#moving truck rental near me

[proprenovators]

www.proprenovators.com

Moving Out-Sell Your Old Furniture, Hire Packers & Movers.

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[moveitusa]

How To Find the Best Budget Truck Rental in Las Vegas?

Are you moving soon but worried about the skyrocketing costs of hiring a truck? Don't fret! We've got your back. In this blog post, we'll unveil the secrets to finding the best budget truck rental that won't break the bank or compromise on quality. So, whether you're relocating across town or embarking on a cross-country adventure, get ready to discover cost-saving tips and tricks that guarantee a stress-free move without emptying your wallet. Get ready to take notes because we're about to revolutionise how you approach moving expenses!

If you are planning to move or transport large items, renting a truck can be a cost-effective and convenient option. One of the top companies in the truck rental industry is Budget Truck Rental. With over 2,800 locations across the United States, they offer reliable and affordable trucks for all your moving needs.

In this section, we will introduce you to Budget Truck Rentals and provide an overview of their services, pricing options, and additional features that make them stand out from other rental companies.

What is Budget Truck Rental?

Budget Truck Rental is a subsidiary of Move It, one of the largest car and truck rental companies in the world. They have been in business for over 15 years and have established themselves as a trusted brand in the transportation industry.

The company offers a wide range of trucks for personal and commercial use at competitive prices. They also provide excellent customer service with 24/7 roadside assistance available for any unexpected issues during your trip.

Budget Truck Rental offers various services to meet different moving needs. Their fleet includes cargo vans, pickup trucks, 12-foot trucks, 16-foot trucks, 26-foot trucks, and more. You can choose between one-way or round-trip rentals depending on your destination.

Factors to consider when choosing a budget truck rental

Choosing the right budget truck rental for your upcoming move can be a daunting task. With so many options available, it can be overwhelming to determine which one will best suit your needs and budget. To help you make an informed decision, here are some key factors to consider when choosing a budget truck rental:

1. Size of Truck:

The first and most important factor to consider is the size of the truck. You need to ensure that the truck you choose has enough space to accommodate all your belongings without overloading it. A general rule of thumb is to have 150 cubic feet of space for every fully furnished room in your home.

2. Distance of Move:

The distance of your move plays a significant role in determining the cost of a budget truck rental. If you are moving locally, it might be more cost-effective to rent a smaller truck as you won't have to pay for mileage charges. However, if you are moving long-distance, opting for a larger truck may save you money in terms of fuel costs and time.

3. Duration of Rental:

Another crucial factor to consider is how long you will need the rental truck. Most companies offer daily or weekly rates, with discounted prices for longer rentals. It's essential to plan out your move timeline and choose a rental option that fits within your schedule and budget.

4. Insurance Coverage:

Before renting a budget truck, make sure to check what insurance coverage is included in the rental price or if it's an additional cost.

How to research and compare different options

When it comes to finding the best budget truck rental, it's important to do your research and compare different options. This will help you make an informed decision and ensure that you get the most value for your money.

Here are some steps to follow when researching and comparing different budget truck rental options:

1. Determine Your Needs: The first step is to determine your specific needs for the truck rental. Consider factors such as the size of your move, the distance you need to travel, and any additional services you may require like packing supplies or moving assistance. This will help narrow down your search and save time in comparing irrelevant options.

2. Check Online Reviews: One of the best ways to research different truck rental companies is by reading online reviews from previous customers. These reviews can give you valuable insights into their experiences with a particular company, including their level of customer service, pricing, and overall satisfaction.

3. Compare Prices: As with any major purchase, it's important to compare prices from multiple companies before making a decision. Look at the rates for various truck sizes and distances to get an idea of what each company charges. Keep in mind that while price is important, it should not be the only factor influencing your decision.

4. Inquire About Hidden Fees: When comparing prices, be sure to ask about any potential hidden fees that may not be included in the initial quote. These could include things like fuel surcharges or extra mileage fees if you go over a certain distance.

Tips for getting the best deals and discounts

Finding a budget truck rental can often be a daunting task, especially when you're trying to save money. However, with the right tips and tricks, you can score some amazing deals and discounts on your next truck rental. Here are some helpful tips for getting the best deals and discounts when looking for a budget truck rental.

1. Book early: One of the easiest ways to secure a good deal on a budget truck rental is by booking early. Many companies offer discounted rates if you book in advance, so it's always recommended to start your search as soon as possible. This will also give you enough time to compare prices from different companies and choose the most affordable option.

2. Check for promotions and discounts: Before making a reservation, take some time to research current promotions and discounts offered by various truck rental companies. These can range from seasonal offers to loyalty programs or special deals for certain groups such as students or military personnel. By taking advantage of these promotions, you could potentially save a significant amount of money on your rental.

3. Utilize comparison websites: Comparison websites are an excellent tool for finding the best deals on budget truck rentals. They allow you to easily compare prices from multiple companies in one place, saving you time and effort while ensuring that you get the best price available.

4. Consider off-peak times: Just like flights or hotel bookings, renting a truck during peak periods can be more expensive than off-peak times.

Understanding rental agreements and insurance options

Understanding rental agreements and insurance options is an essential step in finding the best budget truck rental. It is important to thoroughly read and understand the rental agreement before signing it, as well as considering the various insurance options available to ensure that you are fully covered during your move.

Rental Agreement: A rental agreement is a legally binding contract between you and the truck rental company. It outlines all the terms and conditions of the rental, including the cost, duration, mileage limits, fuel policies, and any additional fees or charges. It is crucial to carefully review this document to avoid any surprises or misunderstandings later on.

Here are some key points to look out for in a rental agreement:

1. Rental Duration: The first thing you should check is how long you can keep the truck. Most companies offer daily or weekly rentals, but if you need it for longer periods, make sure to clarify with the company beforehand.

2. Mileage Limits: Many truck rental companies have mileage restrictions that determine how far you can drive without incurring extra charges. Make sure to choose a company that offers unlimited mileage if your move requires extensive driving.

3. Fuel Policies: Some companies require renters to return the truck with a full tank of gas while others may charge for missing fuel when returning the vehicle. Be aware of these policies so that you can plan accordingly.

Alternative options for moving on a budget

Moving can be a costly endeavor, but it doesn't have to break the bank. If a budget truck rental is not the best option for you, there are other alternatives available that can help you save money while still getting your belongings from point A to point B. Here are some alternative options for moving on a budget.

1. Renting a cargo van or pickup truck: Instead of opting for a large moving truck, consider renting a smaller vehicle such as a cargo van or pickup truck. These vehicles are typically cheaper to rent and have better gas mileage than larger trucks. They may not be able to fit all of your belongings in one trip, but if you don't have too many items to move, this could be a more affordable option.

2. Utilizing shared moving services: Another cost-effective option is utilizing shared moving services such as U-Haul's "U-Box" or PODS containers. With these services, you only pay for the space that your belongings take up within the container or box, rather than renting an entire truck. This can be particularly useful if you're moving long-distance and need time to pack and unpack at your own pace.

3. Hiring professional movers for labor-only services: If you're comfortable with driving a truck yourself but need assistance with packing and loading/unloading heavy items, consider hiring professional movers for labor-only services. 

Conclusion: Making the right choice for your specific needs

Choosing the best budget truck rental can seem like a daunting task, but with the right information and considerations, you can make an informed decision that meets your specific needs. In this concluding section, we will discuss some key factors to consider when making your final decision.

1. Determine your budget:

Before you start looking at different truck rental companies, it is essential to determine how much you are willing to spend on your move. This will help narrow down your options and prevent you from overspending. Keep in mind that while choosing the cheapest option may seem appealing, it may not always be the most cost-effective in the long run.

2. Assess the size of your move:

The size of your move will play a significant role in deciding which truck rental company is suitable for you. If you have a large household with many items to transport, then opting for a larger truck from a reputable company would be more beneficial, as they typically offer better rates for bigger trucks.

3. Consider distance and duration of travel:

If you are planning on moving long-distance or over an extended period, it is crucial to look into additional fees that may apply. Some companies charge extra for one-way trips or if the vehicle is kept longer than initially agreed upon.

4. Read reviews:

One of the best ways to gauge customer satisfaction and overall experience with a truck rental company is by reading online reviews from previous customers.

[kevinthemover]

Website : http://kevinthemover.com

Address : 4262 Pershing Street, Norton, OH 44203

Phone : +1 330-808-5130

Local and Long-distance moving. House, Apartment, Businesses. Serving Northeastern Ohio and all areas in between south to Columbus.

Business mail : kevinslongdistancemoving@gmail.com

[stairhoppermoversmerrimack]

(via GIPHY)

[millerflintstone]

News!

We've been packing up our house over the past few months and have started the process with a couple of realtors about selling our house and finding a rental house in or near Albuquerque, NM. We'll be viewing our second rental possibility on Wednesday. We're gonna talk with the realtor representing that property today at some point. We've seen one property that is a possibility. We'll hopefully get our house listed in the next couple of weeks.

We visited NM in late 2018 and fully had plans to go out again and better scout areas and get a better idea of where to settle down but then life had other plans*. And then there was quarantine and everything we all went through. So, we just decided to get out of GA sooner rather than later.

My current worry is the drive out there. I have so much anxiety about driving cross country by myself. Unfriendly will have stuff in his truck he doesn't want on a moving van, as will I in my car, so we wouldn't be taking turns driving. I'm just an anxious driver in general. I started looking up options for transporting my car last week and got sidetracked.

Anyway, fingers crossed we'll be out there by August.

*I ended up needing a hysterectomy which was a slow healing experience for me. We both had family die between 2019 and 2021. My job situation blew up between 2021 and 2022 and I didn't work for most of 2023. That's the quick and dirty version for folks who haven't been around since then

[whatdaikesneed]

Near the beginning of last summer, a dyke in my community helped me empty out a moving truck. When she volunteered, she was bragging about how strong she was, and her girlfriend was so horny about it. But after three hours of moving boxes in the hot sun, she wound up laying, face down, on my dining room floor, panting and dripping with sweat.

I got us a couple of beers and laid down on the floor next to her. She chugged it, so I handed her mine, and she bodied that as well. I said "That's hot," and she rolled onto her side to glare at me. Her chest was so covered in sweat that her T-shirt was clinging to her tits. I rubbed her shoulder, and said, "Thank you for helping today," and she softened.

We talked for a little while as her buzz set in. I didn't take my hand off her. Instead, I moved in closer, and moved my hand off her shoulder and onto her side, under her arm. She said I shouldn't, because she was all gross and sweaty, but I said I really didn't mind. "There's something very hot about a woman's sweat. And you smell amazing." She snorted laughing at that, and shoved her soaking wet armpit in my face. So I licked it. The way she moaned when I pushed my tongue into the sensitive skin of her hairy armpit, I knew I had her.

I wrapped my arms around her, grabbing her ass and pulling her crotch into mine as I went to town on her armpit, before moving up her shoulder to her neck, and chin, and mouth. She kissed like she thought if she went hard enough it'd cure cancer. (I've seen the way she kisses her girlfriend since, when they're alone together. It's nothing like this.)

I helped her pull her shorts off, and got down and started eating her pussy. (Pro tip for dyke breakers: get good at eating pussy, and go for it without asking. "Better oral" is what a lot of dykes tell themselves about why women are better than men in bed, proving that wrong will make it hard for her to think through why she should protect her gold star when your cock is right there.) She put her hands in my hair and held me down while she talked about how gross she feels about getting her pussy eaten when it's soaked in sweat and totally ungroomed. It turned me on so much when she started talking about her body hair like it was an embarrassing oversight and not a statement. I've known this woman for almost a year at this point, and she was proud of her bush.

While I was eating her, I started fingering her pussy and her ass. She kind of shamefully said "you can fuck me if you want," but I ignored her and kept eating pussy. After I made her cum again, she said it louder, more firmly. Then "do you want to fuck me?" Then "I want you to fuck me." Then "please fuck me. God, I'm begging." She came at least three more times during this saga, before she went off the deep end: "I need your cock inside me more than I've ever needed anything!"

I lifted my head up, and climbed on top of her, and, rubbing my bulge against her bare cunt, I kissed along her jawline and said, "are you sure?"

She just kept murmuring "please, please, please, please, please"

So I said "What about [girlfriend]?"

And she said "Please I need your cock so bad right now I'll do anything."

I said, "This is what your body is for, isn't it? You've just figured it out."

And she had tears running down the sides of her face, as her feminism and her lesbianism broke underneath me, and she said, "Yes, that's what it's for. My body is for your cock to fill, and I need you to fill it or I'm going to lose my mind."

So I took out my cock, and I fucked her on the dining room floor.

We made it to the bedroom eventually. The bed wasn't set up, but we pulled the mattress down onto the floor and threw a sheet on it. The rest of our clothes came off. We fucked for hours, there's no way she didn't sober up pretty early into it. When we went and dropped off the rental truck, before we turned in the keys, we fucked again in the cargo area. Then we went back to my place, she stripped her clothes back off as soon as we walked in the door, and she got on her knees and started sucking my dick.

She's still with that girlfriend, and still a proud and loud feminist lesbian. She secretly films them having sex, and we watch the videos together when I fuck her. She's started cheating on her girlfriend with another woman, too, and she also shares photos and secret sex tapes from that affair with me. She says it's to give me more material to fuck her to, but I think she also just developed a taste for cheating. I'm gonna see if I can get her to start sneaking around and fucking other men.

[440mxs-wife]

The Country Doctor, Chapter 1: A Fresh Start

Pairing: Dr. Leonard “Bones” McCoy x F!Reader (eventual). Other Characters are the usual suspects: Jim Kirk, Nyota Uhura. Spock, Montgomery Scott, Hikaru Sulu, Pavel Chekov (to be introduced in later chapters.) OMC's Travis Myers and Miles Cooper.

Word Count: 4530

Warnings: Divorce, break-up, ruthless businessmen, mentions of infidelity, but mostly fluffy (for now)

Summary: Fresh off of his divorce, Dr. McCoy receives word that he has inherited a 5,000-acre farm and home in Logan, Montana. Finally, he has an opportunity for a clean slate and to start his own clinic out west and leave his ex-wife behind. Along the way, he'll meet a cast of unique characters, each with a place in his new small-town life. But there could be trouble ahead in the form of a powerful CEO hell-bent on acquiring Leonard's property by any means necessary.

A/N: This idea was posted by @hailbop1701, with a specific list of plot points/dialog to be included. I won't put the list here, because it'll give away too much. Not sure how many parts there'll be, but I hope you like where I take the story.

A/N 2: If you’ve been tagged here, it’s because you’ve interacted one or more times on a McCoy story of mine, or we’re moots. Whether you like or reblog, I am eternally grateful for your support. If anyone else would like to be tagged on any future Karl Urban character postings, or would rather leave the Crazy Train, please let me know. Thank you, and enjoy the show!

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

"Court is adjourned."

That was the declaration eight weeks ago, when Dr. Leonard H. McCoy sat at a table with his attorney in the Fulton County Courthouse in Atlanta, Georgia. The Honorable Judge Michael Simmons had just pounded his gavel on the bench to signify an end to the McCoy v. McCoy divorce proceedings. Unfortunately, his now-ex-wife, Jocelyn, had the better attorney, which resulted in a somewhat less-than-equitable division of their assets.

