. I know that wall is an important piece of this puzzle. Fuck my deposit.

Closing time couldn’t come soon enough for Jackie, the brunette woman all but shoving Baron out the back door so she could lock the place up five minutes early. “Sorry Baron, but duty calls!” She apologized.

Baron gave her a dirty look and threatened her with a noogie before setting off down the road on foot, waving like he always did when she passed him a second later in her truck.

Jackie felt like she was going to explode with the nervous energy she’d built up over the day, fingers tapping against the steering wheel.

Finally pulling into her driveway (and seeing no other cars there) was a huge relief and Jackie bolted to the porch, fumbling momentarily with the lock on the front door. She didn’t even bother to shut the door behind her, taking the stairs two at a time in her hurry.

Standing in front of the wall though, she felt a flicker of doubt. What if she was wrong? What if Bray had just been saying weird things and by sheer coincidence had struck upon what she was thinking about?

Pretty damn big coincidence.

Jackie ran her fingers over the wall. The paper was freezing cold to the touch and she knew that it wasn’t on an outside wall, there had to be a void space of some kind because her closet didn’t extend that far back. Mr. McMahon hadn’t really sounded like he cared, but…

Only one way to find out, she supposed.

She was pressing her palms tentatively to the wall before she could really think about it, the paper giving the tiniest bit where it was stretched taut between the studs. Her fingers found a seam and after putting on her work gloves, she carefully tugged at it. Footsteps behind her should have broken her concentration, but Jackie was hyper-focused on the task at hand.

Dean’s arm reached over her shoulder and he tried to touch the wall. Something kept him back, only about an inch. “I thought we had exhausted all of the possibilities.” He sounded confused. “This wall?”

“There's something fishy about it. And I'm willing to forfeit my security deposit to find out.” Jackie huffed, pulling harder at the paper. The piece abruptly tore free and she stumbled back against Dean’s chest.

“What is that?” Ambrose asked, pointing at some marks on the back of the wallpaper.

“I have no idea, but I doubt that it's a part of the usual wallpaper application procedure.” There were markings in the paste all over the paper, incomprehensible designs that made Jackie's eyes sore. She swallowed hard, a cold chill running down her spine. “I'm scared, Dean.” She admitted. “I'm kinda' in too deep to quit now, but I have to say that I'm more than a little freaked out.”

“Listen, if you want to stop, you-”

“Oh no, I'm curious and terrified.”

“What’s going on?” Seth asked, poking his head out of the attic door. “What…oh. What?” He quickly dropped to the floor, crouching to examine the piece of wallpaper that laid there. “This shit is giving me a headache. Guess it’s ugly on both sides.”

“We can’t touch it, either.” Ambrose informed him.

Jackie scrabbled at the wall, peeling another piece free. There wasn’t even any drywall or sheetrock, just empty space between the studs. It was a false wall, the real wall about a foot and a half back and painted the same blue as the hallway.

“Where is Roman? Get Roman, go get him.” Rollins ordered Ambrose, his excitement tangible. Jackie realized that there was something in the space, down closer to the floor. Abandoning the delicate approach, she punched through the wallpaper and tore it in half. There was a hissing pop! when the paper ripped, like she had broken a pressure seal. For all her lack of delicacy she still managed to keep the glue off her bare skin, Bray’s warning resurfacing.

It was a box and three (hopefully) unloaded handguns messily bound together in what looked like eight layers of duct tape, with a piece of paper resting on top. Warily, Jackie picked up the paper and put it to one side. No explosion followed, so she pulled the box out of the space. The cardboard was soaking wet, somehow not moldy, cold even through her gloves and the tape.

She cut the tape to another pop!, this one loud enough to make her ears ring. The taped-up mass of weaponry clattered to the side when she opened the box.

Badges.

“Oh.” Seth said softly. “That's...those are...” He brushed his fingers over the pocket of his uniform shirt, where two small holes still dimpled the fabric. Jackie hesitated, then pulled off one glove and reached into the soggy box. The second she wrapped her hand around the three badges, everything went dark.

“Dispatch dispatch! This is Officer Ambrose, car five! I repeat, Officer Ambrose car five!” Dean was practically hollering into the radio mic, heedless of the rain trickling through his open window as he tried to raise the dispatch. Car five's radio was notoriously finicky.

