#she sits in an empty museum he comes behind her and she doesn't notice

[apollowatchesmovies]

December 20

Movie 92

Vertigo

[euryalex]

Resident Evil: Genesis

Joey's first day at the Raccoon City Police Department doesn't start the way she'd hoped. Despite earning the police chief's ire, her coworkers seem more friendly and welcoming.

Series Masterlist | AO3 link

Let me know if you want to be tagged when the next chapter releases!

Chapter 2: Start of Something New

The Raccoon City Police Department was originally a museum. An art museum, according to the guide pamphlet in the waiting room. The older lady sitting next to her, who would occasionally peek over her shoulder to see what she was doing, huffed for the umpteenth time in a row. Joey glared at her from the corner of her eye, but she didn’t seem to notice, or maybe she just didn’t care.

She glared at the poor assistant who’d repeatedly put up with her complaints and called out. “Excuse me, how long is this going to take? I had an appointment at eight!”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” she repeated in her customer service voice, “Police Chief Irons is very busy at the moment-“

“Too busy to listen to a concerned citizen?”

“Ma’am, if I may, I could redirect you to one of our officers so you can-“

“I don’t want to speak to an officer, I want to speak to Police Chief Irons.”

Before the assistant could respond, her phone rang, and her attention shifted away from the woman. 

“Miss. Hudson?” the secretary called out when she put down the phone, “Chief Irons will see you now.”

“But she just got here,” the elderly lady whined, and Joey got up before she could be pulled into the argument. After whispering a quiet thank you to the assistant, Joey left the waiting room and followed the hallway the assistant described to the police chief’s office. She knocked on the door and waited for permission to enter. When she heard a gruff ‘Yes’, she opened the door.

As soon as she entered, a pair of gazelle heads mounted on a wooden trunk startled her. If Irons noticed, he didn’t mention it. Instead, he looked at her without moving his head and groaned. “The waiting room is down the hall, first door on the right,” he said.

Joey furrowed her eyebrows and stepped into his office, closing the door behind her. “I’m Joey Hudson?” she introduced herself, “I know I was supposed to come in at two, but I wanted to get started early.”

“You’re Hudson?” he questioned, putting down the pen he used to write on some documents.

“Yes, sir,” Joey stammered. He eyed her up and down to the point where it made her uncomfortable. Then, finally, he spoke up again. “You’re not what I was expecting,” he admitted. 

Joey opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Mainly because she had no idea how to respond to that. He seemed disappointed, and Joey felt anxiety creep up on her. He kept his watchful gaze on her as he picked up the phone and dialled a number. A few seconds passed until someone picked up.

“Branagh?” he barked, “The new officer arrived. No. I can’t show her around. I’m busy. Just get your ass over here.”

His face became red with anger, and he immediately turned his focus back to the document he was writing on, all whilst Joey still stood at the door to his office. She didn’t want to risk angering him further, but she also wasn’t sure what to do or where to go. She also still had to report what she saw at the Sunshine Motel.

Hesitantly, she spoke up: “Shall I wait outside or…?”

“Just go.” Chief Irons groaned.

Joey could feel her carefully crafted plan crumble at her fingertips. If her boss already seemed to dislike her, what would her colleagues think of her?

She stepped back into the hallway, which was completely empty compared to the waiting room. Across from the Chief’s office was a staircase, going up and down, and Joey slowly approached them. Curiosity got the best of her as she wondered what was above and below her. She was still surprised how an art museum could become a police station.

“Joey Hudson?” someone called out from behind her. Alarmed, she turned to face the stranger – a man in uniform. With wide eyes, she stared at him, “Yes?”

“Lieutenant Marvin Branagh,” he introduced himself with a smile, reaching out his hand, “Nice to meet you.”

Joey took his hand and shook it.

“Sorry ‘bout Irons,” Marvin explained, “He’s usually not the friendliest to…”

“Women?” Joey finished for him. Although she intended it to be a joke, his wince told her she guessed correctly.

“But don’t worry, you might not even run into him that often,” he continued, “Now come on, I’ll show you to your desk and your partner – it’s on the other side of the building.”

“Really?” Joey hummed, “This building’s like a maze.”

“Sure is,” he chuckled in response, “But you get used to it. Besides, you’ll most likely spend all your time in the office or on the streets.”

“So where are the holding cells? Or the interrogation rooms?”

He breathed in sharply, “It’d take me a while to explain that. But don’t worry, Kevin – your partner – will show you around.”

She followed him as he walked back through the waiting room – where the elderly lady scoffed as soon as she saw them – and to the main hall. They descended the stairs and crossed the hall, where he opened a door for her. She stepped onto the small platform that overlooked the room and saw the neatly organized desks.

Marvin walked past her towards the closest desk and smiled: “This is yours.”

“Thanks,” Joey muttered. When she noticed the nameplate with her name on it, she couldn’t help but smile. Marvin followed her gaze and chuckled, “A little gift to make you feel welcome.”

“Well, it sure is working,” she replied.

“You must be the new guy- sorry, lady,” one of the officers greeted before a female officer promptly slapped his arm, albeit jokingly.

“Don’t mind him,” she said, turning to Joey, “He’s all bark and no bite.”

“Oh, bite me,” he bit back. 

The woman rolled her eyes and walked up to Joey, offering her hand, “Name’s Rita, Rita Philips. And this moron is George Scott.”

Rita was a woman just a bit shorter than her, with a short blonde haircut. George was the complete opposite, with dark hair one would consider longer than usual. He was also just tall enough for Joey to have to raise her head to look him in the eye.

“Any idea where Ryman is?” Marvin asked them, to which they shrugged. “He just left,” said George, “Said something ‘bout the S.T.A.R.S team.”

“Oh right, Joey, come with me,” he nodded, “I can give you your uniform and show you around the West Wing a bit.” 

