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myonechicagoworld · 3 years

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CHICAGO FIRE – LET HER GO (S01E23)

[TW: Blood]

Christopher Herrmann: We were scheduled to open our bar after

next shift. And in light of what happened,

we were gonna push it. But… me and

Dawson and Otis… We talked about it,

and instead, we’re gonna make it a

celebration of Hallie’s life. All the

proceeds for tonight will be donated in

her name to Children’s Memorial.

Thanks.

Chief Boden: Not an easy day. Not for any of us. Lieutenant Casey

is meeting with detectives from CPD. Arson

investigators are at the clinic right now. All we can do

for Matt is be there the best we can.

cutscene

[traffic]

[background chatter]

Matt Casey: Hey. Lieutenant Casey. I’m here to see Detective

Dawson.

Man 1 (Sergeant Pruitt): [laughs] We got a fireman in the house.

Look at him, well-rested and fed. Must be

nice being a fireman, washing fire trucks…

Detective (Julia Willhite): Sarge, Sarge. The DOA from the clinic

fire, Lieutenant Casey was her boyfriend.

Man 1 (Sergeant Pruitt): Ah. That’s my bad.

Detective (Julia Willhite): Detective Julie Willhite. Intelligence.

I’ll take you upstairs?

Matt Casey: All right, yeah.

Antonio Dawson: Those two guys we flipped had scrips all over

‘em.

I’m so sorry, man.

Matt Casey: Thanks. So, where are we at?

Hank Voight: I just got off the phone…

Matt Casey: I don’t deal with you. I deal with Antonio.

Antonio Dawson: ME report came in. Hallie was struck in the back

of the head and killed before the fire started.

Surveillance Tech: (over radio) Units in 21, foot man on Taylor

Street. Just confirmed sighting of your silver

Magnum. 1400 block of West Taylor.

Antonio Dawson: That’s the car that fled the clinic fire.

[sirens wailing]

Officer (Nicole Sermons): (over radio) This is 2121.

(into radio) Silver Magnum’s been

located going East on Taylor.

We’re not on Taylor.

Officer (Jim Barnes): I know.

[tires screeching]

[siren whoops]

[tires revving]

[horn honking]

Officer (Nicole Sermons): (into radio) Blocked on Racine. They

bailed out! We’re in pursuit.

Man 2: [grunts]

[dog barking]

Officer (Jim Barnes): [heavy breathing]

Man 2: Aah!

Officer (Jim Barnes): Seriously?

[tires screeching]

[horn honking]

[tires screeching]

[horn honking]

Man 3: [grunts]

Ahhh!

Officer (Nicole Sermons): Stay down!

Man 3: [groans and coughs]

Officer (Nicole Sermons): Aw, please.

[taser buzzes]

Man 3: [groans]

Officer (Nicole Sermons): [panting]

Officer (Jim Barnes): You good?

Man 3: [groans]

Officer (Nicole Sermons): [panting/out of breath]

[indistinct radio chatter]

[car doors shutting]

cutscene

Antonio Dawson: What do we got?

Officer (Nicole Sermons): A couple of oxy heads; a handful of

priors for armed robbery, mostly around

UIC. They’re saying they knew the car

was hot, but they bought it from a black

male for 500 and were gonna use it for a

couple days to do some stickups and

then dump it.

Man 3: [groaning]

Officer (Nicole Sermons): He resisted.

Man 3: She kicked me in the balls.

Antonio Dawson: Cry me a river!

Officer (Jim Barnes): They’re denying any involvement in the clinic.

There’s no arson or bodily harm on either of

their records.

Antonio Dawson: Who’s the brains of the outfit?

Officer (Jim Barnes): That guy.

Antonio Dawson: Bring him over here!

Who’d you buy the car from?

Man 2: Black dude named Shorty.

Hank Voight: Oh. Shorty.

Man 2: Shorty.

Antonio Dawson: Get him outta here.

Officer (Jim Barnes): Come on.

Detective (Julia Willhite): [exhales]

[knocking on body of car]

Detective (Julia Willhite): Looks like a lot of cars we’d find in

Narcotics. Generic dummy plates. A lot

of ‘em have traps built in to move the

dope and cash.

Okay.

There we go.

[sighs]

Matt Casey: So what does this mean? Who are we looking for?

Detective (Julia Willhite): Someone who was moving major

dope.

- title screen -

Leslie Shay: Hey. Hey.

Kelly Severide: Hey.

Leslie Shay: Um, on the heels of all this, I was thinking that, you

know, God forbids something were to happen to

either one of us, that maybe we should have

something written up legally in terms of who would

take care of the baby.

Kelly Severide: Absolutely.

Leslie Shay: And speaking of, we go in tomorrow.

Chief Boden: Casey’s heading back down to the fire scene with the

detectives.

Kelly Severide: I’m coming. And I’ll… I’ll be there.

Leslie Shay: Yeah.

cutscene

Gabby Dawson: That’s so nice of you. Thank you. Bye.

The Optical shop on the corner is gonna donate a

couple pairs of sunglasses to raffle off.

Otis Zvonecek: Great. As soon as Zoya starts, she can help go

collect all this stuff.

Christopher Herrmann: Who?

Otis Zvonecek: Uh, my cousin. From Russia? Zoya?

We talked about this.

Christopher Herrmann: When?

Otis Zvonecek: At the soft opening?

Christopher Herrmann: What? When I got like six beers in me?

Otis Zvonecek: Hey, you signed off, dude.

Christopher Herrmann: Do you know anything about this?

Gabby Dawson: First I’ve heard of it.

Otis Zvonecek: Okay, uh, she’s here on a six month work visa. But

apparently, the nanny job was killing her. She’s nice,

she’s cute, she’s got restaurant experience, and you

agreed to it.

Christopher Herrmann: What kind of restaurant?

Gabby Dawson: Who cares? It’s fine. She’s in. We got funds to

raise.

Christopher Herrmann: You guys are killing me.

Otis Zvonecek: Ah, you’ll love her.

cutscene

Arson Investigator: It’s what we know so far.

Chief Boden: Thank you very much.

Arson Investigator: Sure, Chief.

Kelly Severide: How you holdin’ up?

[indistinct radio chatter]

Matt Casey: Best I can.

Chief Boden: There’s no security video. Two of the cameras were

fake. The other had no database. Arson is saying it

don’t look like a break-in.

Detective (Julia Willhite): Same director of this clinic runs another

over on Wabash.

Hank Voight: Let’s take a look. Thanks, Chief.

Chief Boden: This is the ignition point.

Detective (Julia Willhite): Patient prescription records.

Matt Casey: Actually… Hallie… right before we went to lunch, she

was standing there looking at something and-and she

said, “that’s weird.” I just figured it was about billing or

something.

Dispatcher: (over radio) Main to Battalion 25, Truck 81, Squad 3,

and Ambulance 61, responding…

Chief Boden: No, no, no.

Dispatcher: (over radio)…to civilian in distress…[continues

indistinctly]

Chief Boden: Your head’s not in the game right now. I’ll cover for

you.

Detective (Julia Willhite): He can roll with us.

Chief Boden: (into radio) Battalion 25 en route.

Dispatcher: (over radio) Copy that, 25.

Hank Voight: Not a problem.

cutscene

[sirens wailing]

Delivery Man: I swear I heard screaming down there.

[running water splashing]

Victim 1: Help!

Kelly Severide: Get your lights!

[grunts]

Victim 1: Here!

Chief Boden: Voice came from over there. Watch yourself. Water’s

moving fast.

Kelly Severide: Chief, down there!

Victim 1: I don’t think I can hold on much longer!

Kelly Severide: Hang on. We’re gonna get you out.

Chief Boden: Get your webbing out. Secure it to this handle.

I’ll hold the line.

Victim 1: [cries]

Kelly Severide: Don’t let go.

[water splashing]

Chief Boden: Be careful. Watch that current.

Kelly Severide: I got you.

Victim 1: Can’t move!

Chief Boden: Talk to me, Kelly.

Kelly Severide: Chief! Both her feet are sucked into a drain.

Chief Boden: (into radio) We got one victim pinned in. I’m gonna

need rescue rope and scuba gear in the west end of

the tunnel right now.

Coming in.

Victim 1: Something’s cutting my leg [groans]

Kelly Severide: Chief. Suction’s trapping debris at her feet.

Chief Boden: I got her.

Kelly Severide: I gotta dive down, get you clear.

Victim 1: [whimpers] Please… please don’t let me die down here.

Please

Chief Boden: I got you.

Come on!

Victim 1: [cries]

Christopher Herrmann: They’re over here!

[coughing]

Kelly Severide: Got some clear, but I need more time.

Chief Boden: We don’t have it.

Harold Capp: Severide!

Chief Boden: We need the scuba gear over here now.

Firefighter: Here you go, Chief.

Kelly Severide: I got it! Get my mask!

Chief Boden: Hey, I’m gonna put this mask over your face. It’s

gonna help you breathe under the water.

Victim 1: [whimpers]

Christopher Herrmann: Wait right there, just hold still. You got air?

Chief Boden: Get it on… whoa, whoa, whoa!

Firefighter: She’s going under!

Can’t see her!

Christopher Herrmann: You got her, Chief?

Chief Boden: I got her. I got her.

Joe Cruz: The water level’s rising.

Kelly Severide: Hey, hey. I got the debris clear, but the suction’s

keeping her down. We need to pull her up.

Chief Boden: Get the webbing on now.

Christopher Herrmann: [starts indistinctly]… under her arm.

Kelly Severide: I need more light.

Christopher Herrmann: Severide, feed that under her arm.

Watch the mask… you got her, Chief?

Christopher Herrmann: She’s ready to go.

Kelly Severide: Easy, easy.

Christopher Herrmann: Grab the webbing! Hang on.

Chief Boden: Ready? One, two… pull!

Watch her head.

[overlapping yelling]

Kelly Severide: Grab her legs.

Christopher Herrmann: You got her?

Watch the tank.

Joe Cruz: I got it, Chief.

Victim 1: [coughs]

Christopher Herrmann: You okay, kid? Look at me. Sucking down

that river, huh?

Okay, we got you, girl. Let’s go!

You good, Chief?

Chief Boden: We’re good!

Kelly Severide: Nice work.

Chief Boden: Good job. Let’s get the hell out of here.

cutscene

Antonio Dawson: Do you recognise either one?

Man 4 (Steven Goody): I’ve never seen them before.

Antonio Dawson: Any problems with anyone at the clinic?

Man (Steven Goody): Not with our employees. Everybody works,

and volunteers are here because they care.

They-they wanna give back.

Antonio Dawson: Patients?

Man (Steven Goody): Let’s just say a few bad apples have walked

through that door.

Antonio Dawson: Anyone specifically?

Man (Steven Goody): Who might kill Hallie? Oh, I… I’m… I don’t

know.

Detective (Julia Willhite): Two of the security cameras were fake.

Man (Steven Goody): [sighs] I… I’m just trying to keep the doors

open. You know, it’s a lot of things I can’t

afford that I’d like to.

Detective (Julia Willhite): The fire was started near prescription

records. Our guess, someone tried to

cover up some impropriety. Those

scrips are for a hell of a lot of

Oxycontin.

Man (Steven Goody): For you, maybe. Not for someone in pain.

Antonio Dawson: Any problems with your prescription drugs? Any

missing inventory?

Man (Steven Goody): Not that I know of. We have a drug cage, and

there’s never been a problem.

Detective (Julia Willhite): Mr. Goody, we’re gonna need a list of

employees, patients…

Man (Steven Goody): And I’m gonna have to stop you right there.

We are dealing with protected health

information, uh, potential HIPAA violations,

insurance, liabilities, blah, blah, blah. It’s

gonna have to go through our legal

department.

Antonio Dawson: If your clinic was a pill mill and Hallie found out

about it and someone killed her to shut her up,

now, right now would be the time to tell us.

Man (Steven Goody): [scoffs] It-It’s not a pill mill.

[sighs] Okay, look. Um… there was this guy,

Jubal Bartlett. He was a drug dealer. His

girlfriend came in with a broken jaw. We

reported it to the police. He did not take it

kindly. He made threats.

Detective (Julia Willhite): We’ll be back.

cutscene

[TV announcer in background]

Otis Zvonecek: So, uh, Zoya, this is Herrmann and Dawson.

Christopher Herrmann: Nice to meet you.

Otis Zvonecek: Guys, this is Zoya.

Gabby Dawson: Hey, so nice to meet you.

Zoya: Hello.

[Herrmann & Zoya chuckles]

Christopher Herrmann: So Brian said that you’ve got some

restaurant experience.

Zoya: Thank you.

[speaking Russian]

Otis Zvonecek: Uh, um…

Otis Zvonecek & Zoya: [speaking Russian]

Otis Zvonecek: Uh, anyway, so I just wanna make some quick

introductions, and we will see you at the bar.

Gabby Dawson: Ooh.

Christopher Herrmann: We’ve got Yakov Smirnoff tending bar

now?

Gabby Dawson: Who’s that?

Otis Zvonecek: Um, so for the opening and the benefit, I’m pretty

sure she said she’s gonna bring a monkey

[chuckles]

Christopher Herrmann: A monkey?

Otis Zvonecek: Yep.

Gabby Dawson: Otis.

Otis Zvonecek: Look-look, it-it’s probably some sort of good luck

gesture or-or, you know, it has some sort of

cultural significance. What’s the worst that could

happen?

Gabby Dawson: Did you see the lady on Oprah who got her face

chewed off by a monkey?

Otis Zvonecek: I did see that. And if it looks like it could take us, I’ll

tell her to keep it in the car.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you [exhales]

cutscene

Antonio Dawson: I’ve got the word out to all my CIs. Nothing yet.

Detective (Julia Willhite): And none of the neighbours saw or heard

anything prior to the fire.

Antonio Dawson: Subpoena will get us employee and patient

records in a couple hours.

Hank Voight: What about the drug dealer the clinic director turned

us on to?

Antonio Dawson: Can’t find him.

Hank Voight: Can’t find him?

Antonio Dawson: Ran him through NCIC and the FBI to see if he

got pinched anywhere else.

Matt Casey: What’s this drug dealer’s name?

Hank Voight: Yeah, it’s probably best we don’t tell you. You know,

we don’t want you… doing something rash.

I understand that you and Hallie broke up before her

death. Is that right?

Matt Casey: For a few months… yeah.

Hank Voight: She see anyone in that gap?

Matt Casey: No one serious.

Hank Voight: Did she ever mention anyone that she felt

uncomfortable around? Was afraid of?

Matt Casey: Yeah. You.

Hank Voight: Lieutenant, I am sympathetic to what you’re going

through.

Matt Casey: I don’t believe that for a second.

Hank Voight: Fine. Don’t.

But I have allowed you to be here as a courtesy.

Matt Casey: Courtesy, from you? I don’t need it. I want you to find

out who killed my girl!

Antonio Dawson: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

Matt Casey: All right?

Antonio Dawson: You gotta chill out, bro.

Matt Casey: Voight isn’t gonna lift a finger unless someone pays

him under the table.

Antonio Dawson: I got my eye on him, okay? He’s working the

case. Go back to the firehouse and cool off.

Matt Casey: No. I’m staying here.

Antonio Dawson: You’re not. Wait to hear from me.

Go on.

cutscene

Leslie Shay: Okay, there’s what would happen if both of us died…

Who would take care of the baby?

Kelly Severide: Yeah, we should figure that out.

Leslie Shay: Dawson, right?

Kelly Severide: Yeah.

Leslie Shay: Okay.

Kelly Severide: What is it?

Leslie Shay: I’m just excited.

Kelly Severide: Me too.

Leslie Shay: And part of me feels horrible ‘cause of what Casey’s

going through. Here I am with butterflies in my stomach

‘cause I’m getting ready to get pregnant, and… [sighs]

[alarm beeps & buzzes]

(Over PA): Ambulance 61. Gunshot victim.

Officer (Elam): Neighbours reported shots fired.

30-year-old female, single gunshot to the stomach.

Actually, that’s a guess. It’s hard to tell. There’s a lot

of blood.

Officer (Kevin Atwater): She was pumping out pretty good. I

applied pressure, but I don’t know what’s

going on.

Leslie Shay: It’s okay. I got it.

Not feeling anything.

[machine flatlines]

Gabby Dawson: She’s gone. I’m calling it.

(into radio) 61 to main, victim is DOA. We’re

delayed on scene while we document for CPD.

Leslie Shay: Dawson. She was a nurse at the clinic Hallie worked at.

cutscene

[indistinct radio chatter]

[car doors shut]

Gabby Dawson: Hey. What the hell’s going on?

Antonio Dawson: That’s what we’re trying to find out.

Gabby Dawson: How’s he been?

Antonio Dawson: Busy, like everybody on this case. I’ll get at you

later.

Hank Voight: Boo.

Detective (Julia Willhite): In on it?

Antonio Dawson: Or she found out who was.

Officer (Elam): Neighbour only heard the gunshot. No one on either

side saw anyone leave. But we can keep knocking

on doors.

Detective (Julia Willhite): Willhite.

Hank Voight: Do that.

Detective (Julia Willhite): Thanks.

The drug dealer, Jubal Bartlett? He’s

been locked up in Virginia Beach for the

past four days on a possession charge.

Hank Voight: I want that clinic director in the hot seat… now.

Antonio Dawson: I told his lawyer I was gonna issue an arrest

warrant for obstruction by the end of the week if

he didn’t get his client to honour the meet.

Hank Voight: Man, whoever did these two hits will be long gone by

the end of the week.

Antonio Dawson: This ain’t the Gang unit, Voight. Sarge. You can’t

do everything with a battering ram.

Hank Voight: The hell I can’t.

Antonio Dawson: Don’t worry. I got him handled.

Detective (Julia Willhite): I noticed.

cutscene

Leslie Shay: Oh my God.

Kelly Severide: What?

Leslie Shay: I just took this baby-proofing quiz. We live in a death

trap. Spiral staircase, upper floor apartment with

accessible balconies…

Kelly Severide: Are you giving birth tomorrow?

Listen, we have time to make any fixes we need.

Leslie Shay: We need a locked liquor cabinet. Remind me.

Kelly Severide: Okay.

Woman 1 (Nurse): Leslie Shay?

Leslie Shay: Hi.

Here we go.

All right.

[kissing sound]

Leslie Shay: Will you rub my belly for good luck?

Kelly Severide: [chuckles]

Leslie Shay: Just…

Kelly Severide: Relax.

Leslie Shay: All right.

Woman 1 (Nurse): You ready?

Leslie Shay: Yeah. Feeling fertile.

Woman 1 (Nurse): Feeling fertile. Okay. We’ll make sure of that.

Leslie Shay: Okay.

cutscene

Joe Cruz: A monkey?

Otis Zvonecek: Why is everybody acting like she said she’s gonna

bring a unicorn? Yes, a monkey.

Joe Cruz: Why?

Otis Zvonecek: Ask her when she gets here.

Gabby Dawson: Ask Otis to ask her. She doesn’t speak English.

Joe Cruz: Oh.

Otis Zvonecek: It’s serviceable.

Joe Cruz: [laughs]

Mouch: You gotta go White Sox.

Christopher Herrmann: No, I don’t wanna alienate half the

neighbourhood who are Cubs fans. We

gotta go with teams that we can all agree

on: The Bears, the Bulls and the

Blackhawks.

Mouch: And the fire?

Christopher Herrmann: The who?

Mouch: Soccer team. Chicago Fire.

Christopher Herrmann: Who knew?

Okay, sure, fine. Get a banner.

[chuckling]

[cell phone vibrates]

cutscene

Peter Mills: Hey. Thanks for coming.

Gabby Dawson: Of course.

Peter Mills: Um… I’ve been thinking about everything, you know?

And uh, I’m waiting for this… I guess anger to go away.

It’s not. And I’m not mad at you. But I do have to say I

wish you would’ve told me when you found out.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah, I know you do. All I can say is that I-I just felt

stuck ‘cause I didn’t wanna hurt you, and… and it

wasn’t my business.

