#why is there a bandage on stu's nose ALREADY?

[msookyspooky]

Terrible Trilogy

Part 17

wordcount: 6,220

'...What am I going to do now?' You thought to yourself, leaning against a wall down the hall. Practically hiding yourself in the shadows as the entire precinct was buzzing. 

'What if the killer gets pissed I'm here and sends a picture? What if Billy and Stu didn't get my car back to the motel?...What if-' 

"YN?" 

Your train of thought was interrupted as Dewey walked towards you. His limp was a bit worse than usual after the night you all had. Scratches and gashes on his face including right across his nose bridge. 

"How's your head?...And your hand?" He softly asked with a grimace.

"I'm alright. I'm no more beat up than the rest of you." 

"But…Randy said you were with the killer. I remember hearing you but with the killer after Gale. I'm sorry, Gale and Jennifer-" 

You held up a hand with a tight smile. "It's alright, Dewey. There was so much chaos going on at the time that I don't blame you for not hearing me." 

"I'm just glad you're okay. We thought the killer got you or you were still in the house." His brows turned upwards with sad brown eyes staring down at you. He put his hand firmly on your shoulder, squeezing while shaking his head. "If anything happened to you…" 

You put a hand over his, smiling up at him. "Hey, I'm tough stuff Dewey. It's going to take more than that to off me." 

He forced a smile before squeezing your shoulder one last time before leaning close to whisper to you. He shielded you a bit near the wall as he gave you an apologetic look. "I'm sorry…The Detective wants to talk to you…I think it's time to talk whether we like it or not, YN." 

You sighed and rubbed your eyes. A bandage on your right hand where the killer slashed you. You were stitched up after a quick visit to the hospital and the gash on your head was thankfully superficial. It had been a whole day in a half of practically no sleep and at this point the floor looked like a good spot. The sooner you did this, the sooner you could crash and rest even for a few short hours. 

You dropped your hands to your sides and nodded. "Okay…Okay, let's get this over with." 

'I just hope my lack of sleep doesn't make me say something stupid.' You thought as Dewey led you to the office down the hall. 

You could hear Randy talking as you got closer. 

"She already gave statement after statement and testimony after testimony for the last 5 years straight. What more do you want? You want to know the color of Stu's socks that night or what she had for breakfast that morning? Will that crack the code?" 

You walked in to see a bulletin board filled with map connected pieces, photos of familiar faces and little notes. Randy spoke with a hint of annoyance in his voice, arms folded as he leaned against a wall. His usually styled up medium length hair falling near his face with a scratch on his cheek. You couldn't help eyeing him…That scratch on the same spot as the scar you gave Billy. Just seeing it gave you an uncomfortable flashback of being cornered in that shed. Gale looked a bit better, a gash barely concealed by her short bangs near her temple.

 A scratched up Randy and Gale stood on opposite sides of the room as a young man with a badge stood near the board. Medium length dark wavy hair, blue eyes, handsome face, tall. Possibly in his late 20's to early 30's; younger than you expected for a Detective.

"She might know something; Something that we missed. I'd appreciate it if you lost the sarcasm in your voice, Mr. Meeks. Four people are dead." 

"I understand asking her about last night, alright, I do…But why the fuck does Stu's midnight massacre matter NOW? I'm telling you both, cops NEVER get it right! There were two killers that night; Billy and Stu. We saw them!" 

Gale huffed under her breath. "You were passed out most of the night…Come on, Randy. There's no reason for you and Dewey to keep protecting a woman that needs to give a statement like everyone else." 

"There is when the media wants to twist her story to fit a certain narrative…GALE." Randy spat as you and Dewey hung back a bit. Still unnoticed within the bustling precinct. Gale and the two men were too busy arguing to even realize you and Dewey were in the doorway. 

The Detective walked up to Randy to stare him down. Randy rolled his lips and looked away as the Detective spoke. "She's right. This isn't the media, this is the LAPD.  Do you and Mr Riley understand that? This is an official police investigation and YN by all accounts was gone when Tom Prinze and Steven Stone were murdered and she has been the target in every other Woodsboro related killing spree. You and Mr Riley have been hiding her for too long. I understand your concern but we are past concerns now. I need to talk to her. She is a key element in this case." He paced as he ranted. "I have a press conference in an hour and I need to explain why there are three dead celebrities AND a bodyguard!" 

Dewey cleared his throat as you hesitantly stood behind him in the doorway. 

The Detective's entire demeanor changed when he saw you. A surprised look on his face as you walked in. 

Dewey gave the man a frown. "Guess you won't be needing that polygraph from me, Detective…Here she is. Nothing to hide." 

 Another man slightly older than Dewey walked past you. Smacking a newspaper onto the desk before walking up to Dewey with a glare. "We'll be the judge of that." 

He glanced at you as he made his way out, mutturing. "At least now we have the woman of the hour…Kind of strange you went missing right before you were almost charcoal. " 

You frowned deeply at that and looked away as the man left. 

Dewey cleared his throat again and gestured to the Detective. "YN, this is Detective Kincaid." 

The Detective extended a hand to shake yours. "Nice to finally meet you, YN." 

You nodded. You couldn't help staring at his piercing blue eyes a bit longer than intended. You quickly looked around at the board.

"So…What do you need from me?" You mumbled. 

Kincaid rubbed his neck with a blow of air past his lips. "Ah well, as much information as I can get. All we know is the killer is leaving pictures of Maureen Prescott from over 25 year ago at the places the murders take place and is targeting those involved in the Stab Movie." 

You looked at him strangely. "...Only Mrs. Prescott?" 

"So far. Why do you ask?" 

