#my car died in the parking lot of where i was picking up my deceased laptop ajskdgl. all while riding through a severe thunderstorm warning

[theclearblue]

Car-less. Laptop-less. Bitch-less. I have nothing left to my name

[mymelodyheart]

Miles Between Us Chapter 4 ~Reunited~

Picture Source

 Previously in Twists and Turns

Although it was a cold, dreich and cloudy day, it didn't stop the strains of Pharell William's song, "Happy" playing in his head. He was having one of those days where he had the world on a string, and it felt like nothing could thwart his good mood. His Sassenach was coming tomorrow, and she'd be staying with him for at least a week. She already warned him not to make too many plans as she had work to do, but he didn't care. He would be waking up every morning for the next few days with Claire in his arms, and they'd eat dinner together when their day was done. That was all that mattered.

He was about to turn around and make his way into the living room when he saw Jenny leaning against the far end counter, her arms across her chest. It only took Jamie a second to deduce his sister had been standing there a while, her grin saying it all. 

"Jenny!"

"I called out to ye when I came in, but ye didnae hear me. Looks like someone is happy," Jenny observed, smirking. "What's up with ye?"

"Claire ...ye ken Claire. Ye met her over two weeks ago. She's coming over to stay for a few days. With me." 

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Jamie eased his car into the parking lot, focusing on his breathing when his heart began to pummel against his chest. He'd known this might happen, and he'd come prepared ...or at least he hoped so. Taking his key out of the ignition, he reassured himself Claire would be with him soon enough, so he tried to remain calm. 

He leaned back against his seat and shut his eyes for a moment. Breathe in, breathe out, repeat. C'mon Fraser lad, ye got this.

Claire had initially planned on making her own way to Broch Mordha, too worried for him, in case he had another one of his panic attacks. But Jamie had vehemently insisted on picking her up despite her protestations. There was no way he was going to sit around in his cottage, waiting for her to arrive when he could be with her sooner. Every second spent in her presence was precious, and he wasn't about to give up any opportunity to be with her.

When he finally gathered himself together, he noticed his knuckles had gone white from gripping the steering wheel and a dull throb slowly working its way up to the back of his head. Every noise, every reflection of sunlight bouncing off the windshield was a torment. Ah, shite! Please, not now! His jaw already ached from its constant clenching and unclenching and his molars grinding during the drive, an attempt to smother the anxiety threatening to bubble up. He'd just arrived, and already he felt like he was going to suffocate. 

All the way from Broch Mordha, he'd centred his thoughts on Claire, afraid that if he allowed his mind to wander, the panic attacks would get out of hand. In his head, he'd pictured her laughing, full of life and excitement, and the way she made him feel. And he'd thought, if he could hold on to those images, he might just be able to keep the anxiety at bay, long enough until Claire was by his side.

Taking a deep fortifying breath, he exited his car, the noise around him giving off a static buzz, rivalling the one crackling in his head. On cue, an onrush of whirring sound intensified and just when he thought he was going to pass out, he caught a familiar scent as a blur in beige walked past him. Surprisingly, the din between his ears subsided into a distant hum, and his head shot up in time to see a man in an old fashion trenchcoat and a flat cap, hurriedly zig-zagging past oncoming and ongoing crowds. What the ...?

He felt drawn to the man like it was pertinent to get hold of him right this instant, not quite comprehending why. "Hey ye!" Jamie shouted after the bustling figure. "Wait up!"

The man stopped as if he'd heard he was being called, long enough for Jamie to see his profile. Harry? Harry ...as in Claire's father? Surely not! It cannae be. 

Before Jamie could make sense of what he was seeing, the figure began moving again, and so he picked up the pace. "Harry?!? Hey! Stop! It's me, Jamie," he shouted.

Jamie began to walk quicker, straining his neck so he wouldn't lose sight of Harry, but the man was fleet, occasionally stopping, looking for someone or something before rushing off again. Although Jamie was agile himself on his feet, he couldn't seem to catch up, and it wasn't long before Harry disappeared through the glassed entrance. Bummer!

He ran this time. When he eventually made it inside the airport, all he could see was Harry's head, bobbing up and down among a moving group of bodies heading in the direction of the arrivals' waiting area. He continued to follow, wondering what the hell Harry was doing here. The last time he'd seen the man was before Christmas, and after that, on an old photograph, Claire had shown him. Ah, fuck! Jamie thought he must be losing his mind. Is Harry alive, or is he a ghost? Claire did tell him that Harry or Henry, or whatever he was called, died in a car accident. So what the hell is happening? Is his condition making him see the deceased or is Harry a figment of his imagination? 

His eyes scanned the crowd, but Harry's head was replaced by an image of a bouncing oversized red beanie. Jamie continued to walk forward, dipping and diving, not wanting to lose him, but red beanie head was waving an arm, and it kept getting in the way. Ah hell, where did he disappear to?

Irritation coasted down his back, and his eyes landed once again on the red beanie head, walking towards him, just a few feet away. Underneath the brightly coloured headgear was a mass of dark curls that framed a rosy cheek face with crystal clear amber orbs and a smile that tugged at his heart. Gradually, as if coming out of a trance, everything came into focus, and the backdrop and the noises dissolved. His heart stopped as realisation kicked in. It's Claire!

"Sassenach," he whispered. His lungs dislodged every iota of oxygen in his body, the world seeming to suspend around them expectantly.

Before his brain could compute what was happening, Claire dropped her bags and launched herself into his arms. Her warmth, scent and breath enveloped him, soothing his soul. In that instant, everything in the world felt right again as she buried her face against his neck. 

"Oh, God Jamie, I missed you," she whispered, her grasp tight around his neck. "You came, even when I told you not to. Stubborn, stubborn man!"

The tension in his muscles loosened, and the feel of her body was worth the stress he'd put himself through coming to the airport. He drew away slightly and gazed down at her beautiful face. "I had to come so I could do this," Jamie murmured, ensnaring Claire's mouth with his own. 

Her lips parted on a breath, and his tongue delved in, claiming her. Reminding them both and anyone in the vicinity who was watching, to whom she belonged. She must have sensed the psychological toll on him being in a busy place and what it took out of him to drive here, and his need to be grounded and centred. She clasped his face in her hands, forcing him to withdraw the kiss on a groan. She glanced up at him and searched his face, and when she was satisfied that he was alright, she gave him a smile that caused his throat to tighten with emotion. His heart pounded so hard, she placed her hands on his chest as though to keep it from bursting free. Wanting to feel more of her, he hoisted her up and pressed her closer against him. When he lowered his head to reclaim her lips a second time, she playfully nipped at his lip, before taking control of the kiss, reminding him he belonged to her too. She tunnelled her fingers in his hair and tilted her mouth over his, kissing him fervently until they broke away, gasping for breath.

She giggled, sliding away from his grasp, only for her arms to encircle his waist. "That was some welcome. I'm tempted to come more often now if I get to receive a kiss like that every time I arrive."

A harsh sound escaped his mouth. "Ah, Christ. What universe am I on that I get to keep ye for mysel', huh?" he breathed, running a thumb across her lower lip.

"A universe tucked away in a Highlands, one that I'm so chuffed to have found because you're in it," she replied, smiling, her breath ghosting on his chin as she looked up to meet his gaze. "Though I must admit, I wasn't too thrilled when you insisted on picking me up. I have faith you'll get over your anxiety one day, but you shouldn't push yourself too hard. Healing takes time, Jamie."

He tipped her chin and smiled, oblivious to the hustle and bustle of their surroundings, finding his calm in her presence. "I ken ye still worry, but I'm getting better every day. I promise. The meditation playlist ye sent me helps a lot, and it works even if I get leg cramps out of it as a result. Next, ye'll be suggesting yoga, but I'm warning ye, that's where I draw the line, Sassenach. My limbs are fine as it is."

She scrunched up her nose at his attempt to downplay his condition. "So, no more anxiety attacks? How about nightmares?"

"No nightmares," he reassured her, picking up loose curls resting on her shoulder and letting them slide between his fingers. "Though I still wake up sometimes in a cold sweat and occasionally, I have wee attacks when I'm under stress. But they're manageable as long as I remember the breathing exercises."

"That's good, Jamie," she said, sliding her hands up and down his back. "For a minute there, when I came out, and first saw you, I thought you seemed rather pale. You looked past me like there was no recognition in your eyes, but your colour returned when I got closer. I have been worried about you coming ...so I must have imagined the whole thing."

Ah hell, Harry! He'd forgotten about him. He looked beyond her head, even though he knew Harry was long gone. Knowing it was a futile endeavour to even contemplate Harry's whereabouts, let alone start looking for him, Jamie cleared his throat and brought his attention back to Claire. He didn't want to lie to her, but there was a time and place to talk about Harry. He knew he'd delayed it for too long, but it had to wait just a wee bit longer. "Ye didnae imagine anything, Sassenach. I felt the beginnings of the panic attack, but when I saw my mate and started to call after him and follow him, I realised the distraction helped suppress it. He was going in the direction where ye came from. And then right after I lost him, I saw ye."

She cocked her head and looked at him curiously, amber eyes inquisitive, always reading between the lines. Even though he knew she appreciated that piece of information, there was still something niggling at her. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Aye, I'm certain now that ye're here."

Claire studied him. "Well, the distraction from your mate helped for sure. Or at the very least, it took the edge out of the anxiety."

Jamie gave her a reassuring smile. "Indeed, it has. Shall we go?" he proposed, eager to get going.

She visibly shook herself and nodded as he stepped away from her embrace and made a move to collect her bags. Once they got going, he twined their fingers together, powerless to stop himself from kissing her knuckles and brushing them with his thumb. The noises in his head had already ceased, and with Claire by his side, not even the drone of a busy airport could yank him back into the grips of immobilising anxiety bouts.

Although seeing Harry earlier had helped quell down the panic attacks, he knew it wasn't a permanent fix. As Claire had once told him over the phone, part of his recovery included finding a healthy way to let go of the past and forgive himself. It was taking time for sure, but the more he acknowledged his demons, instead of burying it deep down into his subconsciousness, the easier it got. The more he talked about the death of his best mate, Simon MacKimmie, the lighter the load on his shoulders became. There might still be lingering guilt and the image of Simon's death deeply embedded in his memory, but as Claire often had, and time and time again said, real progress took time. Jamie understood the fix needed to be on a mental level, and that was on him. 

Despite it all, he felt incredibly blessed to have a lass who was willing to walk with him through it and not for him, something perhaps his sister should take note of. He'd shared with Claire his living hell, and still, she found something beautiful in the midst of so much ugly. He was convinced more than ever, with Claire everything was possible and he was looking forward to their future.

As they made their way out of the airport and into the parking lot, Jamie squeezed Claire's hand and smiled. "So what are yer plans today, Sassenach? Do ye have to work?"

She beamed up at him. "No. Work can wait until tomorrow. I think these past few weeks I've worked enough ...not to mention missing out on a lot of weekends. I think I deserve a break."

"Aye, that ye do. So, lunch perhaps, then?" Jamie suggested, releasing her hand and clicking the key fob as his car came to view. "Ye must be hungry."

"Did you make something?"

He swiftly deposited her bags into the boot and shut the door before kissing her on the forehead. "No. But I can always whip us up something, or we can stop somewhere on the way to grab a bite ...if ye wish."

Claire shied away, for once looking reluctant. "I'm not really hungry, to be honest."

"So do ye have anything particular in mind ye want to do?" he asked, his curiosity spiking when he noticed a bright shade of red rising from her neck to her face, causing her face to flush prettily. 

She chewed her lower lip. "Are you working today?" 

He grinned. "No. I took a day off." And he'd arranged with Willie he wouldn't be starting work until ten tomorrow morning.

"Well, ..."

"Weel what?"

"I think I'd like to go to bed."

To bed? He searched her face looking for any evidence indicating she was unwell or fatigued. After all, she'd been working a lot these past few days. But he found none. Instead, her eyes betrayed what she had in mind. Still, he could be mistaken and wanted to be sure. "To bed or to sleep?" he asked slowly and cautiously.

She stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his, making his stomach flipped. "What do you think?" she whispered against his mouth.

There was an awareness on Claire's face that revealed she felt the wild rapping against his rib cage. Both of their breathing changed, and in an instant, the closeness of their bodies was no longer means to keep anxiety at bay.

His heart rate suddenly became an equivalent of a man running from a bull in Pamplona. "Ach, Sassenach, couldnae ye wait until we were nearer to home to tell me that?" 

Her shoulders lifted. "Well, you did ask ..."

He walked her backwards against the car and pressed their forehead together. "Ah, damn it! Here I am trying to block images of what I want to do to ye the moment we're alone and be a decent boyfriend and treat ye like the sweetheart ye are. Now all I can think of is ..."

"What?" she asked innocently, her lids fluttering, her pupils obstructing out some of the gold of her irises. "What are you thinking of?"

Ah, bloody hell! He certainly didn't want to answer that. Not here at the airport's parking lot anyway. He blew out a shaky breath and adjusted his jeans. "Get in a car." The growl that broke from his throat sounded foreign to his ears, but it couldn't be helped when the sudden urgency to have Claire was thrumming in his veins. "And not another word, until we reach home."

She smiled and made a motion of zipping her lips as she got into the passenger side. He groaned inwardly, hoping and praying for another distraction. But this time for an entirely different condition that was tormenting him. 

  Dear Readers,

Well, I did try my hardest to finish this chapter in time for Valentine's day, but I was having too much of a good time with hubby that I thought surely you guys wouldn't mind. We had takeaways, a bottle of wine and cuddles on sofa rewatching Hunger Games. I know it's hardly a romantic film befitting Valentines, but we both loved it. My thoughts are, every day should be Valentine's day, so I hope you felt Jamie's love (and lust) for Claire in this chapter.😁

Before I sign off, I'd like to thank you for your continued readership and feedback, and I am so looking forward to what you think in my latest update. Take care of yourself and keep the love vibes rolling. Until my next instalment ...X

[five-miles-over]

Misery Loves Company (Clay Bidwell x Reader)

Summary: After leaving his hometown and all of its chaos, Clay Bidwell meets the reader at a strange bar and the two of them have a much-needed break from their troubles.

Word Count: 2,262

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death (allusions to suicide), and some references to the film Clay Pigeons

If there was one thing that Clay Bidwell could change, it would be his decision to trust Lester Long. I mean, what the hell was he thinking, trusting some new guy in town with a big old grin to keep him safe. That guy's self-appointed nickname said it all: Lester the Molester. What a son of a bitch. What a smiling, cheery, fucking son of a bitch.

He should've seen something wrong when Lester opened his mouth and laughed like a goddamn coyote. He should've seen something wrong when Lester kept a cheery spirit around a corpse floating around in a river. Who in their right mind wouldn't be freaked out by something so creepy? Clay himself vomited at the sight, way before he could even catch any of the stench from the rotting body.

Until his best friend Earl shot himself in front of Clay, he'd never even seen a dead person before. Even though he was from a town so small that everyone knew everyone else and their business, death was always something so…covert. It was a covered-up thing, something private. The family would have their little funeral, and next week the obituary would show up in the newspapers. No one ever really kept the casket open, and it was just assumed that the deceased were off to a better place.

It turned out Earl was just the first one in a morbid domino effect. Next, Clay's ex-girlfriend was shot dead…while she was fooling around with Clay. Finally, Earl's widow, who was fooling around with Clay before Earl died, was found dead in her own home.

And of course, Clay was found to be the common thread linking all of those murders. The cops tried to string together a bunch of bullshit and frame him - Clay fucking Bidwell - as some serial killer with women issues or something like that. He could still hear Agent Shelby interrogating him. "You're dating one victim, you're having an affair with another, and you find the body of the third. Kind of a coincidence, wouldn't you say?" The agents even came into his house one night and conducted some stupid raid for no reason. Right, they thought he had weapons. But hunting was a tradition in his hometown; almost every guy his age had at least one shot gun in their house, even if it was their dad's or uncle's.

So much for having faith in law enforcement to punish the guilty.

Thank goodness they finally came to their senses and went after Lester Long instead. Clay didn't remember much after watching the police cars chase after Lester. All he wanted to do at that time was leave. Leave this small town, and never look back.

So he did just that. As soon as the sirens began to quiet down, Clay jumped into his creaky pick-up truck, stepped on the gas and drove as far from town as possible. He didn't know where he was going, what direction, what road, or any of that shit. All he knew was that he was leaving the town that had nothing left for him anymore. He drove and drove for hours until the sun went down.

It was a long journey, and Clay found himself thanking his past self for leaving a few beers in the passenger seat. They were all empty by the time that twilight turned into night. Though, if Clay was being honest to himself, it probably wouldn't be enough alcohol for him to forget about spending a night in jail on false accusation, or erase all the death he'd seen.

With some of the money left in his glovebox, he pulled over at some gas station and filled up the tank. According to a sign on the road, he was about fifty miles from some city called Great Falls. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea, Clay thought to himself as he held the diesel nozzle, to try his luck in a big city. He heard stories about people having their own rags-to-riches story by leaving their small hometowns behind for busier places. And if nothing else, it'd be great to try and drive around the state just for the hell of it.

With a sigh, Clay watched as the meter reached its limit and the gasoline stopped flowing through the nozzle. The price wasn't all that bad for its mediocre quality, though it probably meant that Clay would have to sleep in his car tonight. It was hard to gauge the quality of the motels around this unfamiliar place, but he was sure that it would cost a lot more than whatever spare change Clay had left. Better to buy a drink, and get some sleep in the backseat, than to risk sleeping at some flea-infested room and wake up to a missing truck.

He parked the truck close to a neon sign - probably some saloon founded by a jaded business fellow - and walked inside. The place wasn't too crowded, with a few heads turning as soon as Clay walked in. Some of the guys were sitting around a table playing cards, and a lot of the customers seemed like they were regular patrons. Were they outlaws? Probably not. Based on the kinds of guys Clay saw in the saloon he used to go to, those guys drinking were probably just looking for an escape from their deadbeat jobs.

He almost smiled a little when he saw a pool table in the center, though it was strange to him that there was no one playing at the moment. Nevertheless, it reminded him of the good days when Earl and him would perfect their skills. By the time Clay turned nineteen, he was one of the best players in town. If he wasn't so blue right now, he'd be willing to show this new place a trick or two.

Clay looked out the window for a moment as he lit a cigarette. No cops in sight tonight? Good.

Taking a seat at the bar, he continued to people-watch until the bartender came up to him and asked for his order. Just as Clay told the bartender the kind of beer he wanted, you walked right inside and sat next to him.

While the bartender went behind to get the cold bottle, Clay looked you up and down, his lip curling upwards into a tiny boyish smirk. Maybe it was the after-effect of the alcohol from this afternoon, but you looked gorgeous to him…and almost a little mysterious, but also approachable. And you definitely looked nothing like the other customers in the saloon. Maybe you didn't come here often, or you were from another town, just like him.

"Hi."

"Oh…um, hi," Clay stammered, realizing you'd caught him staring. "Um…"

Taking control of the conversation, you introduced yourself to him and reached out to shake his hand. "How do you do?"

"I'm fine. You come here often?"

"Not like this." You shook your head and chuckled to yourself before ordering a drink for yourself. Clay sipped from his beer, listening to you tell him that you used to come here with a partner, on a Friday night after the two of you were done with work. "We had a lot of fun," you told him. "But things eventually just went south, we started fighting, and…I found them in bed with someone they'd been seeing on the side. So I packed my things and left…straight here. My stuff is literally sitting in my car right now."

"I'm sorry," you apologized casually, taking your drink. "I just met you. I don't even know your name and I'm already telling you about my break-up."

"It's fine," he replied with a crooked smile. "I'm Clay, by the way."

"So what brings you here, Clay?"

"Um…just, rough times. Needed to leave." He lied, not wanting to talk much about the things that really forced him here. "Sorry about your break-up. I know what it's like. It really sucks."

"To sucky lives and leaving shitty things behind." You toasted in a mock-celebratory tone, raising your drink and clinking it against his bottle. Clay's smile grew just a bit wider, and he even laughed a little.

The next hour felt like it passed by in the blink of an eye. Over the course of two beers (and who knows how many songs on the jukebox), Clay felt like he'd known you for years. Just by the way you talked about how you were almost done with school, and how much you hated your own little town just like he hated his…it was refreshing, to say the least. You seemed earnest, decent, and probably not tangled up in some kind of crime.

"Do you, by any chance, play?" He asked you after a bit of silence.

"Play what?"

"Um, pool." Clay pointed to the table at the center.

"No, never tried it before."

"I could…I could teach you if you like," he suggested. Now the beer was really taking his toll, making him want to show off a little for you.

"I'd love to learn."

You let him lead you towards the table, where the balls were already arranged for a new game. Clay was really friendly in teaching you the basics, on how to hold the pool stick (which was called a cue). He came up behind you, carefully guiding your hand to the right place on the stick and telling you to keep a good grip. Placing a hand over yours, Clay told you that a good shot involved getting the right angle. With another hand on your waist, he shifted you around nonchalantly so that you faced the right pockets of the table.

The alcohol was quite present in his breath while he spoke, but his voice…damn, you could listen to him talk all night. It was nice that you could get him out of his shell by agreeing to learn. And the way his hands felt on you was pretty nice. Eventually, you were able to make a few combination shots, and Clay was pleased.

"Damn, you're a fast learner."

"Thanks. You're a good teacher."

"Put enough quarters on a table like this one, I sure as hell have to be a pro." Clay bragged a little before the two of you laughed.

Suddenly, you put the stick down and walked closer to him with a smirk, not sure about what had gotten into you. "I…uh, I like the way you put your hands on me," you confessed in a whisper.

Catching your tone, he leaned against the table with a raised eyebrow "You did?"

You gave him a nod and mimicked his posture, leaning against the table as well. "I kinda like you, Clay."

"Yeah…I like you too." He goofily admitted, saying your name like it was something absolutely precious.

Making the first move, you gently pecked him on the cheek and ran your fingers through his messy, dark brown hair. A naughty glint in his green eyes, he took your gesture as encouragement…for something he'd shamelessly thought about since he led you over to the pool table. Boldly wrapping his arms around you, he crashed his lips into yours.

You moaned a little, surprised by how dizzying his kiss felt. "Take this…somewhere else?"

"Fuck, yeah."

The two of you made your way over to a slightly more private booth in the saloon, not wasting any time and continuing your make-out session. Clay didn't hesitate to pin you against the wall, bringing your leg up to get closer to you. Soon, his kisses grew sloppier and hungrier, covering your jawline and your neck. Right now, everything else seemed pretty much like a blur to him.

Kissing him back and lightly tugging at his hair, you painfully gasped his name the moment he got a bit too carried away and sucked at your collarbone. That was definitely going to leave a mark for the next morning…but it was totally worth it.

"Stop," you panted, breaking your lips away from his when you both needed air. "That was…that was...wow."

"Yeah, it really was." Clay agreed, his fingers still brushing your thigh. "You're really pretty. Like movie pretty."

"Maybe you're pretty drunk," you retorted. "A cute, pretty drunk who happens to be great at teaching pool."

"Maybe I'm drunk on you."

"What a line." Giggling, you smoothed your hair before going back to the bar, placing some change for the drink you had.

"You leaving already?" Clay followed you with a surprised and crestfallen expression.

You told him it was almost closing time, pointing out how empty the saloon had gotten since you arrived. "I'll tell you what, Clay." Taking a a pen lying around, you wrote your phone number on a napkin and handed it to him. "It's actually my friend's number, but they'll take a message. Besides, that's where I'm heading to stay until I can find my own place."

"That sounds great. I'll, uh, see you around."

"See you around. Thanks for a great night, Clay." You smiled, leaving him with one last kiss before walking out.

Clay took a long look at the napkin before folding it up and keeping it in his jeans pocket. Throwing some of his change on the bar, he left the bar and sat down in his truck. Closing his eyes, he rested his head on the wheel and hoped he'd be sober enough to drive again tomorrow.

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Californian Dream (Pt. 03 of 11)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Word count: 2.9 K

Summary: Being part of one of the richest families of California doesn't mean you're happy. Your life is boring, and you're surrounded by meaningless people and their meaningless talk. Even during Summer, with the break you have from college, there's nothing good going on. Nothing but the new pool guy, Billy, the most handsome man you ever saw. You were successfully avoiding him, not wanting to act like an idiot in front of the guy until Billy accepts to be your date for a fancy gala you're forced to attend. The night was going well, even better when he sneaked you out to go to the beach. But a gang of criminals breaks into the party, kidnapping the heirs to the wealthiest families, which includes you. So, for your safety, your parents want you to stay with Billy, living in his apartment until the criminals are caught. And that could take weeks, maybe even months.

Warnings: Light violence

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{Stranger Things Masterlist}

{Dacre Montgomery Masterlist}

×

Pandemonium

It takes a while to process what's going on. The explosion, the flames, the smoke. And the vans, the shooting. It feels like some kind of dream, something too far from reality to be understood. Yet, it's very real. You can tell by how cold you feel now, from your soaked dress glued on your legs, or maybe the wind, or perhaps what's happening not too far away. The chaos emerging from the place you were at only some minutes ago.

“We have to see what's–”

“Bad idea.” Billy grabs your arm, both of you getting down, the sand hurting your knees through the soft fabric of your dress. You barely feel his grip, eyes locked on the hotel, the smell of burned things reaching your nose. “Hey. We gotta get out of here. C'mon.” He starts pulling you with him, and you try to follow up the best you can given your state. The gunfires are loud, nonstop, persistent, and soon enough you can distinguish the yells too. Cries for help, probably.

“Billy, wait. My parents are there.” Resisting him, you try to make him stop, to head back there. “We have to–” Then, when you reach the sidewalk, you see it. Even from the distance, you can see people being dragged, violently pushed inside the back of the vans. You can't see their faces, but it's quite obvious now. “They're...”

“It's called kidnapping. Let's go.” You both set in motion again. Billy's grip on your arm slides down until he's holding your hand, but you don't mind. The only thing in your mind right now is that you don't want to be pushed into the back of any van. He let's go when you finally reach his car, thankfully parked far enough from the pandemonium, and he has no trouble maneuvering it and speeding away, a lot faster than on your way here.

Only when the noises are a distant echo you release a breath you didn't even know you were holding. Then, you start breathing fast, a hand on your heart as you close your eyes shut, trying to calm yourself down. That gotta be a mistake. A misunderstanding. You were supposed to be there. What would've happened if you and Billy were in there? Would you be shoved into those cars too?

“(Y/N).” He calls, and you give him a glance, your hair covering half of your sight. “You're hyperventilating. You have to slow down.”

“Ok, ok.” You mumble, trying to breathe in deeply and push the air out slowly. After doing that a few times, you feel tears in your eyes, wiping them away. “Where are you taking me?”

“My place.”

You were just about to complain, ask him why he isn't taking you home, where you should be to check if your parents are ok. But it makes sense. Your house may not be safe. “Alright.”

Billy doesn't slow down. He only stops in a small parking lot, beside a building. You don't know exactly where you are, so you just follow him through the sidewalk and into the building, upstairs for two or three floors until he's finally unlocking a door, gesturing for you to walk in. The first thing you notice is a TV, and you quickly make your way over it. “Can I put on the news channel?”

“Sure.”

Turning the TV on, you stop on the first news channel you find, and you immediately recognize the hotel. The reporter is by the fountain, and behind her, there is a lot of firemen, trying to put down the flames. But what gets your attention isn't the destruction, or whatever the woman is saying. Is the blood. You can see it staining the light gray rocks of the hotel's entrance. “Is that...”

“Sit down. C'mon.” Billy pulls you with him, forcing you to take a seat on his couch. Leaning forward, elbows on your knees, you bounce your leg, trying to bring some sense to what the reporter is saying.

“Thirteen of the heirs from the most important and wealthy families of California were taken on a violent, brutal action performed by masked men. According to witnesses, they came right after an explosion in the kitchens, surrounding the hotel and forcing everyone to lie down.” She makes a pause, looking at something behind the camera. “As they expertly picked up the kids one by one, some people were shot as they tried to keep them from taking their children.”

“What?” Gasping, you stand up abruptly, tears in your eyes again.

“The deceased are Mrs. Laurel Whayland, Mrs. Karen Garret, Miss Elena Williams, Mr. Harry Hench, and Miss Gisele Everline. Three more people were taken to the hospital but we still have no news about them.”

“Gisele is dead?” You mutter, tears rolling down. “I-I know those people, Billy. I know them.” Their faces start flashing in your mind, and despite you never being too fond of them, it still hurts.

“I'm sorry.” Billy stands up, and without thinking twice, you hug him, collapsing against his chest. With one hand around his midsection, you use the other to cover your mouth, trying to control the sobs shaking your body. You were supposed to be there. You would be taken, that's for sure. And maybe it would be your mother or father dead by now.

“If it weren't for you I'd be in there.” You cry, stepping away just enough to look at him. “I'd be who knows where now... Maybe even dead, like Gisele.” Gisele. You're superficial, redhead friend. She wasn't your confidant, she wasn't someone you could trust. But she was there, earlier today, playing volleyball on your pool, happy, smiling, breathing, living. Now she's gone.

“Calm down, alright?” Billy seems pretty shaken too, and that's when you notice it could have been him too.

“I-I'm sorry, Billy. I dragged you to that stupid party and if we waited just a little longer you would be in the middle of that mess because of me. I'm so sorry.” Speaking fast, you struggle not to sob again, your voice cracking. “If you died because of me I'd never forgive myself.”

“Alright, I need you to slow down, ok?” Again, Billy guides you to the couch, pulling you to seat down with him. “First of all, there was no way in hell you could've know something like that would happen.” He gestures at the TV, but your eyes are focused on him. “So don't blame yourself. I took you to the gala because I wanted to, you didn't drag me.”

“I–”

“It is now confirmed.” The reporter starts again, and both you and Billy stare at the screen. “The kidnappers left a tape, which is now with the police. Chances are they want a rescue, we just don't know how much yet.”

“This can't be happening.” You mutter, running a hand through your now messy hair. “I don't–”

The phone's loud ring makes you jump, a hand on your heart. “Let me answer that.” As he moves to answer the phone, you finally notice the living room and kitchen are an open space, and there's a small hall with two doors, one of them must be his bedroom. Billy speaks low, facing away from you, so you take the chance to pace around a little, wiping off more tears and trying to calm down, pushing the memory of the explosion and the shootings away.