Peter Mills: But it was your business. I was your boyfriend.

Gabby Dawson: Was?

Peter Mills: I think I need some time. Look, I respect you too much

to have you twisting in the wind, wondering where my

head’s at.

Gabby Dawson: Oh man… I mean [clears throat]

I knew this was a possibility if I told you, but…

Peter Mills: I still love you. I do. But this whole thing just… I guess

it’s just… a little deeper than I thought.

Gabby Dawson: Well you need to figure it out, Pete, one way or

another.

Peter Mills: I know.

Gabby Dawson: [sniffles] I gotta go.

Peter Mills: [sighs]

cutscene

Man 1 (Sergeant Pruitt): Uh oh, Voight’s here. Everybody hide your

wallets!

Hank Voight: Hey, what’s up, Pru?

Man 1 (Sergeant Pruitt): There it is. You gotta be the luckiest son of

a bitch I ever met. How do you walk

around all day with that horseshoe in your

ass?

Hank Voight: [laughs] Just living the dream.

Man 1 (Sergeant Pruitt): I guess you are.

Hank Voight: Yeah.

Man 1 (Sergeant Pruitt): [chuckles]

Hank Voight: Anything for me, man, in narcotics?

Man 1 (Sergeant Pruitt): [sighs] Nothing yet, man. We set a bunch

of controlled buys ups. But nothing, man.

Not even a vitamin. CIs have nothing

either. Don’t know what to tell you.

Hank Voight: Mm.

Antonio Dawson: Prints came back on that Magnum. Calvin

Jackson, goes by CJ. Extensive sheet for

dealing, including oxy.

Detective (Julia Willhite): We’re heading over to grab him up.

Hank Voight: No, no. I’ll take care of it. Great work.

[muffled rap music]

[indistinct chatter]

Man 5: [chuckles] I heard that.

[laughs] Yeah, you know it, man.

Look at this.

Hank Voight: What’s up, Mo?

Man 5 (Maurice Owens): I knew they couldn’t keep you down.

Hank Voight: Hey, man, not in this lifetime.

We got a little problem with your nephew CJ. We got

his prints on a car that booked it from that clinic fire a

few days back. Was he involved?

Man 5 (Maurice Owens): What if he was?

Hank Voight: I don’t like guessing games.

Man 5 (Maurice Owens): He was buying prescrips from some dude

who was working with a nurse inside and

the guy who ran the clinic. Next thing I

know, CJ comes back all tweaked. He

was at the clinic doing a pickup when the

place caught fire. So he bounced.

Hank Voight: The name of the dude.

Man 5 (Maurice Owens): CJ didn’t say, and I didn’t ask. He did say

that this guy ain’t right in the head. Like,

white-boy-serial-killer-crazy. Second

thing: he knows about me and you.

Hank Voight: And how would my name come up, Mo?

Man 5 (Maurice Owens): CJ told him you gave us protection. So if

you lock him up and he starts runnin’ his

trap, that ain’t good for any of us. You

know what I’m sayin’?

Hank Voight: You get CJ on the phone, and get me the name of that

guy.

Man 5 (Maurice Owens): Nah, CJ is gone. I told him to dump his

phone and clear out for a bit. You know

how I work. This is your problem now.

Five stacks. A little welcome back gift.

Antonio Dawson: [sighs]

cutscene

Leslie Shay: So you can start the college fund when, um, the baby’s

born. And it’s only like 5 dollars a month. Even if they

don’t go to college, they still get the money. So I��m not

quite sure why they call it a college fund. It’s… really,

it’s just a-a fund for when they turn 18. So… Are you

okay?

[laundry machine hums]

Gabby Dawson: Um… [sniffles]

Mills broke up with me.

Leslie Shay: Oh my God. Over the Boden thing?

Gabby Dawson: Yeah.

Leslie Shay: [sighs] What an idiot. I’m sorry, sweetie.

Gabby Dawson: [sniffles]

cutscene

[knocks on window]

Matt Casey: I was gonna call him, but then it felt like that was the

easy way out. So I drove over. And her parents were

having a dinner party. Hallie’s sister was there, her

kids, her parents’ friends, all of ‘em. It was the hardest

thing I’ve ever done in my life.

Kelly Severide: I’m so sorry, Matt.

Matt Casey: Yeah, I appreciate this.

[laughs] I needed it [sniffs]

Kelly Severide: You know, when Andy died… without even realising

it, I found myself needing to be around people

acting normal just to get my frame of reference

pull myself out of the hole I was in. So whenever

you wanna grab a smoke, or hit golf balls, or

whatever…

Chief Boden: Casey. Antonio and Detective Willhite are here for you.

Detective (Julia Willhite): We're waiting on the nurse's cell phone

records, fingerprints from her apartment.

Antonio Dawson: But we're not homicide, so we can be a little

more aggressive.

Matt Casey: Good.

Antonio Dawson: We cooked up something. You go in to the clinic

director. He knows you’re Hallie’s boyfriend,

right?

Matt Casey: Right.

Antonio Dawson: You tell him you were going through her

computer at home. She spelled out the whole

thing. She also mentioned the director was a

good guy and probably was forced into this.

Detective (Julia Willhite): And after that you don’t say a word,

‘cause he’ll either take the bait and

give us a name of his accomplice or

he won’t.

Antonio Dawson: We’ll be outside, so if anything goes sideways,

we’re right there.

Chief Boden: He’ll be wearing a wire?

Antonio Dawson: That’s right.

Chief Boden: How do we know this director isn’t the trigger man

and he pulls a gun?

Antonio Dawson: We wouldn’t be here if we thought that was a

valid scenario. But can we guarantee your

safety 100%? No.

Matt Casey: I don’t care, I’m in.

cutscene

[car door shuts]

Hank Voight: (into radio) All right, here we go. He’s walking into the

clinic.

Officer (Nicole Sermons): (into radio) This is Sermons. We’re

tucked away and standing by.

Hank Voight: [sighs]

[computer beeps]

Detective (Julia Willhite): Prints came back from the nurse’s

apartment. Timothy Campbell. Whoa.

Antonio Dawson: What?

Detective (Julia Willhite): Armed robbery, drug possession, assault

with a deadly weapon.

Matt Casey: How you doin’? I’d like to talk to Steven Goody?

Woman 2 (Receptionist): He’s in a meeting.

Matt Casey: You know when he’ll be out?

Woman 2 (Receptionist): I don’t.

[muffled male shouting]

Matt Casey: Mind if I wait until he’s done?

[gunshots]

[screaming]

Hank Voight: Go!

[siren wails]

[horns honking]

Antonio Dawson: Chicago Police! Get down!

[screaming]

Antonio Dawson: Move!

Man 6 (Timothy Campbell): [grunts]

Matt Casey: [groans]

[both men grunting]

Matt Casey: [groans]

Antonio Dawson: Casey!

[horn honking]

Antonio Dawson: Casey!

[horns honking]

[siren wails]

Antonio Dawson: Casey!

Officer (Jim Barnes): El platform.

[tires screeching]

Antonio Dawson: Police! Get down!

[screaming]

Antonio Dawson: Get down! Police!

[screaming]

Antonio Dawson: Police! Get down!

Casey!

�� Casey!

[horns honking]

[tires screeching]

Detective (Julia Willhite): Clear, right.

[horns honking]

[overlap shouting]

[tires screeching]

Detective (Julia Willhite): Stay with it. Stay with it.

[horn honking]

Matt Casey: [grunts]

[siren wailing]

[siren whoops]

[gunshot]

[screaming]

Antonio Dawson: Freeze!

Let him go! Drop the gun, Campbell.

Man 6 (Timothy Campbell): I swear to God, I’ll blow his head off.

Antonio Dawson: Let him go.

Man 6 (Timothy Campbell): Put the gun on the ground.

Antonio Dawson: That ain’t happenin’.

Man 6 (Timothy Campbell): Put it on the ground!

Antonio Dawson: I’m not dropping my gun!

Here, look… Okay? Now you gotta do the same

for me.

Voight.

Man 6 (Timothy Campbell): Wait, you’re Voight? Thank God. Tell

them…

[gunshot]

Matt Casey: [coughing & gasping for air]

Hank Voight: (into radio) King 84-10, emergency.

Dispatcher: (over radio) King 84-10. Go with your emergency.

Hank Voight: (into radio) Shot fired by police. Roll an ambulance to

the El platform on Kinzie and Wells. Officer not hit.

Offender down. Gunshot wound to head.

Dispatcher: (over radio) Copy that, 84-10. Bus is on the way.

Antonio Dawson: Nice shot.

Gabby Dawson: And yep. He be dead.

Leslie Shay: We’ll hand it over to the ME.

Detective (Julia Willhite): Thanks.

Gabby Dawson: Any way you can get back into Vice?

Antonio Dawson: I would if I wanted to.

Officer (Nicole Sermons): You okay?

Matt Casey: Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks.

[sniffs]

cutscene

Leslie Shay: And check out those names on the sheet. See if you

like any of those.

Kelly Severide: Yeah.

Leslie Shay: Oh, I saw online that recording an agreement is also

beneficial. That way, if there’s ever a disagreement,

instead of looking at a bunch of words you can see

yourself talking to the present you and advising

yourself to behave rationally and fairly. So what do

you think? [clears throat]

Kelly Severide: Um… I think Molly’s is opening up tonight.

Leslie Shay: [laughs] Have a baby first, deal with this later?

Kelly Severide: Sounds good.

cutscene

Christopher Herrmann: Doors open in an hour. I think we got it all

covered, right?

Joe Cruz: You’re all set, man. The place looks great.

Zoya: [speaking Russian]

Otis Zvonecek: Monkey’s here.

Christopher Herrmann: Are we insured for this? I’m not even

joking.

Zoya: [speaking Russian]

Christopher Herrmann: That’s the Stanley Cup.

Otis Zvonecek: [speaking Russian]

[mimics monkey]

Zoya: [speaking Russian]

[laughs]

Otis Zvonecek & Zoya: [speaking Russian]

Otis Zvonecek: So I guess in Russian, chimpanzee and hockey

championship are this close phonetically [chuckles]

Christopher Herrmann: That’s the Stanley Cup.

cutscene

[car door shuts]

Woman 3: Hank.

Hank Voight: 5k. Guy’s name is Maurice Owens. Mid-level dealer.

It’s all in the report.

Woman 3: Strange bedfellows, huh?

This is a good start. Keep putting yourself out there as

dirty. Who knows what fish we’ll catch in the net, right?

Hank Voight: I want a receipt for the cash when you’re done with

your inventory.

Woman 3: You don’t trust me, Hank?

Hank Voight: I want it by tomorrow.

Woman 3: Keep in touch.

cutscene

[overlapping chatter]

[music]

[bottles/glasses clinking]

Mouch: Can I chug a beer out of it?

No you know what? I’m good, I’m good. Get in here.

[overlapping chatter]

Christopher Herrmann: [laughs]

Leslie Shay: Hey.

Matt Casey: Hey.

Leslie Shay: How you doing?

Matt Casey: How you doing?

Leslie Shay: I’m good.

Matt Casey: Hey.

Thanks for coming. You look great.

Girl (Sophie): Hi.

Matt Casey: How are you?

Girl (Sophie): Good.

Matt Casey: Good?

Girl (Sophie): Mmhmm.

Matt Casey: Gary, good to see you. Really.

Man 7 (Gary): Good to see you.

Matt Casey: How you doin’? Nice to see ya.

[chuckles] This the real thing?

Otis Zvonecek: Yeah.

Matt Casey: I, uh… [sniffs] one of our first dates was a…

Blackhawks-Devils game. When she told me she

knew what icing was, I knew I had a keeper.

[crowd chuckling]

Matt Casey: Yeah, this means a lot, guys…[sighs & sniffs]

And it means a lot to her, ‘cause I’m sure she’s looking

down.

To Hallie.

All: To Hallie.

[sombre music]

- end -

Definitions:

UIC = University of Illinois Chicago

Oxycontin = Brand name for a timed-release formula of oxycodone, a narcotic analgesic (medication that reduces pain). Oxycodone is an opioid medication and is highly addictive and commonly used recreationally by people who have an opioid use disorder

HIPAA = Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act (1996) is a US federal statute enacted by the 104th US Congress and signed into law by President Bill Clinton. It is a federal law that required the creation of national standards to protect sensitive patient health information from being disclosed without the patient’s consent or knowledge

Yakov Smirnoff = Ukranian-American comedian, actor and writer

CIs = Criminal Informants

Subpoena = A writ ordering a person to attend a court

NCIC = National Crime Information Center (NCIC) is a computerised index of criminal justice information (i.e. criminal record history information, fugitives, stolen properties, missing persons)

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ilovefandoms102 · 4 years

Text

Part 12

Summary: Just a continuation from the last part

Taglist:

@ma10427 @lasnaro @certainstatesmantoadartisan @iamaunicorn4704 @riverdaleserpent04 @justcallmesams @sspidermanss @tangledinsparkles @jellyfishbeansontoast @hurricane-abigail @poguesnobx @gviosca

Part 11 Part 13

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

I came to a second later, the force of John B and I colliding together knocking both of us out. I looked and saw John B wasn’t moving, so I crawled over to him.

“Birdie?” I asked, no answer. I couldn’t think of anything else happening around me except making sure my baby brother was ok.

I flipped him around and saw a red stain on his left side. I panicked and leaned down to check if he was still breathing, and barely any breaths were leaving his mouth. Blood was pouring out of the wound, and I knew I needed to stop the bleeding.

“Someone help me!” I shouted. I saw the three men that attacked us take off, my friends running towards us

“John B!” JJ yelled.

“Oh fuck,” Pope said.

“Baby?” Sarah asked.

“JB!” Kie shouted.

I shoved my hand on his wound to stop the bleeding and it forced a shout from my brother. I sobbed out in relief, I told Pope to call an ambulance.

“Bubba?” my brother asked looking up at me.

“Yeah Birdie? I’m here” I said, tears rolling down my face, and my free hand taking one of his. I felt JJ putting his head on my shoulder, tears of his own wetting my skin.

“I love you” he said, wheezing.

“I love you too Birdie, you’re going to be fine” I said. Looking at Sarah who was sobbing into Kie’s arms.

“Where-Sarah-I” John B grunted out.

“I’m here” she said coming to the other side of us and taking his other hand.

“Sarah, please take care of my sister....I love you so much” he said.

“You can’t leave me” Sarah said. My heart breaking at the sight of her sobbing into my brothers neck.

“You’re time’s not over yet JB...I’m not done annoying the shit out of you yet” I said, laughing through my tears. He smiled at me, squeezing my hand.

“Pope hurry up man!” JJ shouted.

John B smiled before closing his eyes again.

“John Booker keep your eyes open, you gotta stay with us,” I slapped his cheek lightly, his eyes snapping open again.

“Can’t bubba, I’m so tired” he slurred.

“I know Birdie, help is coming just please hold on.” I said to him.

John B took a deep breath, closed his eyes, exhaled and went completely still. My eyes widened as his hand went limp in mine. I leaned my head back on his chest and it wasn’t moving.

“JJ, he’s not breathing!” I screamed.

“Oh my god, no!” Sarah wailed.

“No, no, John B please wake up” I started hysterically crying. I shook my brother as hard as I could.

“Baby,” JJ said, putting his hand on my shoulder.

“Birdie, you can’t leave me!” I wailed out, laying my head on his still chest. I sobbed into my brothers chest, starting to breathe erratically from how hard I was cying.

We heard the screeching of sirens and tires squealing. The paramedics coming over and telling us to move out of the way. I wasn’t registering anything other than my brother being dead. I shoved at them when they tried to move me. Then, JJ put his arms around my chest and pulled me away from him, moving us so we weren’t in the way.

“NO! JJ!” I screamed, struggling against his hold. JJ held tight against me while the paramedics worked on him. He put his face right next to mine and whispered in my ear to calm down and let the paramedics do their job. They put him on a stretcher and rushed him to the ambulance.

“Come on my love, we can meet them there” JJ said, lifting me in his arms and taking me to the van.

At the hospital:

“Well, second time in three days I’ve been in this fucking waiting room” I said, pacing around the room.

Pope watching whatever was on the little television, Kie was holding Sarah who was still crying, and JJ staring at me. My heart was beating out of my chest, I was so scared something bad was going to happen to John B. Then I’d be completely alone...of course I have my friends, but of my biological family I’d have no one.

“We have to do something about this fucking gold before we all get killed. I’m not losing anyone else.” I said shakily.

“Sweetheart, everyone that knows about it knows we have it. Even if we spend it they will still come after us.” JJ said.

“Maybe we could just tell someone where it is and let them have it?” Pope suggested.

“Hell no, are you crazy?!” JJ yelled, smacking Pope over the head.

“What if we cash it and go into hiding somewhere out of the country?” Kie asked.

“How did anyone even find out that we were the ones who found it?” I asked myself. Then a thought hit me.

My brother had been basically living with Sarah for the past few months and there’s no way someone didn’t over hear them. Or was Sarah doing this purposefully so her family could get the gold? My earlier concerns about her started flooding me, making me become overfilled with rage.

“Did you telling your fucking Dad?!” I yelled accusingly at Sarah.

“What the hell?! Why would I do that?” Sarah asked, crying harder now.

“You didn’t want anything to do with John B until you knew we for sure found that gold.” I sneered.

“How dare you?!” Sarah shouted, getting up from Kie and coming towards me. Everyone standing up in case there was a showdown.

“You never wanted to be a part of this family until you knew we were going to be filthy rich so you wouldn’t have to live with the embarrassment of being seen with a Pogue. Right Sarah? You can’t stand the thought of having to actually work for something and not having it handed to you.” I said staring into her eyes, my hands balling into fists at my sides.

Sarah’s hand darted out and smacked me hard across the face, gasps coming from everyone. I charged at her, knocking us both to the ground. I swung my arm back and landed a punch right in her jaw. JJ yanked me off of her, forcing me out of the waiting room and into the hospital parking lot.

“Get off of me JJ!” I yelled, pushing him once we got outside.

“You need to cool it” JJ said sternly.

“Are you serious right now?!” I exclaimed.

“This is not the time or place to be talking about that shit and you know it.” he said crossing his arms over his chest.

“You know I’m right J” I said looking at my feet.

“Baby, we can deal with that later. We need to focus on John B right now.” JJ said.

“I’m so scared,” I whispered, biting my lip so I wouldn’t cry again.

“Oh sweetheart, come here.” JJ said, walking to me and pulling me into his arms.

I latched on to him and sobbed hard into his neck, throwing my arms under his and grabbing at the back of his shirt. He held my head in his hand, planting little kisses on my cheek and anywhere else he could reach.

“I can’t lose him JJ” I cried.

“I know” JJ murmured into my hair.

JJ and I made our way back into the waiting room to find Pope, Kie, and Sarah’s parents there as well. Pope’s parents hugged me, telling me everything would be ok. I looked at Mr. C, he was such a kind and caring man. He helped me when no one else would. He’s been more of a father to me than my own actually was. I ran into his arms and he hugged me back tight. Kie and her mom enveloping us.

“John Booker Routledge?” someone asked.

I immediately went to them and followed them into the hall.

“Is he ok?” I asked, tears starting to well up again.

“He was unresponsive when he first came in, but we managed to get him back. We had to do a very intense operation since the bullet nicked an artery, most people don’t survive that kind of injury. He’s very lucky to be alive.” the doctor said.

“Shit” I sighed out, crying in relief that my brother would be ok.

One week later:

“Can someone break me out of this shithole yet?” John B whined.

I was ready for him to be out as well, he was driving me insane with his constant complaining. I love my brother, and am so happy he is living and breathing. But the journey of this hospital stay, has made me more determined than ever to somehow get rid of this gold.

“You’re being released today Birdie, I can’t wait to deep clean our shit house.” I said running my hands through my hair. “”I hate living with men” I sighed.

“That’s rude” my brother said.

“I take offense to that” JJ said, adjusting his hat.

“You all are literally so disgusting.” I said clapping my hands together.

“I clean up after myself!” JJ said. I looked at him, raising my brow.