"Just um…Just wondering." Your stomach sank a bit at that. "Why her?...Why are these pictures of her so young?" 

Dewey shrugged. "We don't know. We called Maureen's sister and she had no idea either…They weren't that close." 

"And they have messages on the back of all of them?" 

Kincaid nodded. "Yes. Claiming that this killer killed Maureen instead of who we know killed her; Billy Loomis and Stu Macher." 

You scoffed and shook your head as you walked up to the board. Your eyes landed on a newspaper clipping of Sidney and Tatum's obituaries along with the other victims…Even Stu and Billy's…You've seen them hundreds of times. You couldn't stop staring at it once it was printed and distributed throughout your old town of Woodsboro. Then your eyes landed on Maureen, a woman you never met but could see a bit of Sidney in every photo of her.

Kincaid continued. "Which leaves me with the question; was there a third killer?" 

You shook your head. "...No. Billy and Stu did it." 

Gale eyed you. "How are you so certain?" 

You exchanged a cold glance her way. "Because I was friends with them prior to all of this and they filled me and Sidney in on her Mom's murder in Stu's kitchen…You were in the van down the road at the time, remember?" You couldn't help giving that same petty energy she used on Randy right back at her. Seeing her mouth twitch into a frown gave you the tiniest amount of satisfaction as you continued. "They were entirely too proud of what they did…Why would they lie when they were going to kill everyone anyway that night?" 

Dewey nodded. "That's what I want to know too…Why would they take credit if they didn't do it?" 

Randy scoffed. "Because this new killer is lying. It's clearly another Mickey wannabe copycat. Wanting as much fame and attention as Billy and Stu got…YN was attacked in the past by a mega fan no thanks to some people in this room-" 

"Hey!" Gale snapped. "Did I sick that freak on her? No! And I'm sorry it happened to her but I just wrote what I collected from witness reports!" 

Randy scoffed. "And twisted it around to make her look bad. Then proceeded to collect payment off of your bullshit book AND the movies." 

Gale glared at him. "May I remind you your testimony was in that book too, Randy-" 

You saw Randy's eyes widen as he unfolded his arms, ready to argue with Gale before Kincaid smacked his hand on the desk. "ENOUGH! If it doesn't have anything to do with what happened at that party 5 years ago or what's happening right now then we can all leave it outside MY office. Got it?! Grudges don't count." 

 You flinched…Last night bringing back fears you hadn't faced in years. You felt tired, scared, anxious and…Weak. Getting away from this new killer was sheer luck. 

Dewey looked beside himself. You knew he felt guilt for choosing Gale after Windsor and Randy had guilt too with his hand in the book that Gale wrote. The air was thick as Kincaid acted as the mediator. 

"Now." Kincaid gave as he stood up to his full height to address everyone in the room. "We know this killer is connected or trying to connect themselves to what happened 6 years ago to Maureen Prescott. We know everyone in Stab is a target. We know that they wrote a script that killed Tom by using his lighter to read it…And we know there are three scripts this killer is basing off of."

Dewey scrunched his face. "Yeah but which one? Gale…I mean, Jennifer was supposed to die and she didn't." 

"Only because the killer couldn't control who entered the house again." Kincaid said. "In the three scripts; who's next to go?...An idea, Tech Advisor?" 

Dewey gave Kincaid an unamused stare. 

Randy scratched his head as he tried to think. "Uh…Well, which one had Candy… er a… Sarah die?" 

Gale shrugged. "Script 2…" Everyone looked at her and she rolled her eyes. "What? I stole all 3 when I snuck on set." 

Kincaid pointed. "There! So we follow script 2." 

Randy shook his head. "But that might be what the killer wants you to think!"

Gale scoffed. "It's worth a shot, Randy!...In script 1: Angelina would be next. In script 2: It would be whoever plays Stu in the flashback-" 

You tensed as you faced away from them towards the board.

"-And 3 was Dewey." 

Kincaid raised a brow. "You mean Tom?"

"Yeah, but 3 didn't have Sarah dying!" Gale hissed out.

"Doesn't matter!" Randy argued. "The killer is going to plant red herrings people! So either two of those scripts are false OR they're all wrong and just there to try and throw us off this new guy's trail." 

Kincaid gave Randy an annoyed look. "Well we have to have something to go by…Motives, someone related to Maureen's past, some old grudges, anything! Maybe we need to find out who this actor for Stu is-" 

You didn't think you were breathing as you listened to them go back and forth. 

"What if it's not anyone on Set? Tim and James… They could be copycatting again. I mean, we never caught them at Windsor." Gale gave. You could feel her eyes on you as you refused to look at her. 

"Yes but they weren't connected to any of the murders. For all we know, they could have been pranksters using YN's fear against her as a cruel, sick joke." Kincaid gave.

A bit of anger passed over Gale's features. "I was there! They were in the auditorium and Mrs. Loomis…" She trailed off. "...They were involved. And they're still out there." 

You stayed silent, purposely staring at the board with your back to all of them.

"Or, let's look at someone that has a lot more sway here than two random assholes." Randy gave.

"Who??" Dewey asked. 

"Easy. Roman. I mean, it's obvious! They're going based on scripts and who gets killed next. Who else has that authority? ROMAN. They're whole schtick is writing the movie into these murders and vice versa. ROMAN…And who called Sarah Darling? ROMAN." 

Gale and Dewey glanced at each other as Kincaid eyed Randy. 

"...He's a suspect but he claims he didn't call her and the call didn't come from his phone. We checked…Not a payphone either." Kincaid mumbled.

"Kind of like your call, YN. You thought you heard Randy but-" Dewey clamped his mouth shut as you turned to stare at him in disbelief.

Kincaid eyed you. "A call, Miss YN?...What call?" 