“Sure, that’d be great,” Joey said with a tight-lipped smile. Then, as Marvin walked to the other side of the office, he pointed at two empty desks, “Where’s Ford and Edwards?”

“Got a call about a dead body,” Rita explained, “I think that’s why Kevin’s off to S.T.A.R.S.”

Marvin let out a sigh. “I turn my back for one second,” he complained, to which George laughed: “But you love us anyway.”

He led Joey through the door on the other side of the office, which led to several hallways. Joey already knew she’d get lost a bunch of times. Marvin, however, seemed to know the place like the back of his hand.

“We got the safety deposit room right here,” he said, stopping at the door right across the west office, “In case we confiscate anything from someone, we put it here – where did you work before, again?”

“Great Falls, in Montana,” Joey answered as she followed Marvin through the hallways, “In the Sheriff’s department.”

“Oh, this must be a whole lot bigger-“ he stopped at a staircase down the hall, next to another room, “This is the dark room, to develop pictures of evidence and crime scenes. Usually, Nell does that type of stuff, but she’s on maternity leave, so now I’m in charge of the evidence until she’s back.”

“Wow, back in Montana, we had to contact someone from the out-of-town police department,” she admitted.

Marvin laughed, “Welcome to the big leagues. The locker rooms are up the stairs, so I’ll show you to your locker and let you change.”

The first thing Joey noticed was how the stairs creaked. The building was definitely old and could use a bit of sprucing up – and maybe a whole new layout.

She followed Marvin to the end of the hallway, where it ended in a corner with a door on the right. “Here we are,” Marvin stopped, “You should find an open locker, feel free to take it. As for the lock, you put in your code, close it, and open it again. I’ll go get your uniform.”

The locker room was smaller than Joey expected, with only a handful of lockers. But, like Marvin said, one of them was left open. While he was gone, Joey took the time to close the blinds on the window opposite the lockers. She approached the available locker and saw the lock. Instead of numbers, it had a combination of three letters, which were all limited to six letters per disk. The first and last letter disks went from F to K, while the one in the middle went from R to W. As she turned the disks, she considered a possible code before settling on JTH – John Thomas Hudson.

Someone knocked on the door, pulling Joey from her thoughts – Marvin. When Joey told him to come in, he opened the door. “Got your uniform,” he smiled, handing a stack of clothes to her, “Just call if you need anything.”

Without further ado, he left and closed the door behind him. Joey then turned to her locker and put the uniform inside so she could get dressed in peace. 

She’d seen the uniform on Rita earlier, but it still felt weird putting on a uniform that wasn’t the dark green she’d gotten used to. Unlike the hunter green deputy shirt, R.P.D had a light blue shirt with the emblem on the short sleeves. While working as a deputy, she could wear jeans, but her new uniform came with its own set of pants and shoes. Back in Montana, they didn’t have that kind of budget, at least not in Great Falls.

As she buttoned up her shirt, it quickly became apparent that this was a man’s uniform. Like Rita’s uniform, it was ill-fitting and too big for her. With a sigh, she tucked the shirt into her pants, hoping it didn’t look too obvious.

Marvin was waiting on a bench right outside the locker room. He stood up when Joey opened the door.

“So, what exactly is ‘S.T.A.R.S’?” she asked, walking up to him.

He pointed behind him, “Their office is right there. ‘Special Tactics and Rescue Service’. They work here as part of the R.P.D. but operate independently.”

“What do they do, then?”

“They mainly handle the bigger threats,” Marvin confessed, “Don’t tell anyone I said this, but they usually deal with anti-terrorism.”

Joey’s eyes widened, “Does Raccoon City have a lot of… ‘terrorism’?”

“Just let S.T.A.R.S handle it,” he sighed, “Irons doesn’t like when we poke our noses into S.T.A.R.S business.”

“Duly noted.”

Besides a single sign, there didn’t seem to be anything special about the S.T.A.R.S office. But, then again, she wasn’t sure what to expect. She had a futuristic, sterile lab in mind. But instead, she was greeted with a regular office that didn’t look any different from the rest of the building.

While it was similar to the West office, the furniture looked more expensive. The S.T.A.R.S office had better desks with a computer on every one of them. Behind those desks were expensive-looking office chairs, while Joey noticed earlier how the west office had wooden chairs.

“Marvin, what brings you to our humble abode?” a man with short brown hair greeted. He had just walked out of a more petite side office.

“Here to pick up a stray officer, y’know, the usual,” Marvin joked in response.

The stranger let out a subtle laugh and slapped Marvin on the shoulder before pointing to the right of the room, “Ryman’s over there.”

Marvin muttered a thanks and walked over to the officer, who had his back turned to them. Before Joey could follow, she was stopped by the stranger.

“Guessing you’re Ryman’s new partner?” he asked, and for a moment, Joey panicked. The loss of Marvin’s guidance was evident, and she began to feel like a fish out of water.

“Yeah, sure am,” Joey eventually choked out, “Joey Hudson.”

“Chris Redfield,” he introduced himself, “Good luck with Ryman, he’s a handful.”

“I heard that!” a new voice joined. A man with long brown hair that ended at his jawline approached them. He had a strong, square jaw that was only accentuated by a smirk.

“Whatever he told you,” he continued, “It’s not true. Most of it, anyway. Kevin Ryman, pleased to meet you. Joey, right?”

“That’s right,” she awkwardly replied, “I look forward to working with you.”

“Oh, you’ll regret those words later,” joked Chris before they were interrupted by Marvin. “Alright, enough chit-chat. We simple officers have work to do.”