At least Leonard was able to keep his vintage pickup truck and the 4-bedroom, 2 bath, ranch-style home he had lived in with Jocelyn. She basically got everything else in the settlement, though, including most of the furniture. She didn't technically need the furniture, since she was moving in with her new boyfriend. However, he had a rental property that needed furnishings, so that's where they went.

Two weeks after the divorce was finalized, Leonard received correspondence from a law firm in Montana, with a request for his presence. The letter did not specify the reason for the request, and when he called the law office, no one was authorized to divulge any information. He didn't want to find himself on the wrong side of the law and besides, he was more than a little curious. Luckily, the law firm had a satellite office in Atlanta, so that's where he attended the meeting.

An hour or so after the meeting ended, a slightly dazed Leonard walked out of the attorney's office with a file folder and a property deed in his hand. The meeting was for the reading of the will for his distant uncle, Walter McCoy. Around 5,000 acres of land in Montana along with an old craftsman-style farmhouse were bequeathed to him to do with as he pleased. There were also various outbuildings on the property, such as a machine shed, a barn with a hay loft, and horse stables.

He had options. There was an Eastern conglomerate, NorthStar Corp, that was willing to pay a more than fair price to buy it from him, lock, stock, and barrel. With what they were offering, Leonard wouldn't have to worry about money for the foreseeable future, if ever. Or, he could make the break from Georgia and his ex-wife with her boy-toy to make a go of it in Logan, Montana. Although Leonard wanted to stay near his mother, Eleanora, he had to consider that this was his chance to start over somewhere else.

When he told his best friend, James T. Kirk, about his inheritance, Jim could hardly contain his excitement. He considered it to be the start to a great adventure and was more than willing to accompany Leonard.

Jim had no family ties to speak of, preferring to live a sort of nomadic existence. He even offered to take turns driving the moving truck the 1,900 or so miles to Montana. "Good music, good snacks, and good company are all we need to get us to our destination, Bones," Kirk told him with a wide grin.

The more Leonard thought about it, the more he warmed up to the idea of starting somewhere new. A place where he wouldn't have to worry about running into someone who knew about the divorce and wouldn't hesitate to share an opinion about it. So, with Jim's help, he cleared his house out of any remaining items, put them in storage, then contacted a realtor to list it for sale.

After only a few showings, a deal was quickly closed, with a $30,000.00 profit in his bank account to show for it. Leonard and Jim loaded up his remaining possessions into the moving van, hooked up a car trailer with Leonard's pickup truck on it, and headed west to Montana. The pair made a few stops along the way, renting a hotel room to rest for the night before hitting the road again the next morning.

The more miles Leonard put behind him, the more comfortable and free he felt with his decision. He wasn't too keen on leaving his mother behind, but she assured him that she would be fine, even encouraged him to take this leap. He made a note to send her a plane ticket so she could visit once he got settled.

Nearly four days and more than 1,900 miles later, Leonard turned into the gravel driveway that led to his new home. It was a charcoal gray with white trim craftsman-style farmhouse with a tall, red brick chimney on one side. The wooden wrap-around porch was accented with white, tapered columns, set on top of the slotted railing framing the area. He appreciated the large windows, which would bring in a good amount of natural light, as well as soft breezes on lazy summer days.

"Well? Is it everything you expected?" Jim asked.

"I didn't exactly know what to expect, Jim. I don't even remember either of my parents ever mentioning an 'Uncle Walter McCoy'. He isn't someone I knew well enough for him to leave me something like this, but I'll do my best to make the most of it. From what I've seen so far, though, at least the outside looks fine," Leonard replied.

"That's the spirit, Bones! Let's go have a look at the grounds, then inside the house. After that, we can start unloading your stuff," Jim grinned as he scrambled out of the truck.

Leonard stepped down from the driver's seat and closed the door. "Sure, Jim. Why not," he muttered to himself. He fished the house keys out of his pocket on his way up the porch steps. The front door was made of solid oak with a dark finish and leaded glass panels arranged in a geometric design. He inserted the key into the lock and tilted his head back. "Here goes nothin', I guess," he murmured, pushing the door open.

***

At just after 2:00pm, you stopped by the post office to retrieve your mail that had piled up over the last couple of days. Before you left, you strolled up to the counter to chat with your best friend, Nyota Uhura. Her shift was almost over, so she suggested the two of you meet for coffee and a snack at the Java Station Café on Main Street.

While you waited for her at the café, you thought about how you met her and what brought you back to Logan, Montana. Your now-ex-boyfriend, Travis Myers, had convinced you to move with him from Logan to Bozeman. He'd landed a lucrative position as in-house counsel for a large and powerful corporation. You found work at a tech company doing data entry work for a medical office. Not too terribly taxing nor was it what you wanted for a career, but it paid well.

Around the six-month mark of living together in the big city, Travis started coming home later and later in the evening. Missed date nights and other outings were becoming more frequent, with him coming to bed late and leaving before you woke up. Whenever you tried to talk to him about it, he always chalked it up to working late on a big case or project, so you let it go.

The last straw was when the two of you were supposed to meet a few of your friends for dinner. Since he was late picking you up from home, you asked one of them to drive you to the restaurant. From the lobby, you called Travis and told him to meet you there.

Just before you said your goodbyes, you heard, "Come back to bed, baby, I'm cold" in a woman's voice. You were furious, demanding to know who the woman was and how long he had been seeing her. After first denying everything, he ultimately confessed it was his assistant and it had been going on for about six weeks. You felt your world collapsing around you at his admission. Dinner was forgotten while your friends drove you back to the apartment to pack up your belongings.

You couch-surfed for about a month before finding an apartment back in Logan, where you had previously lived with your parents. Because Travis paid for most of the expenses such as rent and utilities, you were able to save up quite a nest egg to cover your new living situation. However, you weren't sure how much longer your savings would hold out, so you decided to look for a job to make ends meet.

The bell above the door tinkled, and Nyota rushed over to your table. After a brief hug, you both sat down and waited for your server to appear and take your order. Uhura was practically vibrating with energy, which meant she had something exciting to share. A few minutes later, with your order submitted, she spilled her secret.

"You'll never guess what happened today!" she exclaimed. "Two men came in today to file a change of address card."

You snorted. "That sounds like something that happens every day around here, Nyota, not that interesting. You're nearly jumping out of your skin about this. What is so compelling about them that has you barely able to sit still long enough to tell me?"

Uhura made a face at you to show her displeasure. "If you can keep from insulting me, I'll tell you," she pouted. You held up your hands in surrender as her cue to continue. "They moved here from Georgia, and one of them has the most tantalizing Southern accent. They were both tall, one blond hair with striking blue eyes, and the other dark hair and hazel eyes. He seemed a little grumpy at first, but Blue Eyes was the more charming of the two," she explained.

"Did you get a look at their new address, the one here?" you asked.

"The one with dark hair listed his name as Dr. Leonard H. McCoy, and his address matched the one for Walter McCoy's place," she replied.

Now she had your attention. Every so often, you drove by the farm, wishing you lived there instead of your small, one-bedroom apartment. You had thoughts about what it would be like to buy the place one day so you could fix it up and return it to some of its old glory. You'd heard through the grapevine that the owner passed away a few months back. It was also mentioned that ownership would pass to his only other living relative.

"I've always thought about that place, what it looks like inside, how I would spruce it up. Wait a minute, did you say Doctor McCoy?" you squeaked.

"And her brain has finally caught up with her mouth," Uhura joked. "I was wondering when you'd catch on to that tidbit of information. That house has a separate office space, ideal for treating patients. Word travels fast in this town, and once folks get to know there's a doctor in town again, Dr. McCoy is bound to need help. You know, with paperwork or coordinating treatment of his patients. Know anyone with those kind of skills?" she grinned.

In addition to your data entry job, you had acquired some basic medical training. The town had a couple of paramedics within the Volunteer Fire Department for the more serious cases. For now, it was enough, but it would be nice for the vacancy to be filled, especially by a handsome doctor. "Hmm. Maybe I should head out that way, introduce myself, see if he needs any help." Beg him for a job, you silently added.

"That's the spirit! If you're done with your coffee, we should drive out there and check things out. You in?" she held out her hand for you to shake.

After draining the last of your cappuccino, you nodded and shook her hand. "I'm all in," you declared.

***

Leonard and Jim wandered the property, taking in the condition and contents of the outbuildings. Many of the machines and tools were left behind. They noted which items were and were not still functional, to determine what could be easily returned to service or sold for parts. The good news was, the buildings themselves were structurally sound, although at least in need of a new outer coat of paint.

As for the house itself, Leonard was pleased to find a side entrance that led to an office, set apart from the main house. It was perfect for starting his clinic, with a small area that could function as a waiting room, and enough space for a reception desk. He made a note to check in town for a secondhand store to pick up a desk, some chairs and other furnishings.

Jim joked and told him that all he needed now was a pretty receptionist who could also perform nursing duties. Leonard glared at him in response, reminding him that after the way divorce went, he wasn't at all interested in dating. "Just doctorin'," he affirmed. "Maybe fishin', if the winds are just right," he added with a smirk.

A tour of the home's interior revealed hardwood flooring in the bedrooms and living room, while ceramic tiles covered the floor in the eat-in kitchen. There was a separate dining room space between the kitchen and living room. The centerpiece of the living room was a fireplace made with gray bricks and had a dark wooden mantle above it.

Before his arrival, Leonard contacted the utilities and asked for them to be turned on and transferred into his name. That gave Leonard and Jim a chance to determine what worked and what needed repaired. For the most part, the electrical system was in good working order, except for a few outlets that may need replaced or updated.

The water situation was another story. At first, when Jim turned on the high-arching faucet in the kitchen, the white farmhouse sink reflected a light brownish tint to the water. The pedestal sink and clawfoot tub in the main bathroom, plus the sinks in the half-baths were the same shade of brown. However, the more they let the water run, the clearer it became, which helped ease their minds a bit.

Leonard walked back out to the porch to make a mental list of what he'd need to bring the old house back to life and working order. The hardwood floors were in good condition, though they could use a bit of polish applied to them. There were a few non-working electrical outlets that would need an electrician's expertise to chase down the problem. In the bedrooms, there were spots where the wallpaper was peeling away from the wall. Not exactly a fan of wallpaper, Leonard decided it would be better to tear it all down and paint instead.

Overall, the pluses outweighed the minuses, such as the updated appliances in the kitchen and quartz countertops. Leonard could definitely see himself cooking up a Sunday dinner of his mother's chicken and dumplings with a peach cobbler. As an avid reader, he also loved the built-in bookshelves to showcase his personal library of classics. And the side-door entrance to the office space provided a break between his professional life and his personal life.

Jim joined him out on the porch and gazed out over the mature trees that dotted the property. "So now that you've taken the grand tour, what do you think, Bones?"

Leonard thought for a moment before answering. "Think I'm gonna like it here. Let's start unloading the truck," he directed. "Good thing we hit those consignment shops on the way here, or you wouldn't have a bed to sleep in," he jested.

Jim was about to unlatch the door on the moving truck when he noticed a car turning into the driveway. "Welcoming Committee?" he wondered. Leonard shook his head and rolled his eyes while he walked over to stand next to Jim. They both watched as the car rolled to a stop near the front of the truck.

***

The drive to the McCoy place only took about twenty minutes, which you spent silently reviewing your qualifications. Uhura could tell you were worried about making a good impression, which she was sure you would. She told you not to worry about it, that you were the best candidate for the job, if Dr. McCoy was hiring. "What if he's not hiring, though?" you asked.

"Then we'll have to convince him that he'll need your help, being the only doc in town. There really is no way around it, he will require an assistant," she reasoned. Her response sounded logical, so you accepted it and kept driving out to meet your prospective employer.

Soon your car was pulling into the driveway, where a large moving truck was parked. Upon seeing the two men standing to one side, you had to admit that Uhura was right. They were both strikingly handsome men. The dark-aired man carried a stern look on his face and his arms were crossed over his chest. The blond seemed a little more easygoing, self-assured, bordering on cocky, as if he knew what a good-looking man he was.

As you exited your vehicle, the men had started walking in your direction. "You ladies lost or somethin'?" the dark-haired man drawled. Ohhhh, that accent was enough to make you weak in the knees, you thought. You held on to your open door for balance.

"Yeah, can we help you?" the blond man wondered with a smirk.

When your brain finally rebooted, you responded, "Actually, we were hoping to be of assistance to you, since you're new in town." At this, you introduced the two of you and learned that the blond was James T. Kirk, or "Jim" he offered with a waggle of his eyebrows. His grumpy companion with the dark hair was the Dr. Leonard H. McCoy who now owned the property.

"I think we can manage fine with just the two of us. Good day, la--" Leonard was interrupted by Jim, who pulled him aside.

"Wait a minute, Bones, let's not be too hasty. I mean, these are a couple of gorgeous women who showed up out of nowhere to see us," Jim pointed out. "It wouldn't hurt to hear what they had to say, now would it?"

Leonard pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in exasperation. He was here to be a physician, to take care of people who need help, not dip a toe in the dating pool. When he looked up, he noticed that Jim had left his side and was talking to Uhura, while you had stepped up in his place.

"Excuse me, Dr. McCoy? I understand that my friend and I just turned up unannounced on your doorstep, and you don't know anything about us. But this is a pretty small town, and I should tell you, it won't take long for people to learn that we have a new physician to replace old Doc Thomas. Therefore, I'm offering you my services. I have some basic medical training, and I used to do data entry for a medical company back in Bozeman," you explained.

"Bozeman? Why on earth would you ever leave there to live here? Not to say that what I've seen so far of Logan isn't simply charming," Leonard added with more than a hint of sarcasm.

"I'll be glad to share that little tidbit of information once we've gotten used to working together," you shot back. "By hiring me, you'll have a well-organized appointment calendar, along with accurate patient files. You'll also have someone who knows how to take and record vitals, which leaves you free to do the doctorin'. So, do we have a deal?" you asked, your hand outstretched.

Leonard took a moment to consider your offer, bold though it was. He had to concede that in a town of this size, word would get around about a new physician and spread like wildfire. He'd probably end up with a huge influx of patients. Even if it was only at first, he might become easily overwhelmed. Patient care was of the utmost importance to him, and if you could make things easier for him, who was he to reject such a proposition?

His lack of response translated to you as a decline of your offer of assistance. As you started to withdraw your hand, he quickly grabbed it and clasped it between his own. "Whoa, hold on there just a minute. All right, you have a deal, but we'll do this as a trial run. A three-month probationary period, take it or leave it," he bartered, fighting the urge to smile.

"Thank you, Dr. McCoy! Three months? That'll be more than enough time for you to decide you can't live without me! In-in the office, I mean," you clarified.

Leonard couldn't help but smile at your blunder. "All right, now that we have that settled, I hope you'll excuse me and Casanova over there with your friend. We have a lot to unload, and I'd like to sleep in my own bed tonight rather than the couch," he stated.

"We can help, if that's okay with you? With four sets of hands, we can be done in no time. Besides, I've always been kind of curious about what the inside of your house looks like," you admitted.

You are one interesting woman, Leonard thought to himself. "Okay, let's get started then. Once we get everything out of the truck, I'll take you on the nickel tour," he winked. He whistled to get Jim's and Uhura's attention, then opened up the back of the truck.

***

"There, I think that's the last of it," Leonard declared after he removed the final box from the moving truck and placed it on the lawn. He jumped up to grab the leather strap, then pulled down the rolling door until it was flush with the deck. He latched and locked the door, picked up the box, and brought it into his new home.