“Babe yes I do!” he said laughing.

“Oh so are you talking about the time I literally threatened to cut your dick off if you left one more beer can in the floor?” I said, pretending to think about it.

“You couldn’t make it without my dick” he mumbled, crossing his arms across his chest leaning back in the chair.

“JJ please stop talking about my sister and your dick” John B said.

They finally released John B and we all piled into the van. I drove us home still fighting with the boys about them being more clean since I was the main bread maker in the household.

“Bubba I’m in so much pain do I get a break from cleaning?” John B asked.

“This is the only time you get a pass JB. So babe, it’s me and you” I said looking over at JJ.

“I love you” JJ said, looking at me lovingly.

“Don’t even start, you’re helping me” I said, knowing he was trying to sweet talk me.

“Babe,” he sighed.

“No, most of that mess is you and John B. Our house is disgusting.” I said shaking my head.

“Oh my god fine only for you gorgeous.” JJ sighed, kissing my hand.

“I’m going to throw up” John B groaned.

I laughed, taking a moment to think about the what ifs. If my brother hadn’t made it out, I would have been destroyed. We all would have been. John B is the heart of the Pogues. He kept all of us together, without him we wouldn’t be complete. Most of all, he was my best friend, and I know I couldn’t live without him. I would have given up on life completely if it wasn’t for him being around. He kept me going. He encouraged me to live life to the fullest. I would never have my life be any other way.

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

Hope you guys enjoyed!

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adrenaline-roulette · 4 years

Text

Absolute Beginners

Chapter Three: First Positions Everybody!

Make sure you’ve read Chapters One and Two first!

Sarah shrugged at Jareth’s question, seemingly putting an end to that conversation rather abruptly, not that Jareth minded terribly, he had other things to occupy his mind with currently, and he was sure learning any more pop culture references would distract him from the task at hand. “That will be all Higgle, you know your place for the runner.” He commanded, and the dwarf bowed, before turning to Sarah, who had to bite her tongue from correcting the name.

“I’ll be seein’ ya ‘round. Gots-ta go ‘an distract this runna better than I did with ya.” He chuckled, causing Sarah to grin down at her stout friend. In the moments she had spent thinking back to her time in the Labyrinth, she had always felt Hoggle had done an excellent job in distracting her from her task at hand, though on the other hand, she had also been the first and only champion on the Labyrinth, so perhaps he hadn’t done as well as she once thought.

“Good luck Hoggle! I hope this runner doesn’t get you in as much trouble either!” Sarah called after him, laughing quietly. Jareth smirked beside her, watching the dwarf toddle off and out of the throne room. “Does Hoggle always stand guard at the gate that leads to the Labyrinth?”

“Yes, that is his duty in the Labyrinth when there is a runner, however he is not supposed to help the runner as he did with you. You were, special.” Jareth offered in answer, before twisting his wrist in an elegant manner, a crystal appearing on his fingertips. “Come, take a look.” He whispered, as Sarah stepped closer, peering into the endless depths of the small crystal. A cloud of navy-blue fog swirled inside before a scene appeared. A young woman, no more that fourteen was stood in the middle of a child’s playroom, scowling at a screaming baby. The poor child looked tired, its face red and puffy from nonstop wailing. The young woman looked frustrated and at her wits end, the scene was all too familiar to Sarah, no matter how many years had passed, she would never forget that night, or her wish.

The girl tugged her fingers through her blonde curls, trying to prevent herself from screaming. “No, don’t say it…” Sarah whispered, despite knowing the girl was unable to hear her. She felt a sense of duty almost, to protect this girl from the dangers of the Labyrinth. However, something deep within her prevented her from doing so. Perhaps it was the newfound trust she had in the King? A sense of faith that truly, despite all he would throw at her, things would turn out for the best? Or perhaps, it was her bratty teenage self coming out, reminding her that if nothing else, running the Labyrinth had allowed her to become the woman she was today? Or stranger still, perhaps it was that she wanted to see this girl run the Labyrinth….

Jareth quietly chuckled beside her, shaking his head softly. It was as if he could sense the thoughts whirling through her mind…

“I will be back in a moment, take this.” He breathed, as he placed the crystal atop her palm, before disappearing from her side. The throne room became quiet, as Jareth along with his goblins made their way to the summons. Taking one final look around the throne room, Sarah made her way to the large stone steps which lead up to the throne itself. Settling down on the second step, she rested her forearm over her knee, holding the crystal within a loose grip as she stared into the scene unfolding within.

***

The blonde teen left the toy room leaving her baby sister behind, as she hoped she would cry herself to sleep. The door closed with a gentle click, and just as she turned her back to it, thunder boomed seemingly from nowhere, shaking the windows and entire house. Creaking the door open carefully, Lightning lit up the entire room, rain pelting again the window, as huge gusts of wind nearly lifted the house from its foundations.

***

Sarah was fascinated at how the goblins handled the baby, something she hadn’t witnessed when she wished away Toby. Two of the taller goblins scurried towards the crib, one leaning over and scooping up the crying babe, as the other rested three fingers against its forehead, causing the baby to instantly stop crying. The child’s eyes falling closed, as a gentle sleep washed over them, and their face fell peaceful. Sarah had always assumed the goblins possessed some amount of magic, but she had never guessed what it could be used for. It made sense that at least one goblin could soothe fussy children, otherwise she was sure it would be far more difficult to extract the child from their house unheard. The two goblins linked arms, as the one not holding the child snapped its fingers, with a pop of magic, they vanished from the crystal, only to appear seconds later back in the throne room.

Sarah turned away from the crystal, blinking emerald eyes up at the goblins and sleeping baby. “Lady! Kingy asked if you could ‘old her.” The goblin holding the baby screeched in a nasal, high pitched voice. He looked terrified, his entire body shaking in fear of holding the small child, a feeling Sarah could relate well too, sure she had looked much the same when she had first been introduced to Toby. She thought back the Jareth’s words, these poor goblins had no idea what they were doing, Jareth had likely had little to no time to explain the game plan to them, before they had to spring into action.

“Um yeah. Of course, what’s her name?” Sarah asked quietly, as she made her way closer to the goblins. Without a thought, she twisted her wrist in the same way she had watched Jareth do on so many occasions, the crystal vanishing into thin air, leaving behind the tingle of magic on her palm. If she had been thinking, she would have realised how odd it was that the crystal had done exactly what she had wanted, but for now, was rather preoccupied, especially now that she had a small child being thrust into her empty arms.

“The girl was calling ‘er Lillian.” The goblin shrugged, squinting his beady eyes at the spot where the crystal had been moments ago. He made a mental note to mention this to his King, though from the corner of his eye he spotted the tankard of goblin ale, and all thoughts of reporting magical doings to the king were gone the moment they appeared.

Sarah smiled down at Lillian, she couldn’t be much older than a year, maybe one and a half at most. Lillian continued to sleep, as Sarah rocked gently from side to side, holding the blonde child carefully. It had been years since she had last held such a young child, Toby was too old and big to be picked up like this anymore, and she didn’t know anyone with children either; most of her friends having opted for studies over families in their young age. Sarah walked around the throne room, cradling Lillian carefully, as she looked around the circular room, occasionally peering out one of the arched windows, looking down to the city bellow. She watched as the goblins prepared themselves for battle, just in case this new runner would make it as far as Sarah once had. Though from the half hearted attempts the goblins were making at putting up barricades, it seemed unlikely that this runner would be as fortunate as Sarah had been.

“Snicker, please take the baby from Sarah.” Jareth’s voice suddenly sounded from behind her, causing Sarah to pivot on the spot, as a goblin wearing a bonnet appeared at her side.

“Gimme the baby.” The goblin grinned, while making ‘grabby’ hands at Lillian. Sarah eyed the goblin sceptically, lifting one brow at the crusted yellow nails which reached for her.

Jareth reached out slowly, cusping a gloved hand over her shoulder in a feather light touch. He turned his back to the goblin now known as Snicker, his mismatched eyes meeting hers. “Snicker is the Goblin City’s nanny. The baby will be safe with her, just as Toby once was.”

Sarah’s eyes opened wide, darting between Jareth and Snicker for a few seconds. “I thought you said there weren’t any of the Goblins from my run who still did this?”

“They are few and far between these days, however Snicker has been in her role for decades now. I would hate to take the position away from her, not when she is so wonderful at it.”

With a sigh of relief, Sarah carefully handed Lillian to Snicker. “Oooh, you make a good goblin soon.” Snicker cooed, before walking out of the throne room, Sarah watching the two leave in utter shock.

“I’m not sure if I forgot or repressed the memory of what could happen to the children who were wished away, if the wisher doesn’t make it to the Castle in time.” Sarah whispered; her mouth having grown dry at the thought.

Jareth shook his head softly, feathery blonde hair swaying in its own breeze. “It is simply a scare tactic.” He offered, waving his hand, and producing yet another crystal.

“A scare tactic?”

“I do not curse wished away children to live their lives goblins. It would be unfair to the child to do so. Afterall, the child didn’t wish themselves away now did they?” He smirks across at Sarah, mismatched eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Well, what do you do with them then?”

Jareth shakes his head no, “Another time precious. I will answer all your questions in due time.” He almost whispers, causing Sarah to step ever closer towards him. “If you are ready, would you like to see the beginning of the Labyrinth from a different perspective?”

Sarah nods eagerly, eyes falling once more to the displayed crystal. “Actually, I have a better idea.” He declares suddenly, vanishing the crystal, and turning on his heel to face her. “Why watch, when you can participate?”

“Oh no!” Sarah cried, taking three large steps backwards. Sirens were blaring in her head, as red flags waved frantically in her imagination. “No, no no! I refuse to run again! I didn’t wish anyone away; you have no grounds to force me to run!”

“Sarah my love, that is not at all what I meant.” Jareth purred, his velvety voice sending a wave of calm over her instantly. “I apologise if that is how my words came across, it is not what I intended.”

Watching his movements carefully, and keeping an eye out for any sudden changes, Sarah crept forwards. “What do you have in mind then?”

With a flourish of his hand, a new crystal appeared, this one with clouds of rose and peach coloured smoke within. Without so much as a word, he gently tossed the crystal at her feet. The sphere shattering into nothingness, the colourful smoke escaping and enveloping her entire body in a thick fog. As the smoke whirled around her, the scent of peaches and fresh berries engulfed her senses. She could almost taste them, they were so real! In what felt like both only seconds yet hours too, the smoke cleared, and Sarah watched as a smile spread across Jareth’s face. “You look stunning.” He breathed out, eyes flowing over her body, not in lust, but something close to it…

Eyebrows raised in surprise, Sarah gazed down at herself, instantly noticing her lack of jeans, and overall entirely new outfit. A deep forest green coat fell down to the floor around her, ending in long sleeves and a slight train; the cropped top laced in dark brown leather over her bust, meeting with a deep collar made of the same leather. Over her shoulders, in what felt like the shoulder pads Karen had worn in the 80’s, were even darker green spikes, resembling the armour she had seen Jareth wear on numerous occasions. Beneath the coat she wore a comfortable peasants shirt, cream coloured just as Jareth often wore, and just like his, the neckline was severely plunging. A pair of buttery soft leather pants in the same colour as the accents on her coat, clung to her legs like a second skin. No wrinkles could be seen, no matter which way she twisted and turned. They had practically melted against her! Black leather boots completed the outfit, resting just below the knee, with corset style laces all up the back, and a thick yet comfortable heel. Finally, to complete the look, though for now she remained unaware; her long dark hair had been tousled into that of messily imperfect perfection, giving her an air of ferocity and power. “Are jean jackets not socially acceptable in the Underground?” She sighed, running her hands down the soft fabrics she now wore.

“In any other situation, I would say what you were wearing was perfect attire. However, if you would like to come meet the runner, it would be best if you looked the part.”

“Looked the part of what?”

“Part of the Labyrinth and her occupants of course. You are the champion after all.” Jareth smirked at her, before offering her his gloved hand. “Join me champion.”

There are no second thoughts as Sarah rests her hand within his. His champion. The Goblin Kings champion! With a cloud of glitter, the two vanish from the throne room leaving nothing but a smattering of glitter particles and something new in their place. Tiny vine leaves weave and mingle with Jareth’s magic, the stunning forest green mixing with that of sparkling glitter.

***

Just as suddenly as the two had left, they re-appear on the outskirts of the Labyrinth. Orange dust mixing with that of the orange skies, blending together almost seamlessly. Sarah found, that if she stared too long into the distance, she was unable to tell the sky from the land apart. “You’re her aren’t you?” A new voice asks, timid and afraid.

It takes Sarah a moment to realise she is being spoken to. She had assumed the runner would be addressing Jareth, and Jareth alone. He was the King after all…

Turning her attention away from the stunning landscape, her eyes fell on the teenager stood before her. She was acutely aware of Jareth who was stood directly behind her, his arm brushing against hers ever so gently. “And who might that be?” Her voice sounded foreign even to her ears. She sounds regal almost, and not at all like herself. Yet, the words and voice had come so naturally to her.

“You’re the Goblin Queen.” The teen gulped, fear and awe lacing her features.

This caused Sarah to pause, her back going rigid in surprise. Had Jareth known what the girl was going to say, was that why he had suggested she come? “Ahhhh, yes?”

Taglist (If you would to be added just let me know) @fabinapercabeth4179

Masterlist for all my other writings!

#jareth x sarah #jareth #sarah williams #labyrinth #labyrinth fanfic #labyfic #labyrinth fan fiction #goblin king

8 notes · View notes

jowritesthingss · 4 years

Text

Liar, Liar

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairing(s): n/a (familial DLAMPR)

Rating: General Audiences

Content Warning(s): fire (nobody’s hurt tho), strong language...boi (that’s a joke they’re kids there’s not rly strong language beyond anx saying “dang it” too much for pat’s liking)

Length: 2,420 words

Brief Summary: Janus wasn’t always as cool and collected a liar as he is now. Also, the split of Creativity because why not.

TS Masterlist + AO3 Links

“MORALITY!” Creativity shrieks, racing into the living room and colliding at top speed into said side.

With a loud “oomph!”, Morality reaches out to enclose a seven-year-old Creativity in his arms, rocking the other side reassuringly. “Wh-what’s wrong, Creativity?” he struggles to pant through having his breath completely knocked out of him.

“D-Deceit’s being meeean to me again!” Creativity whines into Morality’s shirt.

Morality looks accusingly up at Deceit, who stands faux-innocently in the doorway.

Deceit shrugs. “No I’m not,” he defends himself. “I’m just telling the truth. Creativity is a big, weird, whiny baby. It’s a fact.” He points at Logic smugly. “Ask Logic. He’ll tell you.”

Cuddled up in his corner, Logic looks up from some fourth grade science textbook that he probably already knows cover to cover. “Please do not bring me into this little tiff of yours,” he says imperiously. After a moment, the facade melts, and he brightens. “Didja like that word? ‘Tiff’? It was the word of the day in Language Arts today, not that any of you were paying attention. It means—”

“Oh, shut up, nerd,” Deceit and Creativity chorus and well, at least there’s something they can agree on, Morality supposes.

Disappointed, Logic’s face sinks into a pout. “Fine.” His lip wobbles dangerously. “I can see when I’m not needed.”

And with that, Logic sinks down, presumably off to go bother Anxiety instead.

Morality knows that he should really go after Logic and reassure him that no, he really is needed, and they all really do love him. But with Logic no longer in the living room causing a distraction, Creativity and Deceit start to go off at each other again.

“You’re a booger head,” Deceit hisses, triumphant. “Logan’s the stinky poo-poo side, and you’re the booger side, you...you lame person.”

“No! I’m not a booger!” Creativity protests, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “J-just ’cos I thought it was a kinda dance that one time d-doesn’t make me the—the—”

Morality tries to gather Creativity back up in his arms, but Creativity pulls away from him, stubbornly glaring at Deceit even as tears start to pour down his trembling cheeks.

Deceit laughs, pointing a finger at Creativity. “And now you’re a crybaby! So you’re the crybaby side too?”

“H-hey, Dee, you really need to st—” But Morality’s pathetic attempt at crowd control is drowned out by a rapidly crescendoing siren.

Creativity is now openly wailing, his feet planted and his head tilted to the ceiling and his mouth gaping wide, and oh, dear, that’s never good.

Whenever Creativity starts to cry, it’s a toss-up as to whether he’ll hide in his room for a week or rampage through the entire mindscape destroying things. There’s not really an in-between, and there’s no way to tell which he’ll do each time.

“You’re—you’re a liar! You’re nothing but a liar!” Creativity asserts, his voice panicky and patchy and tremulous. He points a shaking finger at Deceit in return, trying to laugh at him, but the result is rather pitiful. “Liar, liar, pants on fire!”

Then, all at once, Creativity shifts.

The tears dry up abruptly, and a too-wide, disconcerting grin spreads across his face.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” Creativity says lowly, smiling way too much for someone who had just been in the darkest pits of despair.

Morality sucks in a breath, holding it, uneasily wondering what Creativity is planning.

Deceit has the decency to look slightly abashed, but he holds his ground nevertheless.

And then his pants burst into flame.

Morality is the first to scream, pointing a horrified finger at Deceit’s pants.

Deceit, wanting to know what Morality is screeching about, looks down...and promptly begins some screeching of his own, accompanied by little terrified hops all over the place. He dances around the living room, as if that’ll somehow magically douse the fire, but the extra exposure to oxygen only seems to be doing the opposite.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire. Liar, liar, pants on fire,” Creativity chants delightedly, a manic look on his face.

Logic abruptly rises back up to see what the ruckus is. He takes one look at Deceit running around, body engulfed in flames, and Creativity chanting not unlike a cult member, and Morality screaming...and he sinks back out.

A few moments later, a thoroughly reluctant Logic rises back up, being dragged by a fuming, worried Anxiety.

Anxiety surveys the scene in front of him for one, two, three seconds. Then—

“Deceit! Stop, drop, and roll already, you dummy!” he yells over the din, his voice slightly distorted. “Creativity, you weirdo, stop chanting, dang it!”

“L-language,” Morality mumbles brokenly, eyes wide as he watches the scene in front of him slowly begin to wind down.

Deceit pauses for a moment as Anxiety’s instructions sink in. Then he stops. Drops. Rolls.

Right onto the couch.

Setting the couch on fire.

“NO, dang it!” Anxiety screams, voice fully distorted now, and Morality is much too concerned with the six foot wall of raging flames to call him out on his strong language.

“Morality, a little help here!” Anxiety calls across the room, and the distorted, fully unadulterated panic shocks Morality into action.

It’s time for the Dad Voice. Morality sucks in a big, smoke-filled breath. He chokes. Sucks in another, more careful breath. Tries to make it look vaguely cooler this time.

“STOP!” Morality hollers, his voice magnified, deep, and booming over all the screaming coming from the other sides.

Everyone stops.

Logic stops mid eye-roll. Deceit stops stop-drop-and-roll-ing. Creativity stops chanting. Anxiety freezes in place. Even the fire all over Deceit and the sofa listens to Morality, slowing and shrinking and quickly petering out.

“That is enough,” Morality asserts. Gosh, he hates pulling the Dad Voice card on everyone, especially since they’re all basically the same age, and it always makes him feel so bad. But the cacophony going on in Thomas’ mindscape really was enough. If it got any worse, it would start to affect Thomas in the real world. “Deceit, stop calling people mean names. Creativity, stop setting people on fire.”

The two sides in question reluctantly mutter their assent.

“I’m telling Anxiety on you,” Deceit threatens Creativity under his breath.

“What the—dude!” Anxiety throws his arms up in the air, frustrated. “I’m literally right here,” he snaps, thoroughly Done with everything and everyone. “Who d’you think told you to stop, drop, and roll?” He mutters something illegible to himself before raising his voice again. “God, I wanna say a bad word so much right now but Mo would kill me.”