You stop by the living door window, looking out, and you notice his apartment is only one block away from the beach, and you can see it from here, the moonlight reflecting on the water.

“(Y/N).” You mmediately turn around at the mention of your name. “It's your father. He wants to speak to you.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you walk over to the kitchen space. “My father has your number?”

“Company policy,” Billy says, handing you over the phone.

“Dad?” You say, more tears now threatening to roll down. “Are you ok? Is mom ok?”

“We're both alright. We're alright.” He starts, and you can hear your mother's voice in the back. “I need you to listen to me, and listen carefully, understood?”

“Yeah.”

“We know what those lowlives want. They'll ask for a rescue so high even the Whayland will have trouble paying. And they won't stop. There's nothing on the media yet, but they said it, out loud, that they'll go after the rest of the heirs. That includes you and some other kids too.” With a hand on your forehead, you turn around, finding Billy standing by the table, arms crossed. “I don't think the media will let it out because it'll cause more panic, but we know and we won't let anything happen to you.”

“What should I do then?” You inquire, staring at Billy.

“You'll stay there.” Your father explains, and a low, humorless laugh escapes your lips. He can't possibly think it's ok for you to stay here.

“Dad, that's crazy. I can't just–” Looking away from Billy, you lower your voice, trying not to let him listen. “I can't just ask Billy to stay here dad, this is his place and I don't want to–”

“I've already spoken to Billy and he agreed. Don't worry, he'll be well paid for this... Kindness. But it shouldn't be long. I'll put my men in the investigation. It may be just for some weeks.”

“Let me talk to her.” Your mother says, and soon enough you hear her voice through the phone. But after making sure you're ok, she goes on about the usual stuff. How well you should behave, mostly now, that you'll be living with an employee. And how Billy will be now serving you since he'll be paid for this ‘job’ once this is over. So you just listen, rolling your eyes more times than you can count, muttering a ‘yes’ or a ‘fine’ now and then. It goes on for several minutes until your father takes over, telling you to take care of yourself and hanging up.

Unable to believe what just happened, you put the phone down, slowly walking over to the table, not sure what the look on Billy's eyes means. “I'm sorry for... For this.”

“Your father just hired me for another job, that's all.” There's something on his tone you don't understand, but you don't think he'd answer if you ask.

What you know for sure is that this is a mess, a situation that's complicated for everyone. And of course you're not comfortable with this, having Billy forced to endure you at his place for... Weeks. “Billy, look... I had a nice time today. I had more fun in a couple of hours with you than I have with my friends. And I know this sucks but maybe we can make it work.” Drumming your fingers on the table, you avoid looking at him. “It can be a job, formal, and I can behave just like my mother told me over the phone or it can be an extension of that walk on the beach.”

“Alright.” He breathes out, and you feel a little relieved. “But this is nothing like your house, as you probably already noticed.”

Giving one more look around, you take in the simple kitchen, which is very well organized and clean. “I think your place is fine.” Billy scoffs, walking around the table. “What?”

“Come. There's only one bedroom and I guess it's yours for as long as you'll be staying here.”

“Absolutely not.” Exclaiming, you hesitate a little before following him through the small hall. “I can take the couch, it's no big deal.”

Billy opens the second door, gesturing for you to get inside. “It's small and plain, but I guess you'll manage to sleep just fine.” Billy's bedroom has faded blue walls, two windows, and a double bed set in between them. A wardrobe, a dresser, and a nightstand, on the right side of the bed. There are some posters on the wall, and you pace around, taking a look at them.

“It's cozy, I like it.” Turning on your heels to face him, you manage a small smile. “But I mean it. I'll take the couch. It's more than enough that you're being forced to have me in here.”

“What would your father say if he knew I was making his precious daughter sleep on the couch?”

“First of all, I don't think he has to know. And second, I don't care.” Shrugging your shoulders, you take a deep breath. “We can take turns then if you like.”

“Alright. Today is your turn, you need it more than me.”

“Yeah...” Reality kicks in, and you realize that for a moment you forgot why you're even here. “Can I take a shower? I mean, I'll have to sleep on this dress but...”

“I can give you some of my shirts if you don't mind.” When you nod, he moves to his dresser, searching for a while before handing you a dark blue shirt. “There's a bathroom there and another in the hall. But this one is bigger, so... You should use it.”

“Alright.” Hugging the shirt against your chest, you walk over to the bathroom.

“Use the green towel. Is clean and–”

“Thanks, Billy. I'll be alright.” Giving him one last glance, you walk in, locking the door behind your back.

When you're done, you stare in the mirror as you try to decide what to do with your dress. That's what you were thinking about for the thirty minutes you've been in the shower because you don't want to think about anything else. The explosion, the smoke, the people you know being held hostage... Gisele's death. The fact that it could've been you...

Taking a deep breath, you decide to throw the dress away, so you take it with you when you leave the bathroom, finding the bed made, with two pillows set on the edge. Leaving the dress folded on the dresser, you decide to lie down. You'll probably have nightmares, no doubt, but trying to stay awake won't last long since you're tired, very sleepy already. Tossing around to lie on your side, you hug the spare pillow.

You're almost falling asleep when the door is open, and so are your eyes, following Billy as he comes in. When his eyes meet yours he halts, seemingly surprised, a funny expression on his face that makes you chuckle. “What?” You ask in a low voice.

“Nothing, just... It's weird to have a girl on my bed.” He shrugs his shoulders, moving to look for something in his wardrobe.

“Uhm... I honestly doubt that.” It was Gisele who kept reminding you of Billy's behavior. Going so far as naming the girls he was seen with as if you knew any of them. As if she knew any of them. But the memory that made you so angry earlier, feels weird now. Empty, distant. “How many girls have already slept in this bed?”

“You're the first.” When he says that, you move to sit up straight, eyebrows furrowed. “I don't bring girls here.”

“Why?”

“Just an old rule of mine. There's no reason to let them in, they won't last.” Billy turns to face you, a hand holding blankets and a pillow as the other closes the wardrobe doors.

“And why don't they last?” The moment you ask, you regret it. “Nevermind. I'm just a little too curious.” Looking down at your hands, you blush. You're already invading his house, you can't invade his personal life too.

“Do you wanna sleep or do you wanna talk about my love life?” He scoffs, slowly making his way to the door. “Or the lack of it.”

“We're on the same boat then.” You giggle, running a hand through your hair and pushing back a yawn.

“You? That's something I don't believe, princess.”

Your head slows down at the pet name, and by the way Billy stops by the door, shifting his way from one leg to another, you can tell he's a bit surprised too. “Well... You know the options I have so...” Your mind quickly goes through the boys your mother and friends talk to you about. Some of them were kidnapped. But you push this thought back, not wanting to call in more bad dreams than you'll probably already have. “I'll die alone.”

“I'm sure your mother wants you to marry someone. Rich and powerful, of course.”

“Absolutely. So we can join our fortunes.” Kneeling on the bed, you give your voice a dramatic tone. “And make the family even richer and have very rich babies who will inherit more money than they could ever spend in a normal lifetime.” Rolling your eyes, you drop to the bed again, folding both legs beneath you. “Some shit like that.”

“But you always do what's expected of you. Your mother will end up pushing you into someone and you gave up arguing with her so...” Billy shrugs his shoulders, and you ask what this is. How exactly you got into this matter, and why is he making you see through the flaws of your existence. Damn, you're so sleepy. You're not thinking straight.

“I'd leave California before she forces me into it.” This certainty hits you like a brick, and you know you'll do it. You'll get your girly pink Cadillac, throw your luggage in the back, and drive away. “California never felt like home to me anyway.” You mutter, suddenly feeling empty. “I'll get some sleep now, Billy Hargrove. I'm done with opening my heart for today.” Not waiting for him to leave, you lie back down, pulling the blankets up. When you hear the door closing you take a deep breath, closing your eyes once again.

There's something about Billy. You've known some of your friends for many years, but you never spoke to them about the things you've spoken to Billy. He makes you feel different, like you're free to do and say the simple things you could never share with anyone else. Or maybe it's just the sleep taking over, you're not sure. But from all the people on Earth that you know, you're glad you got to do this with Billy. At least here you won't have to put on an act.

×

@multific @dontxfearxthereaper @nope-thanks @nikkixostan @shinydixon

[twentiethcenturymoviesandtv]

Running Scared: The Story

So Running Scared is a buddy-cop movie, right?

Well, heck, you might say. If it’s a buddy-cop movie, I may as well not read the plot description.  A by-the-book cop is forced to work with a wild-card cop to catch the criminal and save the day, while learning to respect each other.  The boss gets mad at them, the car gets destroyed, they’re pulled off the case, and solve it anyway, breaking procedure in the process.

Okay, so you’re not wrong about that second half.  Got me there.  Buddy-cop films tend to not have a whole lot of variety when it comes to cliches, but then again, the same could be said of most genres.  And hey, cliches aren’t necessarily bad.

Before you write off Running Scared as just another attempt to cash in on Beverly Hills Cop, though, there are a couple of things to consider: for one thing, there’s no ‘by the book’ cop.  And these two certainly aren’t being forced to work together.  These guys?  They’re good friends.

Let’s take a look at the setup.  (Spoilers below!)

Two undercover Chicago cops, Danny Constanza (Billy Crystal) and Ray Hughes (Gregory Hines), spot two criminals they recognize: drug dealer Julio Gonzales, and one of his associates, ‘Snake’.  Gonzales, recognizing the pair, drives off before the two can investigate further, but before he does so, he gives Snake a briefcase, which Snake runs off with, and I’m sure is totally legitimate.

Danny and Ray pursue Snake to his third-floor apartment, where they threaten him with a search warrant.  And physical harm.

“Listen, Snake, here’s the situation: I have this gun here. Now I am going to take the gun out and I am going to shoot a lot of holes in the door. If you are standing in front of the door, what can I tell ya? Some of the holes are gonna be in you. Ya catching my drift, Snake?”

Snake lets them in.

The pair open his case, and discover what was so important in there: $50,000.

Unfortunately, possessing $50,000 isn’t evidence of wrongdoing in and of itself, and Danny and Ray can’t make an arrest.  Danny, having an idea, steps outside the apartment, onto the balcony, and makes an announcement to anyone in the neighborhood:

“This block is being designated a Neighborhood Watch Area. There’s a guy up here named Snake. He’s wearing garage-sale clothes and the top of his head looks like a parakeet. He also has FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS in small bills in a briefcase. As his neighbors, it is your responsibility to make sure there are no suspicious characters or evil perpetrators lurking in the area who would seek to do him harm. Again, FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS in small bills, tax free, in a briefcase right in this apartment. Which has a really cheeseball lock! You can bust your way in there, bop him on the head, take the money, nobody would know! So it’s UP TO YOU. Thanks a lot, have a good day.”

Snake, realizing the tough spot he has just been put in, punches Ray in the face so they have an excuse to book him.

While the pair take Snake to the station, they discover that the money in the briefcase belonged to Julio Gonzales.  After a few stops, one at a funeral for Danny’s aunt and the other at the scene of an apparent rooftop jump, the pair take the criminal in.

While at the station, Danny’s ex-wife, Anna, comes in to give him some news: she’s getting remarried to a dentist.  During this discussion, a lawyer comes in with a check for $40,000 for Danny, left to him by his deceased aunt.  Danny is left, presumably, with a severe case of mood whiplash, as he still clearly has feelings for Anna, and is now saddled with quite a bit of cash.

At this point, the plot decides to get going.

See, as it turns out, the ‘suicide’ from earlier wasn’t quite what it seemed.  For starters, the victim was a cop, and he didn’t die as a result of the jump.  He was drowned first.  And seeing as it’s pretty hard to die from jumping off a building after you’ve already died from drowning, the captain of the precinct puts Danny and Ray on the case to figure out who did the police officer in.

The pair decide to use Snake to get to the bottom of it, and convince him (via withholding all but $5,000 of his $50,000) to lead them to Gonzales, planning to get enough evidence to arrest him.  Snake agrees, (again, reluctantly) and leads them to the meeting place, a cargo ship.  While there, they discover that Gonzales is in possession of a box of Uzi machine guns.  During the meeting, Snake pretends that he is in danger, and Danny and Ray rush in, only to be surrounded by Gonzales’s men.  Gonzales announces that he plans to be the next godfather of Chicago, and has one of his lackeys shoot Snake.  As the guns turn on Danny and Ray, two detectives, who have been serving undercover in Gonzales’s gang, announce their identities, and after an ensuing gunfight, arrest most of the gang except Gonzales himself.  After another brief chase, Danny and Ray corner and arrest Gonzales and take him in, clearly expecting to be praised.

Back at the precinct, Captain Logan chews the pair of them out for busting the undercover operation and then needing to be rescued like rookies.  He also orders them to go on vacation.

So, they do.

To Key West, Florida, to be exact.

While they’re there, during their Good Times Montage, Danny decides to quit the force, and convinces Ray to retire as well, so they can open a bar in Key West with the money left to him by his aunt.  Ray agrees, and after their vacation, the pair return to Chicago to deliver their 30 day notice.  

They also find out that Julio Gonzales is out of prison on bail.

Enraged, the two vow to not leave the force until after they put Gonzales away for good, and set off to find him, intending to be a little more careful this time.  On top of that, however, Captain Logan has given them a new assignment: training their replacements before they go, the same two undercover officers from the previous bust.

After an incident involving Gonzales getting away again (This time with Danny and Ray’s pants), the duo are left empty handed (aside from Gonzales’s impounded car, which is towed after Ray spray-paints a no-parking zone around it).

This is probably what the captain is talking about when he tells the two cops they’re ‘training’ that he better not catch them doing anything like what Ray and Danny do.

Armed with a new and improved version of the beat-up car they’ve been driving, (including updates like bulletproof windows, which unfortunately do not roll down) Ray and Danny follow a tip from a criminal to where Gonzales is expecting a shipment of cocaine.  When they get there, however, there are already police officers on the scene, who discover a packet of cocaine estimated to be worth $3 million.  The credit for this find goes to the two undercover cops Ray and Danny are training, and the two are further irritated by the fact that Captain Logan is already treating them like they’re retired.  As the pair head off, they are stopped by a drug agent, who has examined the cocaine and determined that it’s an inferior grade, and, in all likelihood, a decoy for the real shipment.

At this news, Danny and Ray immediately head off to try to find the real shipment, and when they see Gonzales meeting with a priest and nun at customs, they assume that the drugs must be in the area.  Gonzales spots them and drives off, leaving the priest and nun at the platform.  Ray and Danny, driving their police car disguised as a taxi, pick the two up and take off after Gonzales, leading to a chase scene on railroad tracks.  In the chase, Gonzales’s vehicle is destroyed by an oncoming train, but he manages to get away.  Danny and Ray are left with the priest and nun, who they suspect of smuggling drugs inside the ceramic containers within the suitcases they carry.

At first, they appear to be wrong.  At the station, when no drugs are found within the containers, Danny and Ray apologize for being mistaken and the priest and nun are released.  However, the two discover that while there are no drugs within the containers, the ceramic containers themselves are made of pressed cocaine.  The partners get a new lead on Gonzales’s location, and head out for a stakeout.

Par the course for this film, this doesn’t go especially well either.  Gonzales has arranged a trash compactor truck to meet them there and destroy their car (with them in it) if they refuse to return his drugs for a bribe, which, of course, they do.

The pair escape through the back window in the nick of time, but they’re too late.  Gonzales is gone.  The next day, Ray and Danny take Gonzales’s impounded car out in search for him, and later that day, Anna comes to Danny’s apartment to give him an insurance policy she found, and the two have an argument about Danny’s immaturity.  

“You can’t be a kid your whole life, you’re gonna have to grow up!”

“Why? I don’t like grown ups.”

After their heated discussion, Anna leaves the building only to be kidnapped by Gonzales’s men, used as a hostage, offering a trade: Anna for the drugs.  If Danny doesn’t comply, Anna will be killed.

Lucky guy that he is, Gonzales has just hit Danny’s Berserk Button.

“If you hurt that lady, you’ll never be dead enough.”

Danny agrees to the trade, and with Ray’s help, takes the drugs from the evidence room as they prepare to take Gonzales down.  The plan shakes down like this:

Danny is going to enter the meeting place, the Illinois State Building, with the drugs while Ray sneaks in through the basement.  The two plan to arrest Gonzales after the trade, rescuing Anna in the process.

Considering the way their plans have been going so far, it’s not far off to bet that things go wrong, and sure enough, it doesn’t quite go according to plan.

The only way up from the basement turns out to be the window washing rig, which compounds Ray’s job quite a bit.  Meanwhile, during the trade, Gonzales orders one of his underlings to open fire on Danny and Anna, both in transparent elevators right next to one another.  Danny orders Anna to drop to the floor and shoots the underling as Ray enters the building, hanging from the window washing rig.  At the same time, the undercover cops the pair are training enter as well, and a shootout ensues, all set against the lovely backdrop of Christmas decorations.

Danny rescues Anna, taking her to safety before returning to the action.  He and Ray take out Gonzales, even though there’s some contention over who fired the fatal shot, Anna and Danny lovingly reunite, and the two cops decide that Chicago still needs them, and not to retire after all.

Thus ends Running Scared, competently wrapping up loose ends with a happy finale for all on the right side of the law (except for maybe the dentist Anna was going to marry).  If I were asking if this was a ‘competent’ ending, I would have nothing more to talk about.

But I’m not.

I’m asking if it’s a good ending.

Or indeed, a good movie in general.

Let’s start with that second one, actually.

Running Scared is chock full of cliches and tropes.  From the angry police chief to the car getting destroyed, it merrily tromps through its plot, checking off traditional buddy-cop story devices one by one, except for the biggie: there is no conflict between the cops themselves.  They are in total agreement in everything from procedure to their personal lives.  There is no ‘real’ arguing, there is no distrust or rivalry.  They are very close friends.

Does one subversion make for a good movie?  No, not by itself.  But the way this film emphasizes that subversion really does elevate it, in my opinion, to something special.

The story?  Not that original.  The setting?  Eh, if you wanted a good look at Chicago, you could just as easily pop in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off or The Blues Brothers.  The action?  It’s the ‘80s.  It was everywhere, and there were plenty of movies with more action than is found here.

In the case of Running Scared, the uniqueness of this film really comes from how the characters interact with the story, rather than the story itself.  Specifically Danny, who the film seems to be a little more centered on, especially during that final act.  Which seems kind of odd, considering the fact that on first glance, there really doesn’t seem to be that much character development for him, or anyone at all for that matter.  But on a closer look, it’s a little different than that.

See, the interesting thing about Danny is that his life drives the plot.  It’s his inheritance, his bar,  his ex-wife that’s been kidnapped, and his immaturity that caused the split in the first place.  Ray, as central and important as he is, mostly tags along and helps Danny out.  When it comes to the actual story, it is Danny’s relationship with both Anna and Ray that brings everything together.  It is his believable warm, easy chemistry with both characters that, in my opinion, puts this on a level comparable to, but different than, other buddy-cop films of the day.  

Once again, at first it can seem like there’s no development in the movie, and after all, isn’t character development what can make or break a film?

Absolutely.

It’s not overt, but there is a subtle shift in Danny’s behavior throughout the film as he takes more and more responsibility for his actions, acting, as it were, a little more mature.  While ending the film still largely a Deadpan Snarker Cowboy Cop (much like his partner), the kidnapping of Anna and her words to him before it happened change his attitude for the final act of the film.  He takes the situation completely seriously, arguably for the first time in the movie, and demonstrates to Anna that he can be a grown-up, especially when it concerns people he cares about.  Danny’s mildly Man-Child ways are brought up a few times in the film, about as consistently as the subplot involving his ex-wife who he clearly still cares for, his development is less about him becoming less of a wild-card cop than it is him taking responsibility and taking his job, and his life, a little more seriously.  Is it pointed out?  No, not really.  In fact, you kinda have to squint to see it.  The change is pretty subtle, and it’s a little rushed, as it takes place during the equally rushed last act of the film.  For all of its good points, the movie does have a tad of a pacing problem towards the end.

However, it does make a difference.  At the end of the story, the characters decide not to retire, to continue protecting the city.  That wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying an ending as it is had it not been for the slight changes in the protagonist, notably Danny (whose idea it was in the first place) and his increase in maturity.  Also more satisfying as a result is his reconciliation with Anna, again, not as effective if it wasn’t for the actual display of responsibility.

Back to our questions.

Is Running Scared a good movie, and does it have a good, satisfactory ending?

Very simply: Yes, to both.

Is it great?  No.  It’s by no means a work of art, but it’s not really supposed to be.  It’s supposed to be a funny buddy-cop movie, and at that, it very much succeeds.  It gives us some likable characters, a competent story, and enough chemistry and laughs to more than make up for the heap of (not inherently bad) cliches that fill the script.  In some ways, it’s very much a standard buddy-cop film.  In others, it’s just a little different, making for a combination that sets this film a little apart from the rest.

Thank you so much for reading!  If you enjoyed it, stay tuned for more articles on some of the other facets that make up Running Scared, and don’t forget that my ask box is always open for discussion, suggestion, question, or conversation.  I hope to see you in the next article.

[winchesterbrotherstan]

Supernatural- Hook Man (1.07)

Pairing: N/A, Olive Winchester (OC)

Summary: A second old-time classic rears its ugly hook, the siblings still can’t find their dad, Sam and Olive get hurt again

Warnings: stabbing, mentions of a dead parent, cursing, etc

Word Count: 5154

“Alright, thank you for your time.” Sam hung up the payphone and came back to the table with a sigh.

“Your, uh, half-caf, double vanilla latte is gettin’ cold over here, Francis.” Dean called, not looking up from the laptop.

“Bite me.” Sam hissed before sitting down next to me.

“Anything?” I turned, eyes wide.

Sam shook his head. “I had ‘em check the FBI’s Missing Persons Data Bank. No John Doe’s fitting Dad’s description. I even ran his plates for traffic violations.” He sighed again, seeing the disappointment on my face. “I’m sorry, bug.” He wrapped an arm around me.

“Guys, I’m tellin’ ya, I don’t think Dad wants to be found.” Dean spoke, and Sam’s face dropped into one of disappointment too.

“Check this out.” Dean tilted the computer toward us. “News article out of Planes Courier.  Ankeny, Iowa. It’s only about a hundred miles from here.”

“The mutilated body was found near the victim’s car, parked on 9 Mile Road.” Sam read, disgusted.

“Keep reading.” Dean instructed.

“Authorities are unable to provide a realistic description of the killer. The sole eyewitness, whose name has been withheld, is quoted as saying the attacker was invisible.” I raised an eyebrow.

“Could be something interesting.” Dean grinned.

Sam shook his head. “Or it could be nothing at all. One freaked out witness who didn’t see anything? Doesn’t mean it’s the Invisible Man.”

“But what if it is? Dad would check it out.” Dean persisted with a wide smile, knowing he had us hooked now.

                                                        ***

We pulled up to the frat house the victim lived at, and I groaned.

“Do I have to come with you?”

“Shush.” Dean patted my face with his entire hand. “You’re just our little sister, you’re tagging along for today while Mom and Dad finalize the divorce.”

I rolled my eyes, but stuck myself to Sam’s side as he slid out of the car. He held my hand and kept me tucked half behind him as the frat boys looked at us.

“One more time, why are we here?” Sam hissed.

“Vic lived here.” I whispered back, wrapping my free hand around his arm.

“Nice wheels.” Dean grinned at the boys on the street, who were fixing their ugly little car.

They only received strange looks. Dean grinned again, and if it were a sorority house, we would’ve been welcomed with open arms.

“We’re your new fraternity brothers. From Ohio. We’re new, transfers. Looking for a place to stay.”

One boy arched an eyebrow and pointed at me. “She’s not a boy.”

Sam squared his shoulders. “This is our sister, Olive. She’ll only be here for a few days.”

One snorted. “Why would you bring a sixteen year old to a frat house?”

“Because our parents are finalizing the divorce today and she doesn’t feel like being there.” Sam almost hissed.

“Oh.”

“Hey, that your car?” Another boy broke the tension.

Dean’s grin grew wider as attention was averted to Baby. “Yeah, she is.”

“Oh, sick. C’mon, there’s a few places to stay inside.” He beckoned for us to follow him into the house.

                                                       ***

“Who are you?” The boy slathered with purple paint and wearing yellow shorts turned as Dean knocked on the door.

“We’re your new roommates.” He smiled, then pointed back to me. “Well, not her. She’s temporary.”

“Do me a favor? Get my back. Big game today.” The boy asked, holding the paint can and a brush out to Dean.

Dean shook his head and pointed to Sam. “He’s the artist. Things he can do with a brush.”

Sam looked horrified, and I sighed. I took the paint can and the brush with a roll of my eyes. Sam stood in the doorway, uncomfortable. Dean dropped onto a chair and picked up a porno magazine, glancing at me before tossing it aside and picking up another one.

“So…” He looked for a name, and found one on the magazine. “Murph. Is it true?”

“What?” The boy turned, and the paint went onto my shoes as the can jolted.

I gritted my teeth and took a deep breath, and Sam sighed, coming to my rescue. He turned Murph back around and told him to stay, then took the paint from me.

Dean held a hand out and I took it, sitting on his lap as I pulled my boots off.

“We heard one of the guys around here got killed last week.”

Murph’s posture fell. “Yeah.”

“What happened?” I asked as I wiped the paint off my boots.

Murph shrugged. “They’re saying some psycho with a knife. Maybe a drifter passing through. Rich was a good guy.”

“Rich. He was with somebody?” Sam asked.

“Not just somebody. Lori Sorensen.” Murph wiggled his eyebrows.

“Who’s Lori Sorensen?” Dean asked, taking my other boot and helping me push off the layer of paint. 

“Lori’s a freshman. She’s a local. Super hot. And get this, she’s a reverend’s daughter.” Murph smiled.

Dean’s face turned grim. “You wouldn’t happen to know which church, would ya?”

                                                      ***

“Our hearts go out to the family of a young man who perished. And my personal prayers of thanks go out as well because I believe he died trying to protect my daughter.” Reverend Sorensen spoke, and Lori was in the front row, looking embarrassed.

“And now, as time heals all our wounds, we should reflect on what this tragedy means. To us, as a church.”

The boys walked in, having parked the car while I cased the place. The doors slammed shut, and I groaned mentally, burying my head in my hands from the back row. Everyone stared, and after a moment of silence, Reverend Sorensen continued.

“As a community, and as a family. The loss of a young person is particularly tragic. A life unlived is the saddest of passings.”

I flagged Dean down with a glare, and he inches into the pew next to me. Sam followed, and Lori stared at him. I eyed him, and he sent a weak smile.

“So, please, let us pray. For peace, for guidance, and for the power to protect our children.” We bowed our heads out of respect.

Dean raised me, and Dean didn’t believe in God, so neither did I. Sam bowed his head, and I wasn’t sure where his idea of faith laid. Dean’s head didn’t go down, so I elbowed him. His green eyes widened and he blinked before looking down at our feet. He nudged my purple stained boot and smiled.

                                                      ***

“Are you Lori?” Sam asked as the blonde came our way.

“Yeah.” Lori nodded.

“My name is Sam. This is my brother, Dean, and my sister Olive.” Sam pointed to us, and we waved.

“Hi.” I smiled, and Dean did the same, albeit begrudgingly.

“Dean and I just transferred here to the university.” Sam explained. “Olive’s staying with us for a few days.”

Lori nodded. “I saw you inside.”

“We don’t wanna bother you. We just heard about what happened and…”

Dean frowned. “We wanted to say how sorry we were.”

“I kind of know what you’re going through. I-I saw someone… get hurt once. It’s something you don’t forget.” Sam’s eyes glassed over.

Lori nodded, and her father walked up to us. Lori turned, and stumbled across her words.

“Dad, um, this is Sam and Dean. They’re new students. This is their sister, Olive.”

Dean shook his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. I must say, that was an inspiring sermon.”

The reverend smiled. “Thank you very much. It’s so nice to find young people who are open to the Lord’s message.”

I coughed, and Dean patted my back with a chuckle. “Listen, uh, we’re new in town, actually.” He led him away, and pointed me to Sam, a silent gesture to stay. “And, uh, we were looking for a, um, a church group.” He led him away entirely.

“Tell us, Lori.” Sam squeezed my hand.

“What are the police saying?” I tugged him to walk, and Lori followed.

“Well, they don’t have a lot to go on. I think they blame me for that.” She mumbled.

“What do you mean?” Sam tilted his head.

“My story. I was so scared, I guess I was seeing things.”

Sam stopped, and I stumbled over my feet as I was pulled to a stop. His eyes were wide as he stared at her.

“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t real.”

                                                      ***

“So, Ollie, you believe her?” Dean asked as we sat down at the library table.

I shrugged. “Sounded like one of ours. Sams, you?”

Sam nodded. “I do.”

Dean smiles. “Yeah, I think she’s hot, too.”

Sam shook his head with an eye roll. “No, man, there’s something in her eyes.”

Sam was sounding sappy, and it scared me because Jess had only been dead for a few months. I jumped in.

“And, get this. She heard scratching on the roof. Found the bloody body suspended upside down over the car.” I moved to sit next to Dean instead.

He looked down at me. “Wait, the body suspended? That sounds like the-”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, we know, the Hook Man legend.”

Dean scoffed. “That’s one of the most famous urban legends ever. You don’t think that we’re dealing with the Hook Man.”

Sam and I looked at each other. I shrugged.

“Every urban legend has a source. A place where it all began.”

Dean sputtered. “Yeah, but what about the phantom scratches and the tire punctures and the invisible killer?”

“Well, maybe the Hook Man isn’t a man at all. What if it’s some kind of spirit?” Sam arched an eyebrow.

Dean looked at me, and upon seeing my agreeing with Sam, sighed. “Let’s go.”

                                                      ***

“Here you go. Arrest records going back to 1851.” The librarian dropped the box in front of us.

Dean blew some dust off the top, and I breathed it in. I cleaned my throat, and began to cough.

“Thanks.” Dean patted my back.

She nodded and walked away. Dean coughed now too, and I had to duck under the table to finish coughing.

“So, this is how you spent four good years of your life, huh?” Dean rubbed my back.

Sam grinned as I popped back up, handing me a folder. “Welcome to higher education.”

                                                      ***

“Hey, check this out.” Sam spoke and Dean shook my arm.

“No.” I groaned, huddling closer into him.