Joey took one last look at the office as Marvin and Kevin moved to the door. She wanted to figure out what exactly Marvin meant with ‘anti-terrorism’. Sure, Raccoon City was a big city, but it wasn’t anything like Chicago – which Joey deemed more worthy of so-called ‘terrorism’. But she had the feeling no one at the S.T.A.R.S office would be eager to tell her what they really did. She kept the idea in mind, though, to maybe investigate later.

[urban-witch101]

(Byakuya Togami x Reader? That's how this idea started.) - Danganronpa 1 Ghost AU - "They Failed."

Oh it's as funky as it sounds. Just trust me on this one. Also, big fat Trigger Warning for assault, s3xual assault, murder, and angst.

Hope's Peak Academy is reportedly the most haunted high school in Japan. After the Most Tragic Incident the world had ever seen, the class of 78 was forced into a recorded killing game run by their fellow classmates Junko Enoshima and Mukuro Ikusaba and failed to survive. The Future Foundation, after eventually beating Despair and restoring peace to the world, established the high school as a National Monument to the pain and suffering of the students and turned it into a museum recording the history.

There are too many stories of the passed students to count, some from construction workers and some from ghost hunters. These are their sightings.

============================================

Yasuhiro Hagakure is reportedly the most active ghost, which makes sense as the Ultimate Clairvoyant.

He tends to greet visitors at the entrance.

If you drop your hat or gloves and don't notice, you'll find them by the coat rack later for you to find.

Children tend to see him the most, or they hear a whispered joke in their ear if they're particularly upset at any of the Despair history.

He doesn't tend to interact with adults a lot, but he's known to follow the descendants of all their relatives or friends to make sure they're okay.

10/10 ghost, very friendly and a chill dude. Makes sure kids are okay.

Toko Fukawa is rarely seen or heard, but if she's there you know.

She hangs out in the bathrooms with the most common sightings being in the mirrors.

She's often found playing with her braids or grimacing at guests if there are a lot of people.

The friendliest sighting was when a child got lost and found their way to the women's bathroom.

When the panicked mother finally found them, their child was calm and content while playing with a stuffed toy they know they didn't bring.

When the child was guided to leave, they turned and waved goodbye to the mirror.

8/10, antisocial but harmless.

Genocider Syo is extremely active.

She likes pulling pranks on tall, skinny men, like throwing their wallets across the room and pinching their elbows.

If said men are blonde with blue eyes, they will tend to feel watched whenever the enter the building and will continue to think so until they leave.

Children tend to be scared of her, but if she sees a scared child she'll tend to leave the room so they're more comfortable.

She likes knocking over stuff, books and coffee mugs in particular.

However, if the staff scold her she'll knock it off.

She never knocks over artifacts, but people have seen her scissors rattle in their case.

8/10, harmless prankster.

Leon Kuwata can be found in the First-Floor Dorms.

People report hearing guitar strings playing in the boys bathrooms.

If someone mentions baseball around his dorm, mirrors and glass will crack or straight up shatter.

Paranormal investigators once spent the night in his old room, but they "forgot" to take off their shoes and slept above the covers.

They woke up with a blanket that hadn't been in the room covering them and their shoes neatly placed by the side of the door.

That same investigator used a Spirit Box to try and talk to him about what happened in the school.

Of course their older generations saw what happened live, but they never spoke of it.

"Do you have anything you need to say?"

"I'm so sorry."

6/10, ow.

Hifumi Yamada can be found in the kiln room in the Art Studio.

People hear camera clicks, as if he's still taking pictures.

Pencils will roll when the floor is completely flat.

He likes messing with the kiln and knocking off the hammers.

He loves playing the flashlight game.

If anyone mentions Celestia Ludenburg, people swear the room falls into a heavy and tense silence.

When everyone leaves the kiln, they feel his conflicting pain.

Anger? Sadness? They don't know. He's still grieving.

6/10, more ow.

Kiyotaka Ishimaru is silent unless he needs to talk.

He only talks if you do something wrong.

He doesn't play any of the games.

If you run in the museum, people swear they hear a loud voice telling them to stop.

If the staff breaks the rules at all, they straight up get smacked in the shoulder.

Groups of friends, particularly men, feel very welcome in his dorm room.

They all leave after a friendly, invisible squeeze is given to them on the arm.

6/10, he'll never change.

Mondo Owada has one reported sighting.

When construction to restore the building was going on, there was an incident between a worker and a girl on the street one afternoon.

He took her behind the building and attempted to hurt her.

A man in a Crazy Diamond gang jacket, which it should be noted that it doesn't exist anyore, pulled him off and hit him with a pick axe.

After the assaulter was unconscious, her savior didn't say a word; he looked at the girl up and down, presumably checking her for injuries, and passed her a card with a phone number before nodding to her and walking off.

It was the local s3xual assault line, which had been established only two years prior.

After she called the number, she was never able to find the card again.

She didn't even put two and two together until she visited the finished museum and saw Mondo's picture.

No one has ever seen him since.

10/10, badass.

Sayaka Maizono is in one of the boy's bathrooms in the dorms.

Visitors report feeling unnerved or even scared when they enter the bathroom.

She will not interact with you.

She doesn't like playing any of the games. Do not turn on the spirit box in her bathroom, the shower glass will crack.

One investigator decided to spend the night in the bedroom and turned on the shower in the morning.

When they got out, there was a message written in the fog on the mirror.

"LEON."

1/10, no fucking thank you.

Aoi Asahina hangs around the pool room.

She's reportedly like Hiro.

She's been seen walking the halls everywhere.

Children love visiting the pool room. They tend to feel excited and safe.

At night you can hear the pool splashing when no one is inside.

She has one recorded incident.

A child brought a small bag of donut holes to snack on.

Said child began to complain that "the air" kept pulling the donut holes out of his hands.

So they ran an experiment.

They dropped one on purpose and watched it roll away towards the pool room. After that, they didn't feel anymore pulls.