Deceit looks up and over at Anxiety. He stares quietly for a moment, astonished. Then tears begin to well up in his eyes—real tears, for once, not the crocodile tears he likes to pull on Morality to get what he wants. “I—I—Anx!” he blubbers, racing over to Anxiety and burying himself in the slightly taller side’s arms without prompting. “C-Creativity set me on fire! I was just pretending with him and he set me on fire!”

Chagrined, Anxiety looks at Morality from over Deceit’s head. He rolls his eyes and shrugs, a ‘what can ya do’-type gesture.

Morality returns the gesture before sternly turning to handle Creativity. “It doesn’t matter what Deceit said or did to you,” he says. “We do not set people on fire. You will apologize. Right. Now.”

“B-but!” Creativity protests feebly. “He...he started it though.”

“And I’m ending it. Right here, right now. Now.” Morality places his hands on his hips, staring down at the suddenly-meek side in front of him, quite a far cry from the crazed lunatic that had been present not two seconds ago. “Creativity. I believe you have something to say to Deceit...?”

Creativity nods earnestly, eyes wide and pleading. Then his eyes harden, and he shakes his head. “Yes—no. Yes. Uh.” He buries his face in his hand and peeps out at Morality, as if that can protect him. “M-maybe?”

“Uh-uh. There is no maybe in this, mister. It’s either a yes or a no.” Only a yes, really, but Morality’s gonna let the kid choose his own fate, even if that means he gets himself grounded for a month.

“Y-yes. Nooo.” Creativity clutches at his face, dropping to his knees on the ground. He lets out a pained cry, then, to everyone’s utmost surprise, two strange voices sound in contrast to each other.

“Yes!” one of the voices shrieks, delighted.

“No!” the other strange voice protests in tandem, defiant.

A flash of bright light—brighter than even the flames that had so quickly covered the still-smoking, now-singed sofa. Forced to look away, the sides all cover their eyes, squinting at the incredible brightness.

There is a yell—of pain?—of triumph?—and then, just like that, the light is gone.

Logic is the first one to chance opening his eyes, ever the curious soul and wanting to know what just happened. What he sees in the place where Creativity once stood makes him stop and stare, mouth hanging open.

Where Creativity had been standing in the middle of the living room, there are instead two strange new sides—one red, and one green. They both sit, curled up on the floor, disoriented and blinking up at everyone in a sort of tired confusion.

Logic steps forward. “Who...who are you?” he asks, his want to know overruling his wariness. The two of them just look so familiar, but Logic can’t for the life of him figure out why.

The two look up at him in tandem, cocking their heads with alarming similarity. They open their mouths.

“Why, I’m Creativity, of course!” they speak in unison, smooth versus garbled speech.

The two of them freeze, turning to face each other, eyes wild.

The green one’s face stretches into a wide grin. “Yes...it worked.”

The red one begins to shake his head rapidly. “No. Nonono. This isn’t happening. You’re not Creativity. I am.”

“No,” the green one says. “No, we are Creativity, brother.”

“Uh.” Morality clears his throat, guardedly inserting himself into the conversation. He swallows hard when the two supposed Creativities swivel their heads to look at him in unison. “Where’s...are you guys Creativity?”

“That’s what we just said, isn’t it, Mo-mo?” the green Creativity simpers, a sickly sweet smile on his face that he turns on Deceit next, standing up and walking over to him and Anxiety.

Deceit cowers into Anxiety’s side as the Creativity approaches him. He peeks his head out, hastily mumbling out a tiny, “’m sorry about...about calling you names.”

“It’s okay!” the green one says brightly. “I thought they were cool names. I like the idea of being the booger side. It matches my new color scheme!” As if to demonstrate, he picks his nose, wiping it on his new black-and-green outfit. “My brother is just a baby.”

Deceit smiles hesitantly, untangling himself from Anxiety and chancing a few steps in the direction of this new Creativity.

“Ew, gross,” the red one says, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “I don’t like you. You’re a stupid Creativity. I should set you on fire too.”

“Now, uh, Creativity,” Morality steps in again. “We just went over this. Uh. With you when you were...one Creativity?” Patton flounders, unsure of what to refer to either Creativity as. “Don’t make me go through it again now that you’re...uh, two.”

The red one sighs loudly, annoyed. “Fineee!” He pouts before sidling over to Logic. “Nice specs, four-eyes. What are you, a nerd?”

“Yes, and I like it,” Logic shoots back.

The two engage in a heated conversation, but it doesn’t seem quite so heated as the literal fire that had been raging through the mindscape under five minutes ago, so Morality decides to ignore it for the moment. He zeroes in on the green side, who seems slightly more troublesome.

“Y’know, I can teach you how to light fires like that!” the green Creativity is saying to Deceit, who seems much more interested in the idea than is strictly healthy. “That way we can light my brother on fire as revenge! The fire was my idea, of course, he’s not smart enough to come up with it on his own. But he’s the one who actually decided to do it.”

Green Creativity grabs Deceit’s hand with one of his (oh, gosh, that’s the booger hand, ew), and Morality watches as the two race over to the basement door, disappearing behind it.

Morality and Anxiety stare each other down, silently battling to see who is sentenced to the grisly death of going down into the basement after the two clear troublemakers.

Eventually, Anxiety relents. “I’ll go make sure they don’t get themselves killed,” he sighs, absolutely Done with the world yet again (let’s be honest, though, does he really have any other state of being?). “You three just try not to, um, burn down the house again, please?”

“Will do, Anxie!” Morality says nervously, waving a nervous goodbye as the purple side slinks into the basement, snapping the door shut behind him.

“No promises,” Red Creativity and Logic speak up in unison from behind him, then they devolve back into their tits—their—oh, what was that weird new-fangled word Logic had used earlier? gif? tiff?—they just go back to their argument, okay.

Morality turns to face the two of them, trying to feign a smile. After a moment, though, it wriggles off his face, and he sinks his head into his hands, sighing.

Poor Thomas, for having all of these dodos as his sides. Poor Morality, for having to deal with them. He doesn’t get paid enough for this. (He doesn’t get paid at all, who’s he kidding. Is it too late to ask for a different human?)

Turning up the 500-watt smile again, Morality marches over to Logic and this new Creativity. He plants himself between the two of them, internally forcing himself to come to terms with this. This is his new reality now.

“All right, break it up!” Morality instructs. “Mom’s making homemade macaroni tonight and if you make Thomas act out again, we won’t get any!”

Creativity and Logic immediately freeze.

“No!” Red Creativity laments. “Not the macaroni! We mustn’t lose the macaroni!”

“Indeed, that would be...not good,” Logic agrees seriously, nodding his assent.

The final crisis averted, Morality sighs in relief.

And just like that, peace returns to the mindscape of one Thomas Sanders.

Well. Just for the moment, at least.

(Tomorrow, when Green Creativity tries to put slugs in his brother’s pants, all bets are off.)

Fin

May I present to you: the real reason behind the Creativity split—a tantrum, pure and simple. And as for why Deceit ran away from and detested the light sides—utter embarrassment.

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medicatemedrmccoy · 7 years

Text

Wreckage

For @outside-the-government ‘s “write away the winter blues” challenge

Prompt: “It was touch and go for a while there, but you’re going to be just fine.”

2,604 word(s) of angst and a little fluff.

Warnings: blood, drunk driving and its consequences

“Hello?” Came a gruff voice answered, echoing through the speakers of the car.

“Hey Len, it’s me.” You replied as you turned on your blinker and looked both ways before pulling out onto a deserted street. “What did you boys want from the store again?”

“Weren’t you supposed to make a list?” Leonard chuckled lightly. You let out a small huff.

“I did, but your daughter was being a terror and I completely forgot it and left it lying on the counter,” you retorted just as the terror squealed in her car seat as if to reiterate your point.

“Oh, so when she misbehaves, she’s my daughter?” Leonard laughed into the phone “Hey baby girl, are you giving your momma a rough time?”

“You know that’s how it works, Len.” You shot back as you looked in the rear view mirror as Emma immediately stopped squealing at the sound of her daddy’s voice. “Ugh, how do you do that? It’s so unfair!”

“It must be my Southern charm, darlin. It seems to work on the ladies, which I think you can agree with.” Leonard replied, his smug tone oozing through the car speakers.

“You’re hilarious Len, now what do you and Jim want for dinner?” You asked, exasperated as you pulled up to a stop light. Damn that man and his charm. You heard Leonard pull the phone away and began talking to Jim. You faintly heard something about hamburgers coming from Jim’s mouth. The stop light finally turned green and you began to make your turn.

“Jim, you always…” you started to say but the words died on your lips as you heard the sound of screeching tires. You could see the headlights in your peripheral for a split second but before you could register what was happening, you’re hit with the force of the impact.

The other vehicle slammed into the passenger side, the sound of crunching metal filled your ears. The vehicle rammed you with such force that it sent your vehicle toppling over itself. You weren’t sure how many times, the initial impact had slammed your head against the driver’s side window, spider webbing the glass. Your vision immediately went black from the impact.

You slowly started to come to, but keep your eyes closed. Your head was pounding as you tried to take a deep breath, your chest ached in protest. The smell of burnt rubber and oil filled your nose. You swallowed thickly, a sharp metallic taste mixed in with your saliva.

You can faintly hear the sound of the car horn blaring in the background, the sound of your blinker still blinking resonated in your head. You could faintly hear a broken up voice in the background.

“Y/N? Y/N, speak to me! Sweetheart? Emma? Can you cry for daddy? Please, someone, make a noise!” Leonard’s broken, staticy voice was frantic and worried. The sound of it finally managed to break your mind’s remaining fog as you slowly opened your eyes. You slowly moved your head around taking in your surroundings. All you could see was a tangle of metal surrounding you, pinning you in the seat. At least the car had thankfully come to rest upright.

“Len…” you managed to croak out weakly, hoping he would hear your meager reply as you choked on the talcum powder from the airbag that lingered in the air. You lean your head back against the headrest, trying to breathe, your chest aching. You looked up to the rear view mirror to check on Emma but the mirror was gone. You tried to turn your head around to look but your body screamed in protest when you tried to move.

“Thank god…Y/N” Leonard spoke quickly as he breathed out a sigh of relief. “Jim’s tracking the gps on your car and calling an ambulance. Are you ok? What the hell happened?”

“Accident… blacked out… Emma… Why isn’t she crying… Len…” You manage to slur out, your brain still addled from being smashed into the window.

“Y/N, listen to me darlin. I know this sounds bad, but you can’t help Emma if you don’t help yourself first. I need you to look at yourself and see if you have any injuries. Can you do that for me sweetheart?” Leonard asked as calmly as he could manage. You could hear Jim’s frantic scrambling faintly in the background.

“Yeah… Okay” you agreed weakly, trying to put your remaining energy into your arms to get them to move. You slowly lifted your shaking hands to your face. Upon putting what little concentration you could muster into checking yourself for injuries, you felt a trickle down your neck. You ran a hand to the trail of blood and followed it upwards, it was coming from your ear.

“Ear’s bleeding.” You mumbled, feeling yourself getting tired already. Leonard cursed under his breath.

“Dammit, sounds like you’ve got a concussion, what else sweetheart?” Leonard asked gently, but you could still make out the tight tension in his voice. Then his words started to sound far away as your eyes started to droop. Leonard waited a few moments for you to reply, and upon hearing silence from you, began to worry.

“Y/N, darlin. Are you with me? I need you to stay awake sweetheart.” Leonard spoke loudly over the speakers, the static and buzzing from the mangled radio jarred you back around. You groaned loudly in protest as the noise made your head pound.

“There’s my girl. Stay with me sweetheart. Keep checking yourself, and tell me what else you see.” Leonard’s voice was strained, his calm demeanor quickly evaporating with your deteriorating state of consciousness and still no sound from Emma in her car seat.

You slowly lifted your head slightly from the head rest and began to look down at yourself properly for the first time.

“Oh…” You breathed out quietly, your eyes going wide.

“Oh? What does that mean?” Leonard asked quickly, your mounting silence causing his voice to edge on the side of panic “Y/N? Talk to me”

You stared down at your leg, a long piece of mystery metal jutted out of it. Your warm blood streamed out from around the metal at a steady pace, seeping down through your pants and soaking into the seat, and dripping to the floor below. You started to feel dizzy and lightheaded at the sight of it, and closed your eyes.

“My leg… fem… My fem… So much blood…” You trailed off groggily, not being able to get your brain to function enough to pull the word out the rest of the way. You hoped that Leonard would figure out what you meant. Leonard did, and this time he cursed out very loudly, causing Emma to begin to cry in her car seat.

“Emma…” You managed to mumble out, as her wails pierced through the rapidly forming haze in your head. It killed you that you couldn’t see if she was ok, or even reach out to comfort her. You had to take solace in the fact that she was at least crying now.

“There’s my baby girl. It’s ok sweetheart, daddy’s coming.” Leonard spoke, fighting to choke back the tears as Emma’s cries pierced straight through his heart. Emma’s wails quieted at Leonard’s words, but still continued to fuss loudly in her car seat.

“Y/N, are you still with me darlin? Your femoral artery? How bad are you bleeding?” Leonard quickly turned his attention back to you, his calm demeanor all but gone by this point.

“A lot… Len, I can’t… I’m so cold.” Your hands went to your leg shakily as you tried to stifle the blood flow, but you were too weak to do anything more than apply faint pressure, not nearly enough to decrease the flow. Your eyes began to droop once more as your vision began to darken.

“I don’t want to…Please… Don’t let me die.” You mumbled weakly as you faintly began to hear the wail of sirens in the background. Leonard’s frantic voice begging you to stay with him, faded quickly into the background as you slipped into unconsciousness.

You slowly came back to yourself, a soft beeping filled your ears. Your whole body felt heavy, dull aches began to fight their way to the front of your thoughts. You felt something wrapped around your face, you brought your hand up lazily to tug on the foreign object.

“Easy darlin, don’t mess with that.” Leonard ordered gently. “That’s your oxygen.” He added as he took your hand away from your face and into his own, squeezing it gently.

“Thank god you’re finally awake. Can you open your eyes for me sweetheart?” Leonard placed his other hand on your face and ran his thumb over your cheek softly. You groaned at the thought of opening your eyes, but you tried anyway, fluttering them open.

“There’s my girl. Hey sweetheart, welcome back. How do you feel?“ Leonard said softly as he stared into your bleary eyes, searching for any signs of pain or discomfort. You could see all the stress and worry in his eyes, the harsh hospital lighting accentuated the bags under them. His hair was all over the place, his face unshaven, his clothes were wrinkled and looked like they hadn’t been changed since he arrived.

“Awful.” you croaked out, voice cracking from lack of use. Your mouth was a desert, your leg was beginning to throb dully, your chest hurt sharply with each deep breath, and your head felt like it was full of cotton.

“I can just imagine sweetheart, I’ll get a nurse to bring some pain medicine. Here drink this.” Leonard replied as he poured you a small glass of water while calling one of the nurses. He brought the straw to your lips, and you sipped on it gratefully.

“Thank you… What happened?” You breathed out as you let your head fall back against the pillow. Leonard let out an exhausted sigh and sat gently on the side of the bed.

“A drunk driver ran the red light and crashed into you.” Leonard started, voice laden with anger as he rested his hand back on your cheek. You could feel his hand trembling on your cheek, you leaned your head into his hand, earning a small smile from Leonard before he continued.

“You’ve got a lot of bumps and bruises, a couple fractured ribs from the seat belt, a pretty nasty concussion, but worst of all you lost enough blood for stage 3 hypovolemic shock.” Leonard sighed heavily. “It was real touch and go there for a while darlin, with your vitals all over the place and the transfusion, you had us all so worried, but you’re going to be just fine now. I made sure of it.”

“I can tell.” You spoke, voice still scratchy, “ you look awful. Where’s Emma?” You questioned as your eyes searched lazily around the room. Leonard moved slightly on the bed and pointed to the couch on the other side of the room. Emma was laying on Jim’s chest, with his arms around her, as they both slept soundly together.

“Emma is just fine sweetheart. No injuries at all, just a couple scratches.” Leonard replied and you sighed in relief. You groaned as you tried to shift yourself on the bed, but your body was too weak to comply. You gave up and sunk further into the bed.

“Try not to move too much darlin, they got you all bandaged up. Tell me what’s bothering you.” Leonard asked concerned as he began to fuss over you.

“Besides everything?” You groaned, the pain was slowly starting to increase, as you let out a breath and licked your lips. Leonard gave you a concerned frown while he tried his best to adjust the pillows under your leg and head better, and then moved to start fussing over your IV lines and bandages. You felt a smile tug up at the corners of your mouth at his mothering. You reached out weakly to catch his hand to make him stop.

“Have you even slept Len? Ate? Showered? And don’t you dare lie to me.” You asked as you narrowed your eyes in his direction. Leonard looked down sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck.

“This isn’t about me, darlin. It’s my job to make sure you’re taken care of. Are you comfortable? Hot? Cold? Can I get you anything?.” Leonard replied quietly before he quickly moved his attention over to Emma, who was beginning to fuss. Leonard got up quickly, walking over to pick up Emma before she woke Jim, thankful for the interruption.

Leonard picked Emma up gently and walked her back over to you, cradling her close, trying to quiet her whimpers. Leonard sat Emma down by your hand on the bed. You managed to lift your arm up enough to run your hand over her dark tufts of hair as she reached out for you. You smiled down at her as a tear rolled down your cheek.

“Easy now sweetheart, you’re both okay. I’m going to take good care of the both of you.” Leonard replied softly as he wiped your tear away, almost choking on his words as he watched Emma pat your arm lightly.

“I know, it’s just I…” You began to say, but Leonard cut you off swiftly by planting a soft, slow kiss on your lips. The both of you relished the feeling of your lips on each others, the warm breath on one anothers skin. Knowing all too well that this could have all turned out completely different. You both reluctantly pull away from the kiss as Leonard moved to pepper kisses along your cheek and jaw, his stubble tickling your cheek, making you chuckle softly.

“None of that darlin, you’re both alright, thank god. Now, just relax now and get some rest.” Leonard said tiredly, yet stern, as he rested his forehead against yours softly and closed his eyes. You breathed out a sigh as you kissed the tip of his nose.

“Only if you do too.” You spoke softly, as your heart constricted slightly as you thought about how completely and utterly run down he must be. “You look like a hundred miles of rough road.” You could hear Leonard’s chest rumble with laughter at the insult. Leonard reached his hand up and gently ran his hand through your hair as he quietly stared down at you, relief flooding his misty eyes. “I feel like it too.” Leonard breathed out a final laugh. “I promise I’ll get some, sweetheart. Let me make sure you’re taken care of first.” Leonard added gently as he sat on the bed and scooted close to you, taking your hand into his and kissing it softly.

“You better.” You warned quietly, as the nurse finally made her way in and pushed the burning liquid into your IV. Your eyelids began to droop and your body grew heavy once more as you snuggled comfortably into Leonard’s side, giving yourself over to the medicine in your veins and quickly falling asleep. Leonard reached down and grabbed Emma and placed her on his chest, holding her close, as she quickly began falling asleep.

“My two girls. I don’t know what I’d do without either of you.” Leonard spoke to the quiet room, as he kissed your forehead and ran his hand over Emma’s sleeping head, coming to rest on her back. He closed his eyes, snaking his arm through yours and clasped his fingers in yours tightly. He finally allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief, thanking all of his lucky stars, before he finally allowed himself to fall into a peaceful sleep.

My Masterlist

#write away the winter blues #leonard x reader #leonard imagine #leonard mccoy #reader x leonard #bones mccoy #mccoy x reader #dr bones mccoy #bones imagine #reader x bones #bones x reader #dont drink and drive #its seriously not cool #star trek fic challenge #star trek aos #star trek imagine #star trek

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thisdiscontentedwinter · 7 years

Text

hunger - chapter 1

Hunger master post here.

The wolf is too thin, his belly shrunken and concave, no fat between his thin skin and his brittle bones. He has forgotten how to hunt. He is hunted instead, by the spectre of death. He knows. He doesn’t care. Instead of sticking to the woods where instinct tells the wolf he would be safer—shelter, water, prey—the wolf winds closer and closer into the streets of the human town, and picks through dumpsters and gutters for food.