“Bug. Up, we found something.” Sam nudged my feet under the table.

“What?” I opened my eyes, climbing into Dean’s lap.

“1862. A preacher named Jacob Karns was arrested for murder. Looks like he was so angry over the red light district in town that one night he killed 13 prostitutes. Uh, right here, some of the deceased were found in their bed, sheets soaked with blood. Others suspended upside down from the limbs of trees as a warning against the sins of the flesh.”

I grimaced, ducking my head into Dean’s neck. He gave my side a pat, and made me look at a paper. “Get this, the murder weapon? Looks like the preacher lost his hand in an accident. Had it replaced with a silver hook.”

Sam handed me another paper. “And look where all this happened.”

I sniffled, fixing my glasses back onto the bridge of my nose. “9 Mile Road.” I grumbled, voice crackly.

“Same place where the frat boy was killed.” Sam pressed.

I smiled at him, then up at Dean.

“Nice job, Dr. Venkman. Let’s check it out.”

                                                      ***

“Here ya go, Sams.” I tossed him the hunting rifle.

“Buckshot won’t do much good if it’s a spirit, bug.” Sam eyed me.

“Yeah, rock salt.” Dean nodded and handed me another rifle.

“Huh. Salt being a spirit deterrent.” Sam nodded, impressed.

Dean took a coil of rope out and shut the trunk. “Yeah. It won’t kill ‘em. But it’ll slow ‘em down.”

We walked to the trees, and I held my rifle up, shaking. 

“That’s pretty good. You and Dad think of this?” Sam walked in front of me, trying to calm me.

I smiled. “Dean told you. You don’t have to be a college graduate to be a genius.”

There was a noise in the trees, and Sam raised his gun. Dean pulled me between them.

“Over there, over there.” Dean pointed.

Sam raised his gun, and a figure emerged from the trees. Dean saw it first, and he shoved the keys into my hand.

“Drive to the motel, don’t come back, I’ll call.” He shoved me away before I could protest.

I ducked behind a tree, peering around the corner.

“Put the gun down now! Now! Put your hands behind your head.” It was a sheriff.

“W-w-wait, okay, okay!” Dean dropped the gun and put his hands up, and Sam followed.

“Now get down on your knees. Come on, do it! On your knees!”

I watched as the boys complied.

“Now get down on your bellies. Come on, do it!”

“He had the gun!” Dean defended himself, laying down on his stomach.

The sheriff’s light came my way, and I ran as silently as I could, getting back to the car and booking it out of there.

                                                      ***

The phone rang, and I dove across the bed, checking  the caller ID.

Deano ♥.

“De!”

“All good, baby. Saved Sam’s ass! Talked the Sheriff down to a fine. Sis, I am Matlock.”

I snorted. “But how?”

“I told ‘em he was a dumbass pledge and that we were hazing him.”

“What about the shotgun? Did he hear me?”

“Told him we saw a deer nearby, chalked it up to that.”

“Shotgun?” I repeated.

“Said that he was hunting ghosts and the spirits were repelled by rock salt. You know, typical Hell Week prank.”

“And he believed you?”

“Well, Sam kinda looks like a dumbass pledge.”

Police sirens rang, and Dean stopped talking.

“De?”

“Come pick us up. Cops are bolting somewhere.”

“On my way.”

                                                      ***

Dean parked the car, and Sam was the first to scramble out.

“Why would the Hook Man come here? This is a long way from 9 Mile Road.”

“Maybe he’s not haunting the scene of his crime. Maybe it’s about something else.” I suggested. “Maybe he wants to finish the job, come for Lori?”

Two girls came out of the side entrance, and we ducked to hide by a bush. Dean grinned, pointing.

“Dude! Sorority girls! Do you think we’ll see a naked pillow fight?”

I hit the back of his head. “Come on, dumbass.”

Sam was climbing up a tree, to the balcony of the house. His foot slipped, but Dean caught it. He pushed him up before pulling me ahead of him.

“C’mon, bug.” Sam held his hands up, pulling me up as I got my feet against the tree, clambering over onto the balcony. Dean came last, and by then, Sam had the window open.

“Go first, you’re a girl.” Sam whispered.

I crawled in, narrowly avoiding Sam and Dean tumbling in. Dean was on top of Sam, who groaned.

“Shit, sorry!”

“Be quiet.” Sam groaned, shoving him off.

“You be quiet.” Dean scoffed.

“Both of you shut the fuck up.” I hissed, tugging Sam onto his feet.

                                                      ***

Sam peered through the door. He waited, then opened it all the way. We moved from her closet to her bedroom.

“Come on.” He whispered, leading us from the dark to the light.

AREN’T YOU GLAD YOU DIDN’T TURN ON THE LIGHT? was scrawled on the wall in blood, with big blocky letters. I shivered in the darkness. Sam grimaced and Dean sniffled, hugging me into his side.

“That’s right out of the legend.” I whispered.

“Yeah, that’s classic Hook Man alright.” Dean tapped his nose, again sniffling. “It’s definitely a spirit.”

I coughed, now smelling what he smelled.

“Yeah, I’ve never smelled ozone this strong before.” Sam snorted.

“Hey, come here.” Dean called Sam over.

I looked down at what he pointed. It was a cross symbol, beneath the red, bloody writing on the wall.

“That look familiar to you?” I asked.

                                                      ***

“Same symbol.” I pointed to the picture that Sam had in his hands.

“Seems like it is the spirit of Jacob Karns.”

“Alright, alright, let’s find the dude’s grave, salt and burn the bones, and put him down like the dirty son of a bitch he is.” I grumbled.

Dean looked at me, eyebrows raised. “When did you become me?”

Sam tried to snort, but choked instead. “Watch your language, bug.”

I rolled my eyes with a smile. “Let’s just go.” I shoved another paper into Sam’s hand.

Sam rolled his eyes again, shuffling through the papers. “Alright, okay, here. ‘After execution, Jacob Karns was laid to rest in an Old North Cemetery’... In an unmarked grave.’ Just our luck.” Sam scoffed.

“Super.” Dean grunted, and I huffed.

“Okay. Okay, so at least we know it’s Karns. But we still don’t know where he’d manifest. Or why.” I sighed.

“I’ll take a wild guess about why. I think Sammy’s little friend Lori has something to do with this.” Dean glared at him.

Sam groaned, throwing his head back.

                                                      ***

“Hey, De.” I rubbed my eyes as I latched onto his arm.

“Man, you’ve been holding out on me. This college thing is awesome!” He winked at a blonde that passed by.

“This wasn’t really my experience.” Sam scratched the back of his neck.

“Let me guess. Libraries, studying, straight A’s?” Dean rose an eyebrow, and Sam nodded. “What a geek.” Dean turned and ruffled my hair. “Alright, you do your homework?”

I nodded, fumbling with Sam’s jacket and pulling out a paper. “Yeah. It was bugging me, right? We haven’t been able to figure out how the Hook Man’s caught up with Lori, right? Sams and I think I came up with something.” I handed it out to Dean.

“1932. Clergyman arrested for murder. 1967. Seminarian held in hippie rampage.” Dean read with a sigh.

“De, there’s a pattern here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” I nodded, pointing to the paper again. “Both cases, the suspect was a man of religion who openly preached against immorality. And then found himself wanted for killings he claimed were the work of an invisible force. Killings carried out, get this, with a sharp instrument.” I pressed.

Dean shook his head and threw up a hand. “Okay, so what’s the connection to Lori?”

Sam and I looked at each other, rolling our eyes.

“Dean.” Sam sighed. “A man of religion? Who openly preaches against immorality?”

Dean’s face became one of understanding, and he nodded, motioning a hand to continue.

“Except maybe this time, instead of saving the whole town, he’s just trying to save his only daughter.” I offered.

Dean’s eyebrows knitted across his forehead. “Reverend Sorensen. You think he’s summoning the spirit?”

Sam shrugged. “Maybe. Or, you know how a poltergeist can haunt a person instead of a place?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, the spirit latches onto the reverend’s repressed emotions, feeds off them, yeah, okay.”

“Without the reverend ever even knowing.” I offered again.

“Either way, you should keep an eye on Lori tonight, Sams.”

He nodded at me. “What about you two?”

Dean was looking at a blonde by the pool table. He was practically drooling over her, eyes wide and mouth open.

“De.” I shook his arm.

“I’m gonna go see if I can find that unmarked grave. Ollie, you should stay with Sam.” Dean’s eyebrows furrowed again, this time in concern.

I shook my head. “I’m coming with you.” I looked up.

Dean sighed, looking back at the blonde, then to me. “Fine, let’s go.”

                                                      ***

In the gleam of my flashlight, I saw a headstone, a cross engraved on it. I hit Dean’s arm and pointed.

“Here.”

Dean gave my hair a ruffle and walked forward, tossing me a shovel.

“Let’s get this son of a bitch, babes.”

                                                      ***

I hit the wood of the coffin and coughed, sweating.

“That’s it. Next time, we get to watch the cute girl’s house.” Dean huffed, breaking the rest of the coffin far enough to see the rotted body of Jacob Karns.

“Hello, preacher.” I trilled, tossing aside my shovel.

Dean helped me out of the grave. I dug the salt out of the duffle bag, and tossed Dean the can of lighter fluid. I poured over half the container, and I stepped back as Dean lit a match.

“Goodbye, preacher.” Dean sang in the same tone and threw the match over the grave.

It went out on the way down, and I laughed. He turned to glare at me. I leaned against his shoulder and laughed again. He sighed, pulling out another lighter. I took it and tossed it into the grave, and the bones went up in flames.

                                  ��                   ***

“What the fuck happened? Sams!” I tried to push past the two deputies that were in front of Sam.

The reverend had been attacked, in his own home. Sam had tried to stop him, but it was too late. Reverend Sorensen was in the hospital, and we were stuck trying to continue cleaning the mess.

“No, it’s alright, we’re with him. He’s our brother.” Dean pointed. “Hey! Brother!”

“Sams!” I popped to my toes.

“Let ‘em through.” The sheriff stepped aside.

“Thanks.” Dean whispered to Sam as I ran to him, jumping into his arms.

“Hey, bug.”

“The fuck happened?” I asked again, pulling back to look at his face.

“Hook Man.” Sam scoffed, letting me drop back onto the ground.

“Y-you saw him?” I tilted my head.

“Damn right.” Sam’s eyes widened. “Why didn’t you guys torch the bones?”

Dean and I scowled. “We did! We burned them, through and through.”

“Sams, are we sure it’s the spirit of Jacob Karns? Maybe we’re wrong, maybe we got them all mixed up.”

“It sure as hell looked like him. That’s not all. I don’t think the spirit is latching onto the reverend.” Sam shook his head and lowered his voice.

“Well, yeah, no shit. Dude wouldn’t send the Hook after himself.”

“I think it’s latching onto Lori. Last night she found out her father is having an affair with a married woman.” Sam lowered his voice even more.

“So what?”

I rolled my eyes. “De, she’s probably upset about it.”

“She’s definitely upset about it. She’s upset about the immorality of it. She told me she was raised to believe that if you do something wrong, you get punished.” Sam explained.

“Okay,” I nodded. “So she’s conflicted. Preacher is latching onto her repressed emotions and he’s doing the punishing for her.”

“Right.” Dean nodded furiously. “Rich comes on too strong, Taylor tries to make her a party girl, Dad has an affair. Jeez.” He sucked in air through his teeth. “Jesus, remind me not to piss this girl off.”

“Okay, but we burned the bones. I dumped half the fucking container on them. Why didn’t that stop him?”

“You guys must’ve missed something.”

“No. We burned everything in that coffin.” Dean shook his head.

“Did you get the hook?”

Dean and I looked at each other, and his nostrils flared in his confusion.

“The hook?”

“Well, it was the murder weapon, and in a way, it was part of him.” Sam shrugged.

I snorted, threw my head back, and groaned. “So, like the bones, the hook is a source of his power. It’s keeping him here.”

“So. If we find the hook…” Sam started.

“We stop the Hook Man.” The three of us smiled.

                                                      ***

“Here’s something. I think. Log book, Iowa State Penitentiary.” I plopped into Dean’s lap, and he caught me with a grunt. “Karns, Jacob. Person affects, disposition thereof.” Dean read over my shoulder.

“Does it mention the hook?”

“Yeah, maybe.” I smacked Dean’s hand away and flipped the page. “Upon execution, all earthly items shall be remanded to the prisoner’s house of worship, St. Barnabas Church.”

Dean seemed to flinch, and I looked at Sam “Isn’t that where Lori’s dad preaches?”

“Yeah. She lives there too.”

“Okay, so maybe that’s why the Hook Man’s been haunting reverends and their daughters for the last 200 years.” I closed the book, shoving it away.

“Yeah, but if the hook were at Lori’s house or at the church, don’t you think someone might’ve seen it? I mean, a bloodstained, silver-handled hook?” Dean asked, leaning his chin on my shoulder.

“Let’s check the church records.” I made grabby hands at another stack of books, and Sam slid them toward me.

I handed one to Dean, and he put it off to the side, reading it with his head still on me. I skimmed through it, but I couldn’t find anything. I sighed, and shoved it aside, picking up another book.

“Got it!” Sam perked up.

“Shh!” The librarian shushed us with a glare.

“Sorry.” I mouthed back.

“St. Barnabas donations, 1862. Received silver-handled hook from state penitentiary. Reforged.” He sighed.

“Reforged?” I rubbed my forehead.

“They melted it down. Made it into something else.” He sighed.

I groaned.

                                                      ***

“Alright, we can’t take any chances. Anything silver goes in the fire.” Dean grunted as we got out of the car.

Sam nodded. “Lori’s still at the hospital. We’ll have to break in.”

“Alright, take your pick.”

“I’ll take the house. Ols, you with Dean or you with me?”

“I’ll go with Dean.” I grabbed his hand.

“Okay. Hey, Sam!” Dean called over his shoulder, and the giraffe postured boy turned, eyebrows raised. “Stay out of her panty drawer.” He mocked.

Sam rolled his eyes and flipped him off, then winked my way, sending an air kiss. I caught it exaggeratedly, putting it up to my face and grinning.

                                                      ***

“Get that.” Dean pointed to the last thing, a silver candle holder.

I tossed it to him, and he threw it in the fireplace. We watched it, then looked around once more to make sure we hadn’t missed anything.

“Alright, I got everything that even looked silver.” Sam dumped a pillowcase on the floor.

“Better safe than sorry.” Dean nodded.

Dean and I dug our hands in, tossing handfuls into the fire as Sam got the rest. The wood ceiling creaked, and Sam and I froze. Dean hit my shoulder and I threw the chained necklace in my hand into the fire.

“Move, move.” Dean yanked his gun out of his waistband.

Sam moved up the stairs first, and I was forced to follow in the middle. We popped into the temple to see Lori sitting in a pew, crying. I nodded at Dean over my shoulder and he headed back down the steps as Sam walked over the Lori. He sat down next to her and I sighed, trudging back down the stairs.

Dean was crouched in front of the fireplace, watching as the rest of the things were thrown into the fire. He saw my slouched shoulders and stood, holding a hand out to me. I sighed, crashing into his chest. He kissed the top of my head.

“It’s okay, sweetpea. What’s got you so rough?”

I sighed again. “Jess hasn’t been gone that long. It’s been maybe a few months. And here he is, flirting up another girl. I get he’s sad and he’s bonding with her, and I get it’s his choice, but I know Sam. I know him, De, and this isn’t him.”

Dean sighed. “I’m sorry, babes.”

There was another creak from the floorboards, but it wasn’t around where Sam had ended. I looked up, and it got cold. I shivered, and my breath left my mouth in a cloud. Dean and I looked at each other, eyes wide. I snatched the rifle off the floor and scrambled up the stairs, almost faceplanting onto the floor.

“Sam, drop!” I screamed.

Sam crouched down, and Dean shot at the Hook. He disappeared into dust. Sam shot back up, looking at us with panic in his eyes.

“I thought we got all the silver!”

“So did we!” Dean shouted back at Sam as he helped Lori get to her feet.

“Then why the fuck is he still here?” I scowled.

“Well, maybe we missed something!” Dean scoffed.

Sam froze, and he snatched something off Lori’s neck. In the wall off to the side of Dean and I, a long scratch came across the wall, and I flinched. Dean turned around and looked at it. We saw nothing, and I felt panic rise in my chest.

“Sam!”

I tossed him the rifle, and he threw the necklace at us. Dean caught it, shoved his rifle in my hand, and he ran back down the stairs. I shot at the space in front of the scratch. Nothing happened, and I was quick to reload as Sam took his shot. Lori cowered behind him, and I felt a sharp pain in my leg. I looked down to see the hook embedded in my leg. I felt myself pale, and my head got light.

“Sammy!” I cried out.

Sam pushed toward me and took a shot. The hook went from me to his forearm, and he hissed.

“Shit!” I growled, and Dean ran up the stairs.

He scooped me off my feet as Sam tried to tie his arm off.

“I’ve got you, baby girl. I’ve got you. It’s okay. He’s gone, he’s gone.” Dean whispered.

I winced, and curled into him. He shushed me again, and I let myself black out.

                                                      ***

“And you saw him, too? The man with the hook?”

“Yes, I told you. We all saw him, he hurt our baby sister and then he hurt him. We fought him and he ran.” Dean growled.

He had me in his hold. I hadn’t been hurt too bad, but it was, by Winchester luck, the same leg I had sprained. They had patched me up, and I was fine, but left stunned and scared. Sam was right next to me, arm wrapped up and already bleeding through. The paramedics left, and Sam scrambled away.

“And that’s all?” The sheriff asked.

“Yeah, that’s all.” I mumbled.

He nodded at me. “Listen. You and your brothers,”

Dean cut him off, “Oh, don’t worry, we’re leaving town.”

Dean fixed me in his grip and carried me over to the car. He helped me slide in, letting me curl my feet up on the seat as I cuddled up to his side. Dean’s head went up to the rear view mirror, and he stared.

“What’s he doing?”

“Just said goodbye. Here he comes.” Dean whispered. “He’s upset.”

Sam slid into the car with a somber look on his face. I forced myself to sit up and break the silence.

“Hey, Sams.” I pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Hi, baby girl.” He whispered.

“We could stay.” Dean offered.

Sam only shook his head, taking me from Dean holding me against himself. He pulled me in with a sigh, resting his head against mine. Dean looked back up at the rear view mirror, shook his head in disappointment, and drove off.

Previous Ep: Skin (1.06)

Previous fic: Dean the Birthday Boy

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[kagehinataboke]

only time will tell - chapter 1

"Flight one-twenty-seven direct to Hosu City now boarding. First-class passengers, please proceed to the gate."

Todoroki collects his luggage to board the plane, making sure his surgical mask and sunglasses are secure. This is only one of the many things he resents about his father: he forced him into modeling, so now he has to wear ridiculous disguises like this everywhere he goes. Of course, his father is dead now, but the grudge still remains.

A lot of grudges, actually. Todoroki could go on about them all, but it’s four in the morning and he’s getting on a flight home, where he has about a million problems to worry about other than his deceased father’s wrongdoings. So he hands over his boarding pass, falls into his assigned seat, and tries not to think of the mess waiting for him in Hosu.

What he’s most worried about is Katsuki. Bakugou Katsuki, to be specific. His childhood friend. The one he left behind ten years ago without saying a word. Although, of course, that’s his dad’s fault, too. But no matter whose fault it is, Katsuki will be angry. He has—had?—a short temper. It’s been too long to really know what he’s like now. They couldn’t even keep in touch.

Maybe he’ll understand. After all, Todoroki was dragged away. He didn’t want to go. He wanted to have time to hug goodbye and exchange contact information, but he was only six and didn’t have a say in what happened to him. Maybe, with that in mind, Katsuki will understand. And if he doesn’t, Todoroki will cross that bridge when he comes to it. In the meantime, he has about a million texts and emails to respond to: most from his agent, but a decent amount from his sister.

Todoroki texts her back first. She’s the one who will be picking him up at the airport, so it’s probably best not to make her angry. She’s just spamming him with typical sisterly concerns, such as making sure to sleep on the flight and eat some breakfast before landing. Todoroki probably won’t do either of those things, but he tells her he will anyway.

As for his agent, she’s been overbooking him lately. She wants him to branch out from modeling into acting, which he’s had to refuse about a million times. Todoroki is bad at acting, and the last thing he wants is to be further in the spotlight. He’s looking forward to being out of it entirely—if he manages to build up the courage to quit, that is.

Todoroki puts his phone away with a sigh, tilting his head back against the seat. He pulls his sweatshirt hood over his face and closes his eyes. He should try to sleep at least a little. He had to wake up early to catch the flight, and he didn’t sleep very much before that due to nightmares. He’s been having them a lot recently.

Getting away from Tokyo will probably help. If he’s no longer surrounded by old memories, it’ll be easier to move on. As soon as he quits modeling. Damn, he really needs to do that soon… If he gets one more call from his agent begging him to shoot a TV drama, he’ll lose his mind. In Hosu he can return to his old, simple life.

Return to his old life… That just makes him think of Katsuki again. Will he even remember him? It’s been ten years since they last spoke. He’s the one regret Todoroki has, other than wasting most of his childhood on modeling. One of the first things he wants to do when he gets to Hosu is make amends with him.

Ah, he’s supposed to be sleeping. It’s useful to plan ahead right now: the plane hasn’t even taken off yet.

* * * * * *

“Shouto, I told to sleep on the plane so you wouldn’t be sleepy at seven AM.” is the first thing Fuyumi says when she sees him. The second—after pulling him into a brief hug—is, “You look so skinny. You ignored me and didn’t eat, didn’t you?”

“I ate,” Todoroki lies, rubbing the sleep from his eyes so she stops scolding him. He slings his duffel bag over his shoulder, pulling his allergy mask up to conceal a yawn.

“Where’s the rest of your bags?” Fuyumi asks, peering around him as if there’ll be a suitcase hiding in the back pocket of his jeans.

“I only brought this. I was in a hurry to leave.” Todoroki flinches when she rears back a fist to punch him. “Don’t hit me. I can just buy new clothes here. We’re rich, Fuyumi.”

“You’re so spoiled.” Fuyumi prods him in the small of his back, pushing him toward the automatic doors. “Come on. Natsuo is waiting for you back at the house.”

“Touya?” Todoroki asks through another, louder yawn. He’s never been good at waking up.

“Who knows what he’s doing.” She opens her car door and slides into the driver’s seat with a scoff. “Natsuo worked a double at the hospital and still came to greet you. If I were to wager a guess, I’d say Touya is still off celebrating Dad’s death in Okinawa.”

Todoroki sighs. “Don’t say it that way, Fuyumi.”

It’s true: he can’t deny that. They all hated their father, Todoroki and Touya most of all. Still, phrasing it that way is insensitive. Not that Todoroki really cares, but it’s too early in the morning to be reliving all his old childhood trauma.

Fuyumi pulls out of the airport parking lot and glances at Todoroki out of the corner of her eye. “How are you holding up, Shou?”

The question holds a lot of implied subquestions, none of which Todoroki feels like answering. Fuyumi knows how Enji treated him: all his siblings do. As the youngest, Todoroki was the last one left when Natsuo moved out. It wasn’t his siblings’ fault, of course. Enji was Todoroki’s legal guardian, and nobody could’ve done anything to get him out of that house. But nobody can do anything to get him to talk about it, either.

As far as Todoroki is concerned, that’s all in the past. Everything that happened in Tokyo is now ancient history. He’s ready to move on, which largely involves lying to everyone who cares about him.

“I’m doing fine. I’m just tired. There was a lot of turbulence on the flight.” He can’t tell her about the nightmares or she’ll get even more worried. “How are things with the company?”

After Enji died, his marketing company fell into the oldest, Touya’s, hands. And since Touya is a lazy piece of garbage, it quickly fell to Fuyumi. She’s been working herself to the bone trying to learn the ropes. Even Natsuo, who’s a notorious airhead, is concerned for her wellbeing.

Fuyumi sighs, developing a wrinkle between her brows that appears whenever she’s stressed. “It could be better, but it could also be worse. I’m handling things, but there’s a lot to do. I probably won’t be home much, as much as I wanted to help you settle in for you first week back at school.”

“It’s fine. I can handle it on my own.” Todoroki taps his fingers against the window as half-familiar streets zip past. He hasn’t been to Hosu in years, but it’s where he grew up. Will he start to remember it little by little? Natsuo said that’s what it was like for him.

“You seem so much more reserved than when I last saw you. How long ago was that? New Years?” Fuyumi shakes her head, letting out a gentle scoff of indignation. “If Dad wasn’t dead already, I’d kill him myself. If you need anything at all, ever, just let me know, okay?”

It’s her way of apologizing for not helping him. Todoroki appreciates the sentiment, as worthless as it is. “I will.” He looks out the window again, changing the subject. “Do you know if Katsuki is still here in Hosu?”

“Katsuki?” Fuyumi frowns. “You mean your old friend, right? The one that you were always stuck to like glue.” She’s smiling now. “I think he’s still around. I see his mom at the store sometimes. I didn’t know you two were still close.”

“We’re not.” Todoroki rests his chin in his palm, watching his reflection in the glass. “But we will be. I’m going to try to find him and make friends again.” Todoroki smiles faintly. “He was really energetic when we were kids. I wonder what he’s like now.”

Fuyumi shrugs. “Who knows.” She puts the car in park and turns it off, reaching over to unbuckle Todoroki’s seatbelt. “We’re here, little brother. Let’s go see if that idiot Natsuo has started huffing helium from your welcome balloons yet.”

* * * * * *

After Fuyumi kicks Natsuo out following a rather exhausting dinner, Todoroki is relieved to retreat to the room Fuyumi set up for him. It was her office before, but she told him that she basically lives at work now and doesn’t need it anymore. Todoroki told her he could easily afford his own place, but she wouldn’t have it.

She set it up minimalistically, at least. She told him he could decorate it however he wants, but he’ll probably leave it as it is. He doesn’t have many keepsakes or prized possessions to personalize the space. Fuyumi did put a photo album on the bed, though.

Todoroki picks it up after setting his bag in the closet, sitting on the mattress to skim through the photos. Most of them are him and his siblings, sitting around the tree at Christmas, throwing snowballs at each other, and playing tag in the park.

Pictures of he and Katsuki are mixed in with the ones of Todoroki and his siblings. Fuyumi was right: they were glued to each other as kids. Todoroki followed him around everywhere. To him, Katsuki seemed amazing, like a superhero. He wasn’t afraid of anything—not even the thunder that would leave Todoroki shaking during the rainy season. Katsuki was invincible. An immovable force.

What is he like now? Is he the same loud, outspoken, caring person Todoroki used to look up to? He’s probably changed. Over the course of ten years, it would be very hard not to. Even if he’s different, Todoroki hopes they’ll still get along. He hasn’t had a friend in a long time. He’s almost forgotten what it’s like.

To be fair, he’s forgotten a lot of things. For instance, he’s forgotten how to be happy. He can’t recall doing anything fun in… Well, he can’t recall doing anything fun, period. As sad as it sounds, Todoroki has forgotten how to live.

But that’s why he’s here, isn’t it? He’s free to do as he pleases. He can spend the whole weekend doing nothing. He can have friends and go to school and go to an arcade and waste the day whenever he wants to. It’s a little strange to think about, almost like culture shock.

Todoroki takes a picture from the photo album and collapses on the bed, holding it up to the morning light that streams through the far window. He remembers the day this was taken. It was late autumn, so he and Katsuki are bundled up in coats and scarves. Katsuki has tackled him in a headlock, and Todoroki’s eyes are screwed shut, face caught in the middle of laughter.

It’s really weird. He hasn’t seen this picture or thought of this memory in years, but it’s suddenly as vivid as if it only happened yesterday. This is the type of memory he wants. Being in Hosu is already making him happier, and it’s been less than four hours. Tomorrow, he can start school on a high note.

Not that he’s excited for school. He isn’t. What sixteen-year-old in their right mind would be? But he is excited at the prospect of seeing what a real high school is like. He’s been doing online school since he was twelve, so it’ll be interesting to be in an actual classroom.

Maybe Katsuki will also be going to his high school. That would be lucky, wouldn’t it? Then Todoroki won’t have to go through the trouble of tracking him down, and he’ll already have a friend.

“Shouto, I have to run to the office,” Fuyumi calls from down the hall. “There’s food in the fridge, so don’t skip dinner!”

Todoroki ignores her, waiting until the front door slams to go and unpack his duffel bag. He really didn’t bring enough clothes. He’ll have to order some online if he plans to go anywhere this week. He’ll have his school uniform, at least. It was waiting on his dresser when he walked in.

A school uniform… Todoroki feels more like a normal teenager already.

next

[lovehugsandcandy]

Who Killed Jason Shaw? Chapter 7: Whodunnit (RoD, Colt x MC)

Summary: The truth is revealed.

Rating: R (discussions of death)

Pairing: Colt x MC, RoD

Length: ~1400 words

Ellie waited on pins and needles, pacing footsteps wearing a circular path in her carpet, until her dad was downstairs, busy with breakfast. Finally, she was able to move and she tiptoe into the study, closing the door behind her with the softest of clicks. She didn’t have to look hard, manila folder open on the desk, calling to her. She picked it up with trembling fingers and skimmed.

Jason Shaw (Deceased)

COD: Single-Occupant Motor Vehicle Fatality

She sank to the floor, releasing the breath she didn’t know she was holding. It was accidental. She continued reading.

Due to the speed with which he crashed, the car was completely destroyed, making a definitive cause-of-death determination next-to-impossible. When the police arrived, the car was fully ablaze and efforts to extract Shaw had to be halted until they were able to put out the fire.

The car had been speeding, traveling so fast that survival would have been impossible. The report suggested that it could have been a suicide since no indication of braking was found. However, it also noted that the brake lines had been severed, though potentially burned up on impact, scorch marks evident throughout the body and engine car. It would be impossible to know if they had been ruined before the accident. Without any further details, without any further proof, the police had to rule it an accident.

She put the folder back on the desk, careful to arrange it just how she found it, before sneaking out of the room with a massive sigh of relief. Her flight back to the East Coast left tomorrow and it was a weight off her shoulders. 