You glared at Dewey who gave you a regretful look.

You sighed heavily, closing your eyes before you reluctantly told them. "...I got a call from Randy to come here to the set of Stab and uh…He claims he didn't and the number was unknown.  I didn't know until afterwards." 

Everyone looked at Randy as he stared back in disbelief. "That's right, I didn't." 

"Really?" Kincaid asked with a skeptical voice. 

"Yes, really!…Check my phone, I don't have anything to hide." 

Kincaid sucked in a breath. "I will…Just like I checked Roman's." 

"Results?" 

Kincaid looked away. "...The phone call to Sarah Darling came from an untraceable burner phone…Not Roman's." 

Gale lifted a brow and folded her arms. "So, that means anyone could be using it." 

Dewey shook his head. "But how would they get her number to begin with? YN isn't listed anywhere." 

"He could have monitored her calls from the scanner. Did you or Mr Meeks call her from the set?" 

Dewey gave him a sarcastic smirk as Randy shook his head with an eyeroll. "No." Dewey replied.

Gale added. "Well do you have her number stored in your memory?" 

Dewey thought for a moment as Gale rolled her eyes. "PHONE memory!" 

Dewey scoffed with a sheepish chuckle. "Oh uh, yeah guess I do." 

Kincaid looked at Randy before he answered. "Yep." 

Gale gestured at both of them. "Okay, has anyone used your phones?" 

Randy shook his head. "Nope. I just arrived a few days ago and no one has used it but me." 

"Then why did YN hear your voice, Mr Meeks?" Kincaid questioned him. 

You bit your inner cheek, wanting to tell them your findings; that the killer is somehow using other peoples voices but unsure how to say it without everything coming unraveled.

"I don't know! Maybe it was someone that sounds like me?" 

Kincaid looked at Dewey. "And you? Has anyone used your phone?" 

"Just Jennifer…" His eyes lit up. "And you." 

Randy and you exchanged glances as Kincaid gave Dewey an offended look. "Hey, I'm the cop here. You're in my office, Riley…Besides, Mr Meeks was who YN heard." 

"I did NOT call her. Check my phone. Go on, check it! Besides, maybe YN is mistaken?" Randy looked at you. "I'm just saying! I did not invite you here so I don't care who you think you heard; it wasn't me!" 

Kincaid tilted his head with a raised brow. "I'll check your phone…But I also need to examine YN's phone for the exact time to compare-" 

"Can't." You finally spoke up while glossing over the bulletin board. 

"...Excuse me?" 

"You can't because…I don't have it now." 

You turned around to see all eyes on you. Kincaid gave you a bewildered look. "What do you mean you don't have it?...Are you telling me you purposely threw away evidence?" 

You gave him a frown. "I'm saying it was crushed in the woods near Jennifer's house." 

Gale raised both eyebrows at you. "The woods? The dark secluded woods? And what do you mean crushed??" 

You bit your lip anxiously, not speaking as Kincaid walked up to you. He stared down at you intently. "Miss YN, I highly suggest you start giving an explanation before everyone here starts assuming the worst." 

You held his stare, your brows furrowing and your stomach sinking…There was no getting out of it.

"...The killer crushed it under his boot when it fell out of my pocket… After he body slammed me to the ground." 

"Do you have proof?" 

"Isn't the gash on my head and bruises enough proof?" 

"What were you doing in the woods alone while a killer was on the loose?" Kincaid demanded, his arm on the bulletin board next to you. Eyeing you to see your reaction.

You held his stare before it came out. "...I got a call from the killer at Jennifer's house…And I went to the woods to finish it…Okay, I went to the woods to kill this new killer myself and be done with this. I didn't let anyone know because I knew they'd stop me." 

Kincaid looked taken aback, blinking down at you as the room was silent for a second. All before you heard Randy take a sharp inhale.

"You WHAT?!" Randy snapped with an outraged expression. "WHAT?!...You told me the killer lured you with a call but I thought…I thought you meant tricked you! Or, or, or blackmailed you! Like, 'Come into the woods if you want to see your friends alive' sort of deal!....You PURPOSELY went there to attack them?! ALONE?!" 

Dewey gave you just as much of an outraged look. His mouth wide open and eyebrows to his hairline.

You fidgeted with your hands as you fumbled. "H-hey, I had my gun!" 

"I don't give a damn, YN! Are you fucking kidding me?!" Randy exclaimed. 

Dewey shook his head as he stammered. "Why would you do that?! Don't you know how dangerous and… And illogical and-!?" 

You gave him a stare and held up your bandaged hand. "Yes, I'm well aware…Still doesn't change the fact I did it. That's why I went missing when everything happened last night..." 

Gale blinked repeatedly. "Um, are you mentally okay? Either you're lying or you're freaking unhinged…Why would the killer lure only you away from the house?" 

You gave her a glare and clamped up. Not speaking as Kincaid eyed you. 

He rolled his lips before pushing away from the board and walking towards your friends. 

"...Alright, everyone out." 

Randy scoffed. "What?" 

"You heard me. OUT." He shoved Randy's shoulder a bit to get him moving. "I don't need the peanut gallery giving comments to the person I need answers from within-" He checked his watch and groaned. "- 45 damn minutes." 

Gale didn't move as Dewey and Randy left. Randy gave you an angry glare that made you look away with guilt. Kincaid put a hand on his hip with raised brows. "That means you, Miss Weathers." 

"What? But I'm part of this case!-" 

"MY case. Kindly give me and YN privacy while I get her side of the story…Please, Miss Weathers." He added the last bit with a gesture of his head towards the door.

Gale scoffed before shaking her head and walking out.