Here tires screech on asphalt. Cars backfire. The street is hard underneath the pads of the wolf’s paws. Everything is loud and harsh and too, too bright.

The wolf limps down the alleyways, death silently following.

Winter is here. The wolf knows he will not see another one.

The wolf follows his nose. He picks up heady scents above the stink of exhaust fumes and oil and rancid things. The wolf rattles around the trashcans at the back of a cheap diner, and fills his belly with the sick-slickness of greasy burgers. Warmth fills the wolf, and his old friend death steps back for just a moment.

Nose in the air, the wolf continues to explore the alleyway. His claws dig into a pile of damp cardboard as he sidesteps the icy-cold puddle of rain, oil-slicked, in the gutter.

“Hey!” someone says, and the cardboard shifts.

The wolf skitters back, and then remembers that he is a predator. He stops, and turns, and growls.

A boy’s face appears from underneath a layer of the cardboard. It is pale. His eyes are bloodshot and his lips are blue. He has a spray of moles across his face like an unfamiliar constellation. The boy freezes when he sees the wolf. “Holy shit.”

The wolf and death stare back at the boy.

The wolf has forgotten how to mark time.

He has no idea how long it is he stands there.

***

The boy’s bones are as brittle as the wolf’s, his skin as thin. When he curls his fingers through the wolf’s ruff, they are like icicles. His breath though, is hot. It tickles the wolf’s fur when he buries his face against it. His tears taste like salt.

Death circles them, in the little den the boy has made behind the cardboard in an alleyway in the cold, cold town.

The wolf tugs himself from the boy’s grip, and slinks back down the alley to the trashcans. His boy is too cold, too weak to crawl this far, so the wolf picks up a discarded burger in his jaws and carries it back to him.

The boy eats it, crying.

The wolf curls around him when they sleep.

Death steps closer, its black mouth open in hunger.

The wolf growls at it, the sound rumbling through his thin ribcage.

Not tonight.

Not tomorrow.

Maybe not this winter at all.

The wolf has a den now, and a heartbeat to share it with.

When the boy is strong again they will go into the woods and build a shelter there, and the wolf will remember his instincts, and the boy will learn his, and they will be packmates there, where the ground is soft underneath their feet and the stars are visible at night.

***

The boy is sick for days, and shivers and cries into the wolf’s fur. The wolf curls around him to keep him warm, and licks his tears away.

Death loosens its grip on them both.

Two nights pass before the boy clambers to his feet again, legs shaking like a baby deer’s. He leans against the wall of the alley for a long time, his breath puffing mist into the cold morning air.

Then, when he’s finally caught his breath, he turns his head and looks at the wolf and says, “Holy shit.”

The wolf tilts his head and stares back at the boy, ears pricking.

Perhaps that’s the only thing his boy can say?

***

The wolf’s boy is smart. His eyes are the color of tree sap that has hardened into resin. They flash almost beta gold if the lights from the passing cars hits them just right. The boy makes short trips from the alleyway to the diner. He sometimes pays a dollar for a scalding cup of cheap coffee, just to use their restroom and soak up a few minutes of warmth inside before the staff chases him out again. Then he will sit down with the wolf again, and they will both watch the trashcans to see when the kitchen hands dump the newest bag. Sometimes it is a race between the boy and the wolf and the rats. The boy grimaces when the wolf catches the rats and eats them, and he doesn’t take the rats the wolf leaves for him.

In the woods, he will have to learn to eat fresh prey. Squirrels, the wolf thinks, might be more palatable to him although they taste much the same.

The boy doesn’t like to leave the alleyway during the day. His heartbeat quickens and he tugs the strings of his threadbare red hoodie anxiously.

“Stay,” he tells the wolf. “Stay.”

The wolf watches from the cover of the alley.

The boy has a nervous smile when he asks people for money. He’s lost his wallet. He needs some bus fare to get home, or some quarters to make a call to his parents, and oh, wow, thanks, thank you, you’re a lifesaver, really.

He has an awkward, clumsy charm that vanishes the moment he turns away again.

The boy has nightmares at night. He twitches and jerks and digs his thin fingers into the wolf’s pelt. The wolf licks his tears away and whines when the boy cries out. Sometimes the boy’s heart beats so rabbit-fast the wolf thinks it might explode in his chest. Those are the nights the boy wakes gasping, eyes rolling in his skull, crying out a name.

Dad.

And, sometimes, Daddy.

In his dreams, the wolf thinks, he is a much younger boy.

And the wolf whines and lays his heavy head on the boy’s shoulder, and tries to tell him without words that they are pack now. They are pack.

They are pack, and they are a step ahead of death now.

***

The wolf’s boy does not appear to see death, but death sees the boy. Death, the wolf thinks, has already marked him. He needs to get his boy out of the town, out of the alley, and into the woods. But something is binding the boy here. There’s a look in his amber eyes, a stubborn way he sets his jaw. The boy has a butterfly knife. He keeps it in the back pocket of his thin jeans. He takes it out and flips it open sometimes, his dexterous fingers manipulating it with practiced ease. The boy carries something dark in his heart, and the wolf can see it clearly when the boy’s gaze is fixed on the blade of the knife. His gaze is a predator’s gaze in these moments, and the wolf curls his lip to show his teeth, and scrapes his claws on the concrete.

The wolf is a predator too.

He can’t be sure what prey his boy is seeking, but the wolf will help him hunt it. Then they will go into the woods, and never come back here again.

***

The diner is open all day and all night. At night, there are drunks around. They come from the club a few blocks away, to eat greasy burgers and then be sick in the street. Sometimes the boy approaches some of the patrons as they enter or leave the diner, before the staff chases him away. At night he needs no cover story.

“Homeless,” he says, and holds out his hand. “Can you help me?”

The drunks either tell him to fuck off, or they are generous with their spare change.

At night, the cops come to the diner as well. The deputies eat at odd hours, their cars parked in the lot out the front.

The boy doesn’t approach them. He stays in the shadows, and stares narrow-eyed at the entrance of the diner. One night he takes his butterfly knife and slips into the parking lot. The wolf shadows him as he scours the blade of the knife through the paint job on the side of the cruiser, through the shield and the words: BEACON COUNTY SHERIFF’S DEPARTMENT. The scrape of the blade on metal makes the wolf flatten his ears back against his skull.

“Fuckers,” the boy says and spits on the ground. The wolf can taste his anger, his hatred. “Fuckers.”

The wolf and his boy watch from the shadows when the bewildered deputy finishes his meal and finds the damage. He is young, with a boyish face. He calls it in to dispatch, his radio crackling.

“Parrish to dispatch,” he says and then, when waiting for them to answer, shakes his head and sighs. “Goddamn.”

That night the wolf’s boy has more nightmares.

***

The wolf doesn’t like the town. He doesn’t like the way death watches them. He wants to take the boy away. He wants to make them a den in the woods. He wants to show his boy how to hunt for fresh prey, and how sweet the cold water tastes straight from the streams he knows. He wants to sleep without the wail of sirens or the screech of brakes. He wants to lift his nose and smell the spring when it comes.

But mostly he doesn’t like the town because he knows that whatever it is the boy wants from this place, it will hurt him. It will let death breathe him in.

Whatever it is, the boy is so fixated on it that he is insensible to other dangers.

“We need money,” the boy says, flipping his butterfly knife open and closed again. “I need to buy a gun.”

The wolf flickers his ears back in disapproval.

Death steps a little closer.

The wolf closes his jaws around the boy’s thin wrist, and the boy tugs it free again.

“We need money,” he says, and crawls out of their cardboard shelter and climbs to his feet.

The night is cold and dark.

There is no moon.

***

The man is narrow-eyed when the boy lures him into the alley.

“Fifty bucks, right?” he asks. “You’ll blow me for fifty bucks?”

“Yeah,” the boy says, and one hand slides around to the back pocket of his jeans where he keeps his knife.

The wolf watches from the cardboard shelter, a silent growl vibrating through him. His boy is not smart tonight. Not smart at all.

But he is desperate.

And he is weak and clumsy too. When the man tries to push the boy to his knees, the boy produces the knife. The man catches his wrists, and spins the boy face-first into the wall of the alley. The boy is winded, and the knife clatters to the street. The man holds him against the wall.

“You trying to rob me, you little prick?”

The boy shakes his head, and sobs.

The wolf steps forward then, his growl audible this time. He bares his fangs at the man.

“What the fuck is that?” the man exclaims. He releases the boy, and pushes him to the ground in front of the wolf as though he expects the wolf to tear the boy to shreds to buy himself some time.

Thrown to the wolves, death laughs.

The wolf steps over his boy.

The man runs.

The wolf chases.

Yes.

He is a predator.

Yes.

He will kill the man who tried to hurt his boy.

Yes.

He is alive.

Tires screech on asphalt and the wolf is blinded by the headlights a moment before impact. He is flung into the air, and then he is in the gutter, and the boy is crouching over him, and he is crying, and the wolf licks at his cold, thin fingers and whines.

“No,” his boy whispers. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please don’t die.”

There is a corona of light behind his boy’s head. A dirty halo from a street light. It throws a soft golden glow onto the face of death when she steps forward too. The wolf growls because death is standing too close to his boy. His growl fades when he realizes death is reaching for him, and not his boy.

“Oh, Derek,” death says.

The wolf closes his eyes.

It always hurt the most that death has Laura’s face.

#sterek #fan fiction #teen wolf #discontentedwinter #hunger

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trippingontheescalator · 7 years

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Don’t Leave Me This Way

Title: Don’t Leave Me This Way Characters: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers Rating: M Warnings: 1970s, Intercrural Sex, Cheating, Silver Age Summary: It's 1977 and the dulcet tones of Thelma Houston have taken over the radio waves, unemployment is at an all-time high, the Son of Sam is stalking the streets of New York, and now the entire city has been plunged into darkness after a lightning strike has taken out most of the city's electricity. As the veneer of society is stripped away, Captain America meets Iron Man for a secret rendezvous.

Don't--

The music suddenly cut off, followed by a muffled cry from Steve's neighbor as the entire building was plunged into darkness. Steve wiped at the sweat that had gathered above his upper lip. He threw his book in the direction of his coffee table and padded over to a window. He pushed on the glass, letting in a burst of hot, windless air as he opened it. Almost immediately the sounds of sirens and laughter and screams rushed to fill the silence. Steve stared out into the darkness. In the distance he could see the city lights flicker, as though gasping for breath, before dying completely. One by one, the five boroughs were swallowed up by the night.

Steve could hear the distant rumble of thunder in the distance, but not the screeching of machines or blasts of lasers that usually accompanied a battle. Steve reached for his suit anyway. Even if the blackout wasn't caused by any supervillain, there was going to be panic.

Steve slipped out the back of his apartment building, careful not to be seen. It wasn't hard, given the unnatural darkness. It didn't even look like his city anymore. Just a strange, shadow puppet version of it cast on the wall of the world. He thought about getting his bike, before deciding it'd probably be best to patrol on foot and turned up an alley, hitting Court Street, his boots crunching against the trash and debris left abandoned in the gutters from the garbage strike. People were pouring out of their buildings. They chatted and gathered around garbage fires, drawn like moths to the only light they could find. "It's Captain America!" One kid yelled from where he stood with his friend in front of Par Three, the local watering hole. He was big guy, easily over 6 feet and built like a football player. "You're great!"

Steve gave him a small salute before his eyes fell on a group of men looting a jewelry store. Fifteen minutes without light and the people had already descended into chaos. The store's windows were broken, the half-ripped face of the Son of Sam stared back at him from his wanted poster, his other half lying somewhere among the broken shards of glass. "Gentlemen," Steve lazily called out, hefting his shield onto his arm so that they could see its familiar star.

"Oh, shit!" One of them yelled and like ants they scattered, leaping through what was left of the window. Steve sighed, his eyes hard and calculating as he stared down the line of shops. There had to be hundreds of people swarming the streets and now that one store had been broken into, the rest soon fell like dominoes. He could hear the glass shattering, saw the rushing of stampeding bodies rage against the iron gates. He watched a housewife push a shopping cart full of baby diapers and one brazen couple carry off a whole washing machine. There was no way he could stop all of this. To be honest the thought of trying just made him feel tired. It would be like fighting the sea.

Steve looked into the jewelry store, at the empty counters and broken necklaces that lined the carpet. He'd passed by here the other day. There was a ring he saw that he thought Sharon might like. An engagement ring. It didn't matter. He was getting ahead of himself anyway. He hadn't even asked the question yet.

Shouting tore him from his reverie, followed by Iron Man's familiar mechanical voice. Steve quickly took off toward the sound. He found Iron Man hovering above a violent crowd, the gold of his armor glimmering against a raging fire that poured from the windows of the building behind him. Pieces of concrete, sticks, anything the people could get their hands on rained up at him and Iron Man took it all. "You tell Stark I've got a wife and kids! What am I suppose to do!? What am I suppose to do!?" One man screamed, his voice choking with the sound of it.

"Setting fires isn't going to get your job back. You need to return to your homes. Power will be restored soon."

Whatever else was said was drowned out of by the wail of sirens as a firetruck pushed its way through the throng of people. Iron Man took his chance to escape and quickly dropped down an alley a few blocks away. Steve followed, running at full speed only to find the other man half-slumped against a dirty wall, the tell-tale gleam of his armor catching what little light was left. "I need about five more drinks in me to deal with this," he said.

"What's the situation?"

"The whole city is in an uproar. Arson. Looting. People are angry and this is just the straw that broke the camel's back. With all the city police and fire department layoffs there isn't enough help to go around. I've just come from setting up generators at the hospitals and Thor is evacuating the people who are stuck in the subways."

"What happened exactly? When will the power be back on?"

Iron Man cocked his head to look at him and Steve could tell he was smiling from underneath that faceplate. "I don't know, I'm just a bodyguard. You'll have to ask Mr. Stark."

Steve smiled back, even if it felt tight and insincere. If Tony wanted to pretend to be someone else for a little while, he could do that. "All muscle and no brain, right Shellhead?"

"Got it in one, but I can tell you Mr. Stark will be glad when this recession is over and Stark Industries can finally stop treading water." Iron Man pushed himself off the wall. "There isn't much that we can do at the moment. I think I'll head back to the mansion before I cause a riot in this tin can."

"Come back to my apartment. No sense in you sitting alone in the dark."

"The mansion's got a full liquor cabinet, what've you got?"

"Cherry coke and milk."

"Well, I'm convinced."

Iron Man held out his hand for Steve to take hold, but an itch had started to crawl up his legs. Something wild was worming its way through his chest, sending his heart hammering as he stared at Iron Man across the dirty alley. "No... no, I want to run."

Iron Man lifted himself into the air. "Beat you there."

And like a rubber band finally snapping, Steve took off. He felt like a child running through the night. The heat and the darkness had taken hold of him, and the city no longer felt real, not a place where businessmen got up to go to work in the morning and buses took kids to school. New York had transformed into a ruin, a ruin that knew the world was about to end and raged against it.

As soon as the door shut behind him he felt a hand grasp his, surprised at the feeling of bare skin, at the rough callouses that caught his instead of the cool press of metal. "You better have worn something under your armor this time," Steve said. He was a child and Tony was a child, and this was all just pretend.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" And then Tony pulled him up the stairs and into his apartment, laughing about locks and lasers.

With nowhere else to run, that wild feeling coiled in his gut. He sprung forward, his hands feeling their way up Tony's neck to grasp his face. He pushed, his lips grazing his chin before finding his lips. "We should light some candles or some-" Steve snaked his arm around Tony's head, pushing his tongue into his mouth to swallow whatever words were trying to escape. He didn't want candles. He didn't want the light. Just Tony and the darkness.

Tony stumbled backward into the single bedroom, one hand grasping behind him, searching until his knees hit the back of Steve's bed. Steve slid between his open thighs as Tony crawled up onto it, tugging at his uniform until he could pull out his cock. He leaned down, soaking in the feeling of Tony's naked body pressing against his and to grind against laughed. The genius hadn't even bothered to put on underwear before suiting up and Steve wanted to tease him but there were fingers pulling at the strands of his blond hair and that wild feeling lunged. He flipped Tony over, dragging him over the covers by the tops of his thighs, pushing his legs where he wanted them while Tony laughed and moaned and taunted.

Steve licked his palm and grasped his cock, groaning at the sudden pressure as he squeezed. He ran his hand up Tony's ass, his thumb dipping into the cleft as he stroked himself to full harness. Tony squeezed his thighs together and Steve sank between his legs, his cock brushing against the back of his balls. There were other nights, slower nights, where Steve would swallow him whole, take his time to finger him open, and push and push until there was nothing but slick heat and soft breaths against his ear. Tony gasped into the pillow as Steve thrust down, driving hard and fast between slippery thighs. He ground Tony into the bed, his fingers digging into the flesh of his ass until a ring of bruises bloomed. Tony rubbed himself against the covers, unable to lift up high enough to get a hand on himself.

Steve chased his orgasm, let it crash into him until he came across the back of Tony's legs. That wild thing still clawed at him, pushed him, and he grabbed the other man, smearing his seed across his thighs as he tossed him onto his back. Tony was already snaking a hand down, but Steve snatched it up, grabbing the other with the same hand to hold them above his head. He could feel Tony strain against, testing his strength just because his could, and Steve straddled his legs to keep him from squirming. He took hold of Tony's cock, twisting and squeezing until Tony was shouting his name and finally the wildness that had taken hold loosened inside him and he slumped against Tony's chest, burying his face into his neck to breathe in that familiar, comforting scent.

Steve woke in the morning with Tony tangled in his arms, his suit still half-on and clinging unpleasantly to his skin. The day was already hot without even a breeze to provide some relief. Outside his window, he could see his neighbors walking in a daze as they swept up the trash and broken glass. New York City was real again and now they'd have to deal with the consequences.

He looked down at Tony and no longer did he seem young. Wrinkles were beginning to form in the corners of his eyes, and that little furrow between his brows had been there for years. There were bruises and tiny scrapes from where Steve's mail had rubbed against his bare skin. A mass of scars winding down his chest had replaced the mechanical breastplate. Already thirty-seven years old; God, the tantrum Tony will throw when he finally turns forty. Distantly, Steve thought about calling Sharon.

And then, suddenly, the lights returned and the music filtered in from next door.

--leave me this way Baby! My heart is full of love and desire for you So come on now and do what you got to do You started this fire down in my soul Now can't you see it's burning out of control So come on now, satisfy the need in me

#stony #steve rogers #tony stark #steve x tony #fanfic

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ghostbustermelanieking · 7 years

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half-light chapter 14

one /// two /// three /// four /// five /// six /// seven /// eight /// nine /// ten /// eleven /// twelve /// thirteen

if anyone has ever wanted to read a nearly 8k plot explosion featuring characters who are, um, not mulder and scully, then this is your chapter. (two things: 1. i was halfway considering cutting this chapter bc i thought a switch in narration would break the rhythm but i ended up being glad i did because a) this was fun and b) so much important plot stuff, and 2. this may not feature mulder and scully very much but that doesn’t stop everyone from talking about them every other line so no worries. also, it was weird as shit to write scenes without one of them in it.)

fourteen.

When Samantha was little and still Samantha Mulder, she’d thought her house must be the smallest house in the world. It wasn’t true, of course - it was actually fairly big compared to the one she’d live in later - but it had seemed that way because of her brother. He’d seemed to take up so much space, running up and down the halls, bouncing basketballs off the walls and throwing baseballs through the windows (God, their dad had shouted at that one), sharp elbows jutting into her side as he’d shoved past and knocked whatever she was holding in her hands to the ground, his voice always too loud. She’d told her first mother she hated him, once, and her mother had shaken her head and said, “You shouldn’t say that, sweetheart. He might not be around someday.”

And she hadn’t believed her until she’d woken up in a strange room when she was eight, with her father’s friend smoking a cigarette, and he’d smiled and patted her on the head and told her she was very brave. “When can I go home?” she’d said. She hadn’t wanted to be brave, she wanted her bed and that stupid teddy bear Fox always made fun of and those cookies her mom made the other day (the ones she could only have one of at a time but Fox always had two and he’d probably give her two, too).