Now it's a tradition to leave a donut for her on Obon by the pool room or her dorm room.

Staff report donuts pulling themselves apart to share. If staff take a half that is offered, the treats are always gone by the next morning.

9/10, a whole mood.

Chihiro Fujisaki is relatively quiet.

They can be found in the boy's locker rooms by the pool.

People will smell a slight perfume over the chlorine.

Muscular men in particular will feel an odd sense of guilt when entering.

There was a guest, who was a muscular man, who took out their phone to record the room and listened back to it to find bits and pieces of the audio were gone.

They took it to a friend who deciphered it into a message in Morse code.

"I forgive you."

9/10, holy ow.

Celestia Ludenburg is only active in the kitchen.

Investigators have put on a full pot of tea water with no heat on the stove.

If they leave and come back, they'll find the pot whistling with the heat still off. The water is always the perfect temperature.

She is never active at night.

She'll only use the spirit box on Obon, but you have to make her a cup of milk tea first.

She's very picky about it.

There was one who got it right on the first try.

"Well finally," the box picked up. "Have some."

She will share details only she would know.

"I don't want to be rude, but do you have any regrets?"

A moment of silence. The cup on the table left for her shakes for just a moment.

"I have too many."

6/10, talkative but be careful.

Kyoko Kirigiri has never talked, but you'll hear her.

Staff will hear her heels clicking in the halls at night.

She likes writing in people's notebooks.

Random strangers will enter with an empty pocketbook and leave with a full one.

She loves to write.

She tells her side of the story.

If the mirrors ever fog up, she's there scratching out letters and numbers.

She also turns on the coffee pot in the kitchen.

Intuitive teenagers tend to know when she's there because they feel safer in rooms that people normally aren't comfortable in.

She writes clues to all the murders that she was never able to solve.

She's not done yet. She's made it very clear that she is not at peace.

9/10, talkative and informative.

Sakura Ogami is said to be hanging around in the recreational room where she committed suicide.

Children feel safe in there, but they never play with the old equipment.

There is an unspoken rule among them that they all know and have never discussed as soon as they walk in.

Some thrill-seekers sit in her chair.

They report feeling their head throbbing and intense nausea, some even passing out from the pain.

They also report intense guilt.

One child sat in the seat without thinking about it and they reported being fine but feeling a little sad.

She plays the flashlight game with investigators, but only if they're nice.

One turned on a spirit box and gave her a cup of tea on Obon.

"Thank you."

8/10, don't sit in her fucking chair you dumbass.

Mukuro Ikusaba is heard rarely.

Like Mondo, she has one reported calling.

In the gym, late at night, you can hear a quiet sobbing.

Children will hear a crying girl in their head:

"I didn't want this."

3/10, how is this even more ow.

Junko Enoshima is heard in the execution room.

Staff used to think there were multiple ghosts in there, but it turns out it's just her.

She laughs, cries, and shrieks.

The story is that she killed herself with her own executions after succeeding in the killing game.

At night investigators play the flashlight game with her.

Every visitor is always unnerved by her.

There is an unspoken bitterness towards her.

She doesn't deserve her success.

0/10, scary bitch.

Makoto Naegi is seen everywhere.

The Ultimate Lucky Student loves telling his story.

He's seen in windows and mirrors with his hoodie and a warm smile.

He's always kind and welcoming.

People leave him popular snacks at his dorm room on Obon.

He never speaks, he just likes watching everyone learn about them.

If children ever get lost he leads them back to their parents.

They'll always tell their family about the "nice boy with brown hair" who takes their hand gently and leads them to safety.

He feels a duty to protect the staff. They never feel alone at night. He's always there to keep them safe.

The descendant of Komaru Naegi, who happened to be a paranormal investigator, once spent the night in his old dorm room.

She reported hearing quiet crying and sniffling that morning before she opened her eyes and was flooded with a sense of relief.

Oh thank god, she was okay.

10/10, heart of gold.

Byakuya Togami is seen in one room and one room only.

He is the only one that people regularly see in the flesh as a full figure.

He's sitting in the library, reading a murder mystery novel.

He has never acknowledged any of the guests, except for one.

A small child, a descendant of Togami's old butler, gently knocked on the table to get his attention and waved politely. They thought he was a staff member.

He looked up at them, gave a little wave back, and went back to his book.

When they turned away and looked back, he was gone.

Staff will see him walking back to his room when the museum is closing up.

He's snobby, sure, but he has his manners. He won't purposefully get in the way of the staff.

9/10, super chill.

???

There is an unknown ghost that has one known/recorded interaction.

One night a paranormal investigator spent the night exploring the building.

They walked in the library to see Togami with a book and a lamp on that was previously off.

They nodded at him politely and went to the bookshelves to "find a book". They turned on a spirit box and stayed quiet.

The library door opened and closed.

They hear a passing conversation.

"Hello love."

A kiss, presumably on the knuckles.

"How was today?"

"Tiring", says a voice. "Lot of cleaning. Did you get any visitors?"

A chuckle. "Too many. I think they can see me."

"Probably."

A pause.

"Togami?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think they'll ever figure out what really happened here?"

Hesitance. "For their sake, I hope not."

============================================

Feedback would be lovely. Thank you for your time!

[bumbershots]

Mistletoe & Wine

A/N: Hello this is my collaboration for @goldenbluesuit very well put together Christmas song fic challenge. It’s my first time participating and my first time posting my writing here as well (I’m sort of new, I have no friends) so, I’m kind of nervous and English is not my first language (sorry for any mistakes) thanks to my boyfriend for being a Brit so he could help me with the “slang” and for reading this about fifteen times and listened to Mistletoe and Wine by Cliff Richard throughout the entire week with me lol. Thanks for  taking the time to read this :) If you want to befriend a twenty six year old Aries, or just send me an ask click here.