Kincaid shut the door on them all and left you alone with him. His shoulders tensed and then released with a heavy sigh. He then turned back to you, softening his voice. "...I apologize for yelling earlier." 

You tilted your head as he continued.

 "I saw you flinch and kind of shrink into yourself. I didn't mean to trigger something with you especially after last night…I have my own triggers, you know. I get it." 

"You do?" You almost whispered, your voice softer than what you intended. 

"Yes…Years on the force from the time I was 19 years old…You witness things. I wasn't a small town cop like Dewey where what happened to all of you was a very rare tragedy. I grew up in this city and dealt with all its monsters even before I joined the LAPD… As a cop, I'm trained to push through it but not everyone can. I've seen plenty of people leave the force and never come back." 

He forced a smile your way before sitting at his desk. "…It's nice to be able to put a face to the voice." 

You gave him an odd look as he grinned at you. "You called Mr. Riley's phone and hung up when you heard me." 

You forced a smile, a nervous chuckle escaping you. "O-oh. Yeah I panicked. I thought something was wrong with Dewey and rushed to the set to see." You lied the best you could.

He gave you a skeptical look but still gestured a hand out to the chair across from his desk. "Please take a seat." 

You hesitated before sitting down. You were stiff in your chair, clutching your jacket around yourself as the last bit of defense you had. 

"Why did you mention your triggers?...Are you just telling me that to let my guard down?" You gave a slight smirk. "Is that one of your police tactics?" 

He stared at you before slightly shaking his head. "...No… Just relating with you. And this isn't an interrogation. I just want your side of the story. You're not a suspect, believe it or not." 

"Honestly? I don't believe it." 

"Why not?" 

"I mean, you saw everyone's reaction." 

"Yes but I think that was more of a concern over you doing it… Again." 

Your eyes widened. "What?...How um…How do you know that?" 

Kincaid gave you a playful smirk before getting into his desk. He pulled out a thick folder with your name on it. "Riley really does look out for you. He swiped this from our main building when we got a mysterious phone call about a month ago. A woman claiming she needed to see your file." 

You stared in complete shock at that as he continued. "Now, I don't recommend stealing official documentation but considering our files were broken into and ransacked; I'll let it slide. He just returned it." 

You nodded, adjusting yourself in your seat before he put your folder back in his drawer. "I saw that Detective Richards and Detective Andrews wrote in their report that you snuck away and tried to attack this Tim and James thinking they were the killers after Mr. Meeks ' attack. Honestly, it's a miracle he survived…Is that right?" 

You raised your chin and leaned back in your seat. "...Yes." 

He tsked. "And then you tried it again last night. I admire your bravery YN but there's a fine line between bravery and getting yourself killed." 

"Do you speak from experience, Detective? After all, you risk your life saving others. You're a homicide Detective after all." 

He eyed you, his eyes not as serious as his poker face made him out to be at your comment. "Yes  but I'm a professional. Not a civilian wanting to give out vigilante justice." 

"You don't agree with me trying to kill them? Seriously? I heard this lecture from Andrews and Richards." 

He huffed with a small smirk. "Now, I never said that…But please leave deciding that for the local Law Enforcement." 

You didn't say anything as he stared at you, his eyes roaming you for any clues. He sighed and laced his hands on his desk. "I just need a full story from you, YN." 

You groaned a bit. "Okay, what do you want to know? I heard you talking to Randy and Gale; you think I'm lying about Billy and Stu-" 

"Correction; I think it's a possibility you're mistaken." 

"There is one thing I know for sure; I was there. Other than Sidney, I was there for the entire thing and I know exactly what they told me…They killed Maureen Prescott. They told me every detail of how they got away with it. There were NO other killers there and if Billy and Stu had help killing Maureen they would have said so." 

 "...You're certain?" 

"Do you want me to reenact it all word for word? Like Randy told you; I've been telling this story for 5 years. Grilled on it, torn to shreds over it, ripped apart by the cops and media for every detail. So if that's what you need of me then I can go through it again just to appease the LAPD." 

His gaze softened ever so slightly. "YN…I know you probably don't trust cops. They failed you multiple times, but I'm different. This time is different." 

"Are you?" You half laughed with raised brows.

He leaned forward and gave you a determined smile that made your own waver. "Yes…I am." He lost the smile and continued. "You're right, maybe you really are telling me all you know from that awful night. Maybe there was no third killer. But there is one right now. Stone and Prinze are dead and you were the only one not at the scene. I need to know everything that happened last night, YN." 

You tried not to fidget, giving him a firm nod. "Of course." 

"You arrived with Mr. Meeks around 8:15." 

"I suppose. I didn't check the exact time " 

"Stone ushered you both inside rather rudely according to Mr Meeks. You were upset over what Tom Prinze said about your dead friends according to everyone else and stormed out…And you weren't seen since. I don't consider you very high on the suspect list but you have to admit that it seems strange that the two people you had issues with turned up dead last night and you are nowhere to be found for the entire ordeal." 

You bit your inner cheek. "You actually think I'd put Dewey and Randy in danger like that? That I'd do any of this?" 

"No. Now I know you didn't give yourself those injuries but I'm just stating what the press are going to say and what my colleagues will say, Miss YN. That's why I want to get your story… I'm almost embarrassed to admit it…But I read your file plenty of times front to back. You don't seem like the type to do this but just because I think that doesn't mean I can prevent the Law from seeing the facts. And the fact is that you were gone when two people you disagreed with were murdered." He tilted his head and gave you a desperate gaze. His ice blue eyes made you shift in your seat as they seemed to gaze right through you. "Please…Tell me what that call was, tell me when it happened, why. Everything. The more detail you give; the better our chances are of finding the killer." 