“You can’t,” the smoker said. “You have to stay here, or your mom and dad will get in a lot of trouble. You don’t want them to get in trouble, do you?”

He was using that little-kid voice grown-ups always did. Like she couldn't understand him. She scowled and kicked the end of the bed. “I guess not,” she said. “But what about Fox? Why doesn’t he have to come here?” Or maybe he was here, she thought; maybe the light had taken him, too. The last thing she remembered was him shouting her name, the way he had when she’d fallen into the deep part of the lake before she could swim. (He’d yanked her out by her arm, and they’d both gotten yelled at for being irresponsible and had to stay in the house for the rest of the day, and her arm had hurt but he hadn’t called her a baby when she complained about it.)

Her father’s friend had gotten a funny look on his face. He sat for a minute before saying, "Your brother is... gone."

"Gone," she'd repeated. "Like... like how I'm gone?"

"No," her father's friend said solemnly, taking a drag on his cigarette.

Samantha had gotten a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. This reminded her of the time her cat had died. "Gone like... dead?"

The smoker nodded.

The sick feeling increased, and she thought she might throw up. She slithered down under the covers and pulled the sheet over her head. "I'll let you rest," the smoker said, patting her head again through the blankets. His shoes clicked on the linoleum. Samantha pressed her face into the scratchy pillowcase and tried not to cry. And then she remembered when Fox had called her a baby whenever she cried and she couldn't help it then, so she sobbed quietly into the pillow.

Everything had seemed a lot bigger, from then on. Like the universe would just swallow her up.

***

Right after the gunshots had stopped, Samantha had heard the screeching of tires on the pavement. She popped up out of the bushes and yelled, "Scully!", even though it was a stupid thing to do. It didn't matter, anyway, because judging by the blank look on Scully's face as she sped away, she was under the control of the chip.

Her gun still lay out on the pavement, and Samantha lunged for it. (Her second father, Max, had taught her how to shoot a gun when she turned seventeen: "I think it's an important skill to have, with our lives," he'd said. By which he’d meant the restrictions and annual abductions. They'd given her a gun for her eighteenth birthday, and she'd carried it until the day the Syndicate had caught her, somewhere in California.) She scooped the gun up, clutching it between her palms, and scrambled to her feet, stumbling a little as she stood.

"Run away from home?" said the familiar sinewy voice from her childhood. The smoker stepped out from a car, the gun that was probably the one shooting at them dangling from his fingers.

Rage bubbling up inside her, Samantha aimed the gun. "You bastard. What the hell were you trying to do?"

"Send a message," he said calmly. "I was hoping Agent Scully would run out of rounds and surrender. I didn't expect her chip to snap into effect that quickly. I expected it to be a few hours, at least, before she’d be headed for her abduction site. It’ll probably be a few hours before you do, though."

She squeezed the gun barrel, looking for some composure. "You knew that her chip was going to call her?" she said incredulously. "How? You don’t control the chips! And Scully wasn’t one of your hand picked abductees.”

"She wasn’t. We suspected, though. We've been tracking the extraterrestrials' movements, and they're touching down at most of the abduction sites this week. But this time, we're going to be ready for them." He paused ominously, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his chest pocket with his free hand.

"You're going to destroy them," Samantha said, realizing. Start a damn war that they couldn’t win. How fucking stupid were they, they didn’t know anything about the aliens. They would be demolished. It would be like every alien apocalypse movie ever, except no one would have any idea how to fight back because no one knew anything about the aliens. Because it was all classified. Goddamnit, the irony in this one was rich. Her brother would love it.

"Destroy or be destroyed," the smoker said cheerfully, lighting his cigarette. “This charade has gone on long enough. We’re ready for it all to be over.”

Samantha felt the burn in her neck that she's been feeling since she was eight. Fuck, if she was called, there wouldn't be any way for her to get away and find Fox and Scully. "So why are you coming after me?" she snapped. "What does it matter if I've escaped? I think I've more than served my time. Over twenty-three years of my goddamn life." (She started when she realized that twenty-three years was how long Scully had said their NDE was.)

"We need to keep your father in place," the smoker said. "At least until this - hopefully brief - war is over."

Everyone thinks a war is going to be brief until they start it, Samantha thought. You’ll destroy the world in your wake. Who are you to make these kinds of decisions without authorization? "That's bullshit."

"Whether it is or it isn't, I'm afraid we need you for just a little bit longer." The smoker raised his gun.

There was the click of a gun being cocked, and her first mother stepped behind him, holding a gun to his head. She was wearing a coat over her damn nightgown, flapping in the wind, and she looked like a little girl playing at being a grown-up. Samantha shivered. She had a lot of pent-up resentment for her parents, both of them. But now she was torn between yelling at her mother and running up to hang off of her like a little kid. "Mom," she said.

"Teena…?" The smoker tried to turn around. She pressed the barrel of the gun hard into his cheek. Her hand was shaking; her mom had always been terrified of guns. Her father keeping one in the house, even in a locked box (that had only made things worse when their son was trying to save their daughter from aliens), had spurned what had seemed like a thousand of their millions of arguments. Samantha was surprised she'd even picked one up, much less pointed it at someone.

"You’ve betrayed this family enough," her mother said. She addressed Samantha: "Are you alright, sweetheart?"

Samantha lowered Scully's gun as well. "Fine," she said. She'd dealt with worse, actually.

Sirens wailed in the distance. Of course someone had called the fucking police; gun battles don't go unnoticed, especially in the middle of a neighborhood. When the Syndicate had found her in a little cafe in California, they’d staged an arrest so as not to attract too much attention. Samantha tried not to let her hands shake, swallowing hard. Solitary confinement terrified her.

“We need to go,” her mother said. The smoker tried to say something, and she whacked him, hard, in the back of the head. He slumped to the ground, unconscious. Samantha gaped at her; she’d never known her mother could do anything like this. “Come on, sweetheart,” her mother said. “We need to leave before the police get here.”

With no other choice, she clutched Scully’s gun in her hand and ran after her, around the block to where her mother had left her car so fast that her lungs burned.

"Where's Dana?" her mother asked when they got in the car.

"Chip. She left." (She realized only later that her mother might know about the chips, but she didn't care.)

Her mother nodded. Her eyes were a little wild, and she was breathing just as hard as Samantha, if not worse. "And you don't know where Fox is?"

"We couldn’t ask. Dad wasn't there, I think," Samantha said, chewing her lip. She didn't know if that was a good sign or a bad sign. She didn't know if she cared. "Did you follow us?"

"Yes," she said simply, and didn't elaborate.

They drove without talking any more for a minute; Samantha had absolutely no idea where they were going. Or what her next move needed to be. There was really only one logical option, though. "I need to borrow some money, Mom," she said. "I need to rent a car and drive back to DC." Her mother opened her mouth, assumedly to protest, and she snarled, "I need to go and save your son."

Her mother's jaw clenched, but she nodded. They drove to a nearby car rental place in silence where she paid for a car and set aside some money for gas.

"Thank you," Samantha said awkwardly when they exited the building. She didn't know what else to say. She had nothing to say and everything to say, and this didn't seem like the time. She needed to save her brother.

"Will you be careful, sweetheart?" her mother said.

A lump built up in her throat. "I will," she said. "I promise." She hugged her mother briefly and kissed her papery cheek. "You be careful, too," she added. She was surprised at her mother's methodicalness, her calm in doing this. Maybe she’d learned something from years with her father, from whatever her relationship was to the smoker (because Samantha sure as hell knew there had been more than wife of business colleague and business colleague).

"You've grown so much," her mother said, smoothing back a wild strand of hair. "I wish I'd been there to see it."

Samantha tried not to cry as she walked away, car keys cutting into her sweaty palm.

***

She'd learned to drive at the normal time, but had to wait to get her license until after she'd gone to college. (Permission by the Syndicate; it was close by so they could watch her. She'd failed several classes because of her abductions.) Still, she likes driving. After she had left her mother to deal with the police, she'd driven back to Scully's sister's house methodically in a new-smelling old-looking rental. She turned the radio all the way up to drown out her thoughts.

It didn't work, completely. Her thoughts kept turning back to Fox. The fact that her twelve-year-old brother had grown up seemed absolutely foreign to her, let alone the fact that he'd become an FBI agent who had apparently spent years looking for her, who went by Mulder, and had a badass wife who he called Scully, and carried a gun. She couldn't stop picturing the kid who'd teased her and had said, Get out of my life, right before she... well, had. (Which, she didn't resent him for. She remembered being twelve, quiet and moody and angry at the world. And it was hard to resent him for anything when she'd thought him dead.)

She bought a pocket knife in Pennsylvania, when she stopped to get gas, and considered cutting out the chip in the backseat of the rental car. She was terrified she would be called. But then again, there was a lot more risk, driven by the fact that she couldn’t actually see what she was doing, and she still wasn’t sure what taking out the chip would do to her. And if she bled out in Pennsylvania because she cut too deep or in the wrong place, she wouldn’t be able to find Fox and Scully. So in the end, she dropped the pocket knife in her pocket, in case she lost the gun, and kept on driving, waiting for a hallucination to overtake her. But none did.

Somehow, she managed to find Melissa's house. It was getting dark when she got there, stars streaking over the sky, and she felt limp, exhausted. She hadn't slept well since before her second parents died, before she went on the run and was held captive and went on this crazy search for her brother. (She certainly hadn’t slept well the night before, tossing and turning in the strange bed, worrying about her not-dead brother and the Syndicate finding them and seeing her mother again.)

Melissa paled when she opened the door."Samantha?" she said, frantic. "Where's Dana?"

"She's, um," Samantha said awkwardly.

A man appeared behind Melissa. "The chip?" he asked knowingly.

He didn't particularly look like a member of the Syndicate - the fuckers always wore suits, and he was wearing worn jeans and a t-shirt, apart from the fact that his eyes were the same as Melissa’s and Scully’s - so Samantha nodded. "The chip forced her to leave," she said apologetically. "I'm so sorry. There was nothing I could do.”

Melissa groaned, a pallor that made her look vaguely sick to the stomach coming over her. The man looked just as panicked at her words. "Shit," she muttered fiercely, rubbing her temple with one hand. "Shit, um… Come on in, Samantha. Charlie, this is Dana’s boyf- I mean husband's sister. Samantha, this is my brother, Charlie. He's apparently also an abductee." She sounded like someone who had just experienced an incredibly long day, bitter and angry. (Samantha knew the feeling.)

"You're an abductee?" Charlie asked. Samantha nodded. "Take out your chip," he said in a rush. "It won't hurt you."

"It won't?"

"I've had mine out for years and been fine," he said. "And apparently, there's a war about to start, and abductees are the bait. According to my father, at least. He has connections or some shit."

"That's what I've heard," she said. "I don't suppose either of you are also doctors?"

"No," Melissa said miserably. "That's Dana’s forte."

"I took mine out," Charlie said. "I can do it safely. I'll help you."

The chip was burning again. Samantha tried to focus. "Fox and Scully," she said. "Er, Dana. How do we save them? From what you're saying and what I’ve heard, it sounds like they're going to be right in the line of fire." Melissa made a muffled sound behind her hand.

"Exactly," Charlie said grimly. "Dad said he was going to call Dana’s boss or something like that. Why, I don't know... maybe he thinks someone who heads the kind of department they're in will believe anything?"

"I can't believe this," Melissa growled. "I can't believe any of it. Well, I mean, the aliens I can believe, but what I can’t believe is you. Why would no one ever tell me? You or Dana. Does Bill know?"

"Bill doesn't know, God forbid. He only worships the ground Dad walks on," Charlie said bitterly. "Although if he's in government work, They might pull him in sooner or later. That's how They work. Dad said he never wanted to be involved, but They forced him. He's in the fucking Navy, for God's sake. What does he know about aliens? They’re fueling their bullshit cause and hurting everyone more.”

"They're going to lose," Samantha said. They both turned to look at her, and she felt studiously uncomfortable. "The Syndicate, I mean," she added. "They have no idea what the aliens are like."

Melissa looked confused, but Charlie nodded, a knowing look on his face. "That's why Dana and your brother have to get out of there," he said. "Come in here, and I'll get the chip out. Missy, do you mind if we use your couch?"

"Of course not, why would I mind blood everywhere," Melissa growled, turning away and walking down the hall. “I’m not mad at you, Samantha, by the way,” she called back over her shoulder. “Apparently my family is built on lies.”

"I’ve had over a decade to deal with this stuff, and I’m still pissed off about it, Miss. Get some cotton balls, a small knife, and a Band-Aid, would you?" Charlie called after her. "And tweezers." Samantha followed him into the living room warily. "It'll just take a small cut," Charlie said. "The chip's shallowly under the skin. It shouldn’t hurt too much. If you know what you're doing, you won't bleed all over the place. I know because I did."

"What about Fox and Scully?" Samantha asked. (She'd gotten strangely attached to her apparent sister-in-law.)

"We have to go to the place where they were first abducted," Charlie said. "That's where the chip sends them."

Samantha shook her head. "It doesn't," she said. "At least, mine didn't."

Charlie shrugged. "Maybe you were a special case."

"That would make sense." She'd been a special case, leverage for her father, and besides that, it was the best lead they had. Samantha twisted her thick hair up into a knot to expose the back of her neck. "They were abducted on their first case," she added.

"Here," Melissa said, entering the room. She passed Samantha a hair tie.

"Thanks," Samantha said, in the same slightly amazed way she had as a reflex when someone was nice to her. Captivity did something to you.

"No problem. Be careful," she said to Charlie, fiercely like she knew Samantha well.

He made a face at her - the traditional don't underestimate me look of a younger sibling. "Missy, do you where Dana’s first case was?"

She wrinkled her nose. "I don't remember."

"Some sister you are."

"Says the brother who left without a word," Melissa retorted bitterly.

Charlie turned away, looking slightly hurt, and quietly asked Samantha if she was ready.

It hurt, but it wasn't the worst pain she'd ever dealt with. She started to hallucinate just before Charlie got the chip out; it was Fox, who hadn't been featured in her hallucinations since she was ten, at least. He was still twelve, and was standing over her, hand out to help her up. "Come on," he said impatiently.

"I can't," Samantha said, closing her eyes against it.

"We've gotta go," he snapped.

"I'm not eight anymore, and you're not twelve," she said.

"We'll always be eight and twelve," he said. "Now, come on. You're going to make us late, you little pest!"

Despite herself, she smiled. Something tugged in the back of her neck, and everything went black for a moment.

When she woke up, she was propped up on Melissa's couch, the back of her neck stinging. "Are you okay?" Melissa asked, feeling her forehead with the back of her hand.

Samantha nodded, trying to remember how she ended up on a stranger's couch, letting them cut into her neck. Her brother, that was how. Maybe this was a long-winded cycle of making up for all the trouble he'd gone to looking for her. "What's our next move?" she asked.

"I thought we should go to Fox and Dana’s apartment and see if they have anything there," Melissa said. "They're weird, maybe they have a-a-a record or something. Like a photo album but for monsters. Call my parents, maybe, and see if they know where Dana’s first case was. They probably will, she was in a car accident while she was there. Or if they don't, Bill will."

"I need to go, actually," Charlie said.

Melissa stared at him with some unexplainable anger on her face. "I can't fucking believe you."

"Missy, I'm sorry," he said. "But I have a family. I have a son. I can't run into gunfire like this. I'm not an FBI agent."

Neither are we, Samantha would point out if she had any place in this conversation.

"Dad said he was calling the FBI," he added. "I'd say you getting the information is enough, you can give it to them and let them do their job."

Melissa's face was stony. "Dana is your sister," she hissed. "And you're not the only one with a family."

"What the hell does that mean? We all have families, Missy," Charlie snapped.

Melissa's face flickered, like she was considering whether or not to tell him something, and then it was stony again. "Fine. Whatever. Do what you want, Charlie."

Charlie's face softened. "Missy, I'm sorry," he added. "For a lot of things."

She nodded, and Charlie left.

Later, when they were in the car, Melissa said, "We don't need him," with a fierce, half-determined rejection. "Screw him. Dad may have been an asshole or whatever, and I'm not completely filled in on all that, and I'm sure Thanksgiving will be awkward as hell, but he shouldn't have left me and Dana without a word."

Overwhelmed, Samantha nodded silently. She could use a fucking nap.

Melissa hesitated before she added, "I thought you should know about something. Dana's pregnant."

Stunned, Samantha felt a little like she'd been hit by a truck. She'd been dragging a pregnant woman all over the country and getting her shot at? Her brother who was permanently twelve in her mind was going to be a father? Well, only if they could figure this out. Maybe they wouldn't. "Oh-okay," she stammered.

(She needed a ten-hour nap when this all was done. And an entire carton of ice cream.)

Melissa put the car into drive and rolled out of the driveway. "Dana's gonna kill me when she found out I told you," she added, fiercely, like the possibility that Scully wouldn't be able to get mad didn't exist. Like she'd read Samantha's mind. "Brace yourself."

***

"Oh," Melissa said suddenly as they reached the apartment. "Dana never gave me a key.”

Well, Samantha obviously didn't have one. "Do you have a bobby pin?" she asked.

"Oh, here." Melissa dug through her purse until she came up with one and passed it over. "You know how to pick a lock?"

"Sure," Samantha said, hunching over the doorknob, using the skills she'd taught herself as a bored ten-year-old with nothing to do on the base they'd kept her on; there had barely been any other kids there, and as nice as Max and Rose had been, it had taken them a while for them to warm up to her. (They'd been withdrawn, lost in grief from the death of her daughter, and had seen Samantha as a replacement as much as she saw them as a replacement for her first parents. They'd been happy, eventually, but it had taken a while for their wounds to heal enough to open up.)

"My brothers knew how," Melissa noted. "They used to break into my closet. They taught Dana, and she broke into theirs in revenge."

Samantha laughed. The door gave way under her hands, swinging open slowly.

As they stepped in, a footstep creaked over the floorboards, and Samantha fumbled for Scully's gun in her waistband. "Who's there?" a low voice said.

Samantha swung the gun around, the butt slipping in her sweaty hands so much she almost dropped it. The kitchen light flicked on, revealing a trio of guys standing there. "Who the hell are you?" the shortest one said.

"This is my sister's apartment," Melissa snapped. "Who the hell are you?"

"Wait, you're Scully's sister?" the one in a suit asked. "Melinda, right?"

"Melissa."

"Right, sorry. We're... friends of Mulder's," the suit said.

"Who's she? Another FBI agent?" the one with long blonde hair asked, pointing at Samantha.

They clearly weren't armed - or weren't going to shoot if they were - so Samantha lowered her gun. "I'm Fox's sister."

The three of them stared in total shock. "You're... you're Samantha?" the short one asked, finally. Samantha nodded, awkwardly. Of course they would know, if they were friends of her brother. "Holy shit," he said, quietly.

"Do you know where they are?" Melissa asked.

"We've been tracking them, actually," the suited man said. "We think they're headed to Oregon."

"That was where Mulder was headed when we tracked him down last," the short man added.

It still felt like she was following the breadcrumb trail of her brother, but never actually seeing him. Is this how he had felt, all these years, looking for her? At least now they knew where he and Scully were headed.

Out of nowhere, the blonde one snorted. "We have a Mulder and a Scully. We just have the wrong ones."

***

The three men were Frohike, Langly, and Byers, apparently called themselves the Lone Gunmen, and were conspiracy-theorists/hackers who distrusted the government exactly the right amount, if not more, which was comforting. The five of them made something of a silent pact to work together. They sat at Fox and Scully’s kitchen table and talked strategy.

"We'll need to fly out to Oregon to beat them there," Byers said. "But I'm guessing we have some time since they're driving."

"That's good," Samantha said, rubbing her eyes with her fingertips. "I need some sleep. I'm exhausted."

Melissa drummed her fingers on the table anxiously. "So we're just going to fly out there and try to keep Fox and Dana from dying? What about the other people?"

Frohike cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I don't think there's anything we can do."