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: Harry meets a woman that is not here to stay, he will need to decide if that will keep him from making the most of the very few days they have together or dread the imminent separation.

It was raining when her flight landed in London. The kind of rain that doesn't pour heavily, instead it settles over the city for days. And although she can't afford to take a cab, she steps out of the airport just to stare at the endless grey of the sky and wrap herself in her coat because of how cold it was. After a few more minutes she goes back inside to find the way to get out of there on the tube, she knew it to be possible after all the research she's been doing since the age of twelve on the internet.

Soon enough, the man she approached to ask for help, confirms that a train is leaving in a few minutes and she can easily get off at Hammersmith, he even helps her buy the ticket and recommends to get an oyster card if she is going to use London's Underground often. But she doesn't know, she relishes in the element of surprise that is surrounding her life for the next 3 weeks. It excites her to an unfamiliar degree to see people come and go into the carriage, it almost makes her miss her stop, but she manages to get off just in time, her hands clutching the heavy suitcase that contains all her nicest and warmest clothes. She follows the crowd up the stairs and out of the station, the busy street revealed before her is straight out of those books she restlessly studied at school, people wearing trench coats and long scarfs hurry in hopes to avoid the rain and then a red double-decker bus passes by. The cherry on top.

The spontaneous decision to spend Christmas in England instead of her home country was made months ago, on the night of her birthday, although her closest friends would say that she's been dreaming of it since she read Harry Potter. No one gave her a hard time for it, in fact, almost all her friends and family members went to the airport to wish her a safe trip. Her grandmother was cheeky enough to slip a twenty pound note when hugging her goodbye.

Every day of the first week went by in a blur, visiting museums, galleries and walking around the city, getting soaked in its beauty and the endless rain. By the beginning of the second week, a bit tired of the scarce options from the hotel's breakfast, she ventured out, burying half of her face in the scarf she bought the day before at Primark, her feet guiding her almost out of instinct to the little cafe at the end of Hercules road. The place is warm and the menu seems to have it all for a very fair price. After a couple of minutes the Full English wins, she iterates the order to the woman behind the counter and adds a cup of tea handing over the money.

"Get a seat love, I'll bring it over." The elder lady says making the girl smile and thank her before scampering across the room to sit by the window at the four seat table tucked in the corner.

It doesn't take long for her food to arrive and for her to dig in, feeling kind of full almost at the end, she slows down then, a trick her father passed down on her. Let it settle in for a few minutes before going back at it. Works every time. She gets lost on the daily life happening before her eyes, the people walking by, some in a rush maybe to get to work, others in a rush to get to the shops early and buy presents. She could easily tell the difference between one and other. The elderly couple walking to the market, slower than anybody else, arms linked and without a care in the world. A girl around her age doing "the walk of shame" elicited a smirk on her lips. Good for her.

"Do you mind if I take a seat?" She almost missed the question by the stranger standing there. "There's no empty seats elsewhere I'm afraid, I won't bother you." He was right, in the span of thirty minutes the place was full to the brim with families, the three seats at her table the only ones free so, she nodded and even managed to smile in a friendly way. Unfortunately for her, the green eyed stranger did the same, a sweet dimple on his left cheek more prominent than on the right one and she had to eat a spoonful of beans in an attempt to hide her blush.

Two weeks in the country, almost two weeks, and the best looking man on it decides to show up on a greasy spoon cafe when she's eating what's left of her sausages and beans. His food is delivered by the same lady from earlier, of course it is something that looks healthy. The sudden need to fly away from the place pops in her head, it's not a bad one, he doesn't even know her name. She wants to know his. She remembers how he said he wouldn't bother her, it's almost disappointing, she wants to be bothered.

The situation seems to be straight out of a rom-com, she is cutting the banger in little pieces, as if the formula to spark conversation with the mystery guy keeping her company is hidden in them. But after five minutes she sighs quietly, knowing that her own shyness won't let her even glance at him again. She will have to do her best to remember him and observe from the corner of her eye until the last piece of minced pork is consumed by her. And maybe she will gush about how gorgeous he was with her friends once she is back home, describing his shiny emerald eyes for them, sharing a sigh when she recalls how dreamy his accent was and squeal upon the memory of his raspy voice.

Ten minutes later her last bite is chewed and swallowed, the cup is empty as well. She's about to grab her coat draped on the back of her chair. "I'm going to have to break my non-disturbing you promise but... um, that's a sick cardigan." His voice doesn't sound confident as before, he even clears his throat, but his eyes never leave hers.

"Thanks, my grandma knitted it for me." She forgets about her coat and straightens out a bit for him to appreciate the colourful patchwork and extends her left arm to show the over-sized sleeve. Her companion hums in approval. "She hates it."

"What?" His green eyes widening in disbelief and she just shrugs.

"As soon as I put it on she went on and on about how horrible it was, the wrong proportions and how it all seemed better off in her mind." They share a giggle and don't notice that their empty plates have been taken away and the place is no longer swamped by people. "But I like it, I like it a lot, does a good job keeping me warm." And makes her look lovely, he thinks but doesn't say.

Instead he licks his lips before speaking again. "I'm Harry." He offers his left hand and she quickly eyes the cross tattoo.

"I'm a tourist." She says before adding her real name, earning a deep chuckle from him before letting go of his hand.

The set of circumstances in which she met Harry is dreamy for sure, but something about him made the set of affairs so real. When he asked about the places where she'd been the scoff afterwards and the roll of his eyes made her ask what was wrong about them. But he didn't answer, with a shake of his head and a deep sigh he asked for her phone number. The promise to show her the real London lingered in the air as they parted ways outside of the corner cafe.