No one was wanted for murder.

~~~~~

When she left her house that evening, she needed to think, so she headed to the one place where her head was clearest. It had only been an hour before she heard the footsteps and sighed, not moving her gaze from the lapping water below her. She didn’t turn, even when he sat beside her, sleeve of his jacket brushing against her arm, didn’t turn until he spoke.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Colt sat in silence, looking over the horizon, until the silence got to be too much for him. “Did they rule it was an accident?”

“Yeah.”

Colt huffed. “It wasn’t though, was it.”

The sun was slipping behind the water, last rays of the day glinting off the surf. She sighed.

“You figured out who did it.” Colt glanced at her, waiting.

It wasn’t a question so she didn’t respond.

“Ellie. You knew all along, didn’t you?”

She finally turned to him, his brow knitting in a question unasked. His eyes were reflecting the last light of day back at her, a ray of light in the darkening night.

He watched her, unflinching, taking her silence as agreement. “Congratulations. You solved your case. I think I owe you a drink.” 

“It was determined to be an accident. He lost control on the 405 and slammed into the barrier at the median. Investigation’s closed.” She looked at her hands.

“You know it wasn’t an accident.”

She shrugged. “That’s what the report said.” He held her gaze until she lowered her eyes, peering back at the water. Her shoulders dropped. He knew. “When’d you figure it out?”

“Honestly? It took a while.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close, a welcome warmth warding off the cool breeze. “But someone killed him and it was well-planned. A damn good plan. And there’s only a few people in LA who could come up with a plan to off a disgraced former detective and make it look like an accident, only a few people who could do it and get away with it. And I knew it wasn’t me so….” He trailed off.

She looked up at the stars starting to poke through the dark of the sky, feeling the prick of tears starting behind her eyelids.

He continued, “Things started to add up. Mona’s car. The timing. I mean, he’s been on parole for months. Why would someone kill him now? And then when you said you knew he threatened Logan, things just clicked.” When she kept silent, he just kept going. “What did you say to him in Denver? You guys spoke for over ten minutes during your stopover.”

“I thought-” She took a reflexive breath in, sea air cold in her lungs. “Logan called me a few weeks ago, told me Shaw found him. He was threatening him, trying to find where Mona was.” She gnawed at a thumbnail, blood welling to the surface again, before she continued. “I thought if I talked to him, I could convince him to leave it alone, leave her alone. I thought the threat of my dad would be enough.”

Her eyes were filling with tears; she tried blinking them away but couldn’t. Colt only watched her, gaze unreadable. She continued, lost in the memory of Jason, screaming at her over the phone. “He was irate. He wouldn’t listen, kept threatening.” Her breaths were shaky, inhale and exhale shuddering. “He knew it was my Spring Break. He said he would use me. Use me to get to Logan. Use me to get to Mona.” She swallowed, hard, leaning further against Colt. “He said he would use me to get to you.”

“You don’t need to protect me, Ellie.” He brushed a tear from her face. “I can take care of myself.”

She shook her head, vehemently. “We protect each other, Colt. Us against the world, remember?”

“So you told him that you would give him Mona if he left me alone.” She could see the gears turning as he watched the tears running down her face. “You said you could arrange something, get her out of the house for a few drinks. And you pretended to be her. You set up a meeting at the dive bar, made sure it was a straight shot to the highway.”

She sniffed. “No street lights. No stop signs.”

“Important because, when he was at the bar, you killed his brake lines.”

“I had to practice on my dad’s car for hours to figure it out.” She shook her head ruefully.

“And you nailed it; he couldn’t have stopped if he wanted to. Then, you played Mona, with the car, the tats-”

“A wig…”

“And you took him on a merry chase down the highway.”

Colt waited for her to deny it. She couldn’t. She could barely speak through her closed throat, through the tears. “And then I watched him burn.” The confession hung in the wind and Ellie looked out at the water, far below them. Her mind was far away and, when she finally spoke, her voice was distant, barely a whisper. “….I cried.”

“What?” Colt looked at her in shock. “Because he died?”

She was starting to cry now, thinking back on that night. “The fire. It reminded me of your dad.”

“Ellie…”

“I did it for me.” She kept swiping the tears from her cheeks with an angry hand but she couldn’t keep up, water flowing from her eyes faster than she could wipe it away. “I did it because he would never stop haunting my nightmares. I did it because he wanted to hurt Mona. I did it because he threatened Logan, he threatened you. Hell, I did it for you, for everything he took from you. I did it for all of us……Colt, I’m a murderer. ” Her voice caught on the last word.

“Hey.” He took off his jacket to drape it around her shoulders before pulling her close again. “Hey. He would have killed you in a heartbeat. He almost did, in your high school parking lot, if it weren’t for Mona.”

“I know…” She looked down. “I know.”

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the water lapping against the cliff, watching the stars appear, shining with hope and promise above them. Finally, Colt spoke again. “You could have told me.”

“I know.” She dropped her head to his shoulder. “ I knew you would be the prime suspect so I didn’t want to say anything until I knew they ruled it as an accident. I wanted him dead but I needed you free more.”

“Ellie, come on.” He kissed her forehead. “It’s us against the world.”

“One less person in the world against us now,” she sighed.

“Only about a million more to go. And we’ll take every single one of them.”

“Yeah. We will.” She gave him a small smile before looking back out at the waves. “Us against the world.”

[boeserbby]

Only Time Will Tell- Brock Boeser #1.1

about/request: I really wanted to explore a relationship where you are ‘the other woman’ this is the result of that. I’m not sure how long this will end up so…. sorry.

warnings: cursing, cheating, mentions of death

authors note: Let me know any mistakes you see. I can use as many tips with my writing as I can get.

word count: 1996 words

I decided the day I got my acceptance letter that Vancouver was my future. June had held lots of ups and downs that year. To be honest, getting that letter had been the highlight of my summer. It was the first time since my brother Charlie died that I had felt semi-normal. Writing that email back to the dean made everything feel a little more ordinary, at least it did for a little bit. Telling my parents was a little harder. They seemed happy, as happy as you can be to have both children leave within a year of each other. Of course there was a huge difference between me and my brother leaving: mine wasn’t final. I guess they were just glad to see me a) going to college, especially after turning down that full ride from University of Minnesota; b) I was acting more like myself from before the accident; and c) that I hadn’t- as my therapist says- ‘gone into the drugs path that claimed so many others who lost their twins’. Bullshit if you ask me.

    The day I got the letter was the same day that my brother’s- my dead brother, that is- best friend got drafted. Brock Boeser was one of the guys my family “adopted” in (my brother’s friends became like family not too long after he befriended them). They were always together which in turn meant I was always with him, but Brock was always different from the rest. He never treated me like a little sister like so many other of Charlie’s friends had. To him I was his honorary best friend. I held that title whenever Charlie was sick in bed or, the more often the case, they needed someone to be goalie. Growing up I was just happy to be with them. Some of my old friends always said their siblings held them at arm's length. Charlie and I were different. We were best buds who happened to be friends with the same people. 

    Brock getting drafted was bittersweet. Of course it was happy times, Brock and my family had remained close in the year span between Charlie’s passing and the draft. It was also a reminder of what could have been. Before the accident, Charlie was ranked #65 in the world. People had been coming from all over to watch him play. Scouts from universities, OHL team, NAHL teams, and even a few from NHL saw him play some of the best hockey. They had talked to both him and my parents about his playing and how far he wanted to go. 

    “All the way, baby,” he would say with that awful frat boy smirk. Those scouts thought that’s exactly where he would go too. They told him they saw him rising higher up in the draft come time to be picked. 

    It was hard seeing Brock getting selected by the Canucks. For one, that was where I was going to spend the next couple years going to college. I was going 1,400 miles away to escape people from my town, yet here I was going to the exact same place as the person I most wanted to escape from, next to my mother and father that is. But Brock had already committed to North Dakota all the way back in February. Plus Vancouver was a big city, it is 7 times larger than my hometown of Bloomington. There was no way we would see each other. 

    At least that had been my hope, and it had worked for nearly 2 years. Until my mom did what she does best and messed it all up.

    “Mom? It's only-” I paused to check my watch, “- 3:15. Why are you calling so early?”

    “Honey!” she said in her cheery voice which meant I was in for some trouble. “You’ll never guess what happened yesterday.”

    I sat down on my chair ready to hear about another stupid thing Brenda did at work or how my father sat on a fish hook again, “What?”

    “Brock got called up!” she exclaimed.

    “Wow,” I said my voice was mixed with actual excitement and that of what you would say to your children’s “wonderful” macaroni art project. This wasn't news to me. I had seen all over Instagram and had gotten the notification from the NHL app I had on my buried deep within phone. 

    Even if she heard the tonality of my voice my mother ignored it, “I know! Jess and him are flying up tonight I told them you could show them around.” The way she said it seemed like I had no choice in helping out Brock and his mother. Don’t get me wrong I wasn’t busy or anything but it was hard seeing him right away after the accident and even now. It was like Charlie’s death had been the axe splitting the log that was our friendship in two. 

    But if there was anything that growing up in Minnesota had taught me it was that being nice made things a hell of a lot easier. “Of course,” I said. “What time are they flying in?” I didn't live too far from the airport, maybe 20 minutes.

    “ They should be flying in about 4:10 in Gate C,” she stated. I check the time again noting I had about 30 minutes.

    “Okay, I’ll text Brock and tell him I’ll pick them up,” I said getting up from the couch. I grabbed my coat from the closet by the door and scooped out my keys. Winters here weren’t as bad as back home but the cold still gets to you. 

    “Alright, I’ll call you later?” she voiced.

    I said yes and hung up as I walked out of the elevator into the parking garage. As I slid into the seat of the car I texted Natalie, my best friend and roommate, to let her I know I would be out until late and one to Brock letting him know I would be waiting by Gate C when they arrived. The cold inside the car was enough to make me wish I used that remote car start my friends installed for me for Christmas. I sat shivering as the car’s heat slowly made the temperature inside a little more bearable.

    I had only been inside Vancouver International a total of maybe 7 times. Once  when I got here, 3 or 4 times picking up my parents when they came up for a visit and the rest for when old friends needed a tour guide on a layover. The thing about airports though is that they are almost all the same. The outside may make you think the insides would be different but nope. All have the same look and feel, and maybe the same carpet,. It was annoying, but also super helpful. I sat waiting for Brock and his mom to get through customs.

    Part of me worried that we would have changed too much to recognize each other when we did meet up. It would make things awkward to hug someone you hardly recognized and sit there pointing out all the differences in each other. Another part of me, the larger part, worried that we wouldn’t have changed at all and that I would have to look into the eyes of my deceased brother’s best friend’s eyes. Now that’s a heavy thought.

    “Oh my goodness,” I hear a voice say behind me, “Y/n, you… you look so grown-up!”

    It had been about two years since I heard seen Laurie Boeser, but I could recognize that voice from 10 miles away. I got up from those awful plastic airport chairs and turned to give my second mother a hug. Stepping back I saw the boy who still looked like the kid I spent most of my time with growing up. Now though he looked bigger, tougher and more like a hockey player. He still had that blonde hair he got from his dad Duke and his smile shown identical to that of Laurie’s. I gave him a hug as he struggled with holding bags of all sorts. 

    “Hey guys,” I said, politely smiling. “How was the flight?”

    “It was amazing!” Laurie starts. “Brock got us into first class so the flight attendants are all ‘Could I get you sparkling water and warmed nuts, Ms. Boeser?’ and getting us blankets.”

    “I mean you do look young enough to be Brock’s sister,” I say.

    Laurie playfully swats in my direction, “Oh please stop.”

    After catching up a bit more I offered to take some of the bags Brock was holding and showed them to the car. I could see from the corner of my eye Brock looking at me as we made our way through airport parkings and even as we strapped in the car. I think he too was worried about thinking of what to say, especially with how we left things before I left. Lets just say Charlie wouldn’t have been happy with what had happened. To be honest I wasn’t too happy with what happened. 

    Laurie and Brock were staying about 10 minutes away from my apartment. We dropped off their luggage and I showed them a little bit of downtown Vancouver. It was fairly late by the time we grabbed food at a hole in the wall pizza shop and walked a bit of the boardwalk by the ocean. I dropped them back off at the hotel room with a promise to Laurie we would go get breakfast when Brock went to morning skate the next morning. By then the car company will have delivered the rental car to the hotel so I wouldn't have to drive Brock there and pick him up.

    When I got back to the apartment Natalie had claimed the big sofa and was watching the mini marathon of Harry Potter movies. 

    “What were you up to?” she questioned.

    “Nothing?” I said grabbed a handful of chips before flopping on the loveseat.

    “Who was it? Was it that weird guy from Chem? Nick.. no David?” she prodded. One thing to note about Natalie, she's intense and everything that is yours is hers too. 

    “You mean Arnold? And no it just someone I used to know. Isn't this the one where Harry kills the big snake at the end?” I said trying to deflect.

    “It's called a basilisk. Hold on, you’re trying to change the subject,” she said. “Which means that you don't want me to know who it is, harsh.” 

    “I’m not doing anything. And it's not that I don't want you to know who he is-” I started.

    “So it’s a he, huh” she interrupted. “Wait its that Bruiser kid isn't it?

    “It’s Boeser,” I corrected.

    “So it is him!” she said sitting up a bit more.

    “I…. um,” I tried to say.

    “Y/N it's okay,” She slinked over to me. “Did you talk to him about Charlie yet?”

    I slouched a little in her arms. Natalie knew a lot more of my demons then most people. She knew some of the struggles I went through losing Charlie, she knew the pressure I put on myself after he died and she knew how poor my relationship with my parents is. I let her in on more things then I usually feel comfortable with but there was something about her that made opening up really easy. “No, his mom came up with him to help him get settled so I haven’t really gotten to talk with yet.”

    “Maybe you should see if you two could meet up tomorrow to talk, let some off your chest,” she soothed. 

    “We’ll see, I think for right now though I’m just going to leave it,” I said. “At least until he gets settled in more.” I promised myself I wasn't going to let this go, once Laurie left we were going to talk out everything that happened, including the kiss we shared.

[book-of-ryker]

When the Navy found out I smoked marijuana, I was at a firing range. I had an M-4 and an M-9, one being an automatic rifle, the other a pistol.

They disarmed me immediately, and I remember knowing why they did.

In the twenty seconds it took me to walk over to the disarming barrel, my thoughts were, “Pull the pistol out, put the barrel in your mouth and pull the trigger” for as many times I could mentally repeat before I lost the opportunity. I called my dad while a Chief was on his way to pick me up.

After the phone call, I deleted all of my Facebook messages at the recommendation of my father.

All of my text messages. too. My dad swore the Chief wasn’t my friend, and would screw me over at his first chance and not to tell him anything, at all.

The deleted threads of conversations with people who either didn’t exist anymore, or we had stopped talking.

I must have chain smoked about fifteen cigarettes in the hour and a half it took for this Chief to arrive.

All the while, I had been wishing that I had the courage to just pull that fucking trigger.

That anxiety was unbearable.

I went to a DRB, which is where I stand in front of a bunch of senior enlisted military.

At first, I came in with my shoulders back , military discipline and all. At the end, I was escorted out by a compassionate Master Chief, and I was bawling.

I have wanted to kill myself for as far back as I can remember. I smoked weed because all of my pain in life is unbearable and my mind never shuts the fuck up.

I don’t understand reality the way everyone seems to and it’s isolating, like being in the dimension next door.

"Most everyone who doesn’t know me resents me. Most everyone who knows me tolerates me," I tell myself.

I sat outside and cried, blubbering to these senior enlisted folks.

As a Second Class Petty Officer with all of the skills that I had possessed. I was in the United States Navy for five long years, and nine excruciating months and two awkward days.

I had been to mental health multiple times in my  Naval career. The first psychiatrist that I ever spoke to was at NATTC Pensacola.

It’s not even six months of me getting out of the Navy now...

My present life finds me in this bed at some house in South Carolina, Like a muscle, those words stream across my mind like a teleprompter, “You should have died on that day. You should have fucking killed yourself.”

And for myself, I finally gave myself the courage to tell myself, “No.” "I love you for just who you are. I love the way you think, I love the way you handle thing[s] (most of the time ^.^), I love what you do. You have a very solid and strong mind, you think things through very thoroughly, and you have a very good outward perspective. I don't know if that helps, but that's the best I can come up with while working." Let me tell you what I think happened before I tell you why I think we should reconnect. I'm 26 years old and the one and only thing in my life that I regret, to this day, is what I once said simply to hurt you. I was an awful boyfriend for you. Not all of the time, obviously. But my only regret comes from when I said out of annoyance and irresponsibility, 'I guess you're going to have to celebrate Thanksgiving without your boyfriend or your mom.." You eyes glazed over me. You slumped over. And you sobbed. I walked towards you and hugged you because that sort of rage-to-regret is exactly the kind of Bipolar Disorder that I am used to. It's been my entire life, Nicole. It's all I have ever known. Albeit, the worst of it all is over and I'm just waiting for all of my hopes and dreams to bloom into the flowers I have been cultivating. The night we went to Twin Peaks was the night you said goodbye, even though you never did. You and I both are aware that we would come across each other someday, I think. I don't have any proof for that delusion/hope, but hey, I don't know everything which means I have unfettered access to being totally wrong and totally right, until one of us is deceased. I do remember being in absolute bliss that night we met up and you were drunk with me in the Whataburger drive through and that's about all I have for that. Mike and I moved out of the house because we wouldn't be able to renew the lease before I had to get my new job in the Navy. I moved into an apartment on the second floor and I got a dog named Itachi. I did loads of LSD that I'd gotten and I had a REALLY FUCKING AWFUL TRIP with Hailey Campbell (also tripping) and Rian Nobles (not tripping). I went to my grandmother's funeral in New York with my Dad and Alex. I found out that my photographic memory is real because I reminded my Uncle about the fit my brother went into at the LAST funeral we gathered. Which was Renee's. I lived with Lauren Teston for a long time after that. I started smoking weed because, Nicole, I didn't know what to do.. Everyone has always left me, and I only NOW understand why: me. But I didnt see it like that. It didn't feel like that.. It didn't feel like I had an emotional problem. I didn't know. But in retrospect, Nicole, my emotions felt like a chainsaw to my insides. Our breakup was the healthiest breakup for me, and it was also the worst. (2020 readers, it got way worse) I didn't leave for California until right before October 10, 2016. I was trained to be an Engine Mechanic by the Seabees and I learned a fuck ton about cars. I did more PT than anywhere else in my military career. Every Friday was a 4:30 A.M., seven mile run with the whole school. Really, it was a fourteen mile run, but it makes me sound less of a douche if I say seven, maybe. I came home on leave for Christmas and I smoked even more weed. I came back to California to finish my school. Byy the way, there were two onomatopoeia's in a barracks room together: Petty Officer Quackenbush and Petty officer Miao (this or 'mao' is also the Chinese word for cat") I left Port Hueneme after meeting Johnny Depp in L.A. I drove, for the third time, across the country. I was at Gulfport, Mississippi for a few months, learning combat procedures with the Seabees. I pissed hot in Gulfport. I wrote a poem that I'll attach later about what that was like. I went to some military proceedings, reduced in rank,  lost a lot of money, had to go to two different hospitals for one month. I first went to Garden Park Hospital for a suicide watch that I had been placed under after the military proceedings had broken me down to where I couldn't take it anymore. I bawled my eyes out to men I'd never met because I could no longer believe that people didn't care about me. I was suicidal given the circumstances, but I was suicidal before I ever got caught smoking. The only reason I smoked was because I didn't want to be suicidal. A 51 year old woman tells me at this place that she, "Would be surprised if I never heard of you again. I stayed at Emerald Coast Behavioral Health (This is when I called you in 2017) and I learned an entirely different way of living. I was told that I have Bipolar Disorder I, Major Depressive Disorder, Anxiety, Osteochrondroma in the left knee. I was told a handful of tools to help myself become a better person. I then went to restriction, which is where a person is constantly monitoring me while I do nothing but work and survive. I did that for forty five days which dragged forever. I left. I stayed with my dad and I had a good first month out of the Navy. I was happy. I was excited and nervous and terrified. I smoked SO much more weed. I drank SO much more booze. And cigarettes. I was helping my dad build a deck in the backyard. My car was repossessed about one and one half months after getting out. I had nothing. I started working under the table as a contractor for a few months, but my mom and I got into a fight and I was kicked out of the house for the second and last time of my life. I moved in and slept on a friends floor. He had a bum knee from a recent surgery and so I quasi-morphed into his at-home nurse. Started doing dabs and malt liquor with friends. Eating popcorn for food, drawing outside for five hours, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. I did this for a month until my depression (booze) had become evil. I tried hanging myself on a dog line and I had to leave their house.. I stayed with my dude Sam for a few days and then moved in with my brother for a day. I feel nothing for him anymore, and so I really dont want to elaborate about this because he will always be a peace of shit. I went to a music festival that got shutdown by a hurricane. I got to do LSD/blow/weed for free because I was working security and I have worked with the team before. Hell, the guy in charge personally handed me $275 because of how badass of a watchstander I am. I then migrated to Asheville, North Carolina where my eyes were opened to the world we live in. And how great a thing love is, Nicole Renee Gable. But after this, I really had nowhere to go. That is until I remembered that I knew a guy from when I was in Japan.. We only ever really interacted in the smokepits. After he found out I had been sleeping on the floor of my friends house, he told me that if I was ever in South Carolina that he had a guest bedroom waiting for me. I lived with him and his wife and their son while I got a job as a forklift driver at BMW. I got another car (since been repossessed, not as debilitating for me now). I moved out and lived with a dude that I thought was a friend. He ended up being a real twat of a motherfucker. Before I knew he was a real dullard, I left BMW about two weeks of me living with him. It was too military.A HUGE millitary-industrial complex. He fucked me over so that I had nowhere to go and I didnt have a job. He left. I had the apartment by myself. It was a blur of events past that. Between the weed, the booze and the mental health issues, I am grateful to be writing this. This guy's stripper girlfriend (Her name is Sam and she's nice as well as bananas) came to find me in a fucked up mess of my own doing at the apartment. After I came to, she and I decided that I needed to check myself into a mental health center. With no insurance. I had only a few boxes of stuff (I drove down to Florida at one point to get my shit). After I was in for a week (I know what I'm about and the solutions I need), I got a job working as a cook in a strip club. The BEST job I ever had because I actually made some good money. (30 girls dancing in one night with $5 tips to me is a lot of moolah) However, I didnt make enough money to stay. I only made enough money to leave. I bought two edibles and had a nice relaxing eight hour drive to a friend's house in Pennsacola We had a personal falling out/disagreement. I worked as a line cook at Slimz at the Al Fresco in Pensacola. I saved up money to come out to California. I'm with one of my few best friends, Tymothy. Upon my arrival here, my car was repossessed (I bought in South Carolina, which is fucking crazy that they found me). My life is coming together though, Nicole. I am generally happy in my day to day lifestyle. I'm hoping to be officially retired from working for the rest of my life within this next year. It turns out that there was A HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE scandal in the Navy and I'm going to use my genius mind to collect the disability that I deserve. Monthly, that payment could land anywhere between $800-2900.. For the rest of my life. I have an amazing home loan that I will get to use once the ball has begun rolling. Nicole, I really dont think I love you as much as I should have and that bothers me. Not in a negative way, at all. It makes me feel like I need to write this email to you. Like I owe you more for what you gave me, Nicole Gable. You might not see it, Nicole. The only reason I ever went along with the mental health is so that we could have a healthy relationship together. Whatever that even fucking means as far as the definition goes. Hell, for all I know, you could be seriously dead or worse. You could be dating somebody.. 😝 I havent dated anyone quite seriously. I've been on a couple of dates here and there, but I just didn't/don't care. I hope that all of these women find someone that loves them as much as I know I can love you someday, if you could ever trust me... If you're with someone, I seriously hope they love you as much as space-time can hold matter and energy and light and dark matter. The greatest lesson I have learned since we spoke last is that we will live our lives from the shades of fear and the radiations of love. I love and accept myself now. I love myself exactly how you once loved me. I don't know where on this rock you are, but if you'd like to never have to work again, please reach out to me. I would be honored, if you would ever be willing. It's still going to be a few months, so you can think about this for awhile..? If you ever wanted to live in California with me someday, I mean. Hell, we could be roomates. You could wear chastity belts and Amish outfits all year round . I don't know anything.. I hope that this email finds you well. I hope it has given you smiles. I hope you have a blessed day. [Update]  It is now the year 2020.  I am.  The world is the world. Hell is hell.  We’re all stuck on a rock in the middle of nowhere.  If there’s someone reading this, be aware: you do not exist. This is my spaceship.

[screamxqueenx94]

Wolf Moon/Teen Wolf Series- Part 1

Thank you to @mummybear, @ficus-fig and @mrs-mitch-rapp93 ,who gave me the confidence to go for it! You guys are awesome and I love you with all my heart! And to those who are reading this, thank you and I hope you enjoy it too!

A/N: So every part is going to have the same name as the episodes, but they will be told from the point of view of my OC, which means somethings will be left out because she wasn't present and some things will be added. You will learn a lot more about her throughout the series. I really hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! And if you want to be added to my Taglist at anytime if you're not already, just ask :)

Pairing: Eventually in the series; Stiles Stilinski x OC! Charlotte 'Charli' Vérszívó

Warnings: swearing, some underage drinking, and mentions of deceased parents

Italics= inner commentary/ thoughts

Charli's POV

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It was difficult being in a new place. After everything I went through in the past year, my father and I were forced out of our old home and had to move to Beacon Hills after the incident that killed my mom happened. I don't really miss New Jersey too much, but I do miss my mom. She was the best. She was the rock for our family. She always had a smile on her face even when things were bad.

I miss hearing her sing around the house. I miss the smell of her perfume lingering after she already left the room. I miss being able to tell her anything and not worry about her passing judgements on me. She always knew when to be my best friend and when to be my mom. Most of all, I miss how much she loved my father. He wasn't the best at expressing his emotions, but my mom made him do that and when she died, he changed. He became cold, distant… almost hollow.

~

We pulled up to the new house and it was beautiful. It was something my mom would have loved. It was a huge gray and stone neo-eclectic style house with a two car garage, and a circle driveway. My father told me that there was an inground pool in the backyard, as if to make me more convinced to be here, but I didn't have a say anyways. I get out of the U HAUL and walk towards the house. I examine the front yard with a bunch of beautiful peonies, roses and snapdragons lining the front of the porch and hydrangeas lining the stone walkway leading to the front porch.

“What do you think, Charli?” My father asks as he put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer to him.

“It's beautiful…” I trail off. “...I just wish mom could've been here to see it. She would love this place.” I continue quietly, looking down at my old beat up high top converse sneakers.

“I know… I wish she was here too…” He replied sadly. “But, this is our new life. We're going to get a fresh start here and we're going to make the best of it.” He continued with a slightly more positive attitude.

I sighed and looked back up at the house. My father let go of me and we walked into the new house together. When he opened the double doors, he let me in first. I looked up and noticed the double sided curved stairs that led to the second floor. Why the hell do we need all this space? It's literally just the two of us.

“There's also a fully finished basement for when you have friends over.” He broke the silence.

I looked over and half smiled at him. “Where's my room?” I ask quietly.

“Take your pick. There's at least five of them here.” He smirked.

~

It was night when we finished unpacking most of the boxes. I carried some crushed up boxes to the curb and threw them away. As I put the lid back on the trash bin outside, I heard a car coming up the road and pull into the driveway of the white house next door on the right side of us. I look up as the door slams shut and see a boy with a buzzcut in a grey cargo jacket get out. After he gets out, he starts walking up the drive, but I may have been staring for too long because he actually stopped to look at me. I quickly made myself busy by putting the boxes that didn't fit in the bin on the ground leaning against it.

He starts walking over to me and starts talking. “Are you my new neighbor?” He asks in a friendly tone. God he was cute.

“Uhh yeah-- yeah I'm Charli.” I answer.

“I'm Stiles…” he holds out his hand to shake mine. Holy crap! His moles are beautiful!

I shake his hand, then shove both of my hands in the pockets of my black zip up hoodie.

“So where did you guys move from?” He asked as he shoved his hands in his jean pockets.

“Jersey. We uh, we lived in Piscataway.”

“Oh cool cool… so did you guys just want a change of scenery or…?” He asked, trailing off.

“No, actually my dad got a new job offer out here and because it's not legal for a 16 year old to live on their own, I had to come along.” I answer as I tuck some of my long, chestnut hair behind my ear, making him chuckle at that last part.

“What’s he do?”

“He's a lawyer.”

His eyebrows raise a bit and he nods. There's a moment of awkward silence between us until he clears his throat.

“Sooo… I'm guessing you're going to be going to Beacon Hills High?” He asks, clearly not sure what else to really say.

“Yeah. My dad originally wanted me to go to a private school, but I convinced him to let me go to public school for a change.” I answer back. “Plus, I'd probably get myself kicked out anyways.”

“You're a rebel I take it?” He asks smirking.

“Only when I wanna be.” I answer back smirking as well, winking, making him chuckle.

We stand there for a minute laughing at how stupid we are. When we stop, he's about to say something until my father opens the front door.

“Charli, come inside. It's late.” he calls. Thanks, Dad…

“Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow?” I ask, smiling as I walk backwards towards my front door.

“Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow.” He answers back, smiling.

“Goodnight.” I tell him, as my body is facing the door but my violet eyes are still on his honey brown ones.

“Goodnight.” He answers back then starts heading back to his own house.

I go inside and close the door. I have this weird feeling in my stomach. A feeling I never really had before. It was strange, I'm not sure I like it. My face was hurting from smiling so much. Is this what a crush felt like? I honestly don't know.

I take off my beat up high top converse sneakers by the front door and start walking towards the steps to go upstairs.

“Who was that?” My father asked, coming out of the hallway leading from the kitchen with a drink in one hand and a case file in the other heading towards his office.