You nervously felt your leg want to shake as a panic attack was almost setting in…You couldn't tell him it was Billy's voice. You couldn't! But you also couldn't be framed either…But you were a horrible liar! Everyone told you so! You didn't have a choice…You had to talk. 

You rolled your lips and thought a moment before nodding. "...Okay…" 

Kincaid waited as you stood up to pace. You had to move, you just had to. "I…I was upset over how callous Tom was about my friend's death's and the movie..." 

"…Go on." He leaned back in his chair as he listened.

You sucked in a heavy breath. "And I went outside to get some fresh air…I saw Gale's vehicle…I investigated it to see if it was hers…I got a call and answered. It was an unknown number and It was clearly the killer-" 

"How do you know? Did they use a voice modulator?" 

"...Yes." 

"Why did you answer an unknown number if hardly no one has access to your private number?" 

You felt a prickling feeling up your spine and like pins and needles in your feet and hands as you felt him dissecting your story. 

"Because only Randy and Dewey have my number and I didn't think anything of it…I thought maybe they couldn't find me and didn't want to yell for me around everyone. I saw it was unknown after I answered." 

"So, was the voice familiar? Like Mr Riley or Mr Meeks?" 

"No." 

"So what made you think it was the killer?" 

"When they threatened to kill me??" You gave with a dumbfounded look. 

Kincaid's serious expression split into a grin as he hung his head and gave a genuine chuckle at that. He looked back up at you and forced the smile away. "Okay, okay…Let me rephrase it; why did you stay on the line? What made you not hang up the phone once you realized it was an unknown number before they threatened you?...." 

He leaned forward a bit."It was a voice you recognized but wasn't your friends, wasn't it Miss YN?" 

Your eyes widened. "What?" 

"Considering what you said about Mr Meeks calling you paired with Roman's testimony; I'm guessing. I'm just starting to think it has a connection …Who did the voice belong to?" 

You bit your lip and turned to the board, hoping looking at it could help you not flake out over the outright lie you had to tell. "I…I didn't recognize the voice… But they knew information about me…Where I was mostly. I decided to go to the woods and see for myself with my gun in hand. I was afraid I'd miss an opportunity if I went back inside…I was attacked and barely escaped with my life. When I ran back to the house, it exploded." You looked back at him. 

He raised his brows at you. "And that's the truth?" 

"Yes…" 

"You're sure?" 

"Yes, of course!" You tried but failed not to snap at him. You swore it was hotter than hell in that office as you tried correcting how you answered him.  The pleather pants and jacket Stu insisted you wear didn't help. 

You ran your left hand over your face with a small groan. "I'm sorry for being short…It's been a long night. But I swear to you that I did get a phone call and I made a stupid decision." 

He nodded to himself. "Okay…And if we recover this phone in the woods we'll see the time of the call and possibly who…Correct?" 

"Yes." You monotoned, staring back at him as he stood up. 

He walked over to you. "I hope you keep a promise not to do that again, YN. Your friends have every right to be upset…You could have died." 

You held yourself and nodded. "I know…" 

He stared down at you, taller than Dewey by a few inches but not quite as tall as Stu. You both stared at each other, the air was thick before he looked down at his watch. "Sshhhooot." He hissed out before putting his hand down. "I have that conference in 30 minutes…Do you have a ride back to your motel?" 

You cringed, breathing a small sigh of relief that it was momentarily over. "Yeah but uh…"

"Why the long face?"

"It's Randy…I'm gonna get my ear chewed off or the silent treatment probably." 

A slow, charming grin spread over his face. "I'm guessing you want a ride?" 

"Oh, no…No, that's-" 

"Where is it?" 

"Um…It's Green Boulevard." 

He snatched his keys from his desk with a smirk. "Well, it's your lucky day because that is next to the route I need to take to city hall." 

You tilted your head. "Seriously?" 

"Seriously." 

You mulled over it for a second before quietly asking. "Can I…Ride in the front?" 

The last time you were in the back of a cop car…It was not a good time. At all. Doors locking on you in the back was the last thing you wanted to ever experience again.

He tsked with a playful smirk. "Ahhh, well…One time couldn't hurt. My partner has to stay here anyways. Don't even try to ask him to sit in the back if he has to go; he'll implode." 

Despite it all, you smirked at that as he gave you a broad grin. "Come on. I'll tell your friends I'm running out of time so I decided to question you on the way while dropping you off. Official police orders you just can't get out of…No reason to have Mr Meeks mad at you for wanting space. Just till he cools off." 

"...Thank you, Detective." You smiled at him as he smiled back at you with a nod before leading you out of the office. 

"Please, call me Mark." 

"Not until you solve the case, Detective." 

———————————————————

"That motel?" 

"Yeah." 

"Are you sure?" Mark gave with a raised brow. 

"Yes, it is." You huffed with a sideways smirk. "Do you…Do you think I don't know my own motel, Detective?" You gave in disbelief.

"Not sure. You don't seem like you know this motel very well for staying at it for days. You hesitated even pointing it out…And you're looking up the street quite a bit." 

He pulled over to the curb, putting the gear in park. 

"God, are you always so…So-" 

"Analytical? Yes, it's my job." 

Your entire face dropped as he gazed over at you. A knowing look in his eyes. 

"So…Are you sure this is your motel?" 

You bit your inner cheek. "....Yeah." You got out and started walking just to hear Kincaid call out to you. 

"I'll watch you go into your room!" 

You stopped dead in your tracks, blinking and sucking in a breath as Kincaid continued. 

"Just to make sure you get in safely." 

You twisted your mouth and clenched your fist at your side. The more you lied and hid, the deeper of a hole you were digging yourself into that you wouldn't get out of. 