Her heart raced at the very sight of him outside Borough Market the following morning. "Morning love, alright?" he greeted her before hugging her tight and quick. It was so genuine it made her wonder if she really just met him the day before. "Do you like doughnuts?"

"Who doesn't?" she says with that grin he worries will wait for him in his dreams.

"Wisest words ever spoken." Harry's arm is wrapped around her shoulders, guiding her on their quest inside the huge market.

The early morning is spent too soon, Harry guides her to talk to the stall owners, they are so passionate about their produce, most of them willing when possible to give them a sample. The highlight is the stop at Bread Ahead, they buy more doughnuts than what she thinks they need. They eat them all while sharing a Monmouth coffee. Harry shares with her stories about almost every stall they passed by. "I'm not a fan of red meat, and oysters." She keeps record of it, basking in his lovely anecdotes that seemed to summon the sun from it's hiding place. "We're granted a sunny day in winter!" He celebrates and it's impossible not to join him. "Let's go to Richmond Park."

Of course she nods in agreement and follows him down the street where he parked his car before she gets in the passenger seat. The stranger danger alarm, should've gone off in her head. But there was something about him, like he was holding her in place. As she heard Harry speak about his job, it started to make more sense in her head. Harry was a lot like this country, foreign, new, exciting and hers for the next few days. He made that clear when they parted ways at the end of the day.

"Come home with me for Christmas." Harry asked her on what would be the beginning of her last week in London, while having a picnic on Primrose Hill.

"With your family?" Her eyebrows were shot up when he nodded, fighting back that deadly smirk of his. "All your relatives will be there?" He nods again and she scoffs completely agitated. "Don't be daft Harry!" She voices out her feelings borrowing an expression of his.

He laughs and it's impossible for her not to join him, her face growing hotter by the second. "I don't want to go without you, and mum will love to have you there," that's what she fears.

"I don't know Harry, might be weird." He disagrees right away.

"It's close to Liverpool, we could spend a day or two over there." The past week he's been trying to learn as many things from her as possible and if he chooses his words carefully he can convince her. "Pay a visit to Anfield, The Cavern." His fake nonchalant attitude makes her roll her eyes, "Strawberry Fields is there too, you know?" She agrees and he kisses the back of her hand to mask the proud grin on his face.

In the past, she was always careful not to let a partner know how deeply she cared about them. The thought of being vulnerable made her lose her mind, thinking it was a sign of weakness. But seeing Harry drive through the English countryside, singing at the top of his lungs to Mistletoe and Wine by Cliff Richard and smiling just for her. It made her want to tell him, but not even all the words in every single language ever spoken by humanity could be enough to give him an idea of how much she cares for him.

There hasn't been a proper kiss between them, it puzzled her at first. Because his gaze seemed to be constantly directed to her lips. But then there was all the touching, holding hands, tucking her to his side when walking, his tender touch before hugging her goodbye. And the way he was always running his hands through her hair.

"She's a friend," he introduces her to his mum Anne and sister Gemma, after saying her name, chewing on the word like it's that mint gum he carries in his purse everywhere he goes. "Was a bloody tourist when I first met her but now... she's a proper Londoner." She doubts it, but she agrees on them being friends and she likes it, a lot.

They help Anne and Gemma to set the table and the finishing touches for dinner. Only three more family members show up and she chastises Harry for making her believe that all of his offspring was going to attend. That's how they usually spend Christmas Eve back home, she explains.

It saddens him, the thought of her going back to her home country in five days time. All the way across the Atlantic, six hours behind him. It's almost unfair.

"Tell me more about it," Harry's curiosity is genuine, thinking that he would love to know more about her traditions. Perhaps even be lucky enough to share them someday.

"We don't have these," she regrets taking a tube of brightly coloured paper. "We have piñatas though." She adds proudly and Harry's jaw hangs open in surprise.

"No fucking way!" He is immediately told off by his mum as they all take a seat at the table. "I thought that was only allowed for birthdays."

"There's no rules for that!" She takes the Christmas cracker out again and Harry takes it from the other end. "So, I just pull it?" He nods and it makes a noise revealing the present.

"You get the crown." Harry unfolds it before helping her fix it atop her head. "And the little toy, what is it?oh... I get the joke!" His family groans, his sister hiding her face in hands, but all she sees is the glint in Harry's eye before he reads. "Who's Rudolph's favourite pop star?"

"I don't know," she's the only one that was going to ask him. And she really wanted to know.

"Beyon-sleigh!" Harry watches in delight how the girl before him snorts at the silly and not so funny joke.

"That was awful." She confessed.

"Agree, next year we'll make our own. Riddles only." His mum adds and Harry protests right away but is shushed by Gemma's voice reading out loud the riddle from her cracker.

Next year, she will probably be spending the day with her numerous family, she thinks. Harry will be here again, telling awful jokes, pulling away Christmas crackers. Perhaps he will bring another person with him. She tries to push the poisonous thoughts down with a big gulp of wine. Only succeeding when Harry's left hand rests on her knee, his thumb rubbing circles on her skin exposed by her ripped jeans while he listens to his sister talk about her podcast. It marvels her how he is there, for everybody.

After dinner they play family games and Harry makes a fake tantrum after his cousin Chloe claims his companion for her team.

"She's mine!" He argues, his long arms embracing her easily. She ends up joining the other team, but the quick kiss she bravely gave to his neck before he let her go, confirmed the words he spoke.

There is a three step process Harry follows to know he's fallen in love. If he finds himself talking about them with every living soul, if he does something they like just because it makes him miss them less and finally if he takes them home to meet his mum. He knows that for the past few days, there was no other topic to discuss with him than the girl sitting beside him in the sofa. He's been drinking tea every morning, just because it reminds him of her. He watches her talk to his mother about how much they like Rod Stewart and knows that he's in too deep.