"That's ridiculous," Melissa said, angrily.

Samantha touched the other woman on the shoulder. "Melissa, I've seen plenty of people who get run roughshod by these people," she said softly. "They killed my parents - the people who raised me after my abduction. They abducted our siblings. The best you can hope for, at least at the moment, is to save the people you love." That probably made her a terrible person, but she'd been fighting for years and gained.

Melissa slumped in her seat. "You three," she said, twisting her crystal choker in her fingers and looking at the Gunmen. "You're fighting them, right? You can release some evidence or something?"

"We would if we had anything substantial," Langly said, regretfully.

"We've been fighting this for years with no avail," Frohike added. "It's dangerous."

Melissa groaned, putting her head down. "This entire thing is fucked up," she mumbled.

"We know, Miss Scully," Byers said. "Believe me."

There was really nothing left to say after that. They agreed to call Fox's boss in the morning and get the location of their first case. Melissa took the bed and Samantha took the couch. The Gunmen hovered around the table, refusing to sleep, blue lights glowing in the dark kitchen. Samantha shoved her face into a throw pillow and slept the sleep of the dead.

***

When she woke up, the blonde one, Langly, was shooting her a smile that she was fairly sure was him flirting. (She had no idea why he was flirting; she had probably snored into a pillow all night. And drooled.) “Morning, sunshine,” he said cheerfully.

Frohike whacked him in the arm. “Idiot. That’s Mulder’s sister. Do you want him to murder you?”

(Samantha almost burst out laughing as she shoved the blankets away and sat up; her brother was a formless concept at this point, but she still thought the idea of him beating up his friends for flirting with her was absurd.)

“Says the man who was in love with his girlfriend,” Langly shot back with annoyance, jabbing him in the ribs.

“Shut up,” Frohike hissed, hitting him back, eyes shooting over to Melissa, who rolled her own eyes at Samantha.

“Stop it, both of you,” Byers said. “We’ve got more important things going on right now.”

To their credit, both of them managed to look embarrassed. Melissa stood from her spot at the table. “Coffee?” she asked Samantha.

“Please,” Samantha said, shoving hair out of her eyes. The two-year forced withdrawal from coffee that been miserable; she’d drank it like water before.

Melissa got out a mug from the cabinet. “I’m just picturing Fox and Dana’s reaction when they come home and discover that we’ve eaten all their food and drank all their coffee," she said, motioning spastically with her mug in a probable attempt to indicate that they'd be pissed.

“You know, it’s weird that you call them that,” Frohike commented.

“What, call my sister by her given name? I think it’s weird that you call her by her last name,” Melissa shot back.

“Her boyfriend calls her that,” Langly pointed out.

“And it’s weird.” Melissa shook the mug before settling down and pouring the dark liquid into it.

Samantha came into the kitchen, taking the mug. Secretly, she thought the entire thing was kind of weird. But not necessarily in a bad way.

A pounding knock came at the door out of nowhere. “Agent Mulder!” a man shouted through the door. “Agent Scully!”

The five of them froze in the kitchen. “Who’s that?” Melissa hissed under her breath.

“It could be someone from the FBI,” Byers replied quietly. “He called them Agents.”

Behind them, the pounding continued. The man was shouting for them to open up. It was making Samantha feel nervous, claustrophobic. Like she was back in her cell, and the walls were closing in on her.

“Or it could be a trick,” Frohike replied. “The wrong people from the FBI.”

The other four were staring at each other, completely unsure of what to do. Samantha tried to steady her breathing and not freak out.

There was a sharp sound, like kicking, and the door swung open. A large bald man came in with his gun drawn, followed by a man and woman in a similar position. The Gunmen put their hands up, quickly. Melissa dropped her mug, startled. Samantha gripped the chair in front of her and tried not to scream.

The bald man froze, staring at them. “Who the hell are you?”

“Not this again,” Langly muttered under his breath.

Melissa was the first one to speak. “I’m Dana’s - er, Agent Scully’s - sister. Are you… Walter Skinner? Her boss?”

“Yes,” the bald man said, uncertainly. Behind him, the other two agents lowered their weapons. “We got a tip that Mulder and Scully had been abducted. Do you…” He hesitated, gestured vaguely. “... all know anything about that?”

Something in Samantha’s chest released, and she felt like she could breathe again. “I’m Agent Mulder’s sister,” she said. The same surprised expression she’d gotten used to seeing dawned on Walter Skinner’s face. “I think I can fill you in.”

***

There was another awkward introduction before the brigade that was slowly growing larger and larger settled down in the living room to clear things up. (Skinner introduced the agents with him as, “Agents Doggett and Reyes. You can trust them.”) Samantha explained her experience as best she could, with the Gunmen cutting in to provide information of their own. (Byers looked nervous the entire time, keeping mostly quiet and fiddling with his tie, except to offer up information he had from a woman he refused to name.) Melissa offered up what little information she had - that her father, a Navy man, had been forced to give up his youngest son for abduction, who had eventually taken out his chip.

By the end of it, Skinner looked uncomfortable, but he also looked like he believed them. “This is ridiculous,” said the male agent, Doggett. “What proof do you have of aliens?”

“Personal experience,” Samantha said.

“We have some proof of our own, as well as of the conspiracy,” Frohike added.

Doggett turned to Skinner. “Are you buying any of this, Assistant Director?” he demanded.

Skinner looked as if he was deep in thought. “I’ve thought a lot of things Mulder and Scully have sent across my desk was bullshit,” he said. “But this… this, I can’t deny. I’ve seen too much proof of it over the years. In the people I’ve dealt with personally, and the things I’ve seen Mulder and Scully go through. I know there's a conspiracy. And with two of my best agents in danger... I can't afford to ask questions."

“You helped them get out of prison,” Byers said, seriously. “You must’ve known there was something off.”

Skinner nodded. He turned towards Samantha, addressing her directly. “Miss Mulder?”

It was still strange to be called that, after years of being a Rutherford. “Yes, sir?” she said gingerly.

“After all this is over, I’ll do my best to make sure you get justice for everything that’s happened for you,” he said. “Including the death of your caretakers. Would you be willing to testify against everything you’ve experienced?”

She had to - for her family, for revenge for her second parents. “Yes,” she said.

He nodded. “We’ll need to figure all of this out,” he said. “The conspiracy, how to expose it. But I think that’s a job that Agents Mulder and Scully will be crucial in. And for now, we need to make sure they, and hopefully nobody else, won’t die in the midst of all this." He scratched the back of his neck, uncomfortable. "You said that… these people… go back to the places where they’ve formerly been abducted?”

Samantha nodded. “From my knowledge, they’ll focus on mass abduction sites,” she said. “Was their first case a mass abduction case?”

“Yes, in Bellefleur, Oregon.” Skinner paused. “Agent Doggett, Agent Reyes, I’d like you to fly out to Bellefleur, as soon as possible.”

“Yes, sir,” Agent Reyes said immediately. Doggett looked mildly uncomfortable, but he didn’t protest.

“What are you going to be doing, sir?” Melissa wanted to know.

“Doing my best to stop all this." Skinner sighed, shaking his head. "Your father was the one to contact me, right? How much information would he have?”

“I’m not sure, but he’d help,” she said. “My brother, Charlie, could help, too. I think he’s still in town.”

"Okay," Skinner said. "Okay, I'm going to go now. Doggett, Reyes, I need you on the next flight to Oregon."

"Yes, sir," Reyes said immediately. Doggett nodded.

"Good," Skinner said, running a hand over his face. He still sounded awkward, like he didn't know how to process any of this. "How the hell do these two get into this much trouble," he muttered to himself before muttering some goodbyes and leaving.

"Okay," Doggett said awkwardly in Skinner's absence, standing from his spot on the couch. "Thank you for the tip. We'll call you if you want when we find them..."

"Wait, we're coming with you," Melissa said, matter-of-factly. Simply, no room for argument.

"You can't," Doggett said.

"Yes, we can. We're family," she replied simply, crossing her arms over her chest. (Samantha was a little surprised that she included the Gunmen - but then again, they seemed close enough to Fox that she doubted he'd mind.)

"This is FBI business," Doggett tried in a sympathetic, firm way.

"Listen, buddy, we're going up there with your permission or not," Frohike said loudly, more confidently than he probably felt. "That was our plan all along."

Doggett looked like he wanted to say more, but Reyes interrupted him. "Look, John, what could it hurt to have them fly up there with us?" she asked, getting to her feet and laying a hand on his arm. "It's their right. Their siblings and friends in the balance."

Doggett sighed. "All right," he said. "But I don't want you interfering with the investigation."

"Yes, sir," Byers said quickly. He gave Frohike and Langly a meek but firm this-is-what-will-get-us-places look when they glared at him.

"Thank you," Melissa said, a stunned sort of gratefulness.

Reyes smiled and extended her hand towards her. "Monica Reyes, by the way."

"Melissa Scully," she said, shaking it.

***

They get caught in a layover at the airport that takes seven hours, but Frohike reassures an anxious Melissa and Samantha by showing them the tracking devices on Scully’s and Fox’s cars. “Mulder’s closer, but there’s plenty of time before they get there,” he says. “We’ll be fine. Between this layover and this flight, we’ll get there around the time they do.”

The words seem to calm Melissa considerably. Then she lays into Frohike for having trackers on her sister’s car.

“We thought it might be convenient if anything ever happened to them,” he says, meekly. “And look. We were right.”

The plane ride just takes a couple hours. The FBI agents make Samantha tense at first, but she relaxes eventually; Doggett seems suspicious, but nice enough aside from that, and Reyes is increasingly sweet. She and Melissa hit it off. ("I've always admired Agent Mulder and your sister," she says. "Their work on the X-Files. I studied mythology and folklore in college." "Is that why Skinner brought you?" Melissa asks. "Probably," Reyes says, half laughing.) The Gunmen keep mostly to themselves. Samantha relaxes enough to fall asleep for most of the plane ride.

There is an awkward, wordless exchange between Doggett and Reyes on whether they should take the other five or not. Reyes finally suggests, out loud, that they rent a car and see what they can do. They rent a large van that is decidedly un-FBI looking. Doggett ends up driving and Samantha ends up in the passenger seat. Even though it feels pointless and juvenile, she scans the roads for any sign of Scully or Fox.

Bellefleur, Oregon is brisk and tastes like the salt air. Doggett and Reyes insist on going to the local police station.They both disappear inside, and don't reappear for almost half an hour. Melissa gets restless, muttering under her breath and drumming her fingers on the center console. Her anxiousness resembles the twisting of Samantha's insides into a tight, worried knot. "Local police aren't going to be any help," Doggett says when they get into the car, annoyed. "A Detective Miles got real anxious and barreled out of there, but the rest of them just were unresponsive."

"All we got is that the abductions were in the woods," Reyes says.

"Well, let's go out there!" Frohike says insistently. "They're here, they've been here for hours."

Doggett starts the car. "Our objective is to get the abductees in and out," he says as they drive towards the forest."Agent Reyes and I will go into the woods. You five stay in the car."

"What?" Melissa spits.

"We can't take civilians into a dangerous area," Reyes says gently. "I'm sorry." Her eyes meet Melissa's regretfully.

"We've been in dangerous situations for most of our lives," Langly says bitterly. "I knew we shouldn’t have trusted other Feds."

Doggett snorts, looking at them the rearview mirror. Samantha’s hand brushes over the butt of Scully's gun. She hates feeling this helpless. Hates it.

"I promise we'll get your friends out safely," Doggett says, not unkindly. "We just can't be worried about you all when we're in this thing fighting."

Melissa mutters something vicious under her breath. The Gunmen are silent, except when Byers offers up a, "Their cars are parked at the edge of the woods."

Doggett pulls to a stop on the side of the road. Ahead of them, an orange X is on the road. Further ahead, two cars sit abandoned. Samantha recognizes the one Scully had left her in. "That's them," Frohike says.

Doggett and Reyes pull their guns and get out of the car. Suddenly, light streams through the window. Samantha claps a hand to the back of her neck, but the telltale buzzing isn't there. She lets down the window and sticks her head out. A UFO hovers over the treetops.

Reyes's face is open and full of wonder. "Holy mother of God," Doggett says, hushed and bewildered. The two of them sprint into the woods.

Melissa's face is just as full of wonder as Reyes's. "Wow," she whispers.

"If only Mulder were here to see this," Langly says. The three of them are clustered around the window.

"He is," Frohike snaps. "That's the problem."

Samantha sticks her head further back, craning her head to watch. Something launches into the sky, hitting the ship in the side. It falters, almost turning completely on its side. Samantha sucks in a breath, biting down on her lip hard enough to draw blood. The ship rights itself and fires back.

"No!" Melissa's hand hits the window. Samantha fumbles for the door handle. A section of the woods explodes into flames.

"Call the fire department," Samantha gasps, shoving the door open. She nearly falls out.

Melissa jumps out beside her, scrambling across the grass. "Dana!" she shouts.

Above them, a beam shoots down. Samantha wants to scream.

Doggett and Reyes appear and the edge of the woods with a cluster of teenagers. They have the glazed-over look of the chip; one tries to turn and go back into the woods. "Melissa, stay back!" Reyes yells. "There's still some more in there, we're going back in! We'll find them!"

Melissa ignores her, barreling into the woods calling her sister's name. Samantha follows, yanking Scully’s gun out.

Her throat burns with smoke. Above them, the Syndicate floats into the light.

Her brother had shouted her name when she'd floated into the light. He'd tried to get her father's gun. He'd tried to save her. Samantha blinks in the orange haze, gripping her sister-in-law's gun. Dana, Melissa screams beside her.

"Fox!" Samantha calls. ***

Scully walks towards the light. She reaches for Mulder's hand, but she can't move it. This can't happen, she wants to say. This can't happen to us.

The ground shakes. The beam moves off of them. Everything goes black.

When Scully comes to, she's lying prone on the ground, hair hanging over her face. Smoke chokes her throat. Flames are everywhere. She pulls herself off the ground, scanning the bright of the forest. She stumbles to her feet, staggering forward. She thinks she hears her name on the wind: Dana!

Then she sees him.

"Mulder," she whispers, going down on her knees beside him. He mumbles something that might be her name, face turning into the dirt.

She reaches for him and the world shifts around her: Mulder crumpled in a field, Mulder bleeding out in an alley, Mulder slumped over in a car seat, soaked with sweat, dying. She hauls him into her arms, onto her lap. He curls around her, burying his face in her neck. The heat's all around her but she can't move them both. "I need help," she calls, weakly, but her voice is a strangled rasp. Mulder whimpers against her throat. She presses her face into his ashy hair.

They end up stretched out on the ashy grass, the same forest where they'd met. She holds him closer, kissing his forehead, his hair. She can't move, but she needs to. Mulder. The baby. "Help," she croaks, trying to scream.

"Scully?" An unfamiliar/familiar voice. She crawls fully on top of Mulder in an attempt to protect him before she recognizes it. "Jesus Christ," Samantha murmurs, hooking her hands under her armpits and hauling her up.

"Dana!" Missy's voice, but she can't be here. She tries to tell her that, but coughs instead. She stumbles to the side, unable to stand upright.

"Melissa, can you help her out of here?" Samantha says from somewhere near her. "Fox? Fox, you have to wake up. We have to go."

Scully feels her arm hooked over her older sister's shoulders as she's dragged out of the burning forest. Her vision is spotty and her breathing is harsh.

It all begins in Oregon, or ends in Oregon, and they are dead, they are alive, and Mulder’s being taken, and she’s kissing him in a hotel room, and the light is washing them out, swallowing them whole. It’s Oregon, goddamn Oregon. It’s always been Oregon.

She and William walk up the sunny path to his school, hand in hand. “First day of school. You nervous?” she asks her son, all bright eyes and messy hair. He shakes his head, practically bouncing with eagerness. He is at the stage where school is still an exciting adventure. “Your hands are sweaty,” she teases, shaking their joined hands between them.

He yanks his away, studying his palm with scrutiny. “Ew! That's you!”

She laughs, turning to face him - her son, in all his first-grade-glory. “What's the most important thing to remember?”

“Sit still, listen, say excuse me when you fart,” he ticks off proudly.

She laughs again - William is his father's son. And hers, her miracle. “The most important thing to remember... is that I love you. That's all you have to remember.” She leans forward and presses a kiss to his forehead.

He's looking at her seriously when she pulls back - his Scully look, Mulder calls it. “There's something you have to remember, too, Mommy.”

“What's that?” she teases, pushing his hair back.

“That this is realer than you think.”

Boggs said the same thing to her in a warehouse one time, and this isn't… “Oh, God,” she whispers, falling to her knees in front of William and hugging him tightly. “This isn't real. You aren't real. My baby, this is all in my head.”

“I'm realer than you think,” William says in his small voice, drawing back and pressing his fingers to her abdomen, a feather touch, and this, this is where the earth falls out from beneath her. “I love you, Mommy.” He kisses her forehead.

Something shifts and pulls and tugs in the back of her neck, and then a triumphant voice: “Got it out.”

“William,” she whispers, darkness swirling like a living entity, real and malevolent, swallowing her whole. Her son is here but he isn't real and she's going to have a baby. Oh, God, she's going to have a baby. “William.”

#this chapter almost killed me i swear i wrote it in three days with barely any work done on it yesterday it puts my ufot self to shame #xf fanfic #i wrote this

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disciple-of-justice-blog · 7 years

Text

Betrayal

A sad memory that makes them cry

“What do you mean she’s not there yet? Laila was suppose to send her over.” Adeel’s brow knotted in a frown as he sat up straight behind the desk of his home office and hastily arranged the scattered documents on his table—from his lawyers and superiors both—before getting to his feet and throwing on the jacket behind the door.

“I know mere lal, but she isn’t answering her phone!” came his mother’s worried tone from the other side of the line and Adeel chewed his bottom lip nervously.

“Do you think she could have gotten into an accident?”

“No, no let’s not jump to conclusions Amma—I’ll find her.”

His wife had been oddly quiet this morning, then again it had been that way for weeks now with the strain put upon them both by the case she was working on. Normally she had no problem separating her worklife from their homelife, but when he was on the witness stand refuting her client, his partner’s denial with his account of what happened that fateful night, to say that the relationship between them had deteriorated would have been an understatement. If it wasn’t silence, it was yelling and it was a situation no one should have been put through; He, a cop trying to do the right thing for once and her, an aspiring attorney trying her damnest to win her first major criminal case.

She called him a fool for fighting a system that was built to fail people like him, whistleblowers against an institution as old as the city itself and an idiot for turning away the money which could have them set for life as a family. He’d retaliated in the heat of the moment and called her a sellout who’d forgotten the reason she entered her profession.

The way they could have heard a pin drop after he’d said those words was unnerving and she had taken Aisha with her this morning to drop off at his mother’s before she went to run errands.

He had kissed the sprightly toddler goodbye and growled at her playfully; That had been an hour ago.

Flying down the stairs four steps at a time, he revved up his bike up front before tearing through the streets for any sign of Laila’s car which in the middle of Manhattan was like trying to find a needle in a haystack.There was no sign of her at the five grocery stores within a three kilometer radius of where they lived, and above him the sun rose higher in the sky. The police dispatch radio he heard over his pager was devoid of any reports of collisions and it was now 11:30am.

Where the hell could she be? Where was their daughter?

He stopped by the side of the road for a moment, taking a deep breath as a thought occurred to him and he whipped out his Iphone so he could run the ‘Find IPhone’ app. They had both registered one another shortly after they were married, more a security measure than anything else given the dangers their respective jobs posed though he had no reason to check in on her until now, and the result made his eyebrows peak almost into his hairline. The phone was live even if it went unanswered, and the neighborhood it was beaming from was one he didn’t recognize and quite a distance away; He didn’t spare a second to the creeping thought of what she was doing there without his knowledge and the tires of his motorcycle screeched against the tarmac as he raced towards the address.

It was half an hour before he finally reached the place, pulse racing as he spotted her car parked outside of an unassuming townhouse. Her number was dialed again and no answer still as he ran towards the Honda and peered into the back seat, and there Adeel felt his heart drop into his stomach when he spotted the frail little creature barely two years old still strapped into her baby seat.