'Yeeaahhh...I think people are right. I'm a terrible liar and the more I try to lie; the worse it's getting...FUCK.'

You sighed heavily and hung your head before walking back to the car with a forced smile. "You know what…You're right. I was wrong, this isn't my motel…Lack of sleep I guess." 

He gave you a tight smile and nodded. "Alright, I got 12 minutes." 

"Try going up half a block." You gave as you got back in and shut the door. Kincaid pulled away.

He drove a little ways away until you saw the motel sign "Sunny Inn". You perked up, trying to see your CRV anywhere.

"So…This it?" 

"Uh…" You saw your car parked and let out a relieved sigh with a small smile. "Yeah. Yeah I'm positive this time." 

Mark smiled at you and pulled in. 

"Thanks, Detective. I really appreciate you going out of your way." 

You got out looking back to see Kincaid shut off the engine and get out as well. 

He came around the side of the car to come face to face with you. He hesitated before mumbling under his breath. "Listen, YN…I believe you." 

"You do?" You softly asked as he nodded.

"I do. But I can't help but think you're also hiding something…" 

You knew your eyes were the size of saucers as you could only hold your breath and stare at him.

He continued.  "Maybe because you're afraid? You don't have to be. The more we know, the sooner we can get this new Ghostface and keep you and your friends safe." 

He sighed as you just stared at him in silence. So tempted to show him the letter or tell him that this new Ghostface was imitating voices…But you just couldn't.

Mark hung his head a moment with a tight smile before looking back at you. "Okay…How about you call me if you change your mind and remember something you might have forgotten to mention…Lack of sleep and a stressful night." He reached into his pocket and handed you a card. You tentatively took it, looking it over as he spoke. "I suppose you'll have to use a payphone or the motels. We'll recover yours and we'll get him." 

He put a hand on your arm for a moment. Your eyes widened as you stared up at his eyes. He gave you a serious stare. "I'll get this guy. I'm not letting him hurt you or anyone else…Call me if anything happens or you just need to talk." He slowly allowed his hand to slide back down to his side.

You gave him a slow nod. "Okay, Detective. I will." 

He smiled at you one last time as he went back to his car. He started the engine but just sat there. You climbed the stairs and got into your purse for the key card. You opened the door and looked back to see Kincaid finally pulling away. You couldn't help watching as his car drove off and up the road.

An alarmed shriek cut off as you were jerked back into the room with the door slamming shut behind you.

[carnoshin]

With an S/O who is Sam's "parent"

I know y'all don't care abt Sam, like, at all. But I adore him and he's. My son.

Brahms

Brahms doesn’t realize that Sam is odd until after he gives the doll to Sam. Like, sure the kid wears the same costume year round-- well, you of course have more than one set of clothes for him, but they’re mostly for when he gets his footie PJs absolutely filthy-- and Brahms has never seen Sam with his mask off or those bandages on his arms, but... Why wouldn’t your kid be... normal? For all intents and purposes, you are a normal person.

You don’t seem too worried when Sam just... walks into the kitchen with a new doll. You just pause for a couple of seconds and arch your shoulders before saying “Made a new friend, huh?” and relaxing again. He nods and sets the doll down at the table beside him, then begins to sneak his food under his mask as you talk to him while eating your own across from him.

Usually Sam is excited to leave the house with you, but after Sam gets the doll, he begins staying home when you go out. And eventually, Brahms comes out to see the kid who has his doll. And like. Sam is four foot somethin’. This boy is too small to be friends with Brahms. Like, it kind of freaks Brahms out because this is an actual child and not a man acting like a child. He just suddenly is like “Oh, yeah, I’m an adult.”

Sam starts knocking on the walls when you’re home so you kind of realize that’s where Sam’s friend lives. Like, not for a moment were you like “Oh, the doll is his friend!” No, it’s Sam, after all. You’re just hoping Sam won’t let his friend kill you.

One day Brahms is just. At the kitchen table with Sam. You’re used to this kind of thing from your adoptive kid, so... A big, silent, kinda gross adut man at the kitchen table isn’t that weird. It does kind of freak you out when you hear Brahms talk, cuz. Sam doesn’t talk unless he’s screaming, so hearing a child’s voice is extremely odd.

Basically, Sam matchmakes you and Brahms, because Brahms is Sam’s dad now, apparently. But Sam is also pretty protective of you: you’ve not let him down so far and that’s pretty rare. So for the first time in your long relationship with Sam, he acts like a normal, adjusted child almost all the time. Like, he’s gonna sit on your lap and ask to be carried and cuddle up with you and things like that. It’s kind of a warning to Brahms, in a way.

And this is because Brahms is a creep and spends a majority of his time literally breathing down your neck as you do housework. And usually Sam’s friends who do this stuff leave pretty easily and don’t go out of their way to do it and they don’t start ignoring Sam??? How fucking rude???

Billy & Stu (Ghostface)

He likes when they come over. Like I’ve said, he likes it if you have friends and he also likes being able to do whatever he wants while you’re occupied with your friends.

BUT as soon as he finds out you three are dating??? He’s pissed. He’s angry. He’s going to RUN AWAY.

Sam has forgotten that he disappears for days at a time no matter what. That is, until he’s at a recent murder scene where there’s some candy in the cupboard. And sure enough, there’s Ghostface. Oh, two Ghostfaces. Cool. They seem familiar... He’s going home, he’s had fun for a while. He wants to go home and have you make him cookies. He’s mainly forgotten that he’s angry at you.

Several days later the guys stop by and Sam recognizes their boots, like, immediately. And he just points at them, back and forth. You have to go over to talk to him and he pulls you in and whispers in your ear.