It should bother him, because she will leave. And all these moments spent, will be just distant memories for him to torture himself over and over again. He wants to feel the angst of knowing that maybe she will forget him, maybe she has a partner back home. He gives up on trying to feel miserable, agreeing with that song from earlier. It is a time to rejoice in the good that we see, a time for living and believing.

Right now all he sees is her, he sighs before tucking her by his side, her brown doe eyes meeting his briefly before sneaking an arm around his waist. She continues to chat with Anne and Gemma even after the rest of the guests leave, still holding onto him. Harry can see the fondness radiating from his mother and sister for the girl in his arms. He sees trust, and he smiles thinking of a new beginning.

What a beautiful sight.

[andrea-lyn]

Malex prompt: Liz confides in Michael about Alex's ptsd and mentions that he doesn't seem to be as fine as he's pretending to be because she knows he's trying to be the strong one for everyone else to lean on. Cue worried Michael : ). You can do what you want with this. I know it's oddly specific. You're a great writer : )

(First off, you are very, very sweet, so I hope you enjoy where I’m taking this! Goes AU after 1x08)

***

It’s hard to notice, if you’re not paying attention.

At least, that’s what Liz has said to him three times over the course of this conversation and truthfully, Michael’s kind of tired of hearing it. He can read between the lines and finding out that he’s fucked up by trying to do the right thing stabs him between the ribs like a sharp blade.

“I only noticed when we were hanging out with Maria and her mom the other week,” Liz admits, leaning against his table in the Crashdown. “He zoned out completely when a car backfired and then when the new guy burned a towel and it caught fire, he bolted for the bathroom.”

He hadn’t noticed.

Liz keeps talking, but Michael’s doing his own version of zoning out, because he’d been so busy trying to give Alex space that he’d gone all the way the other way and ignored the obvious signs in his face.

Some genius he is.

“…anyway, I figure maybe I’ll have him come over for dinner this weekend. He can lecture me some more about being a bad friend, but it’d be nice to have him come over.”

Michael has no idea what’s been happening on the human side of things, but this little talk has filled in the blanks. While he’d been working on figuring out how to stop Isobel’s blackouts, Alex has been taking it on himself to worry about Maria and Liz, trying to keep things together, and though it sounds like Liz doesn’t know what’s going on, she also mentions that he’s been hanging out with Valenti more. Then, Isobel had gone into the pod and he and Liz had started working non-stop to fight against that, all while Alex had been fighting his own battles.

He knows a thing or two about burning the candle at both ends.

After the drive-in, Michael had made it a point to give Alex space, but he didn’t think that Alex would take all that space and run himself ragged with it. This calls for an intervention.

“You know what, I haven’t seen him in ages,” Michael says, knowing that Liz doesn’t know about their history, but had seen them hanging out at the drive-in and the reunion, so she knows they’re friends. “Do you mind if I stole him for the night?”

Liz gives him a surprised look, but nods. “Sure! Do you want me to warn him that you’re going to…”

“Nah,” Michael says, not wanting Alex to be undertaking evasive maneuvers just to avoid hanging out with him. “No, I’ll swing by and grab him this weekend, try and take him away and maybe get him to relax.”

Liz packs him up lunch to go, and Michael leaves the diner kicking himself in the ass for assuming that Alex was better off if Michael fully cut him out of his life instead of being a supportive friend instead of wanting things to go right back to that epic, explosive place they’d left it in.

It’s his own fault. He doesn’t really know what it’s like to have real friends, but maybe it’s time he figured it out.

That’s how Michael finds himself at the cabin, with a piece of fabric over his fingertips. He doesn’t intend to use it without Alex’s express permission, but he kind of hopes he’s going to get it.

Alex opens the screen door, staring warily at Michael.

”You know, between Kyle trying to break into my house and now you on my porch with a blindfold, I’m starting to think home ownership is way more exciting than anyone would’ve led me to believe.” He crosses his arms over his chest, pressing his lips together. “What are you doing here, Guerin, I’m busy.”

Yeah, he bets he is.

”I heard that you had lunch with the girls, spent the day with them and Mimi DeLuca,” Michael says, absently running the blindfold back and forth over his hand. “Liz…said some things,” he says, feeling like a weird awkward tattletale. “Look, you did a great thing, being there for Maria,” is what he says, and Michael had been there too for her when she’d broken down.

Now it’s his turn to worry about Alex.

”How about you let someone else watch out for you?” Before Alex can say anything else. “I just want to give you break, Alex, nothing else.”

He knows better than to complicate things by talking about their history or, god forbid, their future. If Alex is still suffering, if he’s still having flashbacks to the war, Michael needs to avoid layering more stress on top of that.

Alex stares at him warily, but turns and locks up behind him. “So the blindfold isn’t a kinky thing?”

Michael doesn’t even take the opening for what it is. He hands it to Alex. “Once we’re in the truck, you can put it on. I figured maybe you wouldn’t mind a bit of a surprise, or you could just use it to grab a few z’s on the drive into town.”

Alex still looks wary, but he climbs into the passenger seat of the truck and after a long moment of thought, he even slides the blindfold on.

The amount of trust it`s taken for him to do that resonates with Michael, and makes him relieved that no matter what had happened between them, it`s not all ruined.

Michael’s been planning this all day. Every time he’d thought about ringing Isobel for help, he remembers where she is and it only makes him work harder on the Alex issue, because it helps to take his mind off the part where he’s failing Iz by not finding a solution.

When he pulls the truck into park, he reaches over to rest his good hand on top of Alex’s. “Hey,” he murmurs. “We’re here, you can take that off.”

Alex does, slowly, and it rumples his hair. It takes every ounce of self-restraint in Michael’s body not to reach over and fix it for him, but he manages (barely). He watches with delight as Alex registers where they are.