 Jim and Uhura had taken your car into town to pick up something for dinner, which left you alone with Leonard. During the unloading, you didn't get much of a chance to stop and look around. But now that most of the heavy lifting was done, you seized the opportunity to take in your surroundings.

You were so caught up in admiring the home's features that you didn't hear Dr. McCoy slide up next to you. "If you have your nickel, I'm ready to start the tour," he grinned. You dug in your pocket, which luckily contained the right coin for the price of your ticket. "Ready when you are, Dr. McCoy," you replied, handing over the 5 cents.

***

Video Conference Call -- Bozeman, Montana

Travis checked his watch to see that he had another ten minutes before his conference call was scheduled to start. He opened the blue file folder in front of him, which was sent from his employer regarding a property they wanted to acquire in Logan, Montana. He sat back in his chair as he thought about how you'd moved there after breaking up with him. Before he could stroll any further down Memory Lane, his alarm beeped to let him know it was time to start the call.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," Travis greeted. He could see the CEO, Miles Cooper, at the head of the table, surrounded by other members of NorthStar Corp's Board of Executives.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Myers. I see you have the file in front of you, so let's begin. We understand that the principal owner of the McCoy property has passed away. As such, we want to move forward and make the new owner an offer to purchase the parcel of land and whatever's on it. The house, barn, stables--everything, down to the last shingle," Mr. Cooper explained.

"My source tells me that the new owner drove all the way from Atlanta, Georgia to check out the property. He is also a doctor, and the town has been without one since the last one died. In my opinion, this could present a problem. He may decide to stay and 'hang out his shingle', as it were," Travis pointed out.

Mr. Cooper leaned back in his chair and rested his steepled index fingers on his chin as he contemplated his next move. As he considered this new development, conversation buzzed around him among the other executives. According to one of the scientific reports he received, there were plenty of reasons for encouraging the good doctor to sell.

The report mentioned the discovery of several veins of copper and silver running beneath the surface. The financial gains from mining those resources would more than cover the initial investment paid to acquire the property. Whether the new owner was aware of these precious metals was unknown, but Cooper needed to act fast before the doctor learned of their existence.

With a wave of his hand, silence returned to the board room as Mr. Cooper had made a decision. "Mr. Myers, I suggest you do your best to convince Dr. McCoy to sell the property to us. I will have a new purchase offer drawn up that's more than fair, and you should strongly encourage him to accept it."

Travis carefully considered Mr. Cooper's words that carried the barest hint of a threat behind them. "Sir, I will present your offer; however, we should be prepared for him to turn it down and decide to become the town's doctor."

"You worry about getting a signature on that purchase agreement, Myers, and I will worry about whether or not a contingency plan will be needed. Before the previous owner's death, this was a working farm, right? Lots of tools, machinery? Farming is considered to be one of the most dangerous professions, you know. Accidents can and do happen. It would be unfortunate if an accident should befall the good Dr. McCoy," Mr. Cooper replied darkly.

There was no mistake in Mr. Cooper's intent this time. "Absolutely, sir. I will find a way to present your offer that will make it difficult if not impossible to decline it."

Mr. Cooper's eyes brightened and a smile graced his face. "Excellent, Myers, I knew I could count on you. I'll send that new offer over to you as soon as I have it and we'll go from there," he stated. "I appreciate your cooperation, Myers, I certainly won't forget it."

"And thank you, Sir. I welcome this opportunity, and I will not let you down," Travis concluded.

"Let us hope not, Myers. I'd hate for you to experience any....negative fallout, should you be unable to close this deal," Mr. Cooper remarked ominously before disconnecting the call.

Travis relaxed in his chair and began to formulate a plan in his mind. A sly grin crept across his face as he thought of the perfect way to get an inside look into the doctor's life.

Of course, it involved a trip to Logan and should he happen to run into you, so much the better. For him, anyway. Though there was a near 100% chance that you would want nothing to do with him. If that was the case, his plan may be a bust before it even gets started.

Especially after the way things ended between you discovering his infidelity. For that reason alone, it was likely your walls of protection against him and his crap were nearly guaranteed to be sky-high. But it was a chance he was willing to take, because he did not want to disappoint his client. Something told him that with a failure of this magnitude, Mr. Cooper was capable of making his life a living hell.

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

Tags: @marvelouslytrekking @spacedancer1701 @anna-phora @hailbop1701 @writercole @lassie-bird @never--doubt @phoenixisred @wayward-dreamer @erindiggory @strangesgirls @dumpsterhippie @genevablog26 @lokis-deares @medicatemedrmccoy @rooweighton @mamamercurymist @d-doki-doki @malmeansbad @imamotherfuckingstar-lord @ghosttrekkie @noforkingclue @bellestalesoffiction

[rokhal]

Ghost Rider/RE7 AU fanfic: Skills

Follows directly from this fic. Set in @wazzappp's Ghost Rider/RE7 fusion AU, during the period that Robbie and Gabe are living in an isolated BSAA-provided safe-house, watched by intelligence agents and also by Chris Redfield.

At least until the thing with Mia, Ethan Winters and Chris Redfield seemed to be friends, and Ethan seems to have looked up to Chris. I don't see this happening with Robbie. Not to say anything bad about Chris -- I'm not familiar enough with his character -- but his wiki page has his full career and this man has spent twenty years professionally shooting things. I just don't see Robbie getting that cozy with him, not without a long adjustment period.

Anyway, here Chris is being friendly. He's got a soft spot for orphans.

Mr. Redfield (like hell was Robbie going to call the private military contractor on whose word they had been extrajudicially deported to a Spanish-speaking country under false Mexican passports, and who had probably trained the guys who trained the guys who disappeared people for the cartels down south, “Chris”) showed up a couple times a month to supervise Robbie practicing with his illegal BSAA-issued firearms and make nice with Gabe. Gabe liked Chris. Robbie had to let them think he liked Chris, because if Chris ever decided that Robbie and Gabe were more trouble than they were worth, presumably as witnesses against Cutting-Edge Health Connections or whoever it actually was that had snatched Gabe up for his life-saving experimental “therapy,” then Chris would probably dismember them both and cremate them in an oil drum. Heck, he could probably skip the cremation step and just leave their corpses in the house. No one would find them for years.

Career-choice aside, Mr. Redfield seemed like he wanted to appear harmless. He generally arrived in a nondescript rental car, biceps straining the sleeves of his polo shirt, bearing some comics or Cholula hot sauce or something else he thought would endear him to them. Today, he trundled down the miles-long gravel drive to the house in a Toyota Tacoma. Robbie didn’t know they sold those in Spain. As he approached, Robbie spotted something mechanical and spindly in the truck bed, which resolved itself into a pair of bicycles.

“Got something for you two,” Mr. Redfield announced, getting out and lowering the tailgate. He vaulted into the bed, and motioned for Robbie to grab the bicycles as he handed them down. Robbie had to take a moment to identify a secure place to grip them; bicycles were about 80% moving parts. Robbie steadied them both awkwardly by the handles to keep them from toppling over, and Mr. Redfield jumped down with a large brightly printed box under each arm. “Casco para Bici de Montaña” and “Casco Juvenil para Bici,” the glossy boxes read. The price stickers were still in place; the helmets had each cost over fifty euros.

Mr. Redfield waved for Gabe to come over, and Gabe ran up and grabbed his helmet with both hands—“Is that for me? Do I have to give it back? Does Robbie get one?”—while Mr. Redfield used his foot to depress a metal brace near the bottom of the frames that allowed each bike to stand upright so Robbie could let go of them.

“They’re a little old-fashioned and I had to guess on the sizes,” Mr. Redfield apologized, gesturing to the bikes. “I figure they should be good enough to have some fun on, though.”

Robbie couldn’t guess what about these bikes was old-fashioned; the paint and seats had a few scrapes and there were stickers plastered to the frame of the smaller bike, but they both had actual shocks with springs and pistons and everything. Each handle had its own cluster of levers and cables. Robbie wasn’t stupid, he knew a bike was basically a big pair of gyroscopes that steadied you as they rotated and he could deduce that the levers and gears and chain served the same purpose as a manual transmission for whatever fraction of a horsepower a human’s legs produced, but understanding how one worked and actually operating one were very different. These weren’t the small one-speed bikes his peers back home might meander along the city sidewalks or pull wheelies on; these looked like the kind grinning sweaty white people rode down mountains on TV commercials for allergy medication. The saddle on the larger bike was taller than Robbie’s hip. If he tried to sit on it, neither of his feet would touch the ground. “It’s big,” he remarked.

“The seat’s not hard to adjust.”

Crap. Mr. Redfield must think Robbie was complaining. Robbie had no opinions about bicycles—no, maybe he did. Bikes were quiet, inexpensive to operate, difficult to conceal tracking devices on, simple to repair, and while they couldn’t compete with cars on the freeway, they were the next best thing for long-distance travel. And they didn’t require ID or registration. If the BSAA had meant to trap Robbie and Gabe in this off-grid house, maybe Mr. Redfield was offering them a plausibly deniable escape. Or maybe he was just irresponsible. That left only the major problem. “Gabe doesn’t know how to ride a bike.”

Mr. Redfield made as though to punch Robbie in the shoulder, and Robbie flinched before he could stop himself. Redfield completed the punch slower, lightly, the same way he insisted on manually adjusting Robbie’s posture when he supervised firearms practice, like he was doing Robbie some kind of favor by pushing his tactile boundaries. “Well, lucky he’s got you for a big bro, huh?”

“Uh, about that,” Robbie started, then froze when he heard a crumbly hiss of tires on sand, and a scream moving rapidly downhill. “¡Ay! Gabe!”

“Thought you said he didn’t know—” Mr. Redfield started, but Robbie was already sprinting around the Tacoma, between the endless shrubs, down the rocky slope after Gabe, who was hurtling toward the ocean at ten, fifteen, twenty miles an hour—toward the ocean and the rough cliffs that led down to it.

“Gabe! Stop!” Robbie stumbled on a loose rock and gasped for air. “Gabe!”

“Whoa, little dude, safety first,” Mr. Redfield called, waving the boxed helmet in one hand as he overtook Robbie without obvious effort. Maybe he was some kind of bioweapon. “Come on back here, let’s get this fitted.”

Gabe arrested his headlong course toward certain death by some kind of miracle, and turned his bike around a mere five hundred yards from the cliff. (It looked closer from Robbie’s perspective.) He stood up on the pedals to put his weight into climbing back up the hill, just like he’d had full use of his legs his entire life, before swinging down off the bike and walking the rest of the way, panting. Robbie wheezed and braced his hands on his knees when they reached each-other.

“Cliff,” Robbie managed. “Gabe. Don’t go down the cliff.”

“Wasn’t gonna,” Gabe protested. “That’d be stupid.”

“I know, I know you’re not stupid. But.” Robbie grasped desperately for some way to explain his panic besides, every time you show me something new you can do I get scared you’re possessed again. “This ground is a bad surface for braking. You could skid and lose control at high speeds.”

“I want to try on my helmet,” Gabe said, passing his bike to Robbie as he jogged up to where Mr. Redfield was opening the box. Robbie watched closely as Redfield set the helmet on Gabe and stuck little strips of foam to the inner rim wherever Gabe said it chafed him. Gabe kept trying to loosen the chinstrap until Robbie admonished, “If you cracked your head open I’d be so sad I might die.” Then Gabe slumped and let Redfield tighten the chinstrap according to the diagrams. Redfield was following the English language instructions, but Robbie noticed that he’d had to turn to the middle of the guide pamphlet to find them. The front pages were all in Spanish.

“Thought he didn’t know how,” Mr. Redfield remarked, not bothering to lower his voice despite Gabe being right there.

“Uh,” Robbie said. He still knew almost nothing of what Gabe’s life had been like while the Connections had had him, but he doubted it had included many outdoor activities. Gabe was looking away, picking at a sticker on his bike’s handlebars. “He was...away...for a while.”

“Daddy Baker taught me,” Gabe explained. His voice was quiet. “He taught Evie first. Then me. She really liked it, she made me ride for her after she got too old.”

Robbie swallowed. “You, uh. Are you happy to have your own bike now?”

“Yeah.” Gabe was still absorbed peeling off the previous owner’s stickers, but Robbie watched Mr. Redfield watching his brother with a blank, analytical expression. “Evie was really sad she couldn’t play with her real body anymore. She was nicer when I let her play with me.”

Did Gabe mean play together or play with, like a toy? Hopefully Mr. Redfield would assume Gabe meant the first one, because the second option might have left traces that might require more aggressive decontamination. “I’m really proud of you for learning how to do this,” Robbie said, trying to change the subject. “But you gotta tell me before you go out riding, okay? And stay where I can see you. I don’t want you getting lost again.”

“I wasn’t lost, I was turned around,” Gabe protested.

Mr. Redfield laughed. “Great comeback. Okay, dude. To keep from getting turned around, you just look for your major landmarks. Right here, that’s the water, that’s always gonna be South. You climb up the nearest hill, and you look for either a downhill slope, a river, or the sea itself, and you can figure it out from there.”

“See?” Gabe said, raising one eyebrow at Robbie.

Are you fucking kidding me. Robbie glared helplessly at Mr. Redfield. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Now you two can do some sight-seeing. Or,” he said, winking, “zip into town for groceries in an emergency.” What was that wink for. Was Redfield trying to warn and prepare Robbie for something, or just playing Friendly Paramilitary Babysitter? “Don’t act too excited, now.”

“Right, thanks,” Robbie said. “I, uh. I rode a motorcycle once. Bike can’t be that different?”

Redfield frowned. “You never rode a bike?”

Why was he acting shocked. He’d read their file. Foster kids couldn’t haul bikes from home to home. “Who was gonna teach me?”

“Me,” Redfield muttered. “Now. Apparently.”

“Is it a requirement?” Robbie checked.

“No, not like firearms training,” Redfield said, confirming one of Robbie’s previous suspicions and raising more questions at the same time. “But I figure you want to keep up with him.”

“Yeah.” Ahead of them, Gabe mounted his new bike again and squiggled back and forth up the hill toward the driveway. “Thanks.”

[alwritey-aphrodite]

epilogue

Chapter 11 of I’ll Be Back Again To Stay

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x single mom!reader

Warnings: none :)

Word Count: 2.2k

Author’s Note: here it is!! The end of the story!! First, I want to say thank you to everyone who read, commented, reblogged, and enjoyed this <3 you all deserve the world. Second, if anybody’s interested, I am always open to writing little fics or headcannons about these two idiots and the in-between moments <3

Santiago makes good on his promise to visit. He comes for the first time in February, and swears up and down that he didn’t even realize Valentine’s Day fell during his visit. He only stays for a few days, but it’s wonderful just to spend time with him, to take Inez out somewhere during the day and then spend the evenings together.

It’s perfect, and you get a little bit heartbroken when he has to leave. You loved all of the time you were able to spend with Santi, just the two of you, but you might have loved watching him and Inez bond even more. You’re never going to forget how big she smiled when the two of you came to pick her up from school, and how she never wanted to be away from him during his visit.

For someone who claims he could never be a father, it seems like the most natural thing to him.

You see him again in March, when you and Inez fly out to spend her spring break in North Carolina. This time, you drive out to the beach and get ice cream and get a rental car. You stay with Santiago, and even though Syd had pouted when you told her, you could tell she was secretly very happy that all her meddling and not-so-subtle pushes had worked.