“Car five where the hell have you idiots been?! The chief is gonna' have all your badges for this!”

“Who has eyes on the chief? Who has eyes on Vince?”

“Car five, what the hell-”

“He's been lying to all of us! He's been siphoning funds into his own account and we can procure the proof, now who has eyes on the chief?!”

“He left an hour ago, Ambrose, and he was steaming mad!”

“I don't give a-” There was a crash, the sick sound of wheels spinning with nothing under them. The impact was like hitting a brick wall. Freezing cold water rushed past her in a torrent and Jackie forced her eyes open again. Being a spectator was such an odd sensation. She watched as Roman clawed at his seat belt, taking one last deep breath before he unbuckled it. Dean escaped through the window on his side and braced himself against the body of the car, managing to yank Roman's door open when the car fully submerged.

Roman reached in through the passenger window to try and unbuckle Seth but something was wrong, the buckle had jammed or broken and trapped the unconscious officer in his seat. Ambrose moved to try and get the driver's side door open, but he was obviously fading fast.

Reigns reached down and popped the multi-tool free from his duty belt, quickly tearing through Seth's seat belt with the cutter. He dragged the younger officer out through the window and tried to grab Dean, his fingers barely missing the other man. The current was quickly moving them downstream once they disengaged from the vehicle and Ambrose finally snagged Roman's belt as they broke the surface.

Dean was choking, struggling to stay afloat and nearly pulling Roman back under. Reigns shifted his body weight, trying to keep Seth's head above water. “Is he okay?!” Dean coughed, gasping for breath.

“I don't know! We need to get to the bank, help me!” Reigns replied tersely, pulling double duty as Ambrose floundered. “That way, c'mon!”

Through a combination of brute strength and stubbornness, the two men made it to shore with their unconscious partner in tow. “Jesus fuck, Jesus, Seth, c'mon, don't do this to me!” Ambrose pleaded, staggering and falling in the shallows. He pressed his forehead to Seth's, already sobbing a little. “Seth please!”

“Well well, isn't this a surprise.” McMahon appeared out of the rainy darkness like some creature of the night, a smug grin on his face. “Do you know what happens to officers that don't stay out of my business?”

“Fuck you!” Dean raged, his footing ruined by the soggy mud of the riverbank as he struggled to stand.

The gunshot rang out and Roman shouted, “Seth!” while Dean screamed a sound that was barely human. Jackie felt sick to her stomach. Another shot cracked as Roman lurched to his feet, Dean collapsing seconds afterwards. “No!” A final shot echoed over the lakeside property and--

“Jackie, snap out of it!”

Her eyes flew open and she flailed wildly, vaguely aware of her body being trapped in Roman's arms. The badges were still in her hand; she'd gripped them tight enough for the edges to dig into her palm. Her whole existence felt like it was trembling as she stared wild-eyed at the men in front of her, the men she had just watched-

“Easy Jackie.” Dean said gently, opening her hand and moving to pry their badges free. When he touched the metal, though, the washed-out appearance of his body vanished. “Oh. Oh! It's the badges! Shit, we're idiots!” He leaped to his feet, dropping Roman's badge into the larger man's waiting hand and whirling to face Seth. Jackie felt Roman heat rapidly, like his body had been switched back on, and she looked up at him.

“You okay?” Roman asked worriedly when their eyes met, his concern more than a little entertaining. “Sorry you had to see that.” His fingers, warm to the touch, eased over her shoulder as she carried on gaping at him. “You uh, you gonna' say anything?” He continued awkwardly after a second.

“I figured you would be more excited about being alive.” Jackie managed to get out.

“I'm just glad you came back around. I was...I mean, you fell full-height to the ground and started shaking, all I could think to do was this. I didn't want you to hurt yourself.” Roman shrugged, obviously trying to play it cool.

Seth went racing down the stairs, out the front door. His footsteps faded into the distance and then there was an excited whoop. He zipped back up the stairs, a grin stretching from ear to ear. “No barrier!”

“Holy fuck, you did it!” Dean yanked Jackie out of Roman's arms and crushed her in a hug, then kissed Seth full on the mouth. “I love you, motherfucker!” He screamed in the other man's face.

“I love you too, moron!” Seth yelled back, gripping Ambrose in the tightest hug known to man as they both lost the fight with their tears. “It's been six f-fucking years since you kissed me, you fucking ass-h-hole!” He hiccuped.