Literally you just sigh and look over at the guys while Sam clings to you-- not because he’s afraid they’ll hurt him, but because he knows he can kick their asses. Like... You’re so tired. You thought you had a normal relationship for the first time in a long time and, for once, it had nothing to do with Sam in any way.

Jason

Sam is drawn to places with killers. He just is. And the fact that Sam often needs to be moving around to avoid suspicion means that you’re usually accompanying him. This means that abandoned, but still livable homes are your guys’ bread and butter.

And pretty much every cabin within twelve acres of Camp Blood is abandoned, a little under half of which still have power and water running.

Jason meets Sam first. Little guy is drawn to violence and Jason provides that in droves. Sam probably offers Jason some candy or something.

Either way, Jason will inevitably follow Sam home and see you there. You’re probably gonna freak out after you realize that this must be the guy who kills everyone who comes into the woods, but Sam’ll rush to you and hug your legs and ask to be picked up: it’s how he’s going to show that you’re his parent, basically. And Jason certainly sees himself and his mother reflected by you two: I mean, the normal parent and the little boy with a sack over his head? It’s almost too on the nose.

He starts to avoid your house out of respect and keeps folks away. But eventually, Sam will drag him over to have a play date. And before you know it, you’re stumbling into a relationship with that big lovable lug. And Sam doesn’t seem to mind, in all honesty.

Herbert

What in the fuck is that? A child? Ew.

Sam does not get along with Herbert. Like, I think Sam is the type of kid who hisses and bites and grumbles loudly. So you’ll see Sam babble angrily at Herbert, who doesn’t understand what Sam is saying, but does understand the intent. And Herbert doesn’t care for that shit at all.

Like, he’s the type who has a kid make a face at him and he makes it back, but not in a “having fun” way: in a “hey, fuck you too” way.

Sam probably eats reagent at one point and you’re just like. “It’s fine.” and Herb is getting ready to do an at-home stomach pumping like “It’s not fine: he’s going to die.” and you just continuously are like “It’s fine. Sam can’t die.” By the time Herbert gets everything set up, even at your insistence, he realizes Sam should’ve died ten minutes ago if he were a normal human child. “Pff, Sam isn’t human, dude. It’s fine.” And Sam is just sitting on your lap, completely calm and trying his best to braid your hair. (Even if you have a buzzcut: kids, amirite?)

Herbert likely accidentally bonds with Sam over Herb’s... Disembodied creatures, basically? Before you know it, Herb is taking Sam to the grocery store to buy candy or taking him to the movies to see something R rated.

Sam has a habit of fucking with Herbert’s corpses. Not in a bad way-- most of them are violent from the get-go, so it’s not like Sam has to add an abnormal brain into the mix. But sometimes Herbert finds fingers missing and five feet away Sam is spitting out fingernails like they’re watermelon seeds.

Dan Cain

He’s just gonna assume you’re a normal single parent. Like, yeah, it’s weird that your kid wears a burlap sack all the time and likes to draw dead stuff, but... Well, plenty of kids are morbid at a young age. So whatever, right?

It’s genuinely not a big deal. He is, like, very much trying to be Sam’s new dad. Like, he’s ready to take Sam to Disneyland. He’s talking to you like “Shouldn’t Sam have some more friends?” and you’re like “Sam has plenty of friends.”

Dan is already at “I’m worried about our child’s development.” stage before he sees Sam’s face. Like, he’s six-ish (or something) and Dan has never heard him speak? That can’t be good, right?

So. It’s the exact opposite of with the Ghostface boys when Sam shows his face to Dan. Dan is the one who is like “I thought I finally had a normal partner. And this had nothing to do with Herbert.”

[thethistlegirl]

The Sandbox

(For anyone who’s been wondering exactly why Mac’s been limping around on crutches in all these stories so far…here’s the answer)

It’s only later, much later, that Jack realizes he sort of jinxed them.

He was bragging up his little bomb nerd with the hamburger name to an old Delta buddy of his who was running an op in the area. Never met a bomb he couldn’t defuse. That alone was a bad enough demand for the universe to prove him wrong, but it also resulted in him and Mac getting picked to accompany said Delta mission deep into hostile territory. Apparently Jack did too good a job of convincing Stu Wallace that he and Mac were the best he could get.

Which is why they’re currently in an abandoned hospital, that was also being used as the headquarters of a splinter terrorist cell, watching a bomb count down to destroying the building and all the information in it.

Mac’s been working feverishly, but these guys were good. The door was rigged with a type of alarm system that turned on the bomb if the right code wasn’t entered. Now, they’re risking losing all the data on this cell, and a suspected attack on American soil, if Mac can’t get this thing defused.

If it wasn’t for the urgency of that little detail, Jack would say screw it and let the damn place blow. They’re already running out of time to run.

Mac wipes sweat off his forehead and looks up at Jack. “I don’t know which wire to cut, Jack.” Jack’s never heard the wunderkind sound so unsure of himself. Ever. This is like hearing John McClane say he forgot how to shoot.

“Mac, you’ve got this.” Jack puts a steadying hand on his shoulder, and Mac snips the green wire. And then there’s a click.

“Get out!!” Mac bodily shoves Jack toward the windows, and then there’s a deafening roar and something slams into both of them like a freight train, and Jack hears glass shattering and something heavy hitting something else with a thud.

Jack feels himself falling, they’re two stories up and he has just enough time to think Damn that’s gonna leave a mark when he hits the ground with a thud that drives the air out of his lungs, slams his shoulder painfully against a rock, and definitely cracks a couple ribs.

He’s surprised the kid didn’t land on him, the way he was shielding Jack with his body…Mac! Where is he? Jack rolls over painfully, he can’t see the kid anywhere. And then, above the roar of the flames overhead, he hears a choked off, panicky cry.