Santi ends up flying out to see you about once a month, even though you text and call and FaceTime almost every day. Once, Inez had begged for him to bring Toby, so he drove the 23 hours, just so your daughter could see his dog.

It’s over the summer that you finally make the decision to move out to join all of your friends. There wasn’t anything keeping you in Denver, there was no reason for you to stay, and Inez seemed delighted at the idea of getting to see her best friend every day.

You’d complained to Santi about not being able to find a house near everyone, late one night during one of his visits.

“Just stay with me,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious idea on the planet.

“What?”

“At least until you find a place,” he’s backtracking, taking your surprise for repulsion, when really, you just weren’t sure that was something he had wanted.

The two of you never really made it clear what you were to each other. You knew you both cared about each other, that you wanted to spend time together and be near each other, but labels had seemed so unimportant. This was a big step, but it was one you felt ready to take.

“You sure? A six year old and a dog?” You ask, smiling as Santi rolls his eyes at you.

“They can occupy each other,” and you laugh, rough patch and hurt feelings carefully avoided. There were always a few moments when things felt like they could take a rocky turn, like you and Santiago really weren’t meant to be together, but you always navigated them carefully, side by side until things turned around.

All of your friends come out to help you pack and move - thank god for the Miller brothers. Santi has the whole operation under wraps; all you had to do was tell him what you wanted done, and he and the boys would do it with military precision.

Everything was running so smoothly you barely did anything, spending most of the days they spent packing up furniture and placing boxes in trucks showing Sofia and Maria around town with Inez, staying out of the guys’ way while they did all the hard work.

Benny had volunteered to drive the moving truck to your new home while you, Santi, and Inez drove in your car with some of the smaller boxes and suitcases full of what you’d need immediately, like toiletries and spare clothes and pajamas. You were just as excited as Inez, though you weren’t bouncing up and down the entire car trip.

It takes some time to get settled in, to create a new routine with Santi and Inez and Toby, but everything fit together perfectly once you get the hang of it. You loved watching Santiago with your daughter, how wonderful he was with her, the way he’d sling her pink, sparkly backpack across his shoulders whenever he’d come with you to pick her up from school and walk her safely through the parking lot.

Winter arrives, and Christmas comes with it, and you’re happier than you’ve ever been.

This year, you get to kiss Santi whenever you see him, sit next to him and hold his hand or cuddle into his side when he slings an arm around your shoulder. Santi’s a sap, and even though the guys don’t say anything because he’s happier than he’s ever been, they can’t help but roll their eyes and smile whenever his eyes track you across the room with a reverent look.

Over the past few months, Inez has taken to calling Santi ‘dad’, and you’d been terrified the first time it happened, but Santiago didn’t do anything but smile wider than you’ve ever seen him and answer the question she was asking. Now, she calls for her dad as often as she can. It’s a novel word for both of them, and his eyes light up every single time.

Christmas Eve is spent at the Morales’s again - Sofia is pregnant with their second baby and decided that she didn’t want to leave the house. Maria is over the moon about being a big sister, and keeps telling everyone who will listen about all of the fun things she’s going to do with her little sibling.

Everything seems so much brighter than last Christmas. You and Santi are finally together, Sofia is having another baby, and Will and Sydney finally got engaged. It seems as if everything yet nothing has changed, as if this is the way it was always meant to be.

The evening passes in similar fashion to last year, with dinner and gifts and restless children, except now, Santiago helps you haul Inez’s gifts to the car and drives you all home. He helps Inez set up cookies for Santa and the three of you cuddle on the couch until your daughter passes out, curled up between the two of you.

As expected, Inez comes bounding into your room at the crack of dawn, jumping onto the bed to wake you and Santi. It takes a few minutes to gather your senses, but soon enough you’re all downstairs, watching as Inez tears at the gifts under the tree.

“Did you like all the presents from Santa?” You ask her as she climbs onto your lap while Santiago starts breakfast.

“Yeah, except I didn’t get a little sister, but that’s okay because toys are probably better.”

She moves on pretty quickly, hopping off the couch and back onto the floor to play with her toys. She doesn’t bring up wanting to be a big sister until March, when Luna Morales is born and Maria becomes a big sister. Both of the girls are obsessed with the baby, spending hours just sitting and watching her, interspersed with begging Sofia to know when she’ll be big enough to play with.

It seems like with the new addition to the group, everyone gets baby fever. Sydney had mentioned to you that she’s ready to start trying, because watching Inez grow up and meeting little Luna has only increased her desire to be a mom, even after Luna spit up on her. If Benny’s around, he’s got Luna in his arms more often than not, even though he’s perfectly content with staying as Uncle Benny for a little while longer.

You’ve never seen Santiago look at something with as much longing as he looks at sweet baby Luna. He’d been terrified to hold her, just as Sofia told you he was scared to hold Maria, but he always cradles her in the softest of ways, looks down and cooes at the big brown eyes she’d inherited from his best friend. He’d mentioned it a few times in passing, how maybe he wouldn’t be an awful father to a baby, but he’s yet to outright ask if you wanted to start trying.

The spring is spent with lots of play dates at the Morales house, so Inez can keep Maria busy and you can watch over Luna while Sofia showers and naps and does whatever she needs to do. And, if you’re being honest with yourself, you’ve gotten a little bit of baby fever too.

You love Inez more than words can say, and you wouldn’t change a single thing about her, not even raising her alone, but it would be nice to have someone by your side throughout the whole pregnancy, someone to be there for all the milestones. Sure, the first time you had Syd, and you’re eternally grateful for her, but you can’t imagine how different it would be to go through all that with the other person who’s going to raise your baby.

You want to have a baby with Santiago.

Before you broach that topic with him, though, the two of you get married, going down to the courthouse in late June with your friends as witnesses. And, while you’re there, Santi officially adopts Inez, and you don’t think you’ve ever been happier.

The reception is in your backyard, with food from a local restaurant and drinks spread out in coolers along the back porch. The kids run around with Toby while the adults take turns holding Luna so her parents can eat and have a few minutes to relax. It’s casual and simple and absolutely perfect.

You and Santiago finally have a talk about having children together, and by next Christmas, you’re the one pulling the pregnant card and making everyone come to your house. Inez is absolutely over the moon, chattering on and on about how she’ll finally have someone besides Toby to play with.

It seems like your happiness is only growing, with every Christmas somehow better than the last. There’s no fighting, no drama, no snarky comments, just genuine love and appreciation for the people you’re surrounded with. There’s not a day that goes by where you aren’t beyond grateful for the family you’ve made and for the bigger family you’ve found.

And, in March, the newest member of that family arrived.

The group had been divided over whether it would be a boy or a girl, even though it hadn’t mattered to you as long as they were happy. Still, Benny had to slip Will a twenty dollar bill when you revealed that you’d be having a baby girl.

Little Augustine Elena Garcia is born, with her father’s eyes and your smile, the same one inherited by Inez. You’d been worried, terrified, that she would feel replaced when the baby arrived, but it seems like every second she’s home, Inez is with Augustine, even if she just sits next to you or Santi as you hold her.

If you thought it was wonderful to see Santi with Inez, you’re blown away by the sight of him cradling your baby girl. He's amazing, the most supportive partner you could ever ask for. He does whatever you need him too, and still makes sure to spend special time with Inez, like playing with stuffies together or going to get ice cream, so she remembers that he always loves her.

As Augustine gets a little older, Santi takes to wearing her on his chest as he moves around the house, folding laundry or doing the dishes, sometimes strapping her to his chest while he takes Toby for a walk so he doesn’t need to worry about dealing with the stroller.

He just loves to be close to her. You can’t even count the times you’ve walked into the living room and seen Auggie asleep on his chest, Santiago passed out beneath her.

You host Christmas again, and Santiago spends most of the day with Augustine strapped to his chest. She’s a total daddy’s girl, and you’d feel a little jealous if it weren’t so adorable. Both of your girls love to be with Santi, and he loves spending time with them just as much.

As you sit around, waiting for everyone to open their gifts with Auggie in your arms and Inez nestled between you and Santiago, you can’t help but think about how much everything has changed in the last four Christmases.

You’d met everyone as a single mom to a kindergartener, feeling like you’d never meet someone you want to spend the rest of your life with. Now, Inez is eight years old, you have another daughter, and you’re married to your favorite person in the world.

This was never the life you grew up dreaming about; the husband and dog and white picket fence, two and a half kids and a nine-to-five, the whole suburban dream. You were never aching for a husband, and you hadn’t thought much about kids until you had Inez.

You did things a little differently, a little unconventionally, but you wouldn’t change a thing. Even if this wasn’t the life you grew up dreaming about, you’d never been happier and you don’t think it’s possible for you to become any happier.

Everything always works out the way it should, and the universe works in mysterious ways. Still, you wouldn’t change a goddamn thing about your life, not when you’re surrounded by your favorite people, by your daughters, by the love of your life.

You feel complete, and nothing could ever top that.

Tags: @zoriis @andr0medafallen @campingwiththecharmings @itspdameronthings @stevenngrant @loonymagizoologist @welcometostayingawake @outmodead @pakhiya @wand-erer5

[spudlord]

Crowd Funding !!

Venmo: jesse-a94

Cash app: $jessethecutie

Paypal or zelle: jesserosea94@gmail.com

475/2500 I don't know if I even have active followers anymore over here but I am sharing this everywhere I can because I'm pretty desperate. I know money is tight for everyone and there are so many worthy causes and people to donate to right now so I was really hesitant to toward to crowd funding for this but I am at my breaking point. Please consider helping 2 queers find better housing closer to our jobs& friends. Even if you can only send 1 dollar, every penny will help. If you can't donate, please consider sharing!My wife& I are near our breaking point with our current housing situation. I'm asking for donations to help us move.

I didn't want to turn to crowd funding for this but I'm beginning to feel desperate. Based on the rent we could afford monthly we need about 2000 dollars for move in fees, but we've been hoping to save around 2500 to be safe since moving comes with a lot of unexpected costs and we'd need to rent a moving truck since we don't own a car. We currently have 475 dollars set aside and will also be trying our best to put aside every extra penny we have after bills&groceries& other necessities.

We're 2 disabled queer people trying hard to get our shit together. We've been trying to save for months to move us and our 2 cats but every time we get close an emergency happens or one or both of us gets sick and misses a lot of work. Our current rental house is moldy, and has a laundry list of issues that are impacting our health. It's also a 2 hour commute one way via bus to our jobs. We're trying to move to the Oak Park or Ferndale area so we're walking distance from our jobs, and many of our friends/support network, to be closer to my doctors, and closer to more bus lines since I can't drive due to my disability. Thank you for hearing me out at least and please consider sharing or donating or helping in any way you may be able to.

[iamprchung]

The Spider and the FBI: Part 4 "As If Painted in Place"

Forced of the road, and carried down a raging river, miraculously surviving a mob hitman attacking them on the road, Scully, Skinner and their prisoner find themselves on foot, traveling across the open plains of Wyoming. Meanwhile, Mulder is dealing with two eccentric young women that need his help almost as much as Scully and Skinner.

"As If Painted in Place"

Part IV of "The Spider and the FBI"

by PR Chung

County Road 434

Wyoming

Friday, July 3rd

"You know this is your fault."

Mulder looked up from the trunk at Sally, squinting against the blazing daylight. Her accusation was brilliantly stunning. "What?" He nearly laughed.

Marylou looked between the two of them, apprehensive.

"Could you please explain to me how this is my fault?" He asked Sally, walking from behind the car to motion at the flattened rear tire.

"If we hadn't come this way I-- I wouldn't have run over that thingy in the road back there." Sally generalized, waving her arm in the direction they had come.

Mulder looked back down the road; his mouth twisted with dazzled contemplation.

"What thingy?" He questioned turning back to her. "There was no thingy in the road. The damn tire just went flat, that's it!"

"I know I ran over something," she insisted, "and I wouldn't have if we hadn't come down this road."

"This direction was your idea." He argued.

"I wouldn't have come this way if you weren't with us," she continued, now looking to her friend. "I only came this way to get him to a phone."

"This way?" Mulder repeated. "We're practically in Montana, do you realize that?" Neither of the women said anything. "You have taken me halfway across this state in the complete opposite direction that I should have been going. There's a rental car sitting on the side of the road, four hundred miles from here, that's closer to civilization than we are right now. My partner and superior have probably entered and left the state of Nebraska by now, if they're lucky enough not to have run into the man intent on killing the prisoner they're transporting. And here I am, arguing about my ambiguous role in your narrow view of the universe."

Both of the women remained silent; they were looking past him down the road.

Mulder heard the sound of a vehicle and turned seeing a battered pick-up truck heading toward them. He gave it a circumspect look, one corner of his upper lip drawing back with trepidation. The truck began slowing as it neared them, and Mulder could see two men peering out the windshield with half-witted grins plastered across their faces.

"Get in the car," he called back over his shoulder.

Marylou immediately moved towards the door, Sally too, but only to grab her purse off the front seat. "You get in the car, woozy agent," she spat at Mulder, "I'm not."

"Sally, what are you doing?" Marylou demanded.

"Hey there." Mulder turned seeing one of the men leaning out the open window of the truck. "Having some trouble here, huh?"

"No, just a flat."

"Gotta spare?" The driver called and leaned forward for a better view of the scene.

"Right there." Mulder kept it short.

"Got air in it?" the passenger asked laughing.

"Yeah, got air. Even have a jack and lug wrench."

"Well, what do you know about that?" The passengers turned to the driver, and they laughed hard, too hard for Mulder's comfort.

"Will you take me to the next town?" Sally was suddenly at the driver's window.

The two men looked startled for an instant.

"Uh...?" said the passenger glancing back at Mulder.

"Sally?" Marylou yelled at her friend jumping back out of the car where she'd been watching from.

"Uh..." said the driver also glancing back at Mulder as he reached for his door handle.

"No, I don't think this is a good idea," Mulder announced starting for the truck.

"Maybe you don't, but I don't care what you think," Sally snapped at him through the truck windows and across the two men. "Come on, open up and let me in."

"Uh... all.. all right," the driver said and got out.

"Sally, no," Marylou pleaded with her. "Come on, we'll get the tire changed and everything will be fine."

"I don't even care, okay? Since he turned up this whole trip has really lost its appeal for me." She tossed her purse in on the truck seat next to the passenger and started to climb in.

"Sally, come on," Mulder tried, laboring for his best and most gracious of smiles. "There's no sense in abandoning your road trip. I'll get out of your hair in the very next town, I promise. You'll never have to see me ever again."

She looked at him for a long moment, hovering halfway in the truck.

"Forget it." She plopped down in the seat jaw set. "Let's go."

"Sally," Marylou ran up to the truck near tears. "No, don't go with these guys."

"We're good guys," the driver assured her getting back in behind the wheel.

"We'll take good care of your friend." The passenger assured her.

"Come on, come on, let's go."

"Sally, damn it, think about this," Mulder was having trouble keeping the agitation from his voice, he could feel his jaw tensing and knew he was talking through gritted teeth.

"Please."

Even the driver was starting to wonder. "You sure about...?"

"Come on, I want to go." Sally practically yelled at him refusing to look at Mulder or Marylou.

"All right..."

The passengers waved and smiled as they drove away back down the road leaving a dusty wake behind.

"Shit!" Mulder yelled turning to the trunk of the Mustang.