Jackie burst out laughing at their heartfelt exchange, dragging all three men into a hug of her own. Roman knocked his forehead into hers, his grateful smile warming her to her core even when she dissolved into tears.

…

'UNDERCOVER OFFICERS WAIT SIX YEARS TO EXACT PAYBACK!' shouted the front page of the town newspaper.

“I feel like that headline is a little...sensationalist.” Baron grimaced, his eyebrows raising as he continued to read the story. “Oh shit. So they were in the attic of that house the whole time?”

“Yep!” Jackie said, catching the wink that Bray shot her over the new display of 'remedies' they had recently started stocking.

“Talk about hiding in the open. How is Shane dealing with his dad being put on ice?” Baron asked, glancing over when the door opened.

“Shane is fine, thank you for your concern.” The man in question sauntered up to the counter, crossing his arms over his chest and fixing Baron with a hard look. The taller man quailed a little under the stern gaze of the officer, fidgeting with the newspaper. “Corbin, you ever think about going through the academy?” Shane asked abruptly.

“I-I tried twice, sir, and the chief said-”

“Third time's the charm. You ought to drop by the station. Once you're off work, of course.” Shane grinned finally. Jackie had seen the tell-tale quirk of his mouth but hadn't wanted to spoil the surprise for Baron, laughing when her coworker stammered his thanks to the new police chief.

“You're coming over for dinner, right? The boys will be there.” Mrs. Reigns asked later on while Jackie was loading her vehicle. “Roman will be there.” She continued in a singsong, making Jackie flush.

“Well he lives there, I would assume he'd be there.” Jackie pointed out, straightening back up and rubbing self-consciously at her reddened cheeks. “Yeah, of course. Wouldn't miss it for the world, Mrs. Reigns.” She finally replied, squashing the hopeful feeling in her stomach. He was a friend, right? She could definitely call him that.

She had been doing her best to give the three officers their space, not wanting to intrude on their re-acclimation to life among the living. As far as anyone else knew, all she had done was found three men hiding in her attic.

Mrs. Reigns seemed to have other ideas however, always sending her (devastatingly handsome) son to Jackie's store for little things, specifically while Jackie was working. It was maddening, watching the other women in the place stare when he walked through the door. Then again, it was also extremely gratifying when Roman would lean against the counter and smile at her and her alone. It made Jackie light up and Baron had teased her more than once about it, snickering at her as she blushed.

When the doorbell rang at six, she was ready and incredibly nervous. Roman ran a hand thoughtfully down the porch railing and really, it was stupid of her to be jealous of a railing.

“You look good!” She blurted out, kicking herself even before she was done speaking.

But Roman grinned, cupping her chin for a second. “I think you have that category covered, beautiful.” He didn't sound like he was teasing, despite his easy smile. Her heart skipped a beat. Beautiful.

Oh, she was in trouble.

She ended up stammering her way through dinner with the three officers and their mother figure, giggling in an incredibly embarrassing fashion every time Roman's elbow bumped her own at the crowded table.

“Ma, we need to get you a bigger table!” Dean laughed, pulling Mrs. Reigns into his side for a quick hug before he and Seth left. The two men had shacked up rather quickly, to the surprise of exactly no one. “How are we gonna' manage Thanksgiving?”

“I'm sure we'll figure something out.” Mrs. Reigns gave him a kiss on the forehead and tugged on Seth's bun, her smile fond.

Jackie's heart ached for a minute until she found herself suddenly on the receiving end of some maternal affection, Mrs. Reigns moving to give her a tight squeeze. “Take care of yourself, honey.” A Tupperware container of leftovers (with her name on it!) was pressed into her hands before she departed with Roman.

“So,” Roman began after a moment of silence during the drive back to her house, glancing over at Jackie, “You wanna' tell me what all that was about?”

“'All that'?” Jackie asked in confusion. Did I do something wrong? Her fingers tightened on the lid of the container.

“You know, you being all adorable and blushy at dinner.”

What? “I...um...I don't-”

“I've been informed by the meddling mastermind that is my mother that you may be...interested. In me.” Reigns sounded absolutely smug. Jackie wanted to disappear, oh God, this was so embarrassing. “Is that true?”