“Just one of our neighbors.” I answer, trying to head upstairs.

“Yeah? A teenage neighbor?” He asked as he placed the case file down on the big mahogany desk with a raised eyebrow.

I sigh. “Yes dad, a teenager. A teenaged boy.”

“What's his name?” He asked, leaning against the desk, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Stiles.” It just rolled right off my tongue so easily, felt natural coming off my lips.

My father's face twisted. “What the hell kind of name is Stiles?”

“What kind of name is Ambrus?” I shot back.

“Touche… you little shit.” He commented, making me smirk.

“Well, I've had a busy day. I'm going to bed.” I declare.

“Don't you want some dinner?” He asks, holding up his glass to me.

“No thanks, I'll have some in the morning.” I call back as I head up the stairs for bed.

~

I wake up and get ready for school. I take a quick shower, brush my teeth and look through my closet. I pull out a tie dye t-shirt, ripped faded skinny jeans and the same black zip up hoodie from last night. Since my hair is a mess, as per usual, I decide to just do two loose braids and stop at where the purple dip dyed ends begin and then put on my ‘Anti Social’ beanie. I head downstairs and sit at the island in our open dark wood kitchen and my dad is already dressed for work in his tailored Armani three piece suit and tie.

“Hey, good morning sleepy head.” My father greets as he pours me a drink into a mug. “You excited for your first day?”

“Define excited.” I mumble, still tired because I could barely sleep last night.

“Hey, c'mon now, Charli. Cheer up! Besides, you're gonna have at least one new friend right? That kid, Stiles from next door?” He tries to pep me up as he hands me the mug.

I drink it all in one sip and wipe my mouth with the napkin he hands me. I toss it in the trash and head for the foyer where my shoes from last night and my backpack were. I put on my shoes and throw my bag over my shoulder. I'm about to leave when my dad calls out. “Did you forget something?”

I look up and he tosses me my keys. I catch them. “Thanks, Dad. Love you!” I call out as I head out to the garage door.

I walk in and sitting in the garage is my father's black Cadillac CTS-V Coupe and my purple 1962 Volkswagen convertible. I could've had any car at all, but I just wanted to keep this because it was in the family for three generations now and I'm a sucker for sentiment. I get in and open the garage door. I adjust my mirrors, take a deep breath, start it up and drive off to the school. As I drive, I turn up the radio and the disk jockey announces that she's going to to play ‘Lowlife’ by Theory of A Deadman. I turn it up louder and start singing along as I'm driving.

I get ready to pull into the school parking lot, but get cut off by some dickhole in a grey Porsche. I slam on my horn and flip him off and keep going. I pull into a spot next to an old beat up pick up truck and gather all my stuff together. My phone alerts me of a text and I check it.

Dad: Have a great 1st day Princess! I put ur schedule & money in the front pocket of ur backpack :)

I half smile and get out and walk towards the school. As I'm walking, I'm pretty sure I see Stiles talking to some other kid with shaggy black hair, but I'm not sure so I don't say anything at first. Before I say anything, a strawberry blonde girl walks past him when he tries to get her attention.

“Hey, Lydia! You look… like you're gonna ignore me.” He sounded so defeated. I felt bad, but at the same time, kinda happy because now I got to talk to him.

“Hey, Stiles.” I call out. He looks past his friend's head, smiles and waves at me.

“Hey!” he actually sounds happy to see me. Play it cool, Charli. Don't fuck this up too.

“Charli, this is my best friend, Scott… Scott, this is Charli, my new neighbor I told you about.” he introduced, gesturing back and forth between us.

Scott and I wave to each other and the bell rings. We all head inside and as I'm walking I pull out my schedule and try to look for my first class.

“Who do you have first period?” Scott asks.

“Mr. Westover.” I answer, not looking up until I feel Stiles’ hand on my shoulder.

“Lucky you, that's right next to us.” Stiles says smiling. “Scott, save me a seat, I'll be right back.” He continues as he leads me to the classroom.

We walk in and Stiles goes up to the the older man behind the desk.

“Mr. Westover, this is Charli, she's a new student here.” He states, leading me over to his desk.

“Thank you, Mr. Stilinski, I'll take it from here. Get to class.” He says in a monotone voice, as he sifts through papers.

Stiles gives him a sarcastic salute and looks at me. “I'll see you after class so I can show you your other classes.” He smiles.

“Now, Mr. Stilinski.” Mr. Westbrook's voice raises just a bit. Stiles leaves. “Take a seat anywhere, Miss Vérszívó.” he continues as he motions to the rows of desks facing the board.

I take the last available seat next to a tall boy with brown spiked hair and blue eyes in a leather jacket. I see in my peripheral vision that he's looking me up and down. I can't tell if he's checking me out or judging me, but by his appearance alone, it's probably judging.

“You're friends with Stilinski?” He asks, almost snobbish.

“He's my neighbor and was kind enough to introduce himself, so yes, I'd say so.” I answer back without making eye contact, just sifting through my backpack for a notebook and a pen.

“Well, if you ever decide to hang out with a more appealing crowd, you know where to find me.” He turns back forward, smirking.

“Cool, I'll look for you in the feminine hygiene aisle along with the other douches.” I shoot back as I'm opening my notebook and preparing to take notes. A kid with short black hair starts snickering behind him, which makes me want to crack a smile. The brown hair boy looks back and gives the other kid dagger eyes.

“Mr. Whittmore, is there an issue that needs to be addressed?” Mr. Westbrook calls out, making the brown haired kid's head snap towards the front of the room.

“No sir.” He said.

Mr. Westbrook turned back around to the board and continued writing on it. I looked over at the douche next to me and smirked.

~

I started looking for my locker and seen Stiles and Scott talking to a girl in the hallway.

“Can Someone tell me how the new girl is here all of five minutes and she's already hanging out with Lydia's Clique?” the pretty girl complained.

“Because she's hot... Beautiful people herd together.” Stiles said to her.

I chuckled and approached them. Stiles and Scott looked over at me and smiled.

“Yeah, toolbag over there just tried recruiting me first period.” I comment as I point to the guy I told off first period who had his arms wrapped around Lydia.

“Wait, Jackson actually tried to talk to you?” the girl exclaimed.

“Ugh… that's his name? Wow, he apparently has a typical douchebag name too.” I joke.

“What did you say when he talked to you?” Stiles asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I told him if I needed him, I'd look for him in the feminine hygiene aisle along with the other douches.” I answered.

Stiles and the girl bust out in laughter, which earns me a high five from Stiles. Scott was really quiet though, kept staring at the other new girl tentatively. As if he was listening to their conversation. I could hear it too, something about a party, but I was mostly tuning it out.

“Are you busy later?” Stiles asked after the other girl left.

“Just some more unpacking when I get home, but other than that, no… why, what's up?” he shoved one hand in his jean pocket and adjusted the strap on his backpack over his with the other.

“Well Scott and I have Lacrosse practice after school, but after we were gonna hang out… did you wanna hang with us?” He asked, almost shy.

“Yeah, that'd be cool.” I answer.

“Great, I can text you after practice if you want?” I nod and give him my phone to put his number in.

“Quick question: what's Lacrosse?” I ask.

Whatever I said triggered something because even Scott looked at me shocked. I look at them both. “What?” I ask.

“Okay, forget texting you later. You gotta come to practice.” Stiles exclaimed.

“It's only the biggest sport in Beacon Hills.” Scott adds.

I think for a moment, then I shrug. “Okay, yeah, I'll come watch."

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That's where I'm leaving off today , hope you guys liked it :)

@mummybear @ficus-fig @music-magic-mayhem @bold-sartorial-statement @zenawa @stiles-o-dylan24 @cry-btch @maaariiiooo13 @thekingofselfloathing @sporadiccookiebagel @bewarethebees @inschi @awesomeandromedablack @raugsmaug @wil2space @bansheeintuition @mrs-mitch-rapp93

[henry-hart]

“The Spy and the Kid...Spy Kid?” - Chapter 4

Dedicated to: @sunbeameyes @kiwikwami @youngbloodthekilljoy @ramune-ray @up-the-tube @shonashee @lesbian-so-what @an-anxious-gay-mess @writing-excuses @sleepylilsnowflake New additions @alissamikealson @x-cookies-art-x @can-you-believe-it and @periwinklechild because I see you guys on my feed a lot, and I want you to know that I appreciate you. Special mention @coldasalaska because they said THE most wonderful things about this fic and my writing in general, and I want them to know that they are one of the reasons I am smiling on this day. :)))))))

Summary: Jasper’s cousin, Elizabeth, is in town for spring break, but Henry suspects trouble when she arrives just a new, unnamed villain begins terrorizing Swellview.

Warning: Minor cursing (really minor)

A/N: Right off the bat, I want to say that this chapter is long, but I’m not apologizing for that anymore (I’m not being snappy of mad or short--just matter of fact. :)). That’s just the way I write, and I hope you can all see it as getting more content and see it as a good thing. :))))))) Now to the notes about this chapter. It’s a bit--emotional. That last chapter was more action and this is more of a chance to say “okay, but what does it mean? What are the emotional or mental repercussions?” I’M BEING 100% SERIOUS WHEN I SAY THAT THIS IS THE CHAPTER WHERE LIZ SEES JASPER AND FINALLY MEETS CHARLOTTE. LIKE, IT’S FOR SURE HAPPENING. THE CHAPTER IS WRITTEN, AND I CAN SAY THAT IT IS FACT. (sorry for all the caps. I’ve just been waiting for the moment Char x Liz meet, and I’m sure you all have too.) I hope you enjoy, and feel free to comment what you thought, good or bad!!!! xoxoxo

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

“Henry! Hen-ry!” Ms. Shapen bellowed.

Henry, who had fallen asleep at his desk, jumped straight up, nearly falling out of his seat in the process. His teacher’s loud voice reverberated in his skull like a train whistle, loud and piercing, taking over all other senses, pulling him out of unconsciousness with the speed of that same locomotive. He was disoriented for a minute, having been ripped out of his nap. Everything around him seemed muted and far away in the way that all things are after waking up--like they exist on a different plane.

Henry looked around and saw that the classroom was empty save for Ms. Shapen, Charlotte, Jasper, and himself.

“Is class over?” He asked, rubbing the warm sleep from his face. 

“Well, duh,” Ms. Shapen snapped, leaning towards him with her hands on her hips. “You’d know that if you hadn’t slept through the entire thing.”

Henry grabbed his book bag off the floor--he hadn’t even taken anything out of it--and stood up. “I’m sorry, Ms. Shapen. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Ms. Shapen just stared at him, unimpressed. “You think you’re the first teenager to give me that crap?”

“Well, no, I was just--”

“Just get out of my face already. I just got a week off from all of you, and you’re ruining it.”

Henry didn’t say anything back. He just nodded and left to join his friends who were waiting for him by the door. The trio started for the front doors of the school.

“Are you okay?” Jasper asked, studying the red sleep lines all over Henry’s right cheek from where his skin had been pressed to his sleeve.

Henry stifled a yawn. “Yeah, why?”

Charlotte quirked an eyebrow. “Well, for one, you’re wearing the same clothes you wore yesterday.” She reached out for one side of his flannel and shook it, drawing attention to the wrinkles for emphasis.

Henry looked down at his shirt, taking into account for the first time that day just how unkempt he looked. He imagined his hair and face weren’t looking too hot either.

“I had a long day yesterday.” He said, not feeling like going into details while at school. He scratched at the red bump on his neck (turns out that it was a bug that had bit him last night in the park--he woke up this morning with a mark much like a mosquito bite that itched just as much). “Ray will fill you in later.” He muttered.

Sleep hadn’t improved his disposition; he was still bitter about being told to stay out of things for the day.

Charlotte eyed Henry, trying to figure out why he seemed so irritated. She knew that he had been through a lot yesterday--she had been working too when he and Ray went out after Donnie and Hyde in the park--but Henry had left work more defeated rather than angry. What else had happened last night?

Jasper was also worried about Henry. Long forgotten was their quarrel, and Jasper woke up today with his friendship with Henry still intact and happy to see his cousin. After all, she had been in town for an entire day, and he had yet to see her, but any thoughts of Liz went to the back of his mind when he saw that there was something going on with his friend--something that dimmed Henry’s eyes and made his shoulders droop.  

Jasper picked up on what Henry had said last. “What do you mean Ray will fill us in? Aren’t you going to work?”

Henry turned away from his friends, ashamed. “No, I’m not.” Before either of them could ask why, Henry held a hand up. “Like I said, Ray can fill you in later.”

Charlotte didn’t like letting the subject go, but she didn’t want to press Henry anymore than he already was. “Okay, yeah. We’ll ask Ray.” She agreed, continuing to watch him even as Jasper changed the subject.

“Do you think you could bring Liz by the shop then?” Jasper blurted, barely containing his excitement. He realized then how rude it came across and immediately backtracked. “I mean, only if you want to, of course. I can always stop by your house after work, if it’s too much trouble.”

Henry managed a small smile despite how down he was feeling. “No, man, it’s okay.” He understood how much Liz being here meant to Jasper. “My mom kind of kidnapped her for the day, but I promise I’ll bring her by the store when she’s done.” Henry recalled how Liz had fared with his parents the first night they met her, and he hoped today with his mom had been much better for her. Thinking back to dinner, he also remembered that he owed Jasper a piece of his mind. He turned to give his friend a pointed look. “Thanks for the heads up about Liz’ parents, by the way.”

Jasper looked away from Henry. “I was wondering if that would come up.” He muttered.

Henry scoffed. “It didn’t just come up. It was practically the first thing my parents pulled out of her at dinner.”

Jasper’s mouth fell open, hardly believing he was being chastised for not mentioning that family members of his have died. “Well, it’s not like I want to talk about my aunt and uncle’s death.” He retaliated.

Henry went silent, feeling a little awkward for not thinking of the connection to Jasper. He sighed, dragging a hand down his face, trying to get his brain back to functioning normally. “I’m sorry man. I just knew my parents were gonna be nosy, and I wanted to save Liz the embarrassment.”

Jasper nodded, understanding that his friend’s intentions had been good. Jasper wasn’t still affected by his aunt and uncle’s death, but it did send a painful pang through his chest to think of them, despite not ever being close to them. He could understand how it would make for an uncomfortable topic around the table. He gave Henry a meaningful smile. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure Liz wasn’t too shaken up.”

Henry shook his head. “No, she said it was okay, that it’d been awhile ago.” He gave a quiet chuckle. “She let my parents off way too easy.”

Charlotte had no real idea what either of them were talking about, but she was intuitive enough to pick up on the gist of the conversation and decided a subject change was in order. “What do you mean your mom kidnapped her?”

Henry, glad for the change in topic, sighed, but it was a good-natured one. “You know how my mom is with guests.” He began. “Well, I think Liz being a girl makes it worse. Mom’s flight got cancelled because of the weather, so she has the day off. When Piper and I left for school, she had Liz baking cookies with her.”

Charlotte and Jasper laughed.

“That doesn’t sound too bad.” Charlotte commented as they walked out of the front doors to head to Henry’s car. 

Henry shrugged. “I guess not. I just don’t know how much Liz enjoys baking and all that.” He pulled his keys out of his pocket and hit the unlock button. Headlights flashed across the parking lot through the rain.

“I’m sure she’s fine.” Jasper dismissed with another laugh (they came easy now that they weren’t talking about his deceased aunt and uncle). “Liz is cool like that. She’s always thinking of other people.” He snapped his fingers as a memory came to him. “When we were younger, she used to go to bucket conventions with me even if it meant missing her inventor’s conventions.”

Charlotte perked up at this. “Did you say inventor’s conventions?” She was already excited to meet Jasper’s cousin, being the only person in the group who hadn’t, but if Liz was a female inventor like her, then Charlotte needed to meet her now.

Jasper nodded, a wide, proud smile breaking out across his face. “Yeah. Liz is crazy smart. She made a robot that could open soda cans when she was like six. I swear she’s gonna win the Nobel prize or something some day.” 

Henry noticed how his friend’s whole face lit up when he spoke about his cousin, and Charlotte looked just as animated. Henry understood how they felt; even after only knowing her for a day, Henry thought that Liz was pretty cool too.

He was also glad that he didn’t have to fix anything with Jasper; they were still best friends with none of the hostility Henry had worried was there.

“I’m gonna bring the car around.” He said, breaking up their conversation about the many things Liz and Charlotte have created. 

Jasper looked all around them, resting his eyes on Henry last, “No Piper?” He fought back a smile.

Henry shook his head. “No, she’s going to a friend’s house or something, so I’m driving.”

Charlotte and Jasper exchanged looks of relief. They wouldn’t have to worry about Piper’s crazy driving, which was an even greater relief considering it was raining. That was a combination that had the both of them feeling anxious all day, but it wasn’t a problem anymore.

Henry moved out from the cover of the rain and walked--he saw the Mythbusters episode that proved running in the rain doesn’t help--to his car, hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched up high, and face downcast to avoid getting rain in his eyes. The heavy pounded down on him anyway, soaking his flannel and drenching his hair, but the rain was warm--cooler than the air but still warm. It provided more of a relief from the heat rather than an annoyance.

He opened his door, not minding that he was going to get his seat all wet, got in, started the car, and drove to pick his friends up form the front of the school.

The ride was quiet; both Charlotte, sitting in the passenger seat, and Jasper, sitting in the back, knew that Henry wasn’t overjoyed about not going in for work today. Whatever had made Ray give Henry the day off, it was obvious their friend wasn’t happy about it, so they left him alone to his thoughts rather than force him to engage in conversation.

When he dropped them off at Junk ‘n Stuff, he didn’t even bother getting out of the car.

He rode silently home, alone, accompanied only by the sound of the heavy sheets of rain sloshing off his windshield with each swipe of the wipers.

-----------

Henry grabbed a piece of leftover pizza out of the fridge, not even bothering to heat it up in the microwave, and made his way to the couch. It was his day off, even if he wasn’t too happy about it, and he had just got off of school for a week; he wasn’t required to do much of anything, so it looked like he and the couch were going to be very well acquainted for the time being.

He had spent the whole hour that he was home aimlessly going through his phone, scrolling through pictures, checking social media. He wasn’t even sure what he was looking at; his brain was on autopilot. He was going through the motions without putting any real thought behind them. He was feeling listless which was partly due to the stormy weather and partly due to the fact that he was home right now instead of at work, helping the others solve the big mystery they were all facing.

A little part of him was scared that, because he wasn’t there, they’d figure it out without him and prove once and for all that he really is useless. Ray can’t be hurt. Charlotte is a genius. Schwoz creates all their technology, and Jasper watches the store. Henry’s just a sidekick. How much did they really need him? Did they need him at all, or was he just a setback? Could Ray have stopped Donnie and Hyde if Henry were out of the picture? Maybe Ray had really sent Henry home not so that he could rest but so that he was out of the way, so that the others could work without being bothered by someone who’s just a sidekick.

Henry couldn’t take his own thoughts anymore. He was starting to spiral out of control in a dark cloud of insecurity and anxiety. He had to find something to distract him because he needed to get out of his own head. His phone wasn’t cutting it.

He grabbed the remote and flipped on the TV. His parents must’ve been watching last because it was left on the news channel. Henry decided he’d leave it. He didn’t have the energy to flip through channels until he found something interesting to watch. The latest season of Dog Judge had ended, and he didn’t have any other show he was really invested in. There was never really anything good on anyway.

The news did have a tendency to depress him considering they don’t exactly report on the positive goings-ons in town, but he was in one of those sad moods when watching something else sad just seemed to be the way to go. 

“So, Mary, what does the weather look like for Swellview?” Trent Overunder, one of the news anchors, asked. 

The camera panned to the blonde news anchorwoman, Mary Gaperman. “It’s raining, Trent.” She smiled brightly into the camera.

The camera moved back to Trent. “We can see that, Mary.” He looked at the camera with a helpless expression. “I meant what does the weather look like for the next couple of days.”

She smiled again. “It’s still raining,Trent.”

Trent sighed, muttering just loud enough for the viewers to hear, “Okay, I expect nothing, and yet I’m still disappointed.”

Henry muted the TV then, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of the male news anchor. Mary tried her best, but it’s not like she could do much working next to someone like Trent Overunder who took every available chance to cut her down.

I get it, Mary. It sucks being the sidekick, he thought.

He took a bite of his cold pizza, watching the muted people on screen talking and moving about. Henry kept his mind busy trying to read everyone’s lips. They flashed to the meteorologist who gestured to a map of Swellview that showed a large storm front moving over the town. It was followed by another large storm.

Swellview wouldn’t be getting a break from the rain anytime soon, Henry thought. He found the perpetual rain was pretty fitting, considering the way he was feeling. There was a metaphorical cloud over his head. Might as well be a real one too.

“I guess news anchors are bogus everywhere.” Henry heard from right behind him. 

He jumped, choking on the pizza he was eating, and turned to see who was standing behind the couch. His thoughts were so loud, he hadn’t even heard Liz come down the stairs.

Liz gave him a wide-eyed look, surprised that she had startled him so badly.

Henry swallowed his food, cleared his throat, and nodded. “Yeah, I guess.” He gestured to the TV. “I’m not a big fan of that Trent guy.”

Liz made her way around the couch, standing near the edge closest to the kitchen, moving away so as not to scare Henry again.

Henry took note of the fact that her long, brown hair was dry for the first time since he’d met her. It was a pretty, deep shade of brown--like raw umber--and fell in waves down to her elbows. She was wearing black skinny jeans and a cropped and worn black shirt that said “I heart science” but the heart was an atom with particles swirling around it (Henry was proud of himself for knowing that considering he wasn’t the smartest person around). He remembered how Jasper had said she was really smart, and her shirt made a small smile tug at the corners of his lips.

Now that it wasn’t wet or up in a bun, Henry realized Liz’ long hair was almost identical to that of the girl he’d fought last night. He couldn’t not see the resemblance now, and it didn’t help that Liz was wearing all black too. 

He pushed any similarities he thought he found to the back of his mind, chalking it all up to being just a reaction from all the stress he was under. Liz couldn’t possibly be any more different from this new villain. She was likable, easy to be around, grounded. Hair color didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t substantial evidence to base any kind of assumption on; it was pure coincidence.

Henry dismissed the notion entirely. He couldn’t trust any connections he found; he wasn’t thinking properly. His brain was desperately searching for answers where there weren’t any, taking whatever he could get as explanation, and Liz had fallen victim to his mad need to understand what was happening. He’d apologize to her for even thinking it, but she wouldn’t understand what he was talking about. He decided to just let it go.

He gestured for Liz to sit next to him, and she did.

Liz sat down on the couch and looked at the TV, watching Trent’s mouth move wordlessly. “I don’t blame you. That guy’s a real jerk.” She heard, from the top of the stairs, him talking to the female anchor and didn’t like what he had said. It sounded like a lot of misogynistic condescension to her. She was glad Henry muted it.

It took Henry a moment to remember what they were even talking about. The news. News anchors. Trent Overunder. It was coming back to him now.

“What about the ones where you’re from? Are the anchors there jerks too?” He found himself stepping right back into the conversation with little effort, and he gave Liz credit for that.

Conversation came easy with her. She was easy to talk to, and Henry liked talking to her. He didn’t feel like there was anything he had to do or be--there wasn’t some expectation he had to live up to. He could just talk. It was like a breath of fresh air, being there with her, not feeling like there was something he owed her or she owed him. That was something he desperately needed today.

Liz shook her head. “No, not really. There is this one guy who makes horrible puns though--and they’re always at the worst times too.” She tilted her head to the side, tapping a finger on her chin. “Oh, and the meteorologist never points to the right part of the map.”

Henry laughed, and Liz joined him, liking how, with Henry, things didn’t have to be serious. Her job had pretty much always been her life. From about the time she was thirteen to now at seventeen, she had been all about business. She put childish things away for the sake of her job, to be fully committed to her work as her aunt and uncle wished, and she had sacrificed much in the process. Hanging out with friends, having fun, being a normal teenager--she didn’t know what any of those things were. Talking with Henry was about the closest she’d ever come to any of that, she thought, and despite being on the job--a job that had consumed the past four years of her life--she found herself enjoying it.

She looked over at Henry once their laughter had died down--really looked--and noticed his appearance: wrinkled clothes, tired eyes, and disheveled hair. He looked awful, like he’d really had a rough go of it, and Liz felt her heart clench.

Last night, Liz had seen the extent of Henry’s caring nature, and it had derailed her. She was supposed to get in and get out, to only use the Hart house as a means to be on location, but Henry--and the rest of his family, really--was complicating that.

Having only known her for one day, he had kept himself up, worried sick about her well-being, instead of sleeping. When she’d made it back to the house, unharmed and having just finished a job she could never tell him about, Henry had looked so relieved, so happy, to see that she was okay and unharmed. She wasn’t expecting it. She hadn’t known how to react. It was alien to her that this boy, who was only one step away from stranger, had valued her safety so much. It was a real testament to Henry’s character. There wasn’t a doubt in Liz’ mind; Henry was an incredible guy.

She went to sleep last night with a warm internal feeling, like she’d had a shot of alcohol and it’s effects were buzzing through her veins, letting her know she was alive. Despite not knowing what it meant or what it felt like to have a friend, Liz imagined it was something like that.

Henry’s sincerity and concern had touched her, and she wanted to reciprocate some of that back to him. She may be a hard worker, but she was still a person, a person with integrity. She could manage this act of kindness without throwing her whole mission out the window. She could allow herself to have this small taste of normal teenage friendship.

Opting for distraction to help Henry feel better--she had no other real option considering she didn’t know what was bothering him--Liz decided to focus on anything but Henry’s appearance. She saw the plate in his lap, taking note of what he was eating.

“So it’s a cold pizza kind of day, huh.” She reasoned, knowing that anyone who didn’t take the time to heat up their pizza was going through a hard time.

Henry chuckled dryly, thinking that was an understatement. “It’s a cold pizza kind of day.” He agreed. He realized it was rude to eat in front of guests. “I can get you some. I can actually microwave yours.” He added as an afterthought.

Liz shook her head with a smile. “That’s alright. Your Mom and I made cookies earlier.” She put a hand over her stomach. “A girl can only eat so much.”

Henry rolled his eyes. “I hope she didn’t guilt you into cooking with her.” 

Liz made a “please” face. “Your mom didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to do. ”

Henry sat up a little, thinking cookies sounded like a good idea, a silver lining to this dreary day. “Are there any left?”

Liz bit her bottom lip. “We may or may not have eaten them all.”

Henry raised his eyebrows, surprised that two of them had finished off a whole batch of cookies by themselves, but he wasn’t mad. It was hard to be mad around Liz. She just radiated positive energy. Henry wondered if she knew she was such a light.

He then realized, after talking about her so much, that his mom wasn’t anywhere around, and Liz had come from upstairs not the kitchen. A horrible thought crossed his mind.

He set his pizza down, staring straight ahead. “Mom didn’t show you any embarrassing family albums, did she?” He asked in a slow voice, grimacing as he predicted what Liz’ next answer was most likely going to be.

Liz smirked, knowing exactly which photos he meant. “Depends on what you consider embarrassing.”

Henry burned bright red. “Oh god,” he moaned. 

His mother had a habit of showing people who came over to their house the Hart family album. Not only did Henry find it a little awkward that his mom shoved photos of their personal family memories into stranger’s faces, but there were pictures that Henry had trouble looking at himself. For instance, the ever classic “let’s put our naked children together in a tub and take pictures” pictures that parents always insist on taking. Henry had been about five and Piper was only a baby, but they were still naked and the people looking at them were still strangers.

There was little he considered more uncomfortable than people he didn’t know seeing him as a naked baby. It was worse when they looked at him now, a fully clothed teenager, and he just knew they were thinking about how they had seen him in all his chubby, naked glory. Just knowing they had that knowledge made Henry’s skin crawl.

Liz laughed a light, bubbly laugh at the redness of Henry’s cheeks. “Don’t worry, Henry. You were a cute baby.”

Henry’s face burned hotter. “I’m gonna kill her.” He grumbled, turning away from Liz to salvage the little bit of dignity he still had.

Liz tilted her head, looking up at the ceiling in thought. “I like your mom. She’s sweet.” She decided for a subject change, not wanting to make Henry any more uncomfortable than he already was. She had succeeded in her plan to take his mind off whatever was bugging him, though, and silently celebrated in the way Henry’s shoulders picked up ever so slightly. “She calls me ‘sweetheart’ a lot. I like that.” 

Liz didn’t get much maternal attention at home, so it was nice to be in a house hold with a family whose mother was warm and loving for a change. She hadn’t intended on finding a family like the Hart’s when she took this job, but she was glad that she had. Even if she had come into town for her work and she wouldn’t be with the Hart’s past this one week, she appreciated that she got to experience a familial unit like theirs at all.  

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment. Liz played with the frayed strands on the knees of her black jeans, trying not to feel guilty for enjoying the civilian side of this job, while Henry ate his pizza, finding a small bit of joy in the reprieve Liz had given him from his gloomy mood. They both watched the silent TV as the news went on break and a commercial for Fred Lobster came on.

Liz noticed the girl sitting in the back of the restaurant looked familiar. Her eyes widened. “Is that--”

“Piper, yeah.” Henry answered. He took the TV off mute so they could hear it. “It sucks that she’s not here right now. It seems like every time she goes to watch the commercial, the news cuts in.”

Immediately after he finished talking, the news cut in to give an emergency announcement.

“This just in, flash flood warnings have been issued for the following areas.” Trent stated in that voice that only people on the news seem to have. He paused for a moment before saying, “Swellview. That’s it.” He held a finger to his ear and spoke again. “I’m receiving word that we can’t only talk about Swellview--even though we’re the Swellview news--so Mary will be reading off the less important surrounding areas that also have flash flood warnings.” 

When the camera was off him and on Mary, Henry and Liz heard Trent say under his breath, “What, do they not have their own news channels?”

They looked at each other and shared an eye roll.

Henry was about to mute the TV again when the topic changed to one that made his stomach drop.

“Last night, well known criminal duo Donnie and Hyde reportedly broke into Schneider’s Bakery.” Trent said. His brows pulled together as he read more of the report. “We’re told Captain Man and Kid Danger answered the call to stop the thieves, but unfortunately they were unsuccessful. Donnie and Hyde managed to escape, and what they were doing at the bakery remains a mystery.” He looked down at the paper in front of him. “I am told that a delivery truck went missing. The contents are unknown.”

The camera moved to Mary. “Some reports have come in of a possible accomplice to the two criminals: an unknown girl wearing all black. She also escaped with the criminals.”

“She is suspected to be working with the notorious thieves, so if you see any sign of them, you are urged to contact the police. Or the Captain Man hotline, though I’m not sure what more they’ll be able to do.” He muttered that last bit.

Henry sank lower into his seat, feeling worse. Even the news was mocking him.

Liz was sitting next to him, however, straight as a metal rod. She was hardly even blinking. Her heart had stopped the second the female news anchorwoman had mentioned the accomplice.

How do they know about me?

There wasn’t anyone else around besides Liz, Donnie and Hyde, their henchmen, and the meddlesome superheroes. That was it. Liz had made sure of it. How had the news found out about her then?

Liz knew she would be given hell by her boss the moment he caught wind of this. She had been sloppy. Somehow there had been a mole, someone who leaked her presence here in Swellview, and somehow the news had gotten word of her. First Captain Man and Kid Danger had almost derailed the entire operation, and now whoever watched the evening news would be aware of her existence.