Marylou gasped. "I can't believe she just left with those guys."

"Just some more shit to make my life harder than it already is," Mulder declared hauling the spare out of the trunk.

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

The sound was so loud it was almost deafening; the raging torrent of muddy water Walter Skinner found himself battling and at the same time utilizing to reach Scully. She was just ahead of him; the water tossing and turning her like so much driftwood, her head bobbing up and down below the surface, her eyes were wide, and her mouth gaped as she gasped for breath.

Bright day and rushing then a split second of deathly silence and gray followed again by the rushing and brightness and gasping and coughing. Scully sucked in great gulps of air each time she managed to throw her head back far enough from the water to breathe, but the water was in her eyes, her mouth and nose. Don't panic, she had tried telling herself at first, but all equanimity deserted her once she felt the river winning. Fighting the current was like bench pressing four hundred pounds while being hit with a fire hose on full. Her arms were growing numb, her throat burned from choking-

Don’t panic!

Gasp! "Hel-" Cough! "-p!"

Silence. Rush. Gasp. Choke!

Clutch!

Her fingers brushed at something solid, her shoulder next but whatever it was gone, still she...

Don't panic! She thought. "Help-!" She choked up in the blaze of day around her.

Clutch! Silence. Rush. Gasp!

Choke...

Silence...

"Scully!" Skinner shouted when he saw only her back surface. He spat and choked away dark water struggling to turn face up, kicking then with all his strength shoulders first along the current toward her still form.

He bumped into something and fought to turn again thinking it was Scully but finding it was only a piece of debris; a knot of branches and grass torn loose from the riverbank. Then, his heart nearly stopped when he realized he'd overshot her somehow.

At the last minute, Skinner caught the snarled branches that were precariously caught up on bank, holding himself above water as Scully was carried close enough for him to reach out and grab.

Snaking his arm around her under her arms he hoisted the weight of her upper body up and toward him bringing her head up from the water on back onto his shoulder, but in the effort to do so he lost his grip on the branches.

As though they were tethered to a truck moving at top speed he and Scully were jerked away from the bank by the current. Water blinded him, choked him, fought him for control and possession of Scully but he would not let go of her, would not let her head dip below the murky surface again no matter how many times his did.

"Hey!" Skinner heard someone shouting just barely above the sound of the rushing water. "Hey! Here! Here! Up here!" Skinner shook his head and tried to squeeze his eyes clear of water, seeing finally a blur pacing him and Scully along the bank in an offish, excited dance. "Up here! There's rocks ahead!"

It was Bernstein.

The news about rocks ahead was a mixed blessing Skinner realized and prepared himself for what would undoubtedly be a brutal impact. As best he could he forced himself and Scully into the current attempting to keep as much of his head and neck out of the way of anything hard ahead.

"Okay, okay!" Bernstein was shouting now. "Get ready! Now, grab them! Grab them!"

Blindly, Skinner reached out with one arm connecting hard with an out cropping of rock just a foot or two from the riverbank. His grip wasn't solid, if Bernstein didn't hurry he'd be swept away again with Scully's weight helping the furious current.

Bernstein tiptoed along the slippery rocks, a long branch in his hands and huge goose egg of a bug sting smack dab between his eyes. "Grab on to the end!" He called Skinner.

"I can't! I'll lose my grip on her! Come down here and help me!"

"I could slip and fall in," Bernstein argued back poking the branch toward Skinner. "I went through hell getting out of this friggin' river once with these cuffs on, I'm not doing it again!"

"Damn you, Bernstein! Help me!"

"I am, grab on!" Bernstein inched his way out a little further and slipped to the end of the branch near Skinner's hand. "Just grab on!"

His fingers were slipping, his arm around Scully was going numb—

He let go of the rock to grab the branch-- and missed.

"Oh, Jesus!" Bernstein yelped as Skinner and Scully washed away from him.

An eternity of mere seconds passed before Skinner felt his head and shoulders jabbed repeatedly as he was shoved into another accumulation of branches down river. The force of river water pressed him nearly under the branches and then rolled and twisted his body toward the soggy bank like so much flotsam. His body weak, his muscles burning with exhaustion... he was too close to give up.

He pulled himself along the branches until he was close enough to hoist Scully forward away from him and against the muddy bank using her weight as an anchor, pulling himself up next to her. He hung over her peeling wet tangled hair from her face that was pale, checking and finding that she wasn't breathing.

"Scully..." he breathed, his voice husky with alarm. He rolled her onto her side to clear any water still in her mouth or throat to begin CPR. "Scully, can you hear me?" He continued to talk to her as he worked, turning her onto her over again, tilting her head back. "Dana, come on, sweetheart..."

"Oh, God," Bernstein gasped as he stumbled on the scene, startled by the sight of the crisis.

Skinner was only marginally aware of the man's presence as he began blowing his breath into Scully, delivering even breaths, and watching for the rise and fall of her chest, speaking softly, ardently to her. "Come on, take a breath... Take a breath, damn it..." He pleaded and cursed in breathless whispers over her ashen lips, water dripping from his face onto hers, his eyes boring down on her as though he could bring her back to consciousness with his will alone.

Panic began to surge up through him, his mind twisting with distraught thoughts. Why the hell did she jump in? Because she was doing her job-- Why did she have to be so damn dedicated?

Three, maybe four, breaths he'd filled her lungs with when she jerked beneath him, her arms tensing then flailing as she gasped and coughed.

"That's it," Skinner nearly shouted, heart swelling as he helped her turn on her side to retch away excess water. "Get it out, that's it."

"Yes!" Bernstein exclaimed giving a little victory shake of his cuffed hands in the air.

It was then that Skinner took full notice of the man again, shooting him a momentary glacial glare before he came to his feet.

"Oh..." Bernstein hesitated only a moment, frozen with surprise as Skinner charged toward him before he turned to run. "Shit!"

He didn't get but a few yards before two hands clamped down on his shoulders like vice grips and spun him around. Skinner's face was so close to his Bernstein could see himself in the man's cold dark eyes.

"You son of bitch!" Skinner shouted in his face shaking him by fists full of his shirt as well as a copious quantity of skin and hair beneath the fabric.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Bernstein cried out averting his face away from Skinner hot breath.

"You sure the hell are!" Skinner bellowed, "I should kick your ass but good you sorry son of a bitch..."

"I thought you could reach it— I didn't know— I thought it would work— It works in the movies!"

"This isn't a damn movie—"

"Hey..." Skinner broke off glancing back at Scully; she was watching him roughing up Bernstein warily.

"I'll tell her."

Skinner looked Bernstein evenly in the eyes. "You'll tell her what?" He hissed from between clinched teeth.

"Tell me..." Scully choked some, "tell me what?"

Skinner half turned to look back at her, wordless as realization flickered in his eyes.

"Sweetheart..." Bernstein whispered with mock seduction in Skinner's face.

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

County Road 434

Washakie County, Wyoming

10: 28 a.m.

"Is she always this reckless?"

Marylou looked at Mulder, his question apparently striking an uncomfortable note with her.

"Not like this." She answered turning back to look at the road, wringing her hands in her lap.

Mulder gripped the steering wheel and shook his head, mouthing a curse, admonishing himself for not listening to his instincts. Something intangible had spoken to him on that road, a whisper out of the pre-dawn light, a word of caution. How could he have confused innocuous mischief with an all-out commitment to causing trouble and grief?

And how the hell could she have gone with them?

How many young woman's murders had he been briefed about, read the reports on, been unfortunate enough to witness the aftermath? And why, because of some foolhardy sense of immortality people seem to walk around believing?

"Oh my god!" Mulder reflexively jerked the steering wheel when she shouted causing the Mustang to swerve wildly. "There, look, it's those two guys."

Marylou was pointing ahead. Mulder could see two figures lumbering listlessly down the shoulder of the narrow road. His mind began to reel. Where was Sally? Why were these two walking? Where was the truck? How many side roads had there been between here and where they had picked her up? How many brushy areas? How many bridges?

Mulder brought the car to an abrupt halt on the heels of the two men, jumping out and rushing up to them before either could fully react.

"Where is she?" Mulder demanded. The two looked back at him as though dazed. He grabbed the one closest to him, the man who had been driving earlier. "Where is Sally?"

"Hey man, I don't know!"

"She took our truck!" The passenger declared separating Mulder from his companion.

"Bullshit," Mulder spat suspiciously. "I suppose you were just driving along and wham!"

"We were talkin' and drinking beer," the passenger whined.

"We didn't try anything." The driver declared.

"Didn't try anything."

"She's the one that was acting all cutesy-"

"What the hell did you do?" Mulder yelled at them, knowing that they were lying.

"Nothing! Nothing! We didn't do anything. She told us she had a gun in her purse and made us pull over and get out."

"A gun?" He shot a questioning glare at Marylou.

"She doesn't have a gun, Fox..." She told him, her eyes pinched with apprehension. "But she has... taken cars before."

"Taken?" He repeated, stunned.

Marylou swallowed hard. "When someone would make her mad or piss her off... she'd get even by taking their car..." Mulder glanced back at the Mustang and she shook her head. "Oh, no, that really is hers."

"Ah," Mulder moaned throwing his head back wincing up to the sky, perhaps to ask simply why or maybe even to say a little prayer for some semblance of mercy. Question or appeal, he was interrupted.

"Fox," Marylou said his name again and again touched his arm. "We need to find her."

He hesitated, ready to refuse on so many distinct levels of reasoning against just that, but stopped, seeing the wariness in Marylou's eyes and knew this wasn't the first time she would have had to collect her friend from a bad situation.

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

Hamburger Hamlet

Bethesda, Maryland

12:23 p.m. EST

A little frazzled and very excited Kimberly Cook scooted through the staggered patio tables heading for the restaurant entrance. Near breathless she hauled open the door immediately hit with a blast of refrigerated air from inside, her skin pulling into gooseflesh as she hastily began to scan faces in the crowd.

"Kimmy, here!" There he was, waving to her from a small cozy table in the bar, his smile almost blinding in its shear perfection, like everything about him. Sometimes she just couldn't believe it. He had model good looks, was charming and funny, and so romantic. And that smile, oh he could just drive her to her knees with that smile and those twinkling blue eyes.

She grinned wildly dashing to join him.

Don't act stupid. Don't act stupid. She repeated to herself, nervous and excited.

"Jess," she called his name zestfully, loving the way it sounded, thrilled when others turned to see her joining him. They were so absolutely suited for each other, and she wanted everyone to witness just how well suited they were, how lucky and happy she was.

"Hey, there, gorgeous," he laughed grabbing her up in his arms to kiss her fully on the lips. Kim nearly swooned, feeling her knees weakening beneath her. "You look so beautiful, more beautiful than last night." She blushed just at the mention of last night. "But I thought you weren't going to make it, angel."

"I'm so sorry," she apologized covering his hands with hers. "Just one person after another wanted something from me while I was trying to leave my office. I finally just had to walk out. I'm so sorry. You'll forgive me?"

"It's okay," he smiled and looked at her, his eyes dancing, "But will you have time to stay for lunch?"

Kim waved her hand in the air, carefree. "I think I can swing a little extra time for lunch today."

Jess cocked a light brown brow. "Kimberly..." he said her name low, mocking suspicion, "I don't want you getting in trouble with that boss of yours..."

She labored for seriousness, lowering her voice as she looked deeply into his eyes and said, "Well, he’s out of town right now. I thought I mentioned that?"

"That's right..." Jess said, nodding his head thoughtfully.

She shrugged. "And if he calls my voice mail will get it. I could take the rest of the day off if I wanted to." She tossed her head, throwing her red hair back as much as its short length would allow.

"Well, great. But he wouldn't come back unexpectedly, would he?"

She made a raspberry sound as she unfolded her napkin and put it across her lap. "No, I doubt it, he's in the middle of...uh, well, he's doing something rather important. But I know he's got to be back by Tuesday."

"Tuesday? Where is he going to be for so long?" Jess asked while motioning for the waiter to come over.

"Well, right now he's in Wisconsin- Oh. No, I mean...um... somewhere in Wyoming." She laughed and rolled her eyes slapping her head. "It's those "w" names."

Jess laughed. "You are so cute. I could just eat you up."

Now he had said some pretty fantastic things in the last week but that had to be about most fantastic, she thought feeling her whole-body flush...

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

Somewhere, Wyoming

Midday...

In the stark midday sunlight, Skinner and Scully stood out against the tall, tawny prairie grasses in their blue wind breakers, Bernstein in his still somewhat white dress shirt and khakis dividing them. Their clothes had dried quickly in the heat of the day but had grown uncomfortably stiff and hot during the course of their trek across the seemingly endless expanse of grassland.

They had been walking for only an hour or two, heading away from the river, having decided not to return to the car where Gryzwac could be lying in wait or easily watching the area for their return, and already, if the knicks and scraps from the window glass hitting him wasn't bad enough, Skinner suspected that his head was becoming sunburnt. The resulting peeling process of a burnt scalp, he thought, wasn't in the least... appealing. It wasn't as though he easily wore a ball cap into the office with any degree of comfort or dignity— if he ever got back to his office alive.

He glanced at Scully briefly then Bernstein. If any of them got back alive, he thought again.

If it was Gryzwac who had run them off the road, and he had no reason to believe otherwise, it was unlikely that the man was going to give up looking for them. But how in the hell had he found them in the first place, Skinner thought angrily. Was he somehow monitoring their cell phone usage? Or was it as simple as the monitoring of local law enforcement bands on a scanner?

The news of federal agents arriving at the local sheriff's department was uncommon enough to be tossed back and forth between dispatchers and deputies, a real break in the humdrum routine. That was one possibility, but it still didn't explain how Gryzwac and Machenko had found where Mulder and Scully had been with Bernstein, albeit they were late enough getting there that Scully had already left with Bernstein. There was only one explanation left. There was an information leak within the bureau.

Scully fanned away one of the many insects buzzing around in the knee-high grass, feeling ironically thirsty despite the fact that she had nearly drowned not but a few hours before.

She would have too, she thought stealing a glimpse of Skinner who was walking a few paces ahead of Bernstein. She would have drowned if it hadn't been for him. She couldn’t remember a great deal of what happened, flashes and impressions mostly, which was probably for the best. She’d dealt with terrorizing memories of drowning once before; she didn't need to struggle to bury a whole new set of bad memories and sensations; the panic and taste of fear that no child should ever have to experience.

Her brothers had gone in, and it had looked so easy- so simple, and so she had gone in, too. There was no thought given by a four-year-old to the fact that she had never swum before. For an eternity it seemed, there was blackness and an inviting gurgle of water grasping her until a sudden light hit her eyes as her father yanked her up from below the surface of Chatchom’s pond.

"Starbuck!" She recalled the loud, domineering voice. Anger and fear tangled together as he called to her. "What were you thinking, sweetheart—"

No, wait, Scully stopped to think.

Her father had never called her that, ever. Sweetheart? Where had she gotten that phrase? She pondered the obscure reference rearing up from apparently nowhere until Bernstein broke her chain of thought.

"Just what the hell are we doing?" He blasted. "Are we going to walk to Washington D.C.?"

Neither Skinner nor Scully responded.

"Do either of you have the slightest clue where we're going here?" He whined hobbling along as though he'd been walking for days on blistered feet.

"Hell," Scully finally broke her silence able to take no more of the man's bellyaching. "And we're taking you with us."