“Yes.” Jackie mumbled quickly, turning the Tupperware container over and over in her hands. The startled intake of breath from the man beside her was surprising, as was the following inarticulate sputter.

“What, seriously?” Roman managed to ask.

“I wouldn't joke about something like that, Reigns. Yes.” Jackie huffed, quickly undoing her seat belt as they pulled into her driveway. “Now I'm off to bury myself in my shame, if you don't mind-”

“Oh no you don't.” Reigns' fingers wrapped around her wrist. “Talk to me Jackie, I'm seriously surprised. You...yeah? Me?”

“Have you ever looked at yourself in a mirror?” Jackie's voice cracked a little. “You're incredibly handsome, but that's just the tip of the iceberg, holy shit.”

“I could say the same thing about you.” Roman murmured, tucking a lock of hair back behind her ear. “I wasn't kidding earlier. You're beautiful. And also poisonous when ingested, if I recall correctly.”

Jackie burst out laughing as she remembered her awful pep talk attempt all those months ago. “I wanted to be strong, not some little kid scared of a nightmare.”

“Are you, though?”

“Am I what?”

“Poisonous?” Reigns' expression was serious, his lips almost touching hers when he asked, “Is there any way I can build up an immunity to you?”

“You, u-um...” Jackie stammered, trying to think of something clever but just coming up with bullet points of everything wrong with her. Those quickly vacated her mind when Roman kissed her softly.

“I don't know if I believe that you're poisonous.” He mused breathlessly, his fingers tangling into her hair. “Jesus Christ.”

“That's how I get you.” Jackie could barely believe that this was happening.

“You got me the second you let me hold you, Jackie.” He was apparently hell-bent on making her blush harder than before. “When you just stayed put, even though I was covered in mud and dripping water all over the place.”

“You were the only one brave enough to hold me.” She bumped her forehead into his. “Thank you.”

“I would be brave a thousand damn times over if it meant I got to hold you.” Roman said fiercely, unbuckling his seat belt. “May I walk you to your door?” He asked hopefully.

Jackie bit her lip. Now or never, come on! “You could walk me to my bed, if you're up for it?”

…

She had no idea how pretty she was, how absolutely gorgeous she looked. Roman had been struck with a new appreciation for life now that he had it back, taking in more small details than ever before. And the woman in front of him was a wonderland of details to study, from the sweep of her eyelashes to her nervous giggles. But she saw none of it, or little enough that she didn't think she was anything special.

Well. He was up for a challenge, as always. Appreciating details took time. Time to cup her chin, time to kiss her and touch her and let her touch him wherever she wanted. She was excited for him, crying out into his mouth when Roman pressed her against the wall in her bedroom with his thigh between her legs. Her fingers raked through his hair, destroying the already-messy bun he'd had it up in.

“How long has it been for you?” Roman asked, his voice dipping into that lower register. She trembled in his arms and he could practically hear her answer in the motion, in the way she refused to let go of his shirt. “Can I touch you?”

“I think I might lose my mind if you don't.” She replied shakily and Roman laughed, sinking to his knees in front of her. Her fingers dragging hungrily through his hair spurred him on, the way she bit her thumb when he slid her panties down her thighs wreaking absolute havoc on him.

Roman knew from experience that, like a lot of men, what he lacked in technique he tended to make up for in enthusiasm. She whimpered as he spread her wide and just devoured her, slick flooding his tongue. She wanted him, Jesus Christ she wanted him enough to trust him, to let him inflict this gentle torment and beg for more. Her hips fucked against his mouth, the taste of her sweet and hot and alive. She watched him with half-lidded eyes and that was incredible, seeing her eyes roll back, watching her come and knowing that he did that, he did that.

He couldn't help the satisfied rumble that escaped him, especially when he heard her whisper, “thank you,” again. Roman made an embarrassingly filthy display out of licking her arousal off his lips, loving the way her hips twitched every time his tongue made an appearance.

“Do you want more?” He asked, more in a tease than anything. Her needy little sounds urged him forward, pulled him upright to gather her into his arms again.  Jackie crooned to him, whispering things in his ear that made his self-control waver. Her body pressed to his own, hot and real and wet in the best possible way as her fingers undid his zipper. “I'm only here because of you, you know. If you hadn't come here...” Roman paused, clearing his throat. “I just want you to know that I won't ever take you for granted.”