No. No. No. No. This couldn’t be happening.

Things like this never happen to Liz. She’s too good.

It was those damned thieves’ fault. Donnie and Hyde were a joke, and she had been cursed the moment she had been assigned to work with them. Somehow, she just knew, they were responsible for this.

Henry cast a glance in Liz’ direction, taking note of how still and silent she had gotten. She had gone white, like she was suddenly sick. She looked about as bad as Henry felt.

“You okay?” He asked. 

Liz jolted out of her thoughts, realizing she was still sitting next to Henry--someone who wouldn’t know why the news had affected her so. She shook her head, giving him a fake reassuring smile--something she was good at. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She gestured to the TV. “It just sucks that Captain Man and Kid Danger couldn’t stop those two.”

Just like that, she had her true feelings tucked away somewhere Henry would never be able to see them. She was an expert at compartmentalizing. Right now wasn’t the time to freak out about the repercussions she would face in her work from this news report. Right now she needed to be Liz, the regular citizen.

Henry cringed ever so slightly. “Yeah, it really sucks.” He couldn't help the personal contempt that bled into his voice. The news was broadcasting his epic failure to all of Swellview and only further driving in the nail that he and Ray were no closer to stopping whatever was going on. He wasn’t as good at keeping his emotions in check.

Henry wondered if Ray, back at work where Henry wanted to be, had seen the news report. He wondered if he was feeling as bad as Henry was. He wondered if Ray was feeling the same anxiousness he was feeling, an anxiousness that had him on the edge of his seat, impatient with his own ignorance to what was going on.

He wanted to believe Ray was in the same boat, but Ray hadn’t been sent home. Ray hadn’t been sidelined. Ray wasn’t the sidekick. He was the superhero.

Henry’s anger flared. His balled his hands into fists on top of his legs. He watched the news continue on, but he wasn’t hearing any of it. He wasn’t even really seeing any of it. All he could think about was the fact that he was here, in his house, on his couch, watching TV, while Donnie and Clyde and the new girl were out there, doing whatever they pleased, reveling in the fact that Kid Danger couldn’t stop them.

Henry felt a nerve twitch under his eye. He couldn’t just sit here; it would drive him mad. He had to get out of his house. He had to do something. He had to stop Donnie and Hyde and their boss and fix everything he had let fall apart. He couldn’t sit here, like some dejected puppy with its tail between its legs, letting everyone else fix something he had messed up. He had to prove himself. He had to prove that he wasn’t just a sidekick. He was going to stop those criminals if he had to do it himself.

He knew he was being irrational, but that’s the thing about emotions; they aren’t rational, and it was only going to get worse the longer he sat with only his thoughts to keep him company. Liz was a nice reprieve, but even her attractive personality couldn’t keep Henry from himself. The only way he was going to get any semblance of peace of mind is if he went down to the Man Cave and did his part--what little part that is. He had to get to the store and talk to Ray, make him hear him and let Henry help.

He just needed a reason to be there on his day off.

He remembered that Jasper had asked him to bring Liz by, so he decided to use that to his advantage as well as reuniting Jasper and Liz because that mattered to him as well.

He was still Henry, after all. Sure, he was in the midst of a crisis, but he hadn’t lost his softness completely. He still cared for others.

That was probably why he was having such a hard time with all that was happening; he cared too much. He cared too much what would happen to his friends and family and the people of Swellview if he let criminals do as they pleased. He took whatever happened to his town personal as he was someone sworn to protect it.

And he hadn’t done a very good job.

He jumped up from the couch, surprising Liz. “Jasper asked if I could bring you by our work today. You wanna go?” He was already moving towards the door, not waiting to hear her response and also not giving her a chance to say no--not that he thought she would. He pulled his car keys out of his pocket and grabbed a rain jacket, ready to walk out the door.

Liz stared at Henry for a moment, surprised by his sudden burst of energy. Seconds ago, he had been slumped and still, and now he was up and moving. Liz watched him, noticing he couldn’t seem to stop moving. He was swirling his car keys, fidgeting with his hands, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Liz didn’t understand it, but she did like the idea of seeing Jasper; so, she went along with it, figuring a drive would be much better for Henry than moping on the couch.

She also wanted something good to happen to her before she got the inevitable phone call from her boss, berating her for letting things go so poorly last night.

“Sure,” she hesitated, a little afraid Henry’s mood and energy levels would suddenly shift again. “That sounds great.”

She made her way over to Henry, grabbed the rain jacket he held out to her, and let him open the door for her. She found it sweet that he had, in the midst of his anxiousness to leave, taken the time to practice manners.

They didn’t have an umbrella--they were only walking down the driveway--so once they were out from under the cover of the porch, the unrelenting rain poured down on them. Liz was glad for the rain coat because it kept most of her clothing dry. She couldn’t say the same for her tennis shoes. They were splashing through puddles as she walked, soaking the material all the way to her socks. She was inconvenienced, but it didn’t get her down. She was going to see Jasper; there was little that could dampen the spring in her step now.

She hadn’t given herself time to really think about it, having jumped right into her mission the second she arrived in town, but she had really, really missed her cousin. Her heart was beating with the force of a drum, anxiously anticipating when she’d get to see him again in person. It had been close to ten years since she’d seen him last. She had no idea what to expect, but she hoped that time and distance hadn’t changed their relationship. Hidden in her excitement to see him, there was a small sliver of fear that made her think what if it has changed? What if he’s changed? I’ve changed, so how can I expect him to be the same person?

She remained quiet the whole ride, nervously chewing the inside of her lip, feeling her stomach twist itself into knots of uncertainty. Apparently there was something that could bring her down--her own mind. If she let it, her own doubts would ruin the one thing she had to look forward to today.

Henry didn’t sit still at all the whole ride there; he was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel and shifting around in his seat. He was antsy, impatient, on edge. He didn’t like how irritable he was. He didn’t like what yesterday’s events had turned him into--a mess of emotions, most of them being destructive.

He was hoping--praying--that there was good news waiting for him at the store.

He hated to think what would become of him if he didn’t start seeing something in the way of getting to the bottom of whatever sinister plot the criminals had in the works for Swellview.

----------

“Schwoz, can’t you stop what you’re doing for five minutes to listen to me?” Ray demanded, appalled that Schwoz wouldn’t even hear him out.

The little man had been running around the Man Cave all day, working on something that he wouldn’t tell anyone about. He just darted around, picking up various mechanical parts and tools, muttering engineering nonsense to himself that probably only Charlotte could understand. Now, when Ray needed to tell him about his dwindling powers--an incredibly important phenomena--he wouldn’t even give him the time of day.

“I can’t talk right now!” Schwoz snapped back, never looking away from tinkering with whatever device he was creating. 

Ray’s jaw dropped. “Schwoz, we’re talking about my superpower, here. You know, the very thing that makes me a super-hero?” He moved to stand in front of Schwoz, aggravated that he wouldn’t even look up at him. “Hello? Schwoz?” He waved a hand in front of his face.

Schwoz flinched away as Ray’s waving hand distracted him, and he crossed the wrong wires, making sparks fly out all over his work table. He put down his tools, taking in a deep breath. “Ray, what I’m working on has to do with your superpower.” He picked up a soldering iron, melding two plates of metal together. “And Henry’s,” he mumbled, focusing back on his work.

Ray leaned away from Schwoz, eyeing him carefully. “How did you know about Henry’s powers? I haven’t told you about that yet. I haven’t even told you about me yet.” What did Schwoz know that he didn’t?

Schwoz tried his hardest to keep from looking at Ray, to keep from revealing what he had surmised about the events yesterday and the hero’s superpowers. In truth, he wasn’t completely sure about his hunch. He wouldn’t be until his device was finished, and for that to happen, he couldn’t be distracted. He needed complete concentration to make sure something this important was done right. He couldn’t afford to make a mistake.

The elevator beeped across the room, and Charlotte and Jasper walked into the Man Cave. They noticed Ray’s obvious distress, added it to the state Henry had been in, and concluded that something very bad and very serious had happened yesterday.

“Ray,” Charlotte began, deciding it was time for Ray to fill them in, as Henry had put it. “What’s going on? I saw a news report about Donnie and Hyde at a bakery?”

“Yeah,” Jasper added. “And Henry was acting weird today. He said you’d tell us about it?”

Ray was glad his call in to the news had worked. If people knew to look out for Donnie and Hyde and their new accomplice or boss or whatever she was, then maybe that would get the criminals scared. Maybe they’d think twice before making another serious move. 

Further thought made Ray realize that maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to alert the town. Now the criminals knew to be careful, and that could prove to be a very bad thing for the superheroes. 

But he couldn’t worry about that now. He other pressing issues. 

“How is Henry?” He asked, concerned for the state of his sidekick. He hadn’t looked too good last night, and Ray was troubled thinking sleeping on it hadn’t done any good for the boy.

Charlotte shrugged, her eyebrows pulling down in concern. “Like Jasper said, he was acting weird.”

Ray looked back to Schwoz and sighed. He really didn’t feel like running through everything that was going wrong for him, but maybe repeating it all out loud, all at one time, would help him to see a pattern or a connection or anything, really.

“It’s a long story,” he started, taking a seat on the revolving couch. “But it starts when Henry and I answered a video call from Donnie and Hyde...”

----------

“Hello?” Henry called out in the store. “Jasper, you here?” He held the door open for Liz so she could step inside and out of the rain. 

Liz made her way around Henry and stopped short when she saw the store. When Jasper had told her he worked at a place called “Junk ‘n Stuff,” she had pictured something more like an antique shop but with none of the class. She was not expecting such a colorful, eclectic clutter of some of the strangest and yet most interesting things she’d ever seen.

A dinosaur head on the wall opened its mouth and shot out a stream of fire.

“What the hell?” Liz gasped, amazed.

Henry looked at her, taking note of the excited look on her face. Her eyes were wide and bright, like a fascinated little kid. He was wound pretty tight from the car ride over here, but he still managed a small laugh.

“Pretty strange, huh?”

Liz nodded slowly, spinning around to get a full few of the place. “I’ll say.” She walked away from Henry to see more of the items up close.

“I’m gonna go find Jasper.”

Liz absently waved a hand in his direction to acknowledge that she’d heard him. Her attention was solely focused on one of the random pieces of junk in the store.

Henry gave her one more look, smiling in amusement at how mesmerized she seemed to be before heading to the counter where he knew there was a button that would alert the Man Cave that he was up here.

Liz continued her prowl around the store, picking up things at random, looking at them up close, and laughing when they did the last thing she’d expect. For instance, she grabbed an odd hand device that was sitting on its wrist with the palm facing up like it was waiting for someone to put something in it. Liz examined it, trying to discover if there was some hidden purpose to the item. She found small holes at the tips of all the fingers save for the thumb. She gave an unexpected cry of delight when she pressed the pad of the thumb and bubbles shot out from the holes of all the other fingers.

She surprised herself with the sound and quickly covered her mouth with her free hand, almost as if she had done something wrong. She wasn’t one for squealing and rarely did she come across something that gave her just instant, childlike delight.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever seen.” She laughed to herself. She had invented devices that could deconstruct and then reconstruct items on a molecular level, yet she was the most mesmerized with this weird bubble blowing contraption. 

She wondered if Henry would let her buy it.

She heard him approach her.

"Are you okay?" He asked having heard her yelp.

She didn't look up from the hand as she responded. "Yeah, I'm good. I just really love this thing." She turned to show Henry, but stopped short when she saw who he was with. 

She nearly dropped the bubble blower. 

"Hey, Lizzie," Jasper breathed, fighting back a smile but failing miserably.

It'd been years since he had last seen his cousin, and so many emotions were rushing through him now that she was there in front of him. Words wouldn’t come, but he knew there wasn’t enough anyway, not for what he wanted to say to her. Even if he could’ve managed to get something out, it wouldn’t do what he was feeling justice. He didn’t know what to do except smile. Nothing else felt right.

Liz was overrun with the same rush of emotions, but she was more a girl of action than words anyway, so she did more than smile.

She practically shoved Henry out of the way to tackle her cousin in a bone-crushing hug.

Liz couldn't keep rigid or impassive now. Her job, that whole side of her, was gone. She was too elated to be anything but the little seven year old girl she was when she saw him last. Jasper was the most important person in her life. He was the only real family she had--at least, the only family that actually felt like family. Not even her job could come before him.

She knew that once the initial shock was over and they saw the end to this day, she would be back to putting her mission first, but for now, she had this moment, and neither work nor her boss could touch it. She wouldn’t let them.

Her boss could chew her out and her mission could commandeer her life when Jasper wasn’t around.

She pulled away from him after an immeasurable amount of time (it could've been ten seconds or ten minutes--she couldn't tell) and kept her grip on his arms, taking another moment to study him, to soak in just how much he'd grown.

"God, look at you." She marveled wondering how this tall teenager could be the little kid from her memories. "You're so....grown up."

Jasper rolled his eyes. "I could say the same thing to you. Since when do you have two front teeth?"

Liz laughed, remembering how she had knocked one her baby front teeth out trying to do a flip on her bike when she was seven. "For about ten years now, I guess." 

They were both quiet for a moment, letting it sink in just how long it had been. It hit both of them now, now that they were right in front of each other and seeing the changes the years had made, like taking a bowling ball to the gut. 

"It's really been ten years." Jasper remarked, his tone breathy in disbelief. He noticed Lizzie’s blue eyes were glistening. He had only ever seen her cry once--at his aunt and uncle’s funeral--so he didn’t bring any attention to it, knowing she wouldn’t like it if he did. 

Besides, to call her out would be to call himself out because he felt moisture pricking at the corners of his own eyes.

"Yeah," Liz whispered, thinking about how much she'd changed. She had a whole life she could never tell Jasper about. She was hardly the same girl he once knew. A lump formed in her throat. "It has." She managed to choke out. 

Henry, feeling like he was intruding on an important, intimate family moment, cleared his throat. 

“I'm gonna give you guys some privacy and go find Ray."

Jasper looked away from Lizzie to give Henry a concerned look. Ray had finished telling Jasper and Charlotte the story of yesterday not five minutes ago, and he was worried for his friend. He also knew Ray didn't have any good news to give Henry, and he didn't want to see him take anymore mental or emotional hits.

"Uh, be careful, okay?"

Henry frowned. "What do you mean?"

“Just, Ray told us about yesterday, and I don't want you to be upset if you don't hear what you want to hear."

Henry's expression hardened. Anger flashed through his eyes. He didn’t want Jasper to think he was mad at him, so he opted for saying nothing and left the two of them to go meet Ray. He tried his hardest not to linger on Jasper’s warning, not to let it get to him. There could still be good news. 

He had to believe that. 

“Is Ray your boss?” Liz asked once they were alone. 

Jasper looked back to her now that Henry was gone. “Yeah, he is.” He tried not to let Lizzie see how concerned he was for Henry, but ten years had apparently changed little between them; she could still tell when something was bothering him. 

She set the hand device down. “What’s wrong?” She looked to the direction Henry had disappeared to. “What was going on with Henry? He seemed...off today.”

Jasper shook his head in disbelief. “You always were really perceptive, even as a kid.”

Liz shrugged. “What can I say? It’s a gift.” She gave a smile but quickly snapped her brows together in a serious expression. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

“Always so bossy.” 

“Jasper.”

“And there’s the ‘get off my bike before I pummel you’ voice.” He noted, moving to take a seat behind the counter. “Have you met Henry’s little sister Piper? Because the resemblance is uncanny.”

Liz smiled, liking that she had the same fire she saw in Piper. “I have met her, and I think she’s awesome.” She could tell Jasper was going to interrupt--probably to refute what she’d said about Piper--so she held a hand up. “I also think you’re trying to change the subject.” She eyed him pointedly but softened her voice. “Tell me what’s going on with you.”

Jasper sighed. He’d have to tell her something, but he didn’t know what. He did know that he wasn’t very good at on the spot thinking though. Lizzie was tough and smart; she’d be able to see straight through him if he wasn’t careful. 

He fiddled with one of the items for sale on the counter, avoiding her gaze knowing that if he maintained eye contact with her, his eyes would betray him. “Henry just had a rough day at work yesterday.”

Liz looked around the empty store and then back to her cousin, both eyebrows lifted. “Rough?” She gestured behind her. “There’s no one here.”

“Oh, well, yesterday there was a...a...a,” he scanned the room helplessly, hoping to find inspiration somewhere. “There was a--a woman.” He sputtered. “Yeah, a woman came into to the store making all kinds of accusations against Henry.”

“Accusations,” Liz repeated, not really believing Jasper. She knew well enough to know when he was lying, but she didn’t push him for the truth. If Jasper considered it important enough to lie to her, then she would have to respect his decision. “What kind of accusations?”

Jasper pursed his lips. “Just that he wasn’t doing his job and was being rude to her.”

“Rude? Henry?” Liz knew this woman wasn’t real and there weren’t any accusations, but she still had a hard time accepting “Henry” and “rude” in the same sentence. “I admittedly don’t really know him, but even I can say that Henry is the farthest thing from rude.”

“Uh, yeah, I--I know.” Jasper answered quickly, relieved she was buying his story. “That’s why Hen was so shaken up about it.” He thought of Henry down in the Man Cave with Ray. “He was worried she’d file a complaint and get him fired or something. He probably went to ask Ray about it just now.”

Liz nodded, leading Jasper to believe he’d done well in spinning some completely bogus tale. She knew his concern was real though. Something had happened to Henry yesterday. Liz could tell that much just by taking one look at her cousin’s sullen face.

She didn’t want this moment to be a sad one though, and like with Henry, she wanted to get Jasper’s mind of his troubles, so she backed away from the counter and back to where she’d set the bubble blower down. “How much is this?”

Jasper could tell she was purposefully changing the subject, but he was glad for it. Lizzie had always been incredibly insightful when it came to other people’s feelings, and he knew she was able to discern that he didn’t want to talk about yesterday’s events any longer. 

He waved a hand in the air. “It’s free. Consider it a perk of having a family member who knows the boss.”

Liz’ nose crinkled, not liking his suggestion. She was already reaching in her back pocket for her phone (she had money in a little stick-on pouch on the back of it). “I can’t just not pay for it.” She looked around the store again. “You guys don’t seem to get too much traffic in here, so I think you could use the business.” She found a sticker on the bottom of the hand that labeled the price as ten dollars. She pulled a ten from the back of her phone and handed it to Jasper. She grabbed her bubble blower. “Souvenir,” she said holding it up for him to see. 

Jasper took her ten with a pout. “I could’ve made you take it for free.” He handed her a bag. 

“No you couldn’t have.” She stated simply taking the bag from him. She looked up at him once the item was in the bag and smiled, her eyes teasing. “But thank you anyway.”

Jasper’s face eased into one of contentment, not able to stay even slightly annoyed at her. He loved and missed her too much. 

Liz crossed her arms and leaned them on the counter. “So, where’s this Charlotte I’ve heard so much about? I want to meet her.” She’d heard some pretty impressive things about her cousin’s other best friend, and she wanted to meet the girl who belonged to all the remarkable stories. She sounded like someone Liz would be able to get on with like a house on fire. 

“She’s down--I mean, she’s in the back.” Jasper recovered. He didn’t like that he had to lie to Lizzie so much, but it was an occupational hazard when your best friend and boss were both superheroes. 

“This place has a back?” Liz questioned, doubting that the small building had enough room to have a back. 

“Yeah, it’s just where we keep the inventory.”

“There’s more of this stuff?” She jerked her head at a nearby stand with some items whose purpose not even Jasper knew. “Where does your boss find it all?”

Jasper pulled his lips in. He was precariously close to being caught in his lie. He also didn’t know how to answer her question. He wasn’t sure where Ray got all his weird store items. “I don’t know where the stuff comes from, actually. I just know that Charlotte is back there, and now I will...go get her for you. Stay here.” He held his hands out in front of him like he was instructing a dog to stay. 

Liz narrowed her eyes into slits, not liking his tone but also suspicious. Jasper seemed more nervous than she remembered. Whatever he was lying about had obviously really gotten to him. 

Jasper, satisfied that Lizzie wouldn’t follow him, disappeared to the back so he could call Charlotte. 

He was excited to introduce her to his cousin, but he was also thinking she could use a break from all the tension and stressful atmosphere in the Man Cave. Lizzie would provide a nice break from the doom and gloom they were all facing in the workplace today. 

He also believed they would be great friends; the two were so very similar. 

He dialed Charlotte’s number, fingers crossed hoping things weren’t going too badly beneath him. 

-----------

“So you’ve found out nothing?” Henry accused, shaking his head in disbelief. A sardonic laugh fell through his lips. “That’s just great.”

“We’re not too happy about it either, kid.” Ray said, trying to keep the anger and annoyance out of his own voice. 

Henry had come downstairs looking for answers Ray couldn’t give him, and when he didn’t hear what he wanted, the kid had exploded. Ray wanted to cut in to point out that he hadn’t had the best day today either, what with Schwoz keeping mum about whatever he knew and the fact that they hadn’t taken any steps closer to finding anything out, but he couldn’t berate the kid, not with how terrible Henry was looking. 

Ray noticed he was wearing the same clothes as yesterday; it was obvious he had slept in them by all the wrinkles. The dark bags that had worried Ray hadn’t gone away in the slightest. He suspected Henry hadn’t slept too well with so much on his mind, and his shortness with everyone was another indicator. Ray worried for what this meant for the both of them if Henry continued to obsess over this job, continued to deny himself sleep and proper health for the sake of getting to the bottom of things. He wouldn’t be able to take him out in the field. He couldn’t rely on Henry to make the right decision, not when he his judgement was so clouded. 

Ray was also wary of telling Henry to stay away from work for another day because that obviously didn’t sit well with the kid. 

So Ray had reached an impasse. The only thing he was sure of was that he wasn’t going to reprimand Henry for being snappy or brash.

“Then what have you been doing all day?” Henry snapped. He hadn’t meant to be so short with everyone, but once his hopes of hearing good news had been crushed, he couldn’t really help it. “I mean, you’ve obviously haven’t been finding any answers, so what was your time spent doing?” He whipped around to Charlotte, eyes wide and mad with desperation. “Please tell me you’ve found something, Char--anything.” His voice cracked, the hopelessness he was feeling leaking into his voice, flooding the anger out. 

Charlotte watched Henry with sad eyes. She couldn’t bear to see him so deflated, but she didn’t have anything uplifting to tell him. 

“No, I don’t.” She whispered, looking away from her friend, not allowing herself to see how he took it. “I’ve watched the videos a million times, but whoever this girl is, she’s good. I can’t find anyway to identify her.”

Henry dropped down heavily onto the rotating couch. He had no energy left. Whatever little bit he managed to muster up on the drive over here had been sapped as soon as Ray informed him that there wasn’t any progress. 

He scratched at the bump on his neck. 

“So that was a bug bite after all?” Charlotte asked, gesturing to Henry’s neck. 

“Yeah,” Henry muttered, dejected, before laying back on the couch. “Turns out that was nothing too.”

Ray and Charlotte shared similar miserable expressions. Henry’s hopelessness was infecting them. 

Charlotte’s phone buzzed in her back pocket. She really didn’t feel like spending the energy talking to anyone right now, but she read Jasper’s name as the caller ID and answered. 

“Yeah,” she sighed. 

Jasper obviously picked up on her tone. “Woah. That bad, huh?”

Charlotte looked over at Henry, who had both arms crossed over his face. “That bad.” She confirmed. “Why the call?”

“I know this isn’t the best timing, but my cousin is here. She really wants to meet you.” 

Charlotte closed her eyes and dropped her head into one hand. “Does it have to be right now, Jasper? I’m not sure I can make a good first impression right now.”

“Lizzie is really incredible, Char. It’s not gonna matter to her.”

Charlotte wanted to do as Henry had done, lay down and wallow in the futility of it all, but she knew that wasn’t healthy. Nothing good ever came from focusing on how bad a situation was. She was an inventor, a scientist. There were no bad situations--just an opportunity for improvement. 

She stood up from her seat. “Yeah, Jasper. I’ll be up there in a minute.”

“Great!” He replied. “And thank you, Charlotte. Really. This means a lot to me.”

Charlotte managed a half smile. “I know.”

She hung up and slipped her phone back in her pocket. “I’m going upstairs to meet Jasper’s cousin.” She was talking to Ray but looking at Henry. “Do you want to come with?”

Ray was looking at Henry too, but he felt a lot like Charlotte, that sitting down here focusing on all that was going wrong wasn’t going to help anyone. Maybe meeting a new face would be a nice change of pace for them all. 

“Yeah, sure. Maybe she got lucky and isn’t too much like Jasper.” Ray answered, trying to be light.

Charlotte scoffed. “They are related, you know.”

“That’s why I said maybe she got lucky.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes, but in truth, she appreciated Ray’s attempt at acting like things were normal. She turned to the sulking boy. “You coming Hen?”

Henry wanted to be like his friends. He wanted to be able to just refocus his attention on something positive, but he’d already done that, and the positive had quickly switched to negative. He couldn’t take another hit like that. He figured it was safest to just expect the worst, that way he wouldn’t be surprised when things went to hell. 

And, on the off chance that something actually did turn out well for all of them, then it would be a pleasant surprise. 

He took his arms off his face and slowly sat up. “Yeah, whatever.” He droned in a dull monotone.

Another look was shared between Ray and Charlotte, but they said nothing as the three of them filed into the elevator and headed for the store. 

Schwoz walked out of hiding then, a pained expression on his face. He didn’t like seeing everyone in such low spirits--especially Henry. The boy was usually very lively, hardly letting anything get him down, but now he acting like someone had snuffed his inner spark. 

Schwoz couldn’t tell them now. He couldn’t drop another heavy load on them while they were already trying to stand up after the last one. He would continue to do as he had done yesterday: quietly work on his theory and pray to anyone who would listen that it all worked out. 

He hated to think what would become of all of them if it didn’t. 

-----------

“You already know Henry. This is my boss, Ray.” 

Ray gave Liz a little wave. “Nice to meet you. Henry--I mean Jasper--has told me a lot about you.” He hoped she hadn’t caught on to his faux pas. In truth, he had heard more about this girl from Henry than from Jasper. Last night, she was practically all the kid could talk about, but that wasn’t something she could know. 

Liz nodded at Ray. “Nice to meet you, too. I know how much this job means to Jasper, so thank you for hiring him.”

Ray was struck by the girl’s sincerity. He hadn’t expected a thank you from her, of all things. He gave a shaky smile, not sure how to react.

“And this is the genius herself, the mastermind, the one and only, the Charlotte.” Jasper announced, pushing Charlotte forward past Ray and Henry and towards Lizzie. 

“Thank you, Jasper, for that totally modest introduction.” Charlotte deadpanned, obvious sarcasm in her voice. She turned to Liz and managed a friendly smile despite how much she really didn’t feel like smiling. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Jasper hasn’t stopped talking about you.”

“Likewise,” Liz said, taking notice of how Charlotte’s eyes didn’t match her smile. They all had similar sadness behind their eyes, so whatever had happened, it apparently had happened to all of them. “I hear you’re a regular Marie Curie.”

Charlotte lifted her chin, respecting Liz’ choice to name a female scientist. She definitely liked this girl. “I could say the same thing to you.”

Jasper was beaming watching the two of them. He was so ecstatic to see them getting on just as well as he predicted that he was practically shaking from excitement. 

“Did you know Charlotte invented a device that could turn sound into energy?” He blurted, not waiting for the two of them to get on the topic of their inventions on their own. “Ooh, and Lizzie invented a self-purposing coffee machine that ran on its own coffee grounds!”

Liz and Charlotte looked at each other and laughed, finding Jasper’s eagerness amusing.

“Thanks, J, but, uh, I think we’ve got it from here.” Liz reasoned gently, wanting to have a chance to have a real conversation with Charlotte, just the two of them. 

She was a little bummed that she couldn’t reveal some of her best work to her fellow inventor, but those inventions were made for her job. She’d have to miss out on this opportunity to get a scientist’s as well as an engineer’s perspective on her projects. 

“Oh, but there’s also this one time when we were kids and Lizzie--” 

“Jasper,” Charlotte cut in. “It’s really not necessary for you to--”

“And Charlotte made a device once that could--”

“Jasper, shut up!” Both girls yelled at the same time. The turned to each other and laughed, both thinking the same thing as well. 

This girl is definitely best friend material. 

It was a thought that felt bittersweet to the both of them. 

Charlotte was regretful because she knew Liz would be gone, back to California, in a week. She was also facing a very serious problem with Ray and Henry and Donnie and Hyde and this Mystery Girl, so she wasn’t sure now was the best time to make another friend. She wasn’t sure how much of a friend she could be anyway, what with her attention so divided and with so many things to worry about. It hurt to think, but she might have to miss out on an amazing opportunity with Liz to spare Liz the disappointment of not having someone who could commit to a friendship with her. 

If only she had met her at a different time. 

Liz was feeling very similar but for a very different reason. She had come for a mission. Her boss had warned her not to get to attached, but he was warning her about Jasper. He had no idea that Liz would feel compromised because of Jasper’s two incredible friends. 

Here she was, meeting quite possibly the coolest person she’d ever met, and she would have to deny herself the chance for a wonderful friendship. 

But that was her job. That was one of the sacrifices she had made: friendship for respect. She had become so good at her job, so dedicated, because she had nothing to distract her. No friends. No real family (Jasper lived on the other side of the country, practically, and a whole decade had passed where she hadn’t seen him once). None of what the four people in front of her had. Whatever she faced, she faced alone. She had no one to bear it with her. 

And she had accepted this. She had only been officially working for four years, but four years prior had been spent training, getting her ready for what her life was going to be. She came to just take being alone and shouldering problems alone as a way of life. She wasn’t saying it was easy, but it was just the way it is. She kept her thinking that way, that this was just how things went for her, because it kept her from questioning it. It kept her from rebelling. If she never acknowledged the other side, the other possibilities, than she never worried about what she was missing. 

But now she had Jasper and Henry and Charlotte all standing in front of her, all people she knew that if she let herself, she could love all of them. She could know what was causing the pain behind all their eyes and she could help remedy it. 

But that wasn’t her life. She wasn’t like them, and she couldn’t let herself even consider the possibility. She had to think of her job only. 

She gave Charlotte a tight-lipped smile. “This sound to energy converter sounds radical.” 

“I can tell you my thought process, if you’d like?”

Liz had a similar expression to the rest of the room now; dark eyes that exposed the lie of the false smile. “Yeah, definitely. Do you have it with you?”

Charlotte face twisted into a sneer. “No, it was destroyed by some reckless...kid.” She finished, not wanting to reveal Schwoz’ identity.

They walked off talking about science and engineering, using words none of the boys could ever dream of understanding. 

During the entirety of their whole conversation, both of them had, nagging in the back of their mind, that whatever bond they were making would have to be fleeting, and it left them both feeling hollow. 