"Ah, Ariel speaks again!" Bernstein mocked surprise throwing his hands up in a hallelujah-like gesture. Again, like the first three or four times, Scully ignored the Little Mermaid reference.

Amazed, she glanced at Skinner, not knowing how he had recovered his composure so successfully after practically throttling Bernstein on the riverbank, nor how he had maintained it so well considering the situation. Herself, aside from having nearly drowned, clothes stiff and hot, hair matted, sinuses aching and burning, nauseated from too much water taken in, gun lost, cell phone waterlogged, and a nail broken into the quick... she wasn't in much of a mood.

"My feet are killing me." He whined again.

"Deal with it," she told him. "You're not the first man who’s had to walk across these prairies, you know?"

"I know. I know," he replied craning his head around to look at her, allowing her an unobstructed view of the still huge insect sting right between his brows. "I also know I'm not some savage Indian or a roughneck frontiersman— I'm a regular guy whose shoes are killing him. I'm going to have to see a podiatrist."

"Take your shoes off." Skinner recommended.

"Take them off?" Bernstein gasped.

"For thousands of years men ran barefoot through these grasses, I think you could manage it for a few hours." Scully assured him with half-baked seriousness.

"A few hours? Have you looked around? "He asked making a sweeping gesture of his cuffed hands. "More like a few days of walking. There's nothing in site for miles except for more and more of this!" He kicked at the grass, looking awkward and nearly losing his balance in the process.

Skinner and Scully traded glances, amused. She then hesitated to look down at something she'd stepped on. Skinner stopped as well, watching her bend to inspect something on the ground, letting Bernstein wonder ahead on his own, he wouldn't get far from sight out here in the open. She stood with something small and dark pinched between her fingers. She gave him an amused half smile holding the object up to show him.

"An arrowhead." She announced and laughed quietly.

He watched her examine her unusually timed discovery for a moment, captured by the delicate way she turned the object in her fingers and childlike glow of amusement that brushed her lips with a whisper of a smile... Watching her for that moment, he was incredibly taken by this woman.

"So, Sgt. Bilko," Bernstein called back to Skinner as he loped along, "what is the plan?"

Skinner flicked a glance his way, setting his jaw.

"It can't be much of a plan," Bernstein said before there could be any response. "No car. No phone. And no idea of where we ar-uhhh!"

"I think we've got a pretty good idea now," Scully muttered as she watched Bernstein's chaotic display of gestures spent to free himself from a broken barbed wire fence. "We're on someone's property."

The two agents started walking toward Bernstein at a leisurely pace seeing no great need to hurry to his rescue.

"A ranch more than likely," Skinner offered scanning the area, repositioning his glasses.

He'd done this several times Scully had noticed, and she didn't believe the frames had fared very well after their travels down the river nestled in his pocket. She had been truly amazed that they weren't broken when she saw him retrieve from his shirt pocket earlier.

Bernstein angrily snorted from where he was now sitting on the ground, hopelessly entangled in the loose barb wire. Jerking his arms up to inspect the elbow of his left sleeve he wrinkled his nose and flared his nostrils at the deep brown muck he found stuck there.

"Ock! Oh! Ock!" He gagged swinging his arms away from himself.

Scully pulled her lips inward biting at them hard not to laugh aloud.

In defiance of his pained expression Skinner's eyes seemed to dance with gratification.

"A cattle ranch, apparently." Scully added at last.

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

Ten Sleep, Wyoming

1:34 p.m.

"There," Jink exclaimed leaning over the back seat throwing his arm over Mulder's shoulder pointing toward ahead at something on the side of the road. "I see my truck."

"Where?" Mulder asked him, flicking his eyes back and forth between the road and the rear-view mirror.

"I see it, too," Harley agreed also sitting forward against the back of Marylou's seat.

"The restaurant," Marylou directed Mulder's attention to the building tucked in between an intensely busy truck stop and a chain motel.

He scanned the parking lot of the small restaurant slowing to pull in, wondering how the hell these two could have picked their truck out of the multitude of rusted, beat-up pickups filling the lot. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," Jink hollered back, "I can already see the gash I put in the rear fender when I backed into my dad's bull."

Mulder nodded. "Of course, how stupid of me." He muttered cranking the wheel into a left turn off the highway.

While he waited for a parking space as another truck pulled out the two men got out and started over to their truck, checking it out and yelling back and forth about beer then cigarettes. Marylou had followed them halfway to the truck before she stopped and just stood in the middle of the driveway until Mulder parked and got out of the car.

"What are you doing?" he asked her, coming around the back of the Mustang.

"I don't know." She shrugged watching the two men search for what was apparently their last pack of cigarettes in the truck.

"Come on and let's look inside for her." Mulder urged her wondering why the hesitation suddenly.

Hit by the loud clank of plates and flatware, pool balls slapping together, and the tinkle of some country lament, Mulder and Marylou approached the small register counter seeing that restaurant was teeming with activity. Constructed of bare wood, the walls covered with framed photos of locals in slice-of-life type poses. There was a small counter up front with a bowl of toothpicks mixed in with mints, beside it stood an ancient looking Tempest video game, next to that a row of candy machines boasting a nickel price tag on each.

Mulder and Marylou stretched their necks in alternating directions searching the booths and tables for Sally, Mulder keeping an eye on Jink and Harley still out in the parking lot, hoping they would just take off after they found their pack of smokes, but he had a bad feeling once they got their nicotine fix they would be looking for a certain young woman.

Marylou grabbed Mulder’s arm suddenly dragging him forward into the dining room. "I see her."

In a booth near the back of the dining room Sally sat with her back to the rest of the patrons, apparently the entire contents of her purse spread out over the table, a mug of coffee carefully placed at the center like an altar piece. She was still digging more things out of her purse when they stepped up to booth.

She looked up at Marylou and Mulder, her lips pinched together hard.

"What's a screwed-up girl like you doing in a nice place like this?" Mulder said before he could stop himself.

"Great!" Sally spat and threw a handful of gum wrappers on the table.

Glaring at him Marylou ground her elbow into Mulder's ribs hard, nearly knocking the wind from him. "Shut up!" She told him between a whisper and a shout before taking a seat in the booth across from her friend. She eyed the mixture of garbage and necessities across the table for a second or two before asking Sally quietly, "what are you looking for?"

She appeared to ignore the question continuing to dig in her purse, only stopping briefly to watch Mulder sit down next to Marylou, then tossed a tampon with a torn, wrinkled wrapped onto the table in his direction.

"Hon, those two fellas you took the truck from are in the parking lot." Marylou told her friend, keeping her voice carefully neutral.

Sally tossed a battered toothbrush missing more than a few bristles from its head onto the table and glanced toward the front windows. "And?" She said turning back.

"Well, as soon as they find their cigarettes," Mulder began, smirking, "they're probably going to come in here looking for you, if they don't call a cop first."

She huffed, laboring with a false smile. "They won't be finding their cigarettes." She said and threw a pack of Menthols on the table.

Mulder took a deep breath, steadying his voice. "Listen," he said sitting forward, "there are obviously some unresolved issues on your plate but I'm just not hungry enough to eat that bullshit right now."

Marylou started to say something, but he silenced her holding a finger up. "Now we can get out of here before those two good ol' boys come rambling in here with the local fuzz, you two go your way and I'll go mine, or I can get up and walk out of here and never look back as they drag your sour little ass off kicking and screaming to the county jail."

Sally glared at him. "What's your deal?" she asked squinting her eyes as though trying to figure out the answer at the same time she asked it. "Just go call your partner and boss and leave me alone."

"Please," Marylou pleaded with her. "He's trying to help."

"Why?" She shrugged her shoulders. "You're basically a cop yourself, why don't you just take me into custody and turn me over to the locals?"

"Do you know how lucky you are?" Mulder said perhaps too loudly, turning heads from the nearby tables and booths. He lowered his voice, "do you know how many pretty young women I've seen dead in a ditch or shallow grave because they thought they were untouchable and took that ride. Those two could have beat the hell out of you, raped you, dismembered your body and sprinkled your remains all over the damn state. Or worse, they could have kept you captive, tortured you blind until they'd had enough fun then left you to waste away and die in your own excrement."

"My God," Sally breathed squinting at him, "you're a real asshole."

He shook his head. "Come on, Marylou," he said taking her hand and getting up from the booth. "You're not involve in this, let's get out of here."

"No, wait," she resisted, pulling her hand from his. She turned to Sally urgently, tears starting to well up in her eyes. "Please don't screw everything up again, this was supposed to be a fun weekend. It's not even the fourth yet."

"Oh well, shit," Sally declared beginning to shovel stuff from the table back into her purse carelessly. "I wouldn't want to screw everything up again. Heaven forbid. You know I didn't want to pick him up in the first place, you practically begged me to pick him..."

"If you're gathering up all that crap because you've decided to leave," Mulder interrupted her, sounding urgent, looking toward the front windows. "I suggest you hurry."

Marylou and Sally looked back seeing Jink and Harley heading toward the restaurant, appearing highly excited with their mouths running back and forth to one another.

"Well shit." Sally muttered indifferently.

"Come on, hurry," Marylou urged her beginning to gather up handfuls of junk from the table to shove in her purse.

"All right, all right... Jesus, be careful."

Jink and Harley were at the front door now.

"Forget it," Mulder said ushering them out of the booth, eyes on the two men. "Let's go."

"How the hell are we going to leave, they're right there at the exit." Sally complained.

"Where there's will there's an open door."

In a hustled sort of stroll, trying to look casual, the three of them headed toward the restaurant kitchen, Mulder leading them. Jink and Harley were at the front counter, asking the waitress working the register questions and scanning the dining room, game room and bar.

"Hey!"

Mulder turned his head back, seeing Harley approaching from across the room. "Just keep going," he told Marylou and turned back to meet Harley, preoccupying his attention in some way. Twirling something shiny in front of him was a brief consideration.

"Where the hell are you three going?" He demanded from Mulder.

"When you gotta go, you gotta go," Mulder laughed. "Bathrooms. We were just heading to the bathroom." He glanced around behind the man looking for the other who was nowhere to be seen. "Where's Jinx, or was it Pixie?"

"Jink. And he went to keep an eye on your car," Harley poked at Mulder. "We don't want anyone leaving here before the police get here."

Mulder nodded stiffly, his mind working hard on the problem. "That's smart thinking," he complimented the man pulling his id case from his pocket, "but you know what, I've got this under control." He flashed his badge and ID at the man. "I'm a federal agent."

The man blinked at him. "Yeah? So what?"

So much for stunning him with that, Mulder thought grimacing. He nodded thoughtfully, placing his hand on Harley's shoulder, turning him as he spoke carefully. "Exactly, see I'm under cover..."

"In that suit?"

Shit. "You've got a sharp eye." Mulder laughed and it was hollow. "I bet you've already figured out which one of these people in here is the contact."

"Huh? Contact?" The man dumbly said abruptly searching faces in the dining room.

"Shhh, don't let him know you know who he is."

"Oh, sorry, right," he agreed, confused, and frowning as he took another long obvious sweeping glance at the patrons.

"I have to apologize to both you and Jink about my assistant's impulsive behavior," Mulder continued his story, praying to the goblins of spontaneity for all their help as he guilefully maneuvered Harley toward the front door. "When we got that flat and she knew how important it was that someone be here to meet our contact, she took the ride with you fellas."

"But she said..."

Mulder nodded breaking his sentence, "I know, she took your truck but only because she didn't want to break our cover story." He leaned against the front door leading Harley out, saying, "Sally is very dedicated."

"Hey! Hey! Damn it!"

Harley and Mulder froze.

Jink was half jumping, half running across the parking lot kicking up whiffs of dust as he went after Marylou who was running away from the Mustang covering her head. Mulder gasped patting his pants pockets— he had the keys!

"Leave her alone!" Sally came screaming from between two parked trucks swinging her huge purse at Jink.

"Son of a bitch!" Harley cursed firing a hot scowl at Mulder before he bolted into the parking lot to help his friend.

Mulder sprinted for the Mustang digging the keys out from his pocket, seeing chaos of the Dukes of Hazard caliber descending upon the parking lot; Marylou squealing away from first Jink then Harley as Sally beat Jink about the head and shoulders with a bag that had to weigh fifteen pounds, dust flying everywhere. The only components to complete the farce were a fat guy in a white suit and some smokin' banjo music.

Mulder jumped in the car and got it started, racing the engine a little too hard, catching Harley's attention. He shifted in his pursuit of Marylou and started for the Mustang. Mulder shot out of the parking space fast, nearly hitting Harley. The man slammed his hands down on the trunk lid, yelling something Mulder couldn't understand but knew was probably not friendly.

Cranking the steering wheel wildly with one hand and shifting like a stock car driver with the other, Mulder got turned around and headed toward the exit where Sally had forced Jink nearly into the highway with her handbag assault. Marylou had stopped and was crying compulsively in the middle of the parking lot.

"Get in!" Mulder shouted at her braking hard next to her.

In the seconds, her fumbling of the door handle afforded him Mulder checked the rear-view mirrors. Harley was coming up hot on their tail, and beyond his irate expression Mulder could see the restaurant patrons had flocked to the windows and front door to watch the spectacle.

Marylou screamed when she saw Harley. She got the door open and fell into the front seat. Mulder didn't wait for her to shut the door. He punched the gas just as Harley made a mad swing for the trunk lid causing him to fall as the car moved from under his grasp.

Seeing the Mustang heading her way, Sally withdrew her handbag only to haul off and kick Jink in the crouch before she made a break for the open car door to jump in.

The Mustang fish-tailed out of the parking lot onto the highway leaving Jink and Harley in a pale cloud of dust.

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

Roy's PDQ Mart

Dove Tail, Wyoming

2:46 p.m.

"Wouldn't ya' like to be a peppa', too?" Opening the refrigerator case, he laughed as softly to himself as he had been singing the soda jingle.

He plucked a soda bottle from the case and opened it on the spot, drinking half of it before his cell phone rang, interrupting about the only moment of serenity he'd had today.

"Yeah," he answered wiping sticky soda from the corners of his mouth. "Oh, really? Well, you know something, that's yesterday's news, you stupid son-of-a-bitch!" Gryzwac barked back to the person on the other end of the line walking toward the checkout counter.

"I already knew that, and do you know why I already knew that?" He set the open soda on the counter and dug out his money clip as the purchase was rung up, the man running the register stealing nervous glances too often not to be anything but obvious.

"Well, for one thing, I didn't need your happy mother fuckin ass to tell me— you hear me. I don't wait 'til the eleventh hour to get the job done then half-ass it up— No, I don't even want to hear your excuses. You have no idea what I've got to deal with here— No, I've got a scanner, and it's doing your job just dandy. A police scanner, you dumb... Yeah, exactly, so I've got to listen to these hayseed hick fuckers non-stop to find out what Royce's good money is going in your faggot pocket for— No, I'll make sure Royce hears about this."

Gryzwac snapped the phone off, puffing hard.

After a moment he looked at the man behind the counter, his mouth gone slack with a weak smile, his eyes glazed. "Guess that fella didn't do a very good job, huh?" he remarked, laughing nervously.

"Yeah," Gryzwac grunted cocking his head, "now give me my fuckin change!"

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

J. Edgar Hoover Building

Washington, D.C.

3:46 p.m. EST

"AD Skinner's office," Kim Cook answered the phone flinching at the sound of her own harried tone.