He scrambles to his feet, gasping. Wallace and his team are rushing over. “Dalton, what happened?”

“Bomb went off. And my tech’s still in there.” Jack stumbles for the door. He may not be a bomb nerd, but he can tell that was an incendiary, designed to burn the place and all its records to the ground. And the thought of Mac trapped in there for some reason is horrifying.

“We’ll get him, Jack,” Wallace insists.

“No, you can’t.” Jack has to get Mac out himself. He can’t trust anyone else with Mac’s safety. What if they give up before they get to him? Jack is going to get his kid out or die trying.

He stumbles through the door and up the stairs, ignoring the shouts behind him. Fire is already curling along the walls, and the air is thick with smoke and heat. He can hear Wallace and the team behind him, but then there’s a crash, and Jack looks back to see that the stairs have just collapsed, warped in the heat. He’s alone.

He dodges through flames at the top of the stairs and limps along the hall as fast as he can, back to the room he and Mac were in.

The door is so hot it scorches his hand through his glove when he pushes it open. Oh God, if he’s already gone…and then Jack sees that the fire is being pushed into the room, away from the window, by a breeze blowing through the broken glass. And there’s a shape in soot-stained camo huddled there. Jack takes a deep breath and dashes through the flames, smelling the rubber on his boot soles melting, and then stops in shock.

The fire is creeping along the floor toward Mac, who is gasping and panting, trying to push a massive steel girder off his left leg. The bomb must have done enough structural damage to make it fall free, trapping Mac inside while Jack fell out the window.

The kid’s eyes are wide and glassy, and Jack’s vividly reminded of the barn fire at Grandpappy’s when he was sixteen. Most of the horses were out at pasture, but one of the colts who’d gone lame was inside to rest his leg. Jack had gone in with Grandpappy to get him out, and the horse had refused to step out of the stall even though the boards were on fire. Finally grandpappy took off his shirt, threw it over the colt’s head, and led him out. He did better when he couldn’t see how much danger he was in.

“Mac, I’m gonna get you out, okay?” Jack says, kneeling beside the panicking kid. Mac’s struggling isn’t doing him any good, he’s just wearing himself out and breathing more of the poisonously smoky air. Jack pulls the kid’s neckscarf up over his nose, pushing Mac’s hands away when he tries to fight it. “I’m gonna get this off you but I need you to trust me and do one thing for me, okay?”

“You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t have come back.” Mac’s voice is hoarse from smoke and pain.

“I’m your overwatch, kid. This is my job.” Jack sighs. He’s gotten sadly used to the way the kid expects to be abandoned, like no one should ever risk anything to save him.“Now I need you to close your eyes, and keep ‘em closed no matter what, okay?” Mac nods and squeezes his eyes shut, and Jack doesn’t miss the tears that creep out and trail down his sooty cheeks when he does.

He feels dizzy, lightheaded, but he has to get Mac out of here. He glances at the girder. It’s high up on Mac’s leg, across the thigh, but maybe he can lift it enough for the kid to pull his leg out. “I’m gonna pull up, and when I say move, I want you to see if you can get your leg out from under there.” He tugs up, ignoring the searing pain in his hands from the hot metal. “Okay now!”

Mac tries, Jack can see the exertion on his face, but then he screams, hands clenching around empty air. “I can’t move my leg, I can’t move it, it hurts so bad.” He’s starting to panic, breathing even faster, inhaling more and more of the smoke. “Please, Jack, please, get me out.”

“I will. Okay?” Jack sighs. And then he strains up on the girder again. He’s going to have to swing it. There’s no other way.

Everything that happens next is a blur. Somehow, the girder moves, and then Jack is picking the kid up and heading straight for the window, fire at his heels. The stairs are gone, it’s the only way out. He throws himself and Mac through, twisting so this time, the kid does land on top of him. There’s a horrible cracking sound, and then the world goes black.

When he wakes up, he doesn’t know where he is or what happened. All he knows is that he has to find Mac. He struggles to his feet, ignoring the screaming pain in his chest and the shouts of the medical staff…is this a hospital? The last one was on fire…and tries to swing his legs over the bed. “Mac? Mac?”

“You have to stay still,” someone says, and Jack feels hands on his shoulders. “Your tech is okay, he’s just in pretty rough shape.”

“I have to see him,” Jack insists, struggling against the hands.

“As soon as he’s stabilized I’ll put you both in the same room. But for now, Dalton, just let us do our job.” Jack lays back, fingers twitching for a hand that isn’t there to hold, wishing he could reassure the kid that it’s going to be okay. But all he can do is lie here and listen to the doctors talk about him.

Jack’s dealing with smoke inhalation, second-degree burns, and four broken ribs and a punctured lung. The doctors have no idea how he managed to get Mac out of that building. Jack chalks it up to the same way he survived several CIA and Delta missions, a good mix of adrenaline and the Big Man looking out for him. He’s got a few stories that make his spine tingle when he tells them, and this is one. There’s no way I should have been able to lift that beam off and get him out from under there. And Jack’s never been one to discredit a miracle. Mac’s alive and I’m not really gonna worry too much about how.

At some point he falls asleep, and when he wakes up, there’s another bed next to him. He can barely tell who’s in it, but there’s a hand poking out, and despite the fact that the slim scorched fingers are wrapped in bandages, Jack knows it already.

He reaches out, fumbling across the space between them, until his fingers find Mac’s. He wraps his bandaged hand around the kid’s own the best he can, and holds on tight. I’m never gonna let go. I promise.

@macgyvercairo 

[mcmxliii43-blog]

god damn it.