-----------

“I’m gonna go to sleep.” Henry announced with little emotion behind his voice once they had gotten back to his house. 

Ray, Charlotte, Liz, and Henry had only just managed to placate an upset Jasper who didn’t want to be separated from his cousin with the promise that he could come over for dinner tomorrow. Henry didn’t feel like entertaining company now or tomorrow or anytime in the foreseeable future, but he wouldn’t let himself be selfish like that. 

His own problems were not reason enough to be mad at Liz for staying at his house or at Jasper for wanting to spend time with her. It wasn’t their fault he was finding it hard to be optimistic or happy. He would just have to push his internal conflicts down and wait for a time when he was alone to acknowledge them. 

Liz nodded, understanding without Henry telling her that he really wanted to be alone. “Yeah, sure. I’ll tell anyone who asks not to disturb you.”

Henry looked to her to see her giving him a warm, understanding smile. His heart clenched, and he had to agree with Jasper. 

Liz truly is incredible. 

He left her then sitting on the couch in the living room so he could retire to his room. He shut the door, giving people the impression that he didn’t want to be bothered, and flopped on his bed, again not bothering to change his clothes or take off his shoes. 

He feel asleep immediately like he had last night, but this time it was more from mental exhaustion rather than physical exhaustion. 

He was once again awakened by a knock on his door. He read the time on the alarm clock next to his bed. It was nine o’clock. He’d slept for almost four hours. 

Liz must’ve stayed true to her word and kept his parents away because they hadn’t even woken him up for dinner. 

But now someone had come knocking on his door. 

Henry was still groggy, but sleep had helped his mood the slightest bit. His brain didn’t feel so drained, and therefore wasn’t making anything he did--like getting out of bed--feel like it took maximum effort.

He made his way to his door and opened it, expecting to find his mother coming to check on him. Instead, he found no one. 

He was about to just close the door and chalk it all up to his imagination when he looked down and say something on the ground: a plate of chocolate chip cookies and a glass of milk had been set down for him along with a note. 

Henry didn’t have to read it to know who had placed them there. 

He picked the plate and glass up, shut the door, set the food on his nightstand, and sat on his bed to read what Liz wrote. 

A lump the size of a golf ball lodged itself in his throat as he read the letter. 

“’Hey Henry. I felt bad about not having any cookies for you earlier, so I asked your mom if we could bake some more. She was literally jumping up and down while she said yes.’” Henry laughed, picturing his mom doing that very thing, and continued on. “’Anyway, I know you and Jasper and Charlotte and even your boss are going through something rough right now--you most of all. You don’t have to tell me what it is. I don’t need to know. But, I do know that chocolate chip cookies are magical. They make the hard times seem not so bad. (I think it’s the way the chips melt, you know?)’” He smiled at her anecdote. “So, here’s a whole batch, just for you. I don’t know how much it’ll help, but I hope it’s enough to remind you that things do get better...eventually. You just gotta find the melted chips in the cookie of life. God, that was lame. Sorry. Enjoy the cookies. Liz.’”

He held the note for a moment longer, watching as the paper shook as his hands did. He was surprised when he saw a drop of water at the bottom. He knew that wasn’t there before, so he felt his eyes and found that, unknowingly, a few tears had escaped his eyes. 

“Thank you, Liz.” He whispered out loud to his empty room. 

He knew she couldn’t hear him but still hoped that somehow the sentiment had made its way through his wall and to her room on the other side. He wanted her to know that her act of kindness had struck him hard. It had been the kind of thing he needed, and somehow she had known when even he didn’t know himself. Once again, his horrible day was salvaged because of the character of this one person.

He wasn’t okay, but he was the slightest bit better, and that made the world of a difference.

He took a bite of a cookie, agreeing with Liz. 

Chocolate chip cookies were magical. 

A/N Part 2: THE ANGST! I KNOW! I LITERALLY CRIED WRITING THAT LAST SCENE. :’(((((( I feel really bad for hitting Henry with all this stress, but at the same time, I love grittier stories. No one is gonna be happy in this fic. But, rest assured, there will be little bits of happiness scattered throughout the chapters (like the chips in the cookies!!!!!! lol), and because they’re going through some heavy stuff, stronger relationships will be made in turn. :)))))) Sorry if this chapter seemed boring. It wasn’t really a filler, but at the same time, it wasn’t full of action. I liked developing Liz x Henry’s relationship more because I’m really liking how it’s playing out so far. They have a LOT more in common than either one thinks, and it makes for an ironic, unintentional bond. They’re accidentally bonding over similar life experiences, and neither one knows. What did you think of Char x Liz??? It was a long time coming. lolol What about that sweet reunion between Jasper x Liz? I felt bad shoving their reunion to the back the last few chapters, but it made the moment more important when it actually did come. What do you think Schwoz knows? How do you think Ray will react when Schwoz finally tells him? What was the mystery contents of the delivery truck? Why were they important to Liz? Where did they get dropped off? Whom did they get dropped off to??? So many questions, so few answers. Next chapter will have another Liz mission, and this time we’ll get a little more insight into what this big “plan” is. Also, Henry will start to get suspicious of Liz, no matter how much he doesn’t want to. It’ll hurt, lads. Don’t expect to be happy either.....muahahahahaha Hope you enjoyed! Hope I kept you entertained, in suspense, and wanting more! Let me know what you thought!!!! xoxoxoxoxo

[imgilmoregirl]

AO3 Link

Notes: WARNING: In the flashbacks we have the afterwards of the accident, so the child death thing will be really strong here. Also, mentions to the miscarriage again.

P.S.: All medical information in here is as real as possible, just of course, not Sarah's miracle awakening from coma. Am I a medical geek? A huge Grey's Anatomy fan? Or just someone who had to face lots of med classes only to get a teaching degree? All of it, lol.

In Need of Hope

Robert and Isabelle couldn't wait for an ambulance, but none of them were feeling good enough to drive either, so Ruby took them to the hospital in her bright red car. It was just around eight when they arrived and doctor Whale took Sarah in alongside his new assistant, Ariel and it took him only a few minutes to come back to the waiting room. Ruby had already left to help Granny tying up the dinner and Gold was alone with Belle who was impatiently toying with the handle of her purse. Only a small sight of Whale and she was up on her feet again, eager to know any news about their girl; Gold however needed a longer moment to stand up with the help of his cane.

"Sarah is not in coma again," Whale said and both of them were able to breathe properly again. "She just fainted."

"Oh, thank God," Belle sighed in relief. "But why did this happen?"

"I'm not sure yet, we are making a few more exams," he answered taking a quick look at the tablet he was holding. "You can see her once we are done."

They thanked him and Whale disappeared in the corridor and Belle hugged herself as she watched him leave. It was only then that Robert realised she was still wearing the same dress Ruby had gifted her with and it had no sleeves and was rather short, ending just before her knees. He thought himself an idiot to not have noticed until now that she must have been trembling all the time.

"Are you cold?"

"A little bit, yes..." Belle admitted and he took off his jacket, placing it around her shoulders and receiving a brief but grateful smile from her before it faded and she whispered: "I'm afraid."

"I know, but she is going to be alright. Sarah survived coma, she can survive whatever decease is taking her."

Opening his arms for Belle, he let her nestle on his chest in what he thought to be an instinctive gest. She needed comfort, he wasn't the right person to offer it and probably the last one she would like to, but he was the only one she had right now.

"Let's just hope," Belle murmured and allowed him to lead her back to their seats.

It was going to be a long night, but as long as it ended-up well, neither of them wouldn't mind spending hours and hours awake.

Seven Months Ago.

She woke up feeling hazy and sleepy, too numb to be just awakening in a normal day at her own bed beside her loving husband and that was how reality hit her hard. Belle was laid of her back, arms resting at each side of her body an insistent beeping resounding in the walls, her body felt twice as heavy as it did before and her head ached. Turning her head to the other side, she saw a grumpy nurse taking notes.

"My children?" Belle tried to ask but her voice sounded low and hoarse.

She coughed a couple of times, causing the nurse to look up, leaving the medical records, in which she was working, aside.

"Mrs. Gold, it is so good to see you awake," the woman attempted to smile, but it was a very fail attempt. "Do you know where you are? The name of the place you were born?"

"Do I look like a fool?" Belle answered harshly. "This is Storybrooke's freaking hospital, now tell me what happened to my children."

In other days she wouldn't have treated that poor woman so badly but her worry was interfering in her behaviour. Belle remembered everything perfectly, from the moment the car started to spin unstoppably in the road, by the moment she yelled at David Nolan to safe her children and leave her behind. Obviously, they all had made it to the hospital, so they should have some information and right now, she needed it.

Belle tried to sit up but groaned with a sharp pain that surged from her abdomen, which made her remember about her own wounds and the child she most certainly lost. Tears came to her face, as Belle let herself fall back to the pillows and the nurse touched her shoulder empathically.

"Please, Mrs. Gold, calm down, “she begged, looking genuinely worried too. "You've been through a very delicate surgery, you lost lots of blood and there were permanent damages. You lost the baby you were expecting, but even if it was due to the accident, it would have happened anyway, because you were going through an ectopic pregnancy."

"Excuse me?" Belle furrowed at the new term.

"It means the baby hadn't settled on your womb when it should've. The mass of cells was trapped on your right tube which cause the loss of it. I'm afraid the other has been damaged in the accident and is dysfunctional by now, so I'm truly sorry to say you probably will never conceive again."

Slowly, her eyes slid shut. It didn't bring her any comfort to know it wouldn't have been a successful pregnancy even if anything had happened and hearing the words "mass of cells" made Belle want to jump to the nurse's neck and strangle her. It was a baby, no matter how little it was. A life had been lost, they hadn't removed a cancer. She hated medicine sometimes. And she hated the fact she was never going to have the chance of having another child anymore, but couldn't give much a thought about it now, not when she still had two precious little ones to care about.

"I want to see my children," she told the nurse, throwing the sheets that covered her away and managing to sit up successfully this time, even though it caused her a horrible pain.

"I don't think this is the right thing to do now."

"Well, you don't get to decide it, I do," Belle answered pulling herself up to her feet and sliding to the wheelchair before she could fall. "Take me to them."

The nurse's lips tightened as she reached for the records again, when she turned around again, Belle could see that her name was Gabrielle Smith. She would never forget it, because that woman was the responsible for telling her the worse news of her life.

"Mrs. Gold, you should prepare yourself," Ms. Smith said, snorting heavily. "It was a very serious accident. Your son, Baden wasn't wearing a belt, he was thrown out of the car."

Of course, Belle already knew it, she had seen it with her own eyes, but it didn't yet make sense to her.

"Is he alright?"

"He had an internal bleeding that we managed to stop, but he hit his head really badly on the fall," there was a pause, a really long pause in which Belle swore her heart stopped in anticipation. "He was brain dead when he arrived two days ago. Last night the rest of his body gave up."

Still, the words meant no much to her for long, long seconds. Maybe her mind didn't want to make sense out of it, because she knew the pain would eventually come, but Belle stayed there, staring at the nurse with a limp face. Then, she started to shake and tears started to fill her eyes as the silence helped her to understand. His brain died, his heart gave up. He was dead. Her boy, her beloved Baden was gone.

The memories came in a flash: the first time she held him, just a toddler sucking his own finger, the day he called her his mama after his teacher saying his mother was there to pick him. Belle had been stunned by how quickly children could get attached to people and accept realities, Baden never had a mother, so when someone presented him the chance of having one, he embraced it gratefully. From that day and own, she was mama, mummy or simply ma all the time and she couldn't be happier. One day, Belle was simply a librarian dating the mysterious pawnbroker and in the next one she was taking a little boy to the park and buying him gifts.

People say your life chances once you feel your baby moving within your womb for the very first time, hers did when Baden Gold giggled at her from his father's arms and stretched himself into her direction, silently asking to be hold. Now, it was all over and she couldn't quite accept it.

"I want to see him," Belle demanded, taking away the clip on her finger that plugged her to one of the machines and looking up at the nurse. "Please, he is my boy."

It was probably what made the nurse sigh loudly and push her wheelchair through the white corridors of the hospital, but when they reached for the metal door and Belle saw that Gold was coming from the opposite direction, accompanied by another doctor, she understood they would eventually have to face it anything, if now or then it didn't truly mattered. She reached for his hand when he approached and Belle noticed there was a gesso covering one of his legs.

"Robert," she mumbled in a broken voice. "Did they tell you?"

He nodded wordlessly, eyes fixed in her face. It was like the moment they got married and they looked at each other knowing they had a new responsibility, but this time it was all too sad and heart-breaking to have a beautiful meaning. They were in this together just like they were in anything else for live, but none of them wanted to go on with this and see what waited for them behind that metal door. Time was needed, but their companions couldn’t quite understand it and pushed their chairs inside.

Victor Whale, one of the towns most known doctor was there, talking to a redhead, but he turned around when he heard the door been open and his face became expressionless as he walked towards the table in the centre of the room and uncovered the small body above it.

"Mr. Gold, Mrs. Gold, I'm really sorry."

But no condolences could be really heard by now. Robert and Isabelle’s eyes were fixed on Bae’s pale face, eyelids closed and a bit more protuberant than it would have been before. It was one of the effects of the brain dying first, Belle had read once. Until now she had stuck to medical terms that only made sense for her in books, however once Bae was laid in front of her and she could see the reality with her own eyes it all became real and made her shoulders shake as started to sob. He wasn’t moving. He would never move again.

"No," she heard Robert murmuring beside her. "No, please no."

With some effort he pulled herself up to her feet, feeling the jolts of pain take her breath way, but she managed to slid to the metal table, taking a seat beside her son and touching his cold face.

"Bae… My sweet, darling Baden," she wept, lifting him up on her arms and hiding her face on his hair. "No!"

Her scream was a painful and pitiful thing to hear, she was crying, holding a dead boy in her arms and all everybody could do was to watch, because of them understood her pain. Gold was still sat on his chair, silent tears falling from his eyes, getting more and more constant at each second. Whale took a deep breath and approached Belle, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"Mrs. Gold you can't - "

"Get your hands off me," she yelled at him. "I want my son! My Bae!"

"Isabelle - " he tried again.

"No," the brunette retorted. "He was supposed to be going to a party. He asked me to take him to the movies! He is just a child!"

She was getting hysterical and he gently tried to pull Baden’s body away from her, but Belle acted like a fierce lioness protecting her puppies, she wouldn’t let go and the hospital couldn’t allow her to keep in contact with a deceased person when she had just gone through a surgery. The doctor summoned the other two and pointed at Belle.

"Take her out and give her some medicines to calm her down," Whale instructed.

There was a quick battle in which Belle fought to not be separated from Bae but ended-up being dragged away by Robert’s doctor as she screamed repeatedly: "I don't need your fucking medicines I need my son!"

"Mrs. Gold..." Whale trailed off in a weary voice.

"Where is Sarah?" Belle asked with a sob. "Is she dead too?"

He shook his head, but by the wrinkles that appeared in his brow she knew nothing good was about to come and, oh, what she wouldn’t give to be the one thrown out of the car to certain death in that moment.

"She is in coma," he answered.

Then, she felt something jabbing her arm and everything went dark.

Present days.

Exams took a long time to get ready, it was no surprise for anyone, so Gold and Belle had made themselves comfortable near Sarah in the emergency room. She was awake when they first entered there, a bit confused on why she was back to that place, but once they explained her the doctors thought she could be sick and needed to know what was making her faint, she was pretty understandable and fell asleep in her mother’s arms. But it had been hours ago.

Robert had allowed himself to take a nap on the chair beside Sarah’s bed, in which Belle was curled up with her, however he woke up after no much time and checked his phone to see there were a thousand and one missing calls from Ruby Lucas, but didn’t give much a thought to it, he had no news for her and Belle would eventually make the call herself. He sighed and fixed his eyes on what was left of his family, sleeping on that hospital bed. Gold heard steps coming from the hallway and glanced over his shoulder to see Whale walking towards him.

"Excuse me, can we talk outside for a moment?"

He nodded to the doctor and got a hold of his cane, standing up with some difficulty and shaking Belle’s shoulder to wake her up. Her nose wrinkled beautifully and she whimpered before opening her eyes.

"Sweetheart," Robert murmured, brushing the hair away from her face. "The doctors have news."

Whale was waiting for them in one of the corridors away from the patients and he had his “bad news face” on, which made Gold feel out of breath. He had been hoping and praying – even thought it was a really out of faith thing from his part – ever since he saw his daughter laying still in Ruby’s arms, and now he knew it all was for nothing. Something as already happening and he doubted they could stop that. And, God, he couldn’t lose another child.

"So what Sarah have is a deep anaemia. That's probably due to the time she spent in coma receiving all those kinds of medicines," Whale begun, looking between them as if he was making sure both were still fine. "We need to start a treatment soon or it can turn into a leukaemia."

"And what shall be done?" Gold immediately questioned.

"The most recommended treatment, the faster and more efficient uses stem cells," he explained. "We usually ask the family for identical sample, because it can take us years to find one that matches Sarah, but well, it is out of consideration in here, so we will start with more meds and try to find matching cells to use in her."

Glancing at Belle, he could see that she had her eyes closed and was nodding slowly. He knew what she was thinking, f it wasn’t for the things that happened in that accident or the way she had been hurt, then maybe they could have a chance to save their daughter for sure. Gold wasn’t an idiot, he knew stem cells could only be find at the beginning of a life and an identical sample required the same genetic material as Sarah. It was going to be a rocky road to find a donor compatible to her.

"There is nothing we can do to help?" Belle asked, hopelessly.

"Did you keep the blood of Sarah's umbilical cord stocked somewhere?" the doctor inquired. "Because that would be a life-saver."

Once upon a time he remembered hearing about clinics that stocked those kind of things, but who could ever imagine you would need stem cells to any sort of treatment? Only a few people in this world needed this stuff and they could never guess Sarah would be one of those.

"No," his wife shook her head. "We never thought it could be of much use."

"Well then, I'll prescribe her the right medicine and you can take her home," Whale said, lips tightened as he looked for a pen in his coat’s pockets. "I'll keep in contact about the cells."

They nodded, hearing him curse over the fact he had lost another pen, before making his way to the main counter to ask the attendant for one. Robert turned around to look at Belle and saw that she was visibly shaking, a hand pressed firmly to her throat.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm trying not to throw up," she confessed.

He quickly disappeared on the hallway and came back a few seconds later with a plastic cup in his hands, offering it to her and helping Belle to sit as he cradled her shoulders in his arms. It was a too-intimate gest to a basically divorced couple, but she never sent him any papers to sign and didn’t ask people to use her maiden name in any occasion, so he thought that maybe it was alright to give her some comfort.

"Drink some water it will be good for you," he advised and she lifted the cup to her lips, drinking eagerly.

Belle had never spoken about her weekly sections with Archie, although he knew she kept going there, because all the trauma had affected her deeply and sometimes he wondered if she would ever be the old Belle again. Crying the way she was doing now, had never been her thing.

"Sarah will be alright, won't she?"

"Yes, my love," Gold guaranteed, although he too needed some reassurance. "I promise she will."

The doctor came back a few moments later with the prescription and he took her and a still sleepy Sarah to the library’s apartment. Gold then, worked like the father he once was, sending Belle to take a bath while he cleaned the make-up and the glitter from Sarah’s face and changed her fairy outfit for a pair of pyjamas, he tucked her in bed and was just about to leave when Belle appeared in the room, wearing a huge t-shirt and a pair of shorts. She slid under the covers of the bed and tapped the empty space by her side.

"Robert, can you stay with me tonight?"

He wanted to say no, to confess it would only break him even more if he spent the night cuddling her knowing they had no future, but her voice was a pleading he couldn’t deny anything to, so he took off his jacket, tie, waistcoat and shoes and laid by her side, allowing Belle to tuck herself under his chin, getting comfortable before falling asleep.

The night had been a true hell for him. Gold hadn’t been this close from his wife for six months now, he had a lot to think given Sarah’s new condition and all he could to was try to control himself and not enjoy too much the warmth of a woman’s body beside his. He was afraid of falling asleep and accidentally having a wet dream about Belle, which wouldn’t be a surprise to happen this days, but he didn’t want to shame himself, so he kept awake instead, watching the beauty sleep and wondering how he could have been so lucky for her to have wanted him one day.

It wasn’t the case anymore of course. She was sad, needed comfort and he was there to hold her when she needed, but he was pretty sure once Belle woke up she would expel him from her apartment just like she did the day Moe entered there without permission. He had to admit that he missed her, though. She was the love of his life and he wished he hadn’t being such a bastard to pull her away the way he did. Gold knew she would have continued to fight for them if it wasn’t for the things he said and, if today she didn’t want to have anything to do with him anymore, then it was his own fault.

And as a big bastard as he was, he couldn’t help but remembering the amazing years he had spent by Belle’s side during that night. Life had once been magical for them, but today it was only a weird black and white path they didn’t want to be facing.

When she eventually woke up, around six in the morning, Belle offered him coffee and Robert had a nice breakfast by her side before excusing himself to work. Not that he was really planning on staying much time open like he did every Sunday after Baden’s death, today actually, he needed a drink stronger than the expresso Belle gave him. He made his way to the shop feeling exhausted enough to not notice the man standing in front of his door at first.

"Mr. Gold, I was waiting for you," detective Rogers said with that stupid smile of his.

"I told you to get away from me," Gold remarked finding his keys and opening the shop's door. "I don't want to have anything to do with this case, I have my own problems."

"But - "

Rogers was interrupted by the sound of a car's door being rudly closed and looked away from Gold to see a little blonde girl, about ten years old rushing to his side.

"Papa!"

"Tilly, I thought I've told you to say in the car."

"Mummy is calling you again," the girl explained lifting up a cell, "should I turn the phone off?"

"Good idea, now go back," Rogers insisted.

Rolling her eyes, the girl finally did as he said. He couldn't even count how many times Bae did this same thing, rolling his eyes like he thought the whole world was a silly place. Gold would do anything to see him doing it now and if it wasn't for that one job he agreed to do for Regina - and not exactly for her, but for the whole town's sake - he would still have his son there with him.

"Let me warn you about something, detective," Gold said, against his better judgment. "If you love your child, get the hell away from this town, because seven months ago I had a beautiful, strong boy and now, because of this case he is dead."

The other man's eyes got wide and he sensed that Rogers was about to say something, however Gold didn't give him the chance, he entered his shop and slammed the door shut behind himself. He went to behind the counter and opened the safe where he kept a good scotch and a few other things, finding a glass and opening the lid when a bang came from the backroom and Robert turned around, startled.

"Who is there?"

He wasn’t really expecting the curtains to be pulled away to reveal Jefferson Madden, in fact he thought a cat might have broken in through that gap on the window he always forgot to fix, however there was only one person in that town despite of Belle who had his shop keys. His fucking best friend.

"Hey, I was looking for you," Jefferson said with his usual large smile. "Sorry I didn't make it to Sarah's birthday, Grace has a flu, but I've got her a present."

Madden put a sparkly purple box on the counter, but Gold merely snorted at it, because he truly wanted to be alone right now and Jefferson was ruining his intentions to drink until he passed out.

"Thanks, I'll get it to her tomorrow," he answered, hoping the guy would leave, which he obviously didn’t.

If there was one insistent person in Storybrooke, it was certainly Jefferson. The reason they were friends was probably because they were very alike, bad childhood, a thing for sarcasm, hate for most of the town, lots of money and an unconditional love for their wives and children. Belle had always enjoyed hanging out with him and Alice, but it had been quite a while since he saw Madden.

Not that he hadn’t received quite a lot of messages, phone calls and some visits from time to time, but Gold didn’t want to see anyone after Baden’s death. He had accepted company during the funeral, but it was only because it was supposed to be short and quick moments of condolence. Then, he preferred to deal with his pain all by himself, which was why he felt angry at himself for not just going home instead of coming to the shop, as Jefferson had started to pace around with no intentions to leave.

"You need to stop opening this place at Sundays,” Madden suggested. “The whole Storybrooke is closed."

Sighing deeply, Gold leaned against his cane impatiently.

"Jefferson, why did you come here?"

"Ruby said that Sarah fainted," he answered.

Of course, she did. A damned secret couldn’t be kept in that town. Not that he didn’t know Ruby had probably told him about that because she was worried and knew that Jefferson was one of the only few people capable of talking some sense into him, since Belle wasn’t able to do it at the moment, but it didn’t made him feel any less irritated.

"Anaemia,” Robert explained. “Another thing we didn't need to face."

He took the bottle of scotch in hands again and started to pour himself a drink before Jefferson’s hand stopped him. Gold arched an eyebrow at him, wondering how he could dare to put himself between him and his scotch, but the expression in Madden’s face was so serious that he truly caught the preoccupation in there.

"It's ten in the morning, you are not drinking," Jefferson stated. "Come on, you are going home with me."

"I don't want to get a flu," Gold grumbled, watching as he picked the bottle and closed the lid, throwing the half-full glass on the trash can.

"You are not," he guaranteed. "Alice will be upstairs with Grace all the time and you and I will have some fun with playing chess."

"Jefferson, playing chess is not fun."

Madden furrowed as if utterly disagreeing with it. They used to go out for drinks, play billiards and just talk in general, but as Gold was having this little problem with alcohol, Jefferson obviously wouldn’t that him to The Rabbit Hole or any other place like that.

"Alice wouldn't like if I took you to the arcade,” Jefferson pondered. “They got some dancers there."

"My child is sick, I don't want to go out," Robert insisted.

"Sarah is strong, we both know it and you won't help with anything if you keep locked here drinking forever," he replied firmly, gesticulating towards the door. "Stop being stupid and come along."

Gold had a choice, he could go or he could stay, but he did followed Jefferson out and not because it was what he truly wanted to do, but because it was what he needed to do to be a better father to Sarah.

It had been ages since Belle felt so safe as she did in Robert’s arms in that night, she slept peacefully even after such bad news. She only asked him to stay because she didn’t trust herself to not have the biggest anxiety attack she did in her whole life if she stayed alone. Belle felt useless. Sarah needed stem cells and she could be able to provide it for her body still worked like it should. It all was so pointless that she kept having her period every single month but she couldn’t actually conceive any more children.

She felt stupid too. Belle had read about stocking umbilical cord’s blood and she hadn’t given much attention to it, so now all it was left for her was to pray that somewhere out in this world a child would have similar genetic material to Sarah and could save her illness to evolving to a leukaemia.

Her breakfast with Gold had been peaceful, almost like the ones they used to share before, but he left all too soon before she could even attempt to ask him about what was happening between them in the day prior before Sarah fainted. Then, she was left to prepare something for her daughter to eat before she woke up. Sarah came to the living room yawing and rubbing at her eyes. Belle served some sandwiches for her and she started to eat while her mother washed the dishes.

"Mama," Sarah called from her seat by the counter.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Belle inquired, approaching the little girl and touching her forehead to check if she wasn’t warm with fever. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah," the little girl waved her head positively, drawing patters on her plate using some of the jam that had fallen from her sandwich. "Last night Bae told me we need to believe in miracles. He said everything will be fine in the end."

Belle smiled at her, but her heart was pounding furiously inside her chest. She truly thought Sarah’s dreams were just dreams, but the words coming out of her mouth made her shiver, just as if they were a prediction.

"Your brother had always been a faithful person," she murmured, petting Sarah’s hair.

"I believe in him."

And oh, she wished she could have the same faith.

[anabcwomantlot]

September 28, 2020

 Today’s blog is sorrowful and tragic. In times like these, my hope rests on my faith that brighter tomorrows, even if it’s not on this earth, are on the horizons just fingertips away. 

I gathered my garbage around 8:30 this morning because it is the week’s first trash pick-up day. Since there is not an official time schedule, one had better get the trash into those g-bins before the t-collectors arrive. Trust me, I’ve had to run many a-days after hearing the booming sounds of the truck’s motor as it rambled and roared throughout my neighborhood of garden-apartments. There were days when I failed to beat the t-collectors.  Unfortunately, I would return home with my trash until the next weekly pick up day…three days later. I prefer not to have my trash stay in the g-bins those many days because I don’t want to attract unwanted critters. About 20 minutes after dumping my trash, I noticed a tiny bag of garbage left in my kitchen. Quickly, I hurried out of my apartment to dispose of it only to be faced with several police officers standing outside a neighbor’s apartment.  

I live in a reasonably safe neighborhood. Rarely are sirens heard. But when I do hear a siren, most often, I would say a prayer and hope no lives were lost. This morning, sirens hadn’t announced the officers’ arrival. Almost like thieves, they entered my neighborhood quietly. Like the unobtrusive whispers you hear at wakes or funerals. As I scanned the scene, I noticed two police cars in the parking lot, five officers, one was a female, all wore gloves as they moved about in front of my neighbor’s closed door, whose apartment is five doors from my apartment plus there’s a four foot long bush between our apartments. One of the officers was filling out a form, as the other officers conversed in soft voices, or as my pre-k through first graders would probably say, “The police officers were using their indoor voices outside, Ms. Roxy.” 

My suspensions were confirmed when I noticed the Medical Examiner’s van. My neighbor, whom sadly I don’t know if male or female, had died. We aren’t very neighborly here in my community. People leave their apartment, go straight into their cars, and drive off or exit from their cars to rush into their homes. I’ve tried speaking to folks but too many times, my greetings were ignored. I seriously think my brown skin is a barrier they aren’t “feeling…” if you know what I mean. I’ve lived in my community for five years and three months (five days away). As I walk through my neighborhood, I tend to hold my head down; it just makes it less painful if I’m perceived as detached or disinterested. Although there are about 24 garden apartments in my immediate area, I only speak to seven or eight neighbors whose apartments are directly within my loop.  