Everything had gone haywire since she got back from lunch, and she could have kicked herself because it was her fault, at least in some part. If she hadn't had been so impatient, so giddy to meet with Jess for lunch then she would have got the call, yet she would have probably had to cancel with Jess then... So maybe it was better that she'd run out ignoring the ring of the phone before lunch. She winced, reprimanding herself for the selfish thought.

"Kim, this is Agent Mulder, I've been unable to reach either AD Skinner or Agent Scully-"

"No one can reach them," she said abruptly before he could finish.

"What do you mean no one? What's happened?"

"I talked to the Assistant Director this morning and made arrangements for him and Agent Scully to pick up the information you had sent here at the Albany County Sheriff's department, but they haven't made it there yet and neither of them can be reached on their cell phones."

"How overdue are they?" he asked, as another head popped in the door of the outer office.

It was Director Stroud's assistant. "Any word?" She whispered ignoring Kim motioning for silence while on the phone.

Kim shook her head then rubbed her temples hard. "Several hours. The Albany County Sheriff has begun a search along the route they were believed to be traveling."

"I need the number for that Sheriff's department, Kim."

"I've got it right here..."

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

A Tasty Freeze

Long Switch, Wyoming

3:37 p.m. MST

Mulder came away from the phone booth quickly, tense. Marylou was almost afraid to ask what the matter was. He had been using the phone for a very long time, making several calls, and writing things down hurriedly on the paper he'd gotten from her. Would she and Sally be going to jail after all? Could he not do anything to help? Would the local authorities not be swayed by his unique and charming power of persuasion?

"It's not good is it?" She asked him, shaking her head, her arms crossed over her chest tightly. "They're going to take us to jail, aren't they?"

Hearing this Sally brought her head up from the seat where she'd been trying to doze.

Mulder looked up distractedly from the scrap of paper he'd written a great deal of information on while he was talking on the phone. He seemed confused by what she was saying.

"Uh, no." He told the two of them, going around to car trunk. "No, not at all. In fact, it looks like Jink and Harley are the ones who may be arrested."

"What?" Sally said getting out of the car, intensely curious about this development.

"Uh, several people at the restaurant apparently called the police stating that Jink and Harley were harassing some patrons and chased them from the property. I didn't get much out in the way of an explanation before they realized we were the patrons involved." He smiled, squinting hard against the afternoon sun. "You're off the hook."

"Woo-hoo!" Sally hooted slapping high five with Marylou.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you." Marylou sang running to Mulder throwing her arms around his neck.

He laughed. "No problem," he told her withdrawing from her strangle hold of an embrace.

"But something's wrong, isn't it?" Sally intuitively questioned him leaning against the fender.

He looked at her thoughtfully. The tension between them seemed to be fading.

"I can't reach my partner or my superior who she's with," he answered, popping the trunk open. "Actually no one has seen them or been able to reach them since this morning." Neither of the women seemed to know how to respond. Neither did Mulder. "I need to go help look for them."

Sally sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, lifting a single dark brow. "Where do you need to get to now?"

"Don't worry, I'm getting a ride." He smiled thin lipped and pointed over her shoulder at the Sheriff's cruiser rolling into the parking lot of the Tasty Freeze. "Good timing, huh?"

"Couldn't have written it better," she replied with a tilt of her head, her brow arched.

Mulder looked at Marylou. She looked like she was about to cry again, and he felt guilty. He'd known the two of them less than twelve hours but felt as though it was a lifetime. He was going to remember these two... My God, how could he forget, he questioned himself.

"Bye." Marylou said and made a small wave like a little girl, her big dark eyes, and lashes moistening.

"Promise me you two will stay out of trouble." He said retrieving his bag from the trunk.

"Sure thing," Sally assured him, but he didn't feel very assured.

"Take care of yourselves." He shut the trunk and started for the cruiser.

"Aren't you gonna' give her a kiss good-bye or anything?"

Mulder froze. "Huh?"

Sally jerked her thumb in Marylou's direction. "She's so infatuated with you it's making me sick that you can't see it."

Marylou gasped, making a sound as though someone had knocked the wind from her, and threw one hand over her eyes and the other over her heart, devastated by Sally’s outing.

"You live in an interesting world, Sally." Mulder remarked. "Judging by what I've seen and heard in just the few hours that I've known the two of you, my mind reels at the possibilities and repercussions of knowing you any longer."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Sally smiled.

Mulder smiled and set his bag down to pull his ID case out of his jacket, quickly retrieving a card that he took to Marylou. "Hold onto this." He said giving her his business card. She nodded finding it hard to look directly at him. "Be good." He whispered and kissed her cheek.

"I will." She sniffed watching him walk for the cruiser again. "You, too."

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

Somewhere, Wyoming

The sun had dipped in the sky and shadows were growing long as the day approached its close. And although the light quality across the land had changed the sky remained a brilliant blue contrasted by cottony white puffs of cloud that seemed to stand perfectly still, as if painted in place.

The vista was so overwhelming, Scully thought as she studied the great expanse of azure, unconditionally breathtaking. No wonder there was such romanticism attached to the western half of the United States, one couldn't help but feel inspired and captured by the bold distinction of the land not to mention the rich history that had unfolded across it.

And yes, that was all well and good, but putting aside the awe and wonderment the bare fact still remained— she had been walking a very long time across an all too unpopulated patch of earth. How long, she wondered glancing at her watch only to remember it had stopped working. So much for waterproof.

Chalking up her watch as one more item on her list of things to repair or replace thanks to this assignment she closed the gap between herself and Skinner. "What's the time?" she asked him quietly.

"Late for an appointment?" Bernstein snorted as Skinner checked his wristwatch.

"A quarter to seven," he answered ignoring Bernstein.

She nodded looking disappointed; it was getting very late, and it was beginning to look as though they'd be sleeping alfresco for the night.

"Hmm," she murmured to no one in particular, "definitely not a dead monotonous period under a roof tonight I'm afraid."

Skinner served her with a curious side long glance. She smiled, a little embarrassed and feeling obligated to explain herself. "Travels with a Donkey, by Stevenson, whose justification for sleeping outside is one that describes those who sleep inside experiencing only a blank uneventful slumber while the man who sleeps afield bears witness to the splendor of nature transforming throughout the night."

He looked at her thoughtfully, and after a moment cynically stated, "sounds like he didn't do much sleeping outside."

Scully pressed her mouth closed against an unbidden laugh. "I don't know."

"Well, I'm glad you're finding this predicament we're in so amusing," Bernstein scolded them. "I'm personally not finding a damn thing funny about the aspect of sleeping out in the open."

"You'll change your mind once you've snuggled up next to one of these cows," Skinner nearly smirked.

Scully noticed the slight curl tugging at the corner of his mouth and knew he was as tired and punchy as she was feeling. To hide her smile, she turned away from him, making a sweeping glance around at the cows languidly grazing throughout the area, some mere patches of color in the distance.

They had passed a number of them along their hike, some leisurely stamping back and forth through broken fencing downed by either the previous night's storm or cattle spooked by the storm, but most were clustered together in whatever shade they could find.

Shade, though, seemed be becoming more readily available as the landscape grew hillier and prominently spotted with brush and shrubs, small cropping of trees, looking more and more like a Remington painting sans the characters or horses.

"You speak like a man of experience, Bilko." Bernstein threw back the lame reference.

Regardless of Bernstein's discourteousness there was an underlying truth to his statement. Scully thought about it for a moment, there had been a change, almost imperceptible, but there just the same, in the way Skinner carried himself over the last few hours. She sensed it but until now had not been able to label his air of familiarity with this element.

Scully knew so little about Skinner’s background, where he was from or grew up. Could he have lived in an area like this, she wondered. Or was his ease perhaps the same sense of occidental sentimentalism she'd been thinking of, a sense of freedom within simpler boundaries lessening the steady stress and strain of life?

"I do," Skinner agreed with Bernstein, giving Scully a start. Had she assumed correctly? "Walking up wind of you for so long now, I just thought you'd feel more at home with others that smelt just as bad as you do."

Okay, maybe not, she realized. There was something there she discovered, the dwindling rays of sunlight glinting off a smooth surface.

"There's something over there," she announced pointing.

Both Skinner and Bernstein followed the length of her arm and finger seeing the same glint of light.

"What is that?" Bernstein questioned bending and twisting to get a better look. "It looks like a..."

"An RV." Skinner finished Bernstein's statement.

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

Continued in part 5

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Experiencing Narcissism 101 - Part 3

June 24th, 2024

Here we are nearing the end of Pride Month. I’ve challenged myself to write everyday and I’ve found it very useful in examining my past and realizing that I am actually very resilient. Yesterday I wrote about events leading up to the point of coming back from a trip with John. Today, the story continues.

I put my plan into action and began taking steroids above and beyond what I needed for Testosterone Replacement Therapy. I was taking injections because my testosterone was low due to my HIV medications. I supplemented with street testosterone as did John. In the course of my doing so, I put on more than 25 pounds and ended up at 250 pounds at my maximum. I continued abusing them up until 2013 when I moved to Nova Scotia with John.

John convinced me that I should be reducing the amount of time that I worked. At that time, I was a full-time teacher, a group fitness leader at a community centre and also a mentor for a master’s program at a university. The only real solution he suggested was to move from British Columbia to Nova Scotia. The reason was due to other cities didn’t seem inviting for either of us. I did suggest Montreal, but John didn’t speak French and thought it wasn’t a good idea. That summer, we jumped on a plane and took a quick trip to Nova Scotia. We explored a place called Annapolis Valley, which is fertile area of the province. We even looked at homes, but didn’t find anything that we liked. We returned home and made our decision.

We decided we would move to Windsor, Nova Scotia in October 2013. We also got married as it seemed the right thing to do. I resigned from the school board and put the house up for sale. It sold while we were enroute. We climbed into my truck with two dogs and a cat, travelling across Canada to Nova Scotia. During the trip, we argued a lot. The shouting continued and I decided that it was just part of my new life and bit my tongue. John did berate me for being quiet, which in my mind was better than screaming back at him. We found an apartment - literally on the fly - as we went across Canada. The hardest part was finding a rental unit that accepted dogs.

We lucked out and stayed in a place in Windsor until early 2015 when we found a house on the South Shore - which later became known as Otter Cottage. During the time in Nova Scotia, John had problems finding a job. I was accepted as a substitute and started working. He didn’t and that left him open to do other things. In fact, I caught him cheating on me several times. So, we negotiated an open relationship where we would explore together to fulfill everyone’s needs.

During our time there in Windsor, I got a phone call from my doctor. She told me to go to the hospital immediately because my bloodwork indicated that I had had a heart attack. We went to emergency immediately and I discovered that I had an enlarged heart due to the large amount of steroids. I spent four days in the hospital while they did tests. John visited everyday, but complained constantly about having to drive into the city. With supervision, I weaned myself off the steroids and reduced my testosterone to the appropriate level and quit the street steroids. It was clear that I had almost killed myself. I began kicking myself for having been so stupid to abuse steroids that much to satisfy the wishes of another person.

Once into Otter Cottage, I got a job in the Halifax and ended up with a permanent position teaching French Immersion. John then decided to become a real estate agent. So, I paid for his education. During the time of moving to the South Shore, our relationship was really strained. John was constantly getting angry at just about everyone - of course, including me. He constantly seemed frustrated and I did everything I could including buying antiques for him and giving him a room to decorate. That didn’t help and we argued constantly. Several times, I told him that I had had enough. Suddenly, John would turn back to a charmer and everything was great - for a few short weeks or month.

John finished his real estate school and managed to sell at least three properties, using a car that I had bought for him. At the same time, I discovered that he was still cheating on me. In late 2016, John mentioned that his former employer in Montreal had suggested offering him a job. I had had enough of all the nonsense. When I heard that, I told John that I wanted him to take the job and be out of the house by next week. So, he packed the car with everything he could and then moved everything he thought belonged to him into the antique room he had decorated. He went to Montreal and suddenly I felt a real relief - until the divorce proceedings started.

In the six years we were together, John paid rent three months in the time we were in my house in Vancouver. He bought groceries maybe twice. In Nova Scotia, he paid for nothing. I didn’t see any of the profits from the sales of the properties he had sold. I got a lawyer and proceeded with the divorce. We had to live apart for at least a year before we could legally divorce. That year was a year from hell for me.

John, now in Montreal, would contact me and screamed at me for not moving the stuff he wanted to Montreal. I told him that the lawyer told me to do that until we had settled the divorce.  His request was half of everything. I provided all my receipts for everything, showing that John had paid little. He never paid for heating, mortgage payments, gym fees, and much more. During that time, John began a classic narcissistic pattern - he tried to show me how he was a victim. He sent me pictures of him in the hospital. He sent me pictures of his empty fridge. He called me constantly asking for money. I had to continue to say no. He turned several local friends against me saying I was withholding his belongings. I told those local friends that they didn’t know what was really going on. Needless to say, I didn’t continue those friendships.

The calls continued along with emails, texts until I had to block him. He even called my school during a lesson and interrupted. He called me at the gym as well, asking an attendant to find me. I put a stop to all of that. At the end of the year apart, I made him an offer and let him know that he would get nothing more. He begrudgingly accepted it and immediately demanded his things sent. I had packed them into a pod as I was sick of seeing the pile of things in the living room. In typical fashion, he demanded that I allow one of his friends to sit and watch the pod be repacked so that his belongings would be safe. Ironically, the movers told me that I had done an amazing job and that repacking wasn’t necessary! At this point, I didn’t care; he had to pay for the moving costs.

Even after the papers were signed and we were officially divorced he continued to harass me with phone calls and texts on anonymous lines. I was so tired of it that I went to the local RCMP and lodged a complaint and asked the calls, texts and emails stop. The Sûreté du Québec (the provincial police in Quebec) paid him a visit and told him that if he contacted me again, he would be arrested. That was the last time I ever heard from him. In that year and a half, he contacted me more than 668 times by various methods.

In 2018 I was officially free of John. Otter Cottage was in my name, the car payments for John’s car were now his responsibility and I began my new life as a divorced gay man. As a side note, that fall as I was cleaning the gardens, I found a pile of broken mugs, coasters and John’s medication all thrown into the bushes. It seemed that whenever he was angry, he would throw things off the verandah - just like when he used to go out and scream at the top of his lungs at the people he hated.

So what was it like to live with a narcissist? Looking at the 9 points of Special Me, I saw countless examples of all 9 points and more from him. He always though he was the most important person at all times. He felt entitled to everything without having to work for it. He was exploitative, arrogant, lacked empathy and always showed off so that others could admire him. He also was easily able to play the victim and everything that he did was turned back on my so that it was all my fault. Anyone who didn’t agree with him immediately became the enemy - me included.

I saw a counsellor and learned to deal with the aftermath of living six years with John. The counsellor suggested I buy a book called “Stop Walking on Eggshells: Taking Your Life Back When Someone You Care About Has Borderline Personality Disorder.” All what was discussed in the book, I found in John. The only thing the book didn’t help me with was getting along with him and thankfully I never wanted to do so. In the end, I believe he was also obsessive compulsive as well.

During my counselling time, I came to acknowledge my part in those six years. I had been codependent and allowed him to do all of those things. I also discovered that I had to learn to love myself, always take care of myself first before helping others and learning how a narcissist latches onto a caregiver such as myself. I forgave myself for almost killing myself on steroids to please John. I watched my health and have not abused them since.