Her expression indicated that she hadn't actually thought of that. Roman savored the pleased surprise on her face as he shoved her dress up over her hips, then his breath caught in his throat when she struggled out of the dress entirely.

“You're so damn beautiful.”

She blushed at the praise and Roman wanted to laugh because it wasn't enough, no word was the right one to describe her. He buried his face in her neck and breathed in her scent, just felt her underneath him while she stroked his cock, grounding himself in the reality of the moment.

“Can I?” He tilted his hips hungrily, brushing his cock against her slick lips.

She spread her legs wider and, in a sudden burst of want, slid her hands into the back pockets of his jeans and shoved as hard as she could. “Please.” She begged, looking up at him desperately.

Roman caved to her touch, letting her dictate the pace as he pushed into her. He kissed her forehead shakily, gritting out a ramble of praises and swears while he slowly made love to her. Every inch of his body was focused on this, that this was happening right now, after weeks of him wondering and hoping. She trusted him, she wanted him, her fingernails making themselves felt over his shoulder blades and Roman arched his back into that sharp pain of real.

“Come for me.” She was hardly demanding, the cry soft, a plea. But Roman was powerless to resist when she leaned up and bit down on the ink marking his shoulder. His whole body twitched all over and then he obeyed, grinding his hips down into the cradle of her pelvis as he came hard.

He started laughing into her neck when Jackie suddenly spat out a lock of his hair with an undignified 'pbbth' noise, content to just lay there and let her drag his unruly mane back into some vague idea of a ponytail. “Thank you so much, beautiful.” He mumbled once she was done, wrapping his arms around her and tucking her into his side. “Love you, beautiful.”

“Stop calling me-”

“Beautiful.” Roman used his best stern voice, wiping away her tears when they did come. “You're fucking incredible, beautiful, strong.” He pressed their foreheads together. “Thank you for everything.”

“Don't leave, okay? Sleep here. With me.” Jackie insisted, her eyes drooping with exhaustion.

“I won't leave.” Roman promised.

I'm yours, always and no matter what.

[yumiwords]

the ladies in this house

Four.

There are four people in this family. One two three four. Four is the amount of times my sister closes her bedroom window before bed. Four soft thumps of the glass collapsing against the windowsill, every single night. Then it’s the back door (three), the front door (also three), and then her bedroom window again (another four times). Just to be sure, I guess, that no mosquitos nor monsters nor bad-intentioned men sneak through.

Fourteen.

That’s how many times windows and doors need to be closed before this house can fall back into the silence that screams from the walls. I listen to this routine of window shutting and door closing each night whilst I watch the cracks in the roof of my bedroom grow. Fourteen is often the age that the monsters under the bed start to seem a little less scary than the ones in real life. Fourteen is how old I am now, with my freshly braced teeth and recently developed acne. Fourteen was the age of my sister when she started this ritual of hers, doing what she can to protect this house from the monsters outside.

Four.

That’s how many glasses of wine my mother drinks when she says she isn’t drinking. Four is most nights now, four has been most nights since my sister started her window shutting. It’s a dance they do, my sister and my mother, a dance they do that only I can see. My sister counts her windows and doors; my mother doesn’t count her glasses and bottles. I can see both, I can see the windowpanes chipping from an excessive amount of shutting, I can see the empty bottles of chardonnay from an excessive amount of worrying. My mother worries about my sister and my sister worries about herself, and my father doesn’t pay enough attention to notice.

Fourteen is how old I am now, watching the ceiling above my bed grow wrinkles and frowns. Like every other night, I watch this map of veins as I listen to the symphony of this house. Doors shutting, windows closing, bottles opening. I remind myself that I should tell my parents about the cracks, how they grow whilst I sleep. I wonder if that means something, if maybe this house is falling apart. I wonder if that did happen, if maybe then we would talk. Maybe then we would we talk about the collapsed home at our feet, or maybe we would continue to step over it blindly. Genuine ignorance for the sake of artificial bliss. I decide that we probably wouldn’t talk about it, that this roof will close in and the walls will crumble before my parents talk about anything.

The next morning, I stay in bed instead of rising with the sun like I normally do. I don’t brush my teeth as my sister opens the bathroom window twice, nor pour milk into my cornflakes as my mum slugs into the kitchen with deep bags under her eyes. I don’t eat my breakfast self-consciously across the table from my dad, the crunching sound between my teeth somehow the loudest noise in this house. Instead I stay in bed, not to sleep but just to see, to see if anyone would notice if I did.