”Guerin,” Alex exhales, climbing out of the truck, leaving the blindfold on the seat. He’s staring up at the UFO Emporium sign, but Michael quickly leads them inside so Alex can see the rest.

He’d set this up earlier and everything is ready. There’s a guitar lying up against one of the drapes covering an exhibit, there’s a six-pack of beer, and a few blankets on the ground. Michael watches as Alex runs through shock, surprise, grief, and then lands on a sad fondness.

He knows this isn’t going to change anything, but it’s not about them.

Tonight is about Alex.

“Liz mentioned that when you and Maria were hanging out with Mimi, you seemed kind of spaced out sometimes,” Michael admits, hoisting himself to sit up on one of the empty plinths, leaning his shoulder back against a starry wall. “It got me thinking that ever since you’ve been back, it’s kind of been nonstop for you. I mean, the parade, the reunion,” he lists, “but then you were moving into a new place, trying to adjust to Liz being back in town, Valenti being back in your life…”

“How do you know all this?”

“Liz and I,” Michael says, making a face, “talk now.”

There’s plenty of time for that when you’re spending your days and nights trying to find a cure for Isobel, who’s sitting in a pod waiting for them to figure it out.

“I wish I could videotape that, make her watch you make that face,” Alex comments, with an amused smirk. He keeps walking inside, studying the place, noticing the thin layer of dust though things have started to move around in preparation for the re-opening.

“Michael…”

Michael feels his stomach twist up. Alex has never called him by his first name and while he’s always wanted it, he’s not sure what it means to hear it off his lips. “Yeah?”

“You brought me to the alien museum.”

“Yeah.”

“…are you ready to tell me?”

Michael stares at Alex and his first thought isn’t, how do you know?

No. His first thought is that it explains why Alex has been so tense, why some of that old stress has been coming back. He’s found out about aliens, all the awful things that happened in the past, and he’s been thrown back into a war zone, only it’s because instead of a government putting him in the face of danger, now it’s his friends.

Michael swallows back the lump in his throat, shaking his head. “Alex,” he chides. “I brought you here so you would stop making it all about someone else. You don’t have to spend every minute being strong for your father or your country or even me. If you want to feel like shit, I highly recommend it. It goes great with a whisky chaser. You don’t have to pretend to be okay all of the time.”

Though, Michael reflects, he can only imagine the number Jesse Manes had done on his son when it comes to perceptible weakness.

“You don’t have to be strong around me about anything. Your leg, the war, being back, finding out about me,” he says, even though that last bit scares the shit out of him. “I know you don’t want to be with me, but I’m not going anywhere. I think I proved that over the last ten years.”

Alex is staring at him and hasn’t run away, so Michael feels safe to keep going.

”When you’re ready to stop trying to fix everything else, when you’re tired of being the base of support and the voice of reason for everyone else, I’m here. However you want me, I’m here.”

He’s not expecting the hug he gets from Alex, though it quickly shifts from being an embrace into something messier. It’s Alex burying his face in Michael’s neck, tears against his skin, fingernails scratching Michael’s shirt as he struggles to hold on, all while his breathing goes messy.

It’s a man who’s falling apart because he can and he’s allowed to.

Michael strokes his back, not hushing him or telling him that it’s all going to be okay. He doesn’t like lies or secrets when he can avoid them and right now, he needs to be Alex’s rock. He needs to be able to comfort him.

So he doesn’t make empty promises. “I’ve got you,” is what he says instead. “I’m here, Alex. I’m here when you need me.”

Alex drifts back and when he breathes in, it sounds shaky, but not broken.

That’s when Michael knows he didn’t fuck up.

They spend the night sitting six feet apart, drinking beer and talking. Alex plays the guitar and Michael lets his chaotic mind drift into silence, while Alex lies sprawled on the ground and talks about what it had been like overseas, though he doesn’t talk about the day he’d lost his leg.

Michael isn’t surprised. He knows they’ve got a long way to go, in all kinds of ways. When it’s two in the morning, Alex finally struggles to his feet, gesturing down to his leg.

”I really should get back home. I might not turn into a pumpkin, but my leg definitely gets as red as a tomato if I wear this too long.”

”I’ll drive you,” Michael assures, tidying everything up and dumping it into the bed of his truck. The silence in the truck on the way back is nowhere near as tense and awkward as it had been on the way, and Michael’s smiling privately given how he feels like he finally did something right.

Alex lingers on the porch waving at him, and maybe Michael’s just buzzing from spending the night with Alex after being away for so long, but he thinks maybe they’ve turned a corner.

There’s still so much to talk about. Michael’s history, Alex’s leg, all the unspoken traumas they’re hiding under a shallow veneer, but he’s accomplished his goal tonight – make sure Alex knows he doesn’t always have to be the strong one, that someone will be there if he wants to break down.

Next Saturday, Michael is working on a few cars at the junkyard when he hears the tires of a truck pull up.

“I brought coffee,” comes Alex’s voice, sounding worn and tired. “You feel like taking a break? It’s been … it’s been a hell of a day,” he says, and Michael can’t help how happy he is to see Alex willingly coming to him instead of forcing himself to reshape his life into his father’s ideal image.

He’s always known that Alex is the strongest man he knows, that’s one of the things he loves about him. He’s also incredibly proud, now, to know that Alex feels open enough to be weak around Michael, which takes a different kind of strength that even Michael isn’t sure he possesses.

“I told you, I’m always here,” Michael says, letting the hood of the car he’s working on slam shut.

He’s ready to live up to his promises for Alex, because he’d do absolutely anything for him and he looks forward to making sure that he’s not the only one in town to support him in those moments of strain and stress.

For now, he’s more than happy being that person, because if anyone deserves to be supported the way he gives that strength to everyone else, it’s Alex Manes.