Out of respect for my deceased neighbor, I slowed my pace and carefully raised the g-bin’s top to dump my trash. I felt like an intruder because I had an “insider’s” knowledge that most, if any, of his or her family hadn’t known yet.  I knew that within a few hours the lives of my neighbor’s family would never be the same.  This was a somber reminder of how sorrowful my life has been for nearly three weeks. You see, two weeks ago one of my niece’s grandmother died and I was asked to say the opening prayer.  I shook the whole time because I dislike speaking in public.  Then, this past Friday, I attended the funeral, we in the Brown community call it a Homegoing Service, of a 24 years old young man, filled with great promise and had so much to live for. He was the second oldest of five children. He was engaged to be married. He and his fiancée were the proud parents of a one-year-old daughter and he loved to play basketball. I’ve known his family for nearly 14 years. I am devastated. Yet, I know my grief is pale when compared to his parents, siblings, and other relatives. One of his aunts spoke about his life during his homegoing service. She shared that she too had lost a male adult child. This fact rendered me speechless. Two sisters with an unconceivable connection of losing an adult son. Mindboggling yes, but unfortunately, not uncommon in many Brown communities throughout America.

 The Pre-Christ me would have been enraged with GOD. My bellowing tone would have tried to “ace” HIM with fiery questions that were “smashed” HIS way at lightning speed. As my “backhanded” camouflaged questions would have bore a close resemblance to penetrating accusations.  But GOD, in HIS infinite mercies and lovingkindness, understood my behavior was coming from a place of despair and grief.  Because HE IS merciful, I’m still alive. After all, who can “ace” GOD? Had the GREAT I AM, CREATOR of all things picked up HIS tennis racquet. . . game over-immediately!

 GOD knew I didn’t want responses to my questions. What I wanted… was for HIM to fix it. To put life back into the bodies of my loved ones. To use HIS GOD superpowers to restore what was taken from me. After all, JESUS raised Lazarus from the dead, right!  JESUS completely won me over when I learned HE, too, had been risen from the dead and now sits at the right hand of the FATHER. Psst… JESUS, please tell GOD to fix this. Make it right. Because from my cheap seats…this just ain’t right and it will never be. My pleading always went unanswered just like during the homegoing service on Friday. I secretly wanted GOD to use HIS superpowers. Yup, I am very sure many people would have exited the church in speed levels they didn’t know existed within themselves…but everyone remained seated because GOD didn’t fix it. 

“This is My commandment, that ye love one another, as I have loved you. Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” John 15:12-13 KJV.

One evening, about three weeks ago, Terrell (Rell) was hanging out with friends in his neighborhood. One of my nieces and her best friend, who is more like a brother, saw Rell twice on this particular night. They took the time to “shoot the breeze.” They laughed, reminisce, and, of course, basketball dominated their conversation. My niece and her best friend/brother were former basketball players. Rell invited them to an upcoming game… “Yo, listen, pull up I’m playing…” She promised to “pull up.” About two hours later, a group of fellas approached Rell and his crew. One of those fellas had “beef” (a disagreement) with one of Rell’s friends and demanded to fight. That night around 11:30, another niece called me. Rell had been stabbed in the heart and was in surgery. Instead of letting his friend fight, Rell took on the fight to protect his friend. He lived 23 days. 

Terrell was probably the best basketball player in his neighborhood, Hell’s Kitchen. One of his junior college coaches was working hard to help Terrell realize his dreams of playing professional basketball overseas. However, the ultimate b-ball move Rell made nearly three weeks ago was greater, in GOD’s eyes, than any three-point-buzzer-beater play to win the championship! 

Terrell was filled with great promise and had so much to live for.  GOD, this still ain’t right, however, I am inspired because my faith has taught me that death is not the end of a person’s life journey. For Christians, death doesn’t win.  “For we know that if our earthly house, this tent, is destroyed, we have a building from GOD, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.”  2Corinthians 5:1.  

On September 16, 2020 a warrior had gone home after achieving his greatest accomplishment.  He saved the life of a friend and that decision would ultimately take his.  Terrell’s/Rell’s reward shall be greater than any man-made sports trophy because it is eternal as promised by THE MESSIAH.  “So when this corruptible has put on incorruption, and the mortal has put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written: O Death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?” 1Corinthians 15:54-55.  This is my view from the cheap seat. . . AnABCWoman, tlot. 

[jessikahathaway]

The Girl Who Never Cries

Guess who’s back? Back again? Not me for the weekend. Ha ha. 

Please don’t kill me and just enjoy? Yeah? Good talk.

DON’T OWN THE PICTURE

The first time you met Jimin was when you were seven years old at some great Aunt’s funeral. He stood back, watching as your family cried and howled as your family member was lowered into the ground by his father. Jimin was a small boy, he didn’t look like he did a lot of playing outside from his stature. He didn’t look much like his father either. His father had rugged facial features, while Jimin had a much more delicate facial set up. The young boy was quiet and observant; something about him seemed off, however. You could tell he didn’t see the world like most ordinary people did. This drew you in further. Instead of grieving with the rest of your family, you stared at the quiet young boy who was more focused on the funeral service than you were.

When the ordeal was over, Jimin took his father’s hand and followed him dutifully. You felt a sharp tug on your hand as your mother pulled you towards the car. Although, Jimin was still watching, staring at the ground with mild intrigue. He was still staring back at the grave while your mother drove the car away. And, he never changed.

The next time you saw him was at your great grandfather’s funeral. He was stood at the back, like he had been three years prior, watching as his father lowered your deceased family member down into the ground again. Except, Jimin was  much less interested in your family and the grave this time. You notice he was holding a small book in his hand, making small notes every once in awhile.

Slowly but surely, you became infatuated with this boy. The years passed and you found yourself returning to the cemetery, even when you didn’t need to. You always offered to clean the graves, seeing as how your parents always complained when they had to do it. Plus, if you did it, you could see the mysterious Park Jimin more frequently. However, you never knew his name until your mother mentioned it at dinner one night when you were in your early teen years.

“Yeah, Park did a nice job on the Jeon’s house,” she said with a small amount of jealousy taking over her voice. “I guess his son is starting to take over the cemetery,” she said.

“Is that the gentleman who buried grandad?” you asked with your normal soft tone.

“Yes, him and his son Jimin have been there since the boy’s mother died. He’s pretty odd that young one. He’s always been very quiet, almost disturbingly so. I think I’ve only ever heard him say three words in his entire life. I personally think something isn’t right upstairs. A boy needs his mother, just being raised by his father must have some consequences,” she prattled off more offensive statements but you tuned her out.

Park Jimin...

---

A few years later a dreadful storm came through and wrecked your outdoor porch. Your mother was beside herself with the ordeal. She called the Park’s to fix it, wanting to have it done by a local person, as she put it. You really knew that it was because she liked his work on other people’s places, but was too proud to compliment them.

You were sixteen and just learning about your body at the time. Everything was new and exhilarating. You’d had your first kiss with a boy named Taehyung at school and you thought that he was cute, but Park Jimin was cuter. He never went to school with you, it had always made you wonder what he would be like as your classmate. Would he be smart and always willing to lend a hand to you? Or would he struggle and constantly need you to dote on him and smother him with all kinds of attention?

You’d come home rather upset. The guy you had harbored a crush on for the last few months, Suga, as he liked to call himself, had been caught kissing a girl outside the school’s racket arena. You stormed home and through the door to find yourself face to face with Park Jimin.

“Hello,” he greeted simply.

“Where’s mom?” you asked, frozen in your spot.

“There’s a note for you on the counter,” he said, gesturing towards the marble island in your kitchen. You jogged passed him and grabbed the paper.

Hello Darling!

I’m out doing some shopping with the girls and going to tea afterwards. Your father will be home late, as usual, so don’t worry about making dinner and everything. Mr. Park and Jimin are here to fix the porch and do a few other jobs around the house. Jimin is here to help with that weird sound in your room, take him up there and see if you two can’t figure it out.

Much love,

Mom.

You looked back at Jimin with curiosity. He kept the same mild look on his face, never once wavering.

“My room is upstairs,” you said, nodding towards the stairs. Jimin nodded and grabbed his smaller toolbox and followed after you as you jogged up the cherry stained wood stairs.

Jimin investigated around the area you said was making the odd noise. You watched as his back flexed and the muscled moved as he did. It was very erotic to you, the way he moved. It made you feel strange, but good at the same time. You wanted to kiss him. You couldn’t figure out why, but you knew you really really wanted to.

“I think there is a pipe behind the wall that is either loose or leaking, you should have your mother call a-”

You cut him off with a delicate press of your lips against his. Jimin froze, unsure of what to do. You placed your hands on his face and pulled him in closer, longing to kiss him just a little bit longer. Jimin seemed to relax and let you do as you pleased. Slowly, you eased away, looking up into his eyes with anxiety.

“Was that your first kiss?” he asked, looking down at you. You shook your head.

“No, I’ve kissed another person before,” you said, trying to keep your heart rate under control.

“Me too. But, like I said, have your mother call a plumber and have them check the pipes.”

And that was the last you ever heard of that situation. You and Jimin had formed a bond of some sorts over the following years. He’d call you whenever he needed something and you’d help him with whatever he needed.

You even opened your own flower shop so that Jimin could get a good price on flowers for the cemetery. But, that wasn’t the only reason you chose that business. You remember flowers and how their beauty fades, but new ones grow to take their place. A beautiful cycle of life and death that you’ve been fascinated with for years. But, none the less, flowers also represented so many things. Passion, love, caring. Things people should have, regardless of being dead or not.

Running a business was difficult. But you could be found running to the cemetery for a service or to place flowers on graves. You saw Jimin frequently, but you two generally kept the talking to about the weather and whoever you were delivering the flowers for. Although, sometimes Jimin would stray from those topics and ask about how you were and if your mother and father were well. But, Jimin was quiet as he’d always been in his younger years. Jimin could always be found in the places one would never look. On the roof of a car, up in a tree. He never liked predictability. He had taken solace in his mystery, and he wasn’t keen on losing it.

All was normal in your small town on that Friday morning. You got up and unlocked the flower shop, getting ready for another day at work. The day progressed smoothly, until your shop phone began to ring. After cleaning off your hands and making your assistant head to the register, you picked up.

“Pontius flower shop, Y/N speaking,” you said in a cheerful tone.

“He’s dead,” a bored voice said over the phone. One look at your caller ID told you that the voice belonged to none other than Park Jimin. Ice ran through your veins at the sound of his voice, he sounded so empty.

“Jimin, what do you mean?” you asked, holding the phone between your shoulder and ear while you fixed a few things in front of you to distract the dropping sensation in your stomach.

“My dad, he’d hanging in his closet,” he said, still sounding bored. Like this was another funeral service.

“Jimin, are you okay?” you asked.

“I was the one who put him there, so I’m fine,” he said, and your throat went dry.

“You did what?” you said in disbelief. Jimin? Hurting someone? It was almost too far fetched to believe, but the cold edge to his tone made you worry even more.

“I gave him his sleeping pills in his coffee and hung him,” Jimin said, confessing to murder. You tried to remain calm. Jimin was known to lie. He’d once said he had broken his leg so he didn’t have to go to jury duty. He also liked to prank people, just to get a rise out of them. But this would be taking it way too far.

“I’ll be there in half an hour, don’t go anywhere,” you said, hanging up shortly after. You rushed around and gathered everything you needed up and started to head out the door. Your assistance yelled after you, but you were somewhere else.

---

When you arrived at Jimin’s house, you knocked on the door, fully expecting Mr. Park to open it with a warm smile as he always did. But, instead, Jimin’s pale face greeted you.

“Hi,” he said, pulling the door open wider so you could enter as well. Anxiously, you did so, walking into the familiar house. Jimin followed right behind you, watching as you shed your jacket and shoes.

“Where’s your dad?” you asked, Jimin pointed towards the bedrooms. You moved towards the door. “Is he asleep?” you asked, wanting so desperately to find him lying in his bed resting. But there he was, in the closet like Jimin said he was. Mr. Park, someone you’d known your whole life. Dead. Your chest constricted and your stomach hurt. How could Jimin do this to someone? And to his father no less. He never seemed like a violent person. “Why?” you asked, turning to face him. Jimin looked at you and sighed.

“Everyone loves dad, but no one likes me. They all think that I’m quiet and weird, but it’s because I can’t tell them anything without worrying about getting hurt... They don’t know him! Don’t know what he does when other people aren’t around,” he said, glaring at the closet with such hatred you could feel it radiating off of him.

Mr. Park, hurting his son? That seemed impossible. He would never hurt his child.

“What did he do Jimin?” you asked, walking closer to him. Jimin chuckled darkly before lifting his gaze to yours.

“He beat me, raped me... Sold me to other people for extra cash for booze,” he said, looking like he was going to kill his father again.

Jimin was on the psychosis spectrum. His dad had asked you to take him to an appointment once and the doctor’s had mentioned something about symptoms of PTSD and not knowing how they had come about. The pieces started to fall together. Jimin never went to public school, Mr. Park had said it was because he was worried about other kids bullying him, but it was just to keep others away and from looking too closely. “He never loved me, ever,” he growled. You swallowed hard and dared to grab his wrist and pull him out of the room. Jimin followed willingly, letting you sit him down on the couch. You had to call the police... Jimin was a murderer. But... whenever you looked at him you saw the child he used to be. It hurt you to think of him in prison, with no one he knew... He’d suffer and you wouldn’t be able to see him.

“Jimin, you know what you did was illegal right?” you asked gauging his reaction. He nodded slowly. “So, you know I have to call the police,” you stated.

“Can I ask a favor before you do that?” he asked, standing up and walking over to you. You started to tremble, despite yourself.

“What’s the favor Jimin?” he came closer and wrapped his arms around you. You gave him a questioning look.

“Would you kiss me? I remember doing it when we were younger, and I just want to do it again,” he breathed. You swallowed hard. He had always been beautiful with his soft brown eyes and fluffy hair. He’d never really paid attention to you in that manner, but to know he wanted to kiss you was too good to pass up.

“I’ll let you kiss me if you promise to be good when I call the police. Do you promise?” Jimin nodded quickly and licked his lips and leaned forward to plant a kiss right on your lips. His were plush and wet from his tongue. Oh God, he was an incredible kisser... His hands trailed down your back. His hands stopped right above your butt and you pulled back from his lips slowly. You were panting and looking at his lips with longing. You didn’t want to stop, no matter how much you knew you should. His father was dead in the other room, by his hands. But this was Jimin, the boy you’d known for years. He’d never been violent, dangerous or threatening. He was quiet and observant, always wondering what there was to be seen. He was kind and gentle, never harming a soul And his father didn’t hurt anyone, or rape his son...

“I want to kiss you more,” he whispered against your lips. You wrapped your fingers around the soft collar of his shirt and pulled him closer.

“Then give me more,” you begged, grabbing his shirt and bringing him back to your lips. He seemed more than content to continue. It felt so good to touch him like this and to hold him in your arms. All these years you’d watched him grow and you’d always wanted to be with him like this. He was such a beautiful person... Although, darkness had clouded his soul. You didn’t want to see him upset or hurt, he was too innocent for that... Although, you could try to mend his pain for him. Show him the love he had been starved of. “Jimin,” you breathed, “how far can we go?” you asked as he started kissing down your jaw.

“As far as we can,” he said in a husky tone.

You gasped when he pulled you against his body. You sighed in content at the feeling of his toned form against your own. He was like a man possessed with desire. You hung onto him, crying out as he bit down on your shoulder harshly. You tugged on his hair and kissed any exposed skin you could find. Jimin pushed you towards the floor, covering your body with his. You pulled on his shoulders and brought him closer to you.

“Take off your clothes,” he panted holding your hips. You grabbed your shorts and yanked them off aggressively, so much so that you left little red marks along the delicate skin there. Jimin stared at your center with his pupils blown wide. He ran his finger along your slit, collecting all of your juices and sliding them over your folds.

“Jimin,” you breathed, grabbing his biceps, feeling the muscles tensing and relaxing under the skin. When he grazed your clit you arched your back and keened into his touch.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, looking at your body flushed beneath him. You blushed and pushed your hips into his eager hands, wanting more of his touch. He smiled and watched you whine and please under his ministrations. His touch was setting you a lite, making you shudder in pleasure. Every little flick of his wrist had you falling to pieces before him.

“Please Jimin! Oh God, Please, Jimin,” you begged feeling your orgasm starting to rush towards you.

“Do you want me? Do you love me?” he asked, moving his fingers against you.

“I’ve loved you for years! P-put your fingers in me, please Jimin,” you whined. He gave a smile before inserting a finger into your tight entrance. A strangled cry came from your throat as his pace increased.

“Tell me you want me,” he said, adding a second digit into your wet heat.

“I want you so bad, Jimin. Please give it to me,” Jimin smiled again and pulled his fingers from you. You felt displeasure as his fingers exited you. You forced yourself up onto your elbows and caught him pulling his shirt over his head. You stared at his body and ran your hand down his chest. He shuddered and bucked his hips instinctively towards you. You smirked and almost ripped your shirt because you pulled it over your head so fast. Jimin saw your bra covering the beautiful skin of your breasts and became agitated very quickly. Soon, the fabric was off and his hands were molded against your breasts. He moaned at the feeling of your nipples hardening and you couldn’t help the small whine of pleasure that overtook you while you enjoyed the feeling of his hands on your body. Slowly, you reached down and palmed him through his jeans and you gasped to find him rock solid under your touch.

“Fuck, I’m so hard for you baby,” he moaned. A smile pulled at the corner of your lips. You couldn’t believe how undeniably sexy Jimin was. He made little groans and grunting sounds as you continued to play with him through his pants. You slid your hand underneath the rough fabric and pulled him out, making him shudder from the contact. You pumped him a few times, watching as the tip grew into a deeper red color. He made small breathy moans each time you ran your thumb over the tip. “Oh fuck, right like that baby,” he said. “If you’re not careful I’m going to cum before I can even get in that sweet cunt of yours. We wouldn’t want that would we?” he said, teasing you with a flash of his tongue across his plump lips.

“Jimin, hurry up and put it in me,” you said, laying back on the floor and opening your legs for him. He didn’t waste any time after that. Jimin pulled his pants and boxers off and gripped your hips with one hand and checked to make sure you were ready for him. You squirmed against him and he smiled.

“You ready baby?” he asked, lining himself up with you entrance. You nodded weakly and bit your lip. Slowly, Jimin eased himself in. You hissed in slight discomfort, but the look on Jimin’s face was well worth the stinging pain. You’d only had sex once when you were eighteen. It had been quick, uncomfortable and unsatisfactory. But Jimin made you feel incredibly full. You took a deep breath and Jimin tensed.

“Are you alright? You asked, watching the muscles in his arms tense up.

“You’re so fucking tight, holy shit,” he panted against your neck. You blushed and pulled him in for a sweet kiss. Jimin pulled his hips back carefully, gauging your reaction. You bit your lip harshly and dug your fingers into his shoulders. A soft whimper fell from your kiss swollen lips. You moaned and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

“You can move, I can handle it,” you breathed against his lips. Jimin nodded and started moving a bit faster. You were so full of him. You’d never felt like this before, not ever in your life. You could see the appeal sex had now. If it felt like this every time you had sex, you could easily become addicted yourself. But, maybe it was just because it was with Jimin it felt this good. Did everyone feel like this?

Jimin was grabbing at your waist and pushing his hips into yours. A moan escaped him as he started to move at a faster pace, grinding his pelvis into your clit. You pulled on his hair as he fucked into you at what felt like the perfect angle. You could really feel him inside of you, pulsing and hot as his cock massaged your walls. It was getting hard to breathe because he was clinging to you so tightly, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to complain. You had wanted him so badly, for so long, and it was finally happening.

“Fuck, so tight,” he groaned as he continued his deep thrusting into your weeping core. Everything about him just made you want more. More more more. You couldn’t think about anything but him...

There it was. The familiar burning in your lower stomach. You wanted it. You wanted him. Oh fuck, you could taste your orgasm it was so close.

“I’m gonna cum,” you breathed as Jimin slammed into you with an unforgiving pace.

“Me too, where do you want it?” he asked as he slowed down enough to be coherent.

“In me, I want to feel it,” you moaned. Every touch of his fingers set you that much closer to your end, but you wouldn’t let yourself cum yet. You wanted to keep him inside you forever. Stretching your dirty pussy until you just couldn’t take it. You wanted to feel his cum dripping down your thigh as he panted harshly into your ear after reaching bliss.

“So dirty baby. You want my cum? Wanna feel it inside you? Are you on the pill?” he asked, reaching out to kiss your neck and shoulders. The thought crossed your mind, getting pregnant with Jimin’s child. The thought of him with your kid filled you with an immeasurable amount of joy.

“It’ll be fine, I’m not ovulating,” you said. Wanting nothing more than to feel his cum flooding your cunt.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking dirty, Jesus Christ,” he whispered pulling out of you. You whined at the loss. “Get on your knees for me baby,” he whispered, kissing you passionately. You did so, gasping at the sight of his cock, drenched in your juices and the purple tip throbbing, needing release so desperately. You leaned forward on your hands and spread your knees apart to give him better access. Jimin pulled you back by your hips and lined himself up with your soaked center. He was met with little resistance as he slid back into your warmth. He groaned as his hipbones hit yours.

“Jimin, harder, please,” you begged moving your ass back against him. This new angle made Jimin’s dick feel that much bigger inside of you, if that was even possible. You moaned wantonly, looking over your shoulder at him. Jimin’s brow was furrowed as he moved his length inside your beautiful pussy. Sweat was collecting on his neck and forehead and you longed to wipe it away as you kissed, but you were busy being fucked savagely.

“I’m close,” he warned. You moaned in acknowledgment. You were close as well, feeling that tightening sensation in your core. You clenched around him and smiled when he bucked into you with a yelp.

“Give it to me. I want it,” you pleased, feeling your end approaching. Jimin’s cock enlarged inside of you and you gasped. You felt the cord inside you snap, releasing all of your pent up pleasure. Jimin shouted your name as you milked him for everything he had. He rubbed your hip with his thumb as you collapsed against the floor. Wet, stickiness was everywhere. You struggled to catch your breath. Your vision blurred and you felt Jimin kissing your spine. It was then the pain became apparent. Your throat was on fire. You cast a glance down at the floor; it was covered in blood. Panic flooded your system and you gripped onto Jimin’s hand that was on your waist.

“It’s alright baby, it’ll be over quick. Let me look at you,” he said, turning you over. You looked up at him. He looked so beautiful, all fucked out and sweaty. “So beautiful,” he whispered, running his hands over your body. You made a terrible choking sound that made Jimin’s eyes sparkle. “God... Look at you baby. Full of my cum and bleeding out... I want you badly, but I’m sure you’re tired,” he whispered, kissing your jaw, even though it was drenched in blood.

“Jimin,” you mouthed, grasping to life, barely able to keep your eyes open.

“Oh baby,” he said, smoothing your hair back, watching as you struggled to inhale. “It’ll be all over in a few moments. And I’ll stay with you the whole time,” he said, kissing your blue lips. You were disgusted with yourself for enjoying his lips on yours. You gripped his hand in fear. “Are you scared? It’s okay to be, but I need you to do something for me,” he asked. You could feel your fingertips and toes going numb. You were almost dead. “Hang on just a few moments longer darling, I want to see something.”

What could he want to see? You’d given him everything already. You’d bore all to him and now death was wrapping its icy tendrils around your body.

“Cry for me,” he whispered, trailing his finger down your cheek like a tear would fall. You made a sputtering sound and Jimin gave a soft smile. “I bet you look beautiful even when you cry, so let me see it? One last favor for me baby,” he said. It made you sick that in your last moments, you still wanted to please him. “You can do it baby, one tear would be enough,” he said.

You could feel your heart slowing, it was almost over. Jimin stayed, kissing your head and lips, waiting patiently. You thought of your childhood fascination with him and how the two of you had grown together. All the memories flooded your mind. You thought of what would happen if you didn’t die here. Would you fall pregnant with Jimin’s baby? Would he care and love it? You overwhelmed yourself with these thoughts and felt a burning in your eyes.

You were crying.

“Baby,” he whispered, kissing you deeply. “Beautiful... It’s okay, you can sleep now. And I’ll be here when you wake up. Just rest,” he said in a sadistically sweet voice. You felt tears flowing freely down your cheeks. Black tinged the side of your vision. You didn’t want to die. Who will take care of your parents in their old age? “I’ll bring you the most beautiful flowers, all the time, and I’ll to to you every day,” he whispered as your vision went black.

“Goodbye, Y/N. I’ll see you when you wake up.”

[nofomoartworld]

This Artist Helps Identify Murder Victims

Many a person with a common vocation keeps an uncommon hobby, perhaps one that borders on the downright strange and unconventional. Take the one-time accountant Carl Koppelman, a Los Angeles-based artist who creates digital illustrations of unidentified people using post-mortem photos. Koppelman works with the hope that his pieces will help identify an unknown person even if it's been decades since their death. The time it takes Koppelman to digitally illustrate a person depends on the state of the body, like if the individual has had an injury, or if decomposition has begun. "When someone dies, their mouth changes shape and sometimes their eyebrows spring up—it's these kinds of things I have to edit and illustrate, and depending on this, it takes several hours to a few days," he says. Interested to know more, Creators spoke to Koppelman about what sparked his interest in the subject and how he got started.

"Sumpter County Mystery Couple - This is a young couple who were murdered in Sumpter County South Carolina in 1976. They are still unidentified."

Creators: Hi Carl! You've got quite an interesting hobby here. How did you first start off doing this?

Carl Koppelman: I started back in 2009 when I became a caretaker for my mother, who was ill at the time. For the last eight years I was restricted to being at home and looking after her, so a lot of the time I was at home on my computer. It was then that I really got interested in unidentified decedent cases.

Was there one particular case that really caught your eye?

I was really interested in the Jaycee Lee Dugard case—the story of an 11-year-old girl who was kidnapped in 1991 and was found alive in 2009 at the age of 29. That to me was fascinating. It got me interested in Websleuths, an online forum that deals with unsolved mysteries, current crime stories, missing persons, and so forth, and I became involved in one forum that deals with unidentified bodies. I'm a CPA by trade, but I have always had artistic abilities. I had noticed that the official drawings of unidentified John Does and Jane Does were often not very accurate and since I had the facial drawing skills, I took it upon myself to draw create my own images to enable people to more easily identify the deceased people. Over the past few years, I've done over 100 illustrations of unidentified persons. I also get requests from families of missing persons. They want me to create a photo of their lost loved one and make it them look older—as the person would look years after their disappearance if he or she was still alive. I get so many requests that I'm not always able to fill them.

"Houston WF Teen - This is a young girl whose body was found in Houston Texas in 1982. She was ID'd in January 2014 as Michelle Garvey of New London Connecticut."

Talk me through your creative process

I use Corel Photo Paint, a photo editing software package similar to Adobe Photoshop. I use it as if I'm painting on a canvas. Firstly I get a model photo of someone that might have looked like the person- similar age, sex etc, then I overlay the model face, set to about 90% transparency, over the postmortem photo, and that gives vitality to the lifeless face without making the unidentified person look like the person whose photo I used as a model. There are a number of techniques I use for this- to get the skin tone, muscle tone, and even hairstyles back into the place they would have been. It all depends on what I have to work with.

"This was a man who was hit by a large truck on a highway in Ashley County Arkansas in 1989. He was ID'd in 2016 as Charles Cornell of Battle Creek Michigan."

Was it difficult at first, working with post-mortem images?

I think I'd have a very different reaction if I were to see the bodies in person, but I don't—it's only from a photo. Looking at images of the deceased is not something that I have difficulty dealing with.

I take it some images are more difficult to work with than others?

Yes, it really depends on the quality of the photo and the condition of the body. While some the bodies are quite fresh—they look as though they are sleeping—others are in various stages of decomposition which makes the process a little harder.

"This was a young woman who snuck aboard a tanker car of a train headed north from Las Vegas in January 2014, dressed only in a long-sleeved tee shirt and sweatpants. The train took her into Utah, where the night air was about 18 degrees Fahrenheit (about 8 degrees below zero Celsius). She died of hypothermia. She was ID'd later that year as Amber Eve Brown of Robertsdale Alabama."

Has anyone been recognized?

In 1979, a young girl was murdered in upstate New York. Her name was Tammy Jo Alexander, and she was only 16 at the time. Her family had presumed she had just left home because she had come from a dysfunctional and difficult family life. She had run away but was she was actually murdered in New York not long after she left home. About 35 years later, still nobody knew who this girl was. I recognized her when I came across a new missing person listing on the National Missing and Unidentified Person System (NamUs). I keep a spreadsheet of all my publicly listed missing persons), and as I was updating the spreadsheet, I spotted this new listing of a missing girl from Florida, and recognized her as the unidentified girl found in New York. I reported it and that case got worldwide attention. I had managed to identify someone, having drawn a better illustration of her.

"This was a case of skeletal remains found near Boston Massachusetts in 1994. She was ID'd in 2016 as Millie Alvarado of Fitchburg Massachusetts. I created the reconstruction at the request of the detective in charge of the case. All I had to work from was a photo of a badly deteriorated skull, and two photos of the skull from the crime scene. I had to assemble portions of the three photos to create an image of a complete skull, from which I was then able to recreate her face."

How do you pick an image when you've got quite a lot to choose from?

In some cases, the photos are available online, and in some cases, I've been given access to photos. There's not a set rule with how I pick photos that I want to work with. If I think it might help identify the person, then I tend to pick that case. Back in 1968, a woman was found dead sitting on a bench in a park in LA. Nobody was able to identify her for 48 years. She had a ring on her finger, that had the initials CB to EJ and the date September 4, 1920 engraved into it. A former colleague whom I had worked with 10 years earlier had done some research, and had found that those initials were linked to a couple who were married in Detroit in the 1920s She eventually located the couple's grandson, who turned out to be the deceased lady's brother. He hadn't seen his sister since he was about six or seven years old. I was very excited that my friend had solved this case, because as it brought some kind of resolution to this now middle-aged man, who had wondered for most of his life what happened to his sister.

Related:

Death and the Daguerreotype: The Strange and Unsettling World of Victorian Photography

Portraits of Sleeping People Come to Life in These Embroidered Pillows

A 15-Year-Old Murder Inspires a Haunting Installation

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