Staying home from school was something I revelled in as a kid. A quiet house with a ticking clock was a cheeky reminder of all the things the rest of the world was doing whilst I watched daytime TV. But today I stay in bed. The novelty of being socially isolated from the word on those sick days has worn off, replaced by the desire to remain physically isolated from my own world. This desire is only bolstered by the simple fact that no one knows I’m here.

The silence that pervades the space between the rooms of this house is less obvious in the day. When there’s only me existing in this space, the lack of verbal conversation remains more of an assumption than a defiance. A defiance is when four people manage to survive under the same cracking roof with the inability to converse.

The ladies in this house arrive home first. My sister slips silently through the front door, school bag tow. Although we attend the same school, my tendency to waffle in the corridor after the final bell means we don’t normally catch the same tram home. As I daydream at my locker, my sister would already be at the tram stop, a few steps away from the rest of the kids. For this reason, I know that she doesn’t think it weird that she didn’t see me on the tram today.

My mother’s entrance to this house is loud in the most dysfunctional sense. The slamming of the door, the dumping of the groceries, the clinking of glass wine bottles. No words need to leave her mouth for her to announce her presence home from work. She makes dinner and eats it alone. She leaves three bowls in the fridge. One two three. Three bowls for us to claim when we too eat our dinners alone.

My father arrives home much later, usually directly from some undisclosed meeting or corporate dinner or after-work drinks. If it’s a dinner, my mum will scream at him that he should’ve told her, that she wouldn’t’ve bothered slaving away for hours in the kitchen for him. And instead of saying sorry, instead of saying thank you, he tells her that she would’ve been in the kitchen anyway.

Tonight though, my father arrives home not from a dinner but from drinks. A drunken head-start that brings him up to speed with the ground my mother has already covered in his absence. Eventually, after window shutting, door closing, bottle opening, bottle disposing, the house again falls silent. This house is silent, the occupants are sleeping, and I haven’t moved all day.

Twenty-four.

I contemplate my existence, contemplate the reality of my being in a world that for twenty-four hours hasn’t acknowledged my being. I could maybe live here, maybe cease all movement outside of these four walls and wait for the roof to crumble. It’s not a powerful urge of mine to stay here, to bury myself in pillows and plaster, yet it feels an easier course of survival than rolling out of bed each morning into a house that burns with silence. The fire under these floorboards was lit many years ago, fuelled by weird habits and unspoken vices, ignored for the sake of familial tolerance and civil co-inhabitancy. Even as the flames have grown louder, engulfed the space between door slamming and screaming, not a single one of us four is willing to cool the heat. This house burns with silence and will burn until it crumbles.

The silence has become more tolerable my way, by way of staying in bed. Fourteen is how old I am now, how old I am for one more week, then I will be fifteen. One five. Five is how many weeks it has been since I was last at school, since I last spoke to a person, blood relation or otherwise. Five is how many weeks I have watched these cracks above me grow, grow deeper and wider and longer and thicker. Grow until I can’t tell if there’s any roof left in these cracks.

Four.

Four is how many times my sister closes her window before bed tonight. She’s already closed the back door, and the front door, and her window four times before that. I listen as she opens it again, and pulls it closed. One. Between each motion of pushing and pulling, of opening and closing, I hear the clink of a bottle from down the hall, the clink of a bottle against a wine glass, two, against the recycling bin, three. Meanwhile, with each numerical jump, the cracks above me shake. It’s almost like they’re laughing, they’re laughing and they’re crying and they’re doing so together. They whisper their secrets and giggle at jokes, and they do all the things that this house has not known. Four. That’s the last pull of the window, as the glass hits the sill, as the glass hits the bottle, as the cracks hit the floor.

Plaster buries me in my bed, buries me under my doona and under this house forever. I hear the finality of my existence. I hear the fire burning and the silence screaming. I hear my family standing at my bedroom door, watching. Yet still, I hear no talking.

I almost laugh, I truly almost do, because for every night doors and windows were closed fourteen times, my sister believed she was protecting this house from the monsters outside. And maybe if we opened our mouths, maybe if we talked and maybe if we listened, we would’ve realised that the monsters were inside all along, living right beside us under this crumbled ceiling.

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