At that point, I was really sure that I knew what the signs were and vowed to never get involved with a narcissist. Did I succeed? I’ll leave that to tomorrow’s blog… For Pride, I am celebrating my inner self and my self love. Now that I have worked on myself, someone like John would never be able to pry their way into my life. 

Carpe diem, everyone.

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Why Use a Crane on a Truck? From moving large objects to getting to places that are problematic to reach, a truck crane is made to do numerous different jobs. Its mobility decreases downtime and increases productivity by enabling you to carry equipment straight to the occupation site. Additionally, modern safety features on truck cranes guarantee safe lifting operations and lower the possibility of mishaps on the job site. Convenient Ipswich Truck Rental

Truck rental Ipswich offers locally relevant solutions that are suited to your needs if you are in the Ipswich area. You can choose the truck that is best suited for your project from a variety of rental businesses' inventory, which includes trucks with crane capabilities. Flexible rental terms and affordable prices make it simple to choose a solution that fits your spending plan.

Selecting the Proper Crane-Powered Truck

The features that best suit your needs must be taken into account while searching for a Truck with crane. Attentions contain the crane's reach, lifting competences, and the truck's cargo. You can make an informed choice and make sure that the car you select can meet the requirements of your project by evaluating these factors.

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By selecting truck rental near me, you may simplify your business procedures in addition to gaining access to a reliable vehicle. Through a truck crane at your disposal, loading and unloading can be done quickly and competently, saving time on logistics. This effectiveness helps you stay on schedule with your project and results in cost savings.

Ultimately, the correct decision can greatly improve your operational efficiency, whether you require truck hire Ipswich for local transit purposes or crane truck hiring for a building project. You can handle large lifting jobs with confidence and ease if you have a vehicle with a crane. Find the ideal truck to fulfill the requirements of your job by looking through your selections now.

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Moving and Storage Companies: Combining Convenience and Security

Introduction

Moving can be one of the most stressful experiences in life, whether you're relocating for a new job, a change in scenery, or simply to find a better place to call home. The logistics of packing, transporting, and unpacking all your belongings can seem overwhelming. This is where moving and storage companies come into play, offering services that combine convenience with security. They provide not only the physical labor involved in moving but also the peace of mind that comes with knowing your possessions are safe and sound.

With so many options available, from local movers near me to long-distance movers, it can be tough to determine which company will best suit your needs. This article delves deep into the world of moving and storage companies, exploring how they can simplify your moving experience while ensuring that your belongings are secure throughout the process.

What Are Moving and Storage Companies?

Moving and storage companies specialize in both the transportation of goods and the provision of storage solutions. These firms cater to various needs—from residential moving services to commercial movers, making them versatile in their offerings.

They typically provide a range of services including:

Packing and Moving Services: Professional packers ensure that your items are packed securely for transport. Storage Solutions: Short-term or long-term storage facilities keep your belongings safe until you need them. Transportation Services: Whether you're making a short-distance move or relocating across the country, these companies manage all aspects of transportation. Moving Truck Rentals: If you prefer to handle some aspects of the move yourself, many companies offer rental trucks.

In summary, these companies aim to simplify the entire moving process by combining essential services under one https://s3.us-east-2.amazonaws.com/articles101/movers-santa-cruz/uncategorized/top-local-movers-near-me-for-a-hassle-free.html roof.

Why Choose Moving and Storage Companies? Convenience at Your Fingertips

The primary reason people opt for professional movers is convenience. Imagine handling every aspect of a move on your own—packing boxes, renting trucks, lifting heavy furniture—the list goes on!

By hiring professionals, you eliminate a significant amount of stress from the process:

Time-Saving: Professional movers can pack and load your belongings much faster than you could on your own. Expertise: Trained professionals know how to handle fragile items safely. Comprehensive Services: From packing supplies for moving to unloading at your new location, they cover it all. Security You Can Trust

When entrusting someone with your valuable possessions, security becomes paramount. Here’s what makes reputable moving companies reliable:

Insurance Options: Many licensed movers offer insurance options to protect against loss or damage during transit. Secure Facilities: Storage units often come equipped with modern security features such as surveillance cameras and limited access. Experienced Staff: Experienced movers understand how to handle items carefully, reducing the risk of accidents.

In

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We spent about six hours loading the rental truck we would drive down to Sacramento, attaching a trailer to pull our own vehicle behind. By 3:00 p.m., we finally left Oregon for the last time on July 25, 2007.

Moving such a long distance without unlimited funds made me anticipate some challenges, but I didn’t expect the journey to be a near-disaster that would threaten our lives. It began as nothing like I’d envisioned; my expectations had never included poverty, hunger, homelessness, or sheer chaos. Had I known what lay ahead, I’d have felt sick to my stomach on the spot. The hardships we endured would make my previous challenges seem minor. It would end up being the third most scariest moment of my life.

Though the drive felt endless, I was excited to see the first palm trees as we approached Sacramento. We stopped to eat in Redding and didn’t reach the Clarion Hotel until 10:00 p.m. There, a group of youths played loud music in the adjacent room and practically took over the hallway.

Exhausted, we moved to an Econo Lodge. The room was spacious but pricey for a place with no amenities. After two nights, we transferred to a different Econo Lodge downtown, storing our belongings in a 10x10 storage unit. This motel had internet, but it was unreliable, making it a struggle for Tom to apply for unemployment online.

Our worst decision was spending a week at the Motel 6. The noise level was unbearable, reminiscent of a past experience I’d had in the projects 15 years earlier. The flimsy floorboards trembled whenever someone walked by, waking me up constantly. Someone seemed to be dealing drugs nearby, adding to the chaos. The frustration reached a boiling point, so we relocated to Best Western in Roseville. Though expensive, this hotel offered a spacious room with a mini-refrigerator, microwave, and coffeemaker.

Amid this chaos, two bits of unfortunate news surfaced. First, our property management withheld our $450 deposit, citing bogus repair charges. We had left the house spotless aside from a few minor issues, so I was disappointed that my instinct to leave the place “as is” was overruled by Tom’s wish to leave it clean. Second, Tom’s unemployment claim was denied. He had left his job to find work in a city with better access to doctors for my medical needs, but they didn’t give a shit.

With no deposit refund, no unemployment, and Tom still jobless, my stress turned into fear.

On August 12, Tom found a temp job at a warehouse in Rocklin. Although the pay was only $10 an hour and his coworkers were unpleasant, his boss was supportive. Two days later, we settled in the best extended-stay motel we could afford, though it wasn’t in the best part of Sacramento. The room, on the top of three floors, had a full-size bed, recliner, dresser, small table, and kitchen. While the space was cozy and functional, the decor was drab, and the walls were thin. The air conditioner malfunctioned, the microwave carousel didn’t work, and the refrigerator leaked. Noise from slamming doors and blaring TVs was an ongoing nuisance, along with frequent disturbances from the friendly but overly active staff performing maintenance and inspections.

Had we been in an end room, things might have been quieter, but that larger room was more expensive. I had no idea we’d end up living there for over eight months. Although we could come and go, it felt little more than a glorified jail cell.

Our expenses were astronomical. Gas prices had skyrocketed, the room cost $320 per week even at a discounted rate, and our storage unit was $87 monthly. While I enjoyed the warmer climate and proximity to stores and restaurants, I disliked the crowds.

Shortly after settling at the motel, we lost our beloved Tinkerbell to a tumor, which only deepened my despair and anger. I loved that rat dearly.

Over time, we became familiar with the motel staff, though a few, like one office worker and a housekeeper named Prasaad from Fiji, weren’t our favorites. Prasaad, originally friendly, became a bit cold, making me wonder if something had happened. Seeing someone immigrate here only to treat the natives poorly just wasn’t right.

Nonetheless, two of the people we met there became my favorites: Michelle and Kissum.

Michelle worked days in the office. She was a year younger than me. Although it was dyed, like my own long black hair that reached past my waist, I admired her fiery red hair and friendly eyes. Michelle was a bit heavy, but overall, she was good-looking. She was always quick to help us in any way she could, and I looked forward to seeing her whenever I went to the office, whether to drop off mail or for anything else.

Then there was Kissum, my favorite housekeeper, who was also from Fiji. I never would’ve guessed she’d become one of my favorites since she was so quiet the first few times she cleaned our room. But over time, she turned out to be quite chatty, and I looked forward to her visits. Her upbeat energy and humor did wonders for my otherwise sour mood.

There were a few other housekeepers as well: two from Thailand, one from Mexico, a new one hired right before we left from India, and Josephina, who was originally from New Zealand. Josephina was young and attractive and even tried to help us when things were at their worst by attempting to get us into a rooming house. But eventually, she called to tell us she hadn’t been able to reach anyone there. She worked on rooms during our first few months but later moved to the laundry department and I never saw her again.

Satish, another one from Fiji, was the head maintenance guy and friendly, though he deflated our hopes almost as quickly as he raised them. He had offered to rent us his three-bedroom house in the city for a thousand dollars a month. But when housing prices started plummeting, he backed out. At first, I felt hurt by the letdown, but I couldn’t really blame him—I would have waited, too. Still, it was tough to feel like we were finally close to finding a home, only to be left once again wondering where we could go, who would take us without perfect credit, and how we could escape constant noise, barking dogs, and loud stereos.

Mike, the manager, was also kind and offered us a slight discount on the grand-a-month monthly rate they started offering right before we left. But by then, we were too close to moving on to take him up on it, though the discount would have helped tremendously if it had been available earlier.

As the weather cooled, things worsened.

Our truck was broken into, and Tom’s birth certificate, some tools, a laser printer, and a few other items were stolen.

I started gaining weight and feeling stiffer from spending so much time cooped up in the room, struggling to work on the computer amid the constant noise. I wasn’t winning many sweepstakes, which I blamed partly on the unreliable internet we had for the first couple of months.

Eventually, the DMV stopped giving us temporary permits after our ’79 Dodge failed emissions, and Tom had to drive with expired plates. Later, the truck’s insurance expired, and we couldn’t afford to renew it, which only added to his stress on the road.

Then came October, and with it, a nightmare. To say I felt like we were being taunted is an understatement. Imagine a deranged person holding a gun to your head, saying, “Maybe I’ll pull the trigger, maybe I won’t.” The terror of that uncertainty was exactly what we felt daily, especially between October 4 and October 15—an 11-day stretch that was unrelentingly stressful as hell. Our survival was on the line, and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. We felt trapped between the streets and despair.

On Thursday night, October 4, I had a dream that we had no money for food or rent. The next morning, October 5, Tom left early for work. When I woke up, I texted him about the dream, saying it had left me with one of my bad feelings, the kind we’d both come to recognize as forewarnings of trouble.

That afternoon, Tom came back to the room earlier than usual, carrying no groceries and looking grim. “Bad dream premonition,” he said, confirming the uneasy feeling in my gut. He explained that his paycheck had been directly deposited as usual, but we couldn’t access our account. Our debit card had expired while we were still in Oregon, and the bank had sent a new one to our old address. When it was returned, they hadn’t bothered to call or email us.

The next day, with no other options, we loaded up the truck in search of a campground. But we couldn’t find any; the directions people gave us were vague and led us in circles.

In desperation, we considered ending it all in the back of the truck by lighting charcoal to produce carbon monoxide. We wanted a quiet, secluded place with no chance of intervention. But even that seemed beyond our reach.

After wandering aimlessly and wasting gas, we began pulling items from storage to sell or pawn: Tom’s Xbox, the GPS, a couple of electric guitars I’d won, DVDs, CDs, and more. I was sick of the humiliation of being reduced to struggling, starving, pawning this, selling that—just to survive. While some items were things we had planned to part with, we wanted to do it our way, not forced in a rush, taking whatever we could get.

The money we raised bought us gas and a little food. Surprisingly, those “little wins” I used to complain about helped save the day. Without anywhere to go, we ended up at a rest stop heading towards Reno, but it was cold, so we turned back and parked in the Thunder Valley Casino lot. Making as much space as we could in the back of our beat-up truck, we spent part of Saturday night there. I climbed in first, and Tom, after making sure no one was watching, followed, pulling the hatch shut behind him. We lay huddled together, shivering, trying to stay quiet. People couldn’t see in well, but we could see them. Did any of them know what it was like to be broke and homeless? Did they take their homes and food for granted? Did they think only the lazy, the alcoholics, and the addicts ended up like us? Did they think their worst fears could never come true? What made them more deserving? We worked as hard as anyone, maybe harder.

Tom was afraid to sleep, worried his snoring might draw attention, and I was too cold, uncomfortable, scared, and angry to sleep myself. When he went to use the restroom in the casino, I lay there shivering, mentally cursing a God I wasn’t sure existed.

Eventually, I couldn’t take the cold and had to pee, so I went inside, used the restroom, and had Tom paged. Without money to gamble, we tried to blend in at the restaurant; he got a soda, and I ordered coffee. God only knew how much longer I needed to be awake. Our waitress, Dee, noticed our situation and told us about Kampgrounds of America, even offering soup on her tab. We declined the soup but thanked her for the KOA information. Unfortunately, it wasn’t free as she’d said, and going to a campground just wasn’t an option without a tent or money. Everywhere we turned, we seemed trapped in a real Catch-22.

By 4:00 AM, knowing we wouldn’t get any real sleep, we left the casino and headed for Walmart, where Tom browsed the store while I mostly stayed in the truck, lying down to calm my nerves. Around 7:00, we returned to storage to pull more things to pawn—the digital camera, a diamond I’d won, and finally, our laptop. While Tom was inside, I managed a 45-minute nap in the truck’s front seat.

The pawnshop didn’t open until 11:00, and as we waited, exhausted, I couldn’t shake the feeling of doom. The thought of not getting enough money to survive until our new debit card arrived was overwhelming.

Finally, when the shop opened, Tom went in first to see if they’d accept what we had. A moment later, Tom returned with good news—the pawnshop would give $65 for the diamond. I used my ID to complete the sale since Tom had left his at the casino the previous day. We’d laugh later about how he didn’t want to mention this in front of the pawnshop workers, knowing they might judge us less favorably if they heard the word “casino.”

We now had enough for one night at the motel. After pawning the laptop, camera, and diamond, we returned to the motel, where I finally met Michelle, the person I’d only spoken to over the phone thus far. Mixed feelings hit me as we re-entered that familiar room. I didn’t want to be there, but we desperately needed to shower and do laundry, even if it meant washing clothes in the tub. Also, it was more comfortable to sleep in a real bed, as opposed to the back of a pickup.

The room felt enormous compared to the cramped truck. We set up our remaining things, including a desktop computer from storage, and took showers. With only 45 minutes of sleep in over 30 hours, I ended up sleeping on and off for 14 hours, despite waking frequently from stress. The whole time, I wondered if we’d get our new debit card or if we’d be back on the street the next day. I was afraid of what I’d see in my dreams but more afraid of reality. Sleep, however fitful, was my only escape.

The next day, Monday, Tom couldn’t work because he had to figure out a way to get more money. He sold a gun sight I’d won, buying us another night’s stay but not enough for gas or food.

When Tom called the temp agency and card company, they gave conflicting answers, saying a new card could be expedited, but only if it didn’t arrive by Monday. After calling his boss Tuesday morning, she surprised us with her generosity, giving him $100 for gas. But even with the $100, we were far from stable. It bought us a room for Tuesday night, some food, and a little more gas. But after those expenses, we were back to square one—completely broke.