Ringlets of her hair clung to a sweaty forehead, her chubby cheeks streaked with tears and her eyes were glazed over as her mouth opened and closed in weak gasps, her sobbing having gone unheard over the foot traffic and the car’s insulation. Fifteen minutes, he’d read that once. All it took was fifteen minutes in hot sun for the damage to be done. By the grace of god, the afternoon sun was not at its worse yet, but she had likely been in there for longer.

“AISHA!”

It took a split second for him to pull a loose brick from the nearby rubble in the alley and he whaled on the driver’s side window like a madman.

“Hey what the hell are you doin’?!” An elderly woman yelled at him with a Brooklyn accent from the opposite unit as she came outside with her hair curler and a rod of some sort ostensibly to drive him off.

“My daughter’s in here! Call 911!” He yelled over the din, the tempered glass finally shattering as he fumbled with the lock, bloodying his hands on the glass shards before he threw the door open to lunge inside. By the time he had ripped off the straps to the baby seat however, the toddler had completely stopped moving, her head lolling to a side limply and her eyes half-closed in a manner that made him want to scream. He’d held her in his arms when she took her first breath—this was not how she would take her last. Not like this.

As he gathered Aisha up in his arms, small crowd had amassed through the chaos; the woman who had barked at him initially thankfully complied with the panicky request as he spotted her up front with a phone trapped between her ear and shoulder and she hurriedly beckoned for him to lay his daughter out on a ratty blanket she’d brought with her and she shaded them both with an umbrella. Another bystander had passed him a bottle of cold water and yet another the towel they had with them on their jog as a cold compress was applied to the little girl’s forehead while he dabbed the rest of the water on her neck and chest.

“How long she been in there?” came the old woman’s curt inquiry as he knelt down to perform CPR on the unmoving child, his position almost like that of prostration in prayer and praying he was with every fiber of his being.

“I don’t know—my wife–she was supposed to be with her.” Adeel blurted out, fighting back tears as he kept count of the chest compression and heard sirens in the distance; they couldn’t arrive quickly enough. Where was Laila? Why were the calls going unanswered?

Through the third set, there was the smallest twitch in Aisha’s fingers and Adeel felt relief wash over him like a breaking wave as she took a shallow breath. Two. And then the exhausted whine picked up.

“Hey, hey shh. Baba’s here princess, it’s okay.” He murmured reassuringly as he picked her up to cradle her in the recovery position before gratefully nodding at those who had helped him out and the sigh of relief among them was one which he shared. The city was broken in some places, but days like this went a long way to reminding him that it was still good. People were still good. That train of though came to a screeching halt for a moment when he heard a familiar voice coming down the steps of the townhouse.

“Oh no—oh god, my baby!”

There was a hush among the bystanders as a woman cut through their throng, followed hastily by a man and at the sight of them, Adeel’s shoulders bristled with rage. The revelation came to him all at once as he stared at her with her smudged lipstick and messy hair and the man next to her, the client and his former partner whose face lit up like a Christmas tree as their eyes met.

“Are you goddamn kidding me?” He hissed under his breath, his entire body trembling as he shakily got to his feet with Aisha tucked in his arms where she held on to the lapels of his hoodie tightly while he shielded her head away from the sun. “Are you for real? Both of you?”

“Look, it’s—it’s not what it looks like—” His partner tried to diffuse the situation and he snarled like a wounded dog at the man who immediately clamped up.

“DON’T.” Came the harsh bark as the the wailing of the ambulance echoed from one of the nearby streets. “Just don’t. I made the mistake of trusting you, I can bloody see that. You two together—”

He whipped his head towards his wife who looked like she’d been slapped in the face but he didn’t care. The wound inside that had bled the moment he saw his daughter near death only grew bigger, fed by the betrayal by not one but two people in his life.

“While our daughter was baking in the back of your car! She could have died in there, no one would have heard her and for what?! For him?!”

The emergency vehicle finally came to a halt on the road next to them as two medics rushed out of the back and he reverently handed over the child in his arms to them and then hopped into the back of the ambulance with them.

“Adeel, I didn’t mean for this to happen–please!”

The doors of the vehicle slammed shut like closing a chapter in his life and he watched as the medics placed an oxygen mask upon his daughter’s face that was far too big for her and looked alien on cherubic features which were splotched and clammy to touch and it was only in the privacy of the van’s four walls that he finally broke down, face buried in his bloodied hands as the entire weight of what had just transpired crashed upon him full-force. His daughter had suffered thanks to her own mother and a man who’d tried to discredit him, there was no telling if there was going to be any lasting damage, and both his job and his marriage were in shambles. She was two, he was twenty-nine and already he had to contemplate the notion of raising her on his own when he barely had his own life in order.

“…Ba..?” came the weak little voice barely above a whisper but he heard it clear over the humdrum of the engine and the clattering of equipment around them as he scooted closer to Aisha’s side and stroked her forehead lovingly.

“It’s okay mere bitya. Baba’s here. Everything’s going to be okay.”

She was silent, but feebly raised a hand to paw at his cheek and he closed his eyes and cupped it close so he could feel her palm and fingers imprinted upon his skin. God, she was so small—he remembered being afraid to hold her for too long when she was barely the size of a bread loaf, worried that he would break her somehow. But here she was, alive. Fighting to breathe. Not the fragile little china doll he always thought she was. She’d survived. And all the two of them could do was to keep surviving together, one way or another.

“We’ll be alright. I promise.”

#[drabble]#[Writing]

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myonechicagoworld · 3 years

Text

CHICAGO FIRE – NAZDAROVYA! (S01E15)

Gabby Dawson: [whimpering]

Try not to move. You’re going to be all right.

You’re going to be fine.

[horn honking]

Gabby Dawson: Hey! Hey! Stop!

Stop!

[horn honking]

[tires screech]

Gabby Dawson: Gunshot wounds to the abdomen and left chest.

Exit under the arm caught the axillary artery.

Doctor: I’ll take over on pressure.

Gabby Dawson: He’s my brother. I’m going into the OR with you.

Doctor: Can’t do it. Now.

Got it. Somebody grab the monitor. Let’s get him down the

hall into four. Go, go, go.

cutscene

Nurse: He’s all cleaned up, daddy.

Kelly Severide: Oh, no, I’m not the… I’m not the… I’m…

Okay.

Oh, Oh.

Hey guy.

[baby coos]

Kelly Severide: Hey buds.

Leslie Shay: Daddy.

Kelly Severide: Hey bud.

[phone chimes & vibrates]

[baby coos]

Leslie Shay: Dawson. What happened?

Oh baby.

Gabby Dawson: [crying] I don’t know.

[sobs]

cutscene

[door shuts]

Matt Casey: [exhales]

Nancy Casey: I’m not happy about our fight last night. It’s important

to me that we communicate.

Matt Casey: I agree.

Nancy Casey: I get the sense you weren’t too happy about me

going out with my friend Gary last night.

Matt Casey: It had nothing to do with… Gary. I was worried about

my mother violating her parole.

Nancy Casey: Fine [clears throat]

Agreed.

Can we… agree to trust each other? To discuss

things like two adults?

Matt Casey: Yeah.

Nancy Casey: I’m happy to hear it. Eat while they’re still warm.

[mug clanking]

Matt Casey: You know something? You’re right.

If we’re gonna live together, we need to get things out

in the open. So I’m gonna ask.

Why’d you do it?

Nancy Casey: Now you’re just being hurtful.

Matt Casey: No, I’m asking a question I need the answer to.

In 15 years, you never told me why. What made you go

over to dad’s?

Nancy Casey: You always do this!

- title -

cutscene

Gabby Dawson: He was really cagey [clears throat]

We were talking right before it happened.

Peter Mills: Listen, he’s… he’s lucky that you were there. Okay?

Gabby Dawson: Pete, it’s fine. She knows.

Leslie Shay: Is he out of ICU?

Gabby Dawson: No, not yet. I’m gonna go to the hospital after shift.

Leslie Shay: All right. I’ll go with you.

Matt Casey: Hey.

[door closes]

Matt Casey: I just heard. How is he?

Gabby Dawson: Uh, he lost a lot of blood, so they’re still doing

transfusions.

Matt Casey: [sighs] I’m so sorry. Your brother went so above and

beyond for me with the Voight thing. If there’s

anything I can do, just… let me know.

Gabby Dawson: Thank you.

Matt Casey: Uh, Chief wanted me to tell you there’s a police

detective here to see you in his office for some

follow-up questions.

Gabby Dawson: Okay.

Chief Boden: Dawson, come on in. This is Detective Ben Vikan from

Narcotics.

[door closes]

Man 1 (Det Ben Vikan): Very sorry to hear about Antonio. We got

damn near every cop in this city out looking

for who shot him.

Gabby Dawson: Good to know.

Man 1 (Det Ben Vikan): Antonio was looking for the leader of the

crew that’s been putting out the bad drugs.

He talked to you about that? ‘Cause I know

you had a conversation with him right

before he was shot.

Gabby Dawson: He said that guys from Narcotics were being

territorial and didn’t want a guy from Vice taking

his collars, so he was doing twice the work.

Man 1 (Det Ben Vikan): [chuckles] Let’s have an honest

conversation.

Gabby Dawson: Let’s.

Man 1 (Det Ben Vikan): Your brother went way off the reservation

on this one.

Chief Boden: You told me you were here to investigate the shooter,

not investigate Antonio.

Man 1 (Det Ben Vikan): It’s all related, Chief, and unfortunately, the

first step is to try to sift through eight layers

of lies he told his superiors and colleagues,

myself included.

Gabby Dawson: I’d trust my brother with my life. I don’t know you

from a load of wood.

Man 1 (Det Ben Vikan): Your boss has my card if you decide to

change your mind and help.

[door closes]

Gabby Dawson: I honestly don’t know anything about what’s going

on with Antonio.

Chief Boden: Okay.

[door closes]

cutscene

Eric Whaley: Morning.

Kelly Severide: Morning.

[paper bag rustling]

Eric Whaley: You still work on boats?

Kelly Severide: Yeah.

[paper bag continues to rustle]

Kelly Severide: Boater’s key. Thanks.

Eric Whaley: Mmm, you probably already got one, right?

Kelly Severide: Always use another.

Eric Whaley: I was out of line last shift. So, uh, that is half a peace

offering.

Kelly Severide: Accepted. The other half?

Eric Whaley: A bribe.

Kelly Severide: [chuckles] These things cost 7 bucks, man.

Eric Whaley: Fair enough.

Kelly Severide: [chukles]

Eric Whaley: Look [clears throat]

Now that I know what really happened between you

and Renee, I’m thinking she’s probably been letting

the guilt beat her up this whole time. I got no right to

ask this, but… I think if you reached out to her, it

could go a long way towards turning things around.

‘Cause like I said, man, we don’t hear from her.

Look, this is her cell number. At least I think it is. It’s a

computerised voice.

I’ve left messages…

Kelly Severide: Eric, I don’t even really know what I would say.

So maybe it’s just best to leave the past in the

past.

Eric Whaley: Maybe even just hearing your voice might make a

difference.

Kelly Severide: [sighs]

[knocks on locker]

cutscene

Peter Mills: Hey, chow’s up.

[dog whines]

Peter Mills: Hey, hey, don’t you even think about it.

[dog whimpers]

Christopher Herrmann: Shay, this is that baby book I was telling

you about. Lots of good stuff, swaddling,

soothing…

Leslie Shay: Thanks Herrmann. Hey, do you know if it says anything

about sleep schedules.

Christopher Herrmann: I didn’t read it.

Leslie Shay: Hmm.

Christopher Herrmann: All right, you’re our guy for construction on

the new bar, right?

Matt Casey: I believe the offer was free consultation.

Christopher Herrmann: Okay. All right. Fine.

Matt Casey: Yeah.

Christopher Herrmann: The inspection is tomorrow, and then our

new silent partner is coming over here

later for a meet and greet. We just gotta

make sure that this guy knows that we’re

driving this car.

Otis Zvonecek: Go easy. Extra partner means lower cost for the

rest of us.

Mouch: I’m with Herrmann. There’s an old Japanese proverb. Don’t

let your daughter-in-law eat your autumn eggplants.

Christopher Herrmann: What the hell does that mean?

Mouch: Don’t let yourself be taken advantage of.

[station alert buzzes & blares]

(Over PA): Engine 51, Truck 81, Ambulance 61. Possible drowning.

[sirens blaring, horns honking]

Matt Casey: There.

Boy 1: We were playing and all of a sudden, Patrick fell in!

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): Please, help my son.

Chief Boden: How long’s he been under?

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): Three minutes, maybe more.

Chief Boden: Let’s get that straight-frame to the edge of the lake

right now.

Matt Casey: Exactly where did he fall in?

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): Right here. He came up for a second. Then

he… he went right back down again.

[indistinct radio chatter]

Kelly Severide: Keep feeding me line until I hit bottom. Then allow 6

more feet every time I tug twice, all right? When I

tug three times, I’ve got the kid.

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): Please, God, please… Find my boy!

[indistinct radio chatter]

[water splashing]

[dramatic music]

Hadley: All right, he’s at the bottom.

[indistinct radio chatter]

Hadley: Three tugs! He’s got him.

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): [gasps]

Chief Boden: Medics, get ready.

Mills, go with the ambulance as backup.

Peter Mills: Right.

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): Oh my God. Is he alive?

[voice breaking] Patrick.

Gabby Dawson: Let’s put him in the right now.

[siren wailing]

Leslie Shay: Pushing epinephrine.

Gabby Dawson: Shay, check for lung sounds.

Leslie Shay: Yeah.

Gabby Dawson: Come on, Patrick.

Leslie Shay: You’re in.

Gabby Dawson: Let’s do a pulse check.

Leslie Shay: Come on, Patrick. Come on.

Gabby Dawson: Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. Wait a second.

Peter Mills: What?

Gabby Dawson: I have a pulse.

Peter Mills: Wait, are you sure?

Gabby Dawson: Yeah. Yeah, pulses.

[air pumping]

Peter Mills: BP’s 60 over 40.

Gabby Dawson: [exhales]

Peter Mills: [exhales]

Leslie Shay: Hey.

Kelly Severide: Hey. How’s the kid?

Leslie Shay: Good.

Kelly Severide: Yeah?

Leslie Shay: Yeah. Got him warmed up. His BP is stabilised.

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): Lieutenant?

Kelly Severide: Hey, I just heard the news. That’s great.

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): Yes. Thanks to you guys. Um… I just want you

to know, uh… I didn’t… my son was in that

water, and I froze. I… I did nothing.

Kelly Severide: Sir…

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): I don’t know why I just stood there. I wanted

to move, but my feet wouldn’t…

Kelly Severide: Listen to me. I’ve been to thousands of accident

scenes, and you never know any given day how

someone’s going to react.

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): Yeah, but I did nothing. He’s my son, and I did

nothing.

Kelly Severide: That’s cold, dangerous water. You went in there,

we’d have been rescuing two.

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): If you hadn’t shown up…

Kelly Severide: But we did.

And now your boy’s gonna be fine.

And you’re gonna be here to take him home. Okay?

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): Okay. Thanks.

cutscene

Christopher Herrmann: Let me handle this.

Otis Zvonecek: All right.

Christopher Herrmann: All right.

Otis Zvonecek: Hey.

Christopher Herrmann: Hey, Arthur. Sorry for the wait.

Man 3 (Arthur): Ah, not a problem. I appreciate what you guys do.

Christopher Herrmann: All right, we wanted to open up the lines of

communication and let you know our

perspective on the whole partnership thing.

Man 3 (Arthur): So, uh, with the Latino girl, uh, we’re four, right?

Otis Zvonecek: I think that’s actually Latina.

Man 3 (Arthur): Oh, yeah, sorry. Yeah. Look, I’m no math major, but

partnership-wise, that’s that’s, uh, 25% stake each,

no?

Christopher Herrmann: Whoa, whoa, whoa. No, no, no. The old

man definitely did not say equal

partnership. He said take care of you

based upon what you brought to the

table. So construction, hauling, initial

investment.

Man 3 (Arthur): I don’t have a lot of out-of-pocket money to do any

investing. I… so…

Christopher Herrmann: We’re not talking 25% then.

Man 3 (Arthur): Okay, sure. Yeah, yeah. No, I… I get your point.

Christopher Herrmann: Listen, let’s just see what you bring to the

table. We’ll see how it goes, and we’ll

make sure that it’s fair.

Man 3 (Arthur): Sounds great. Uh, look, I gotta get back to work,

but I’ll see you tomorrow at the inspection, huh?

Christopher Herrmann: Yeah.

Otis Zvonecek: Okay

Herrmann & Otis: [laughs]

cutscene

Leslie Shay: [chuckles] Hi there, little guy.

Clarice: You know, Daniel’s planning on using the fact that I was in

therapy and on antidepressants as proof that I’m mentally

unstable.

Leslie Shay: Screw Daniel. We’re strong enough. We’ll handle

whatever he throws our way.

Clarice: Well, the lawyer did say there was another option.

Leslie Shay: What?

Clarice: We could offer 50/50 custody.

Leslie Shay: Clarice…

Clarice: I know Daniel will take it. You know, and then we can just

end all of this and focus on being a family.

Leslie Shay: [sighs]

Hey, you. Hi.

Okay.

cutscene

[background chatter]

Gabby Dawson: Knock, knock.

Antonio Dawson: Hey.

Gabby Dawson: Hey.

Antonio Dawson: I’d be dead, you hadn’t been there.

Gabby Dawson: No, you’d have crawled your way to the front door.

Antonio Dawson: Has anybody come talk to you?

Gabby Dawson: Uh, some detective from Narcotics named Vikan.

Antonio Dawson: Yeah. He’s after my badge.

Gabby Dawson: He’s saying you’ve gone off the rails.

Antonio Dawson: Look, this started out as prostitutes getting a hold

of bad dope. That’s a Vice case, which is why I

got involved. Then it turned into the bad dope

being dealt. That’s when Narcotics came in.

Gabby Dawson: Hey…

Antonio Dawson: Then it became about that new gang that I was

telling you about trying to push their way in and

take over.

Gabby Dawson: [inhales] Laura and the kids?

Antonio Dawson: Department’s putting them in protective custody

until they catch who tried to kill me.

Gabby Dawson: Have they been threatened?

Antonio Dawson: There’s been some hang ups on our home phone

line.

Gabby Dawson: If this was all about gangs, there is one cop who

could have helped out.

Antonio Dawson: Don’t even think about it.

[gate opening]

[keys jingling]

[metal clanking]

[chains clinking]

Gabby Dawson: [clears throat] Uh… my name’s Gabriela Daw…

Hank Voight: I know who you are. What the hell do you want?

Gabby Dawson: My brother, Antonio Dawson, he works in Vice…

Hank Voight: Yeah, yeah. He’s the guy who put the cuffs on me.

You tell him I said hi, okay?

Gabby Dawson: Okay, well, this involves him. So if you’ve got your

panties in a twist over how he does his job and

that’s a deal breaker for you, you just say so, and

I’ll leave.

Hank Voight: Continue.

Gabby Dawson: [clears throat] He’s investigating some bad dope

that’s been dumped on prostitutes. Uh, it’s about

some new gang…

Hank Voight: I’ve heard all about that.

Gabby Dawson: He was shot a couple days ago. But this is more

than just him and his family still having a bull’s

eye on their chest. Girls are dying out there. If my

brother was willing to risk his life trying to stop it,

I’m willing to risk mine trying to help him.

Hank Voight: My ex-partner had a thing he liked to say. “What was

the first thing Adam said when the good Lord

dropped him in Eden?” What’s in it for me?

Gabby Dawson: You know, I came here on the off chance that,

despite what happened, you might still care

about trying to prevent people from dying.

I don’t know what your jail situation is. As a former

cop, I’m assuming you’re segregated. So…

maybe by helping out, that would go a ways to

getting you some better… Uh, I don’t know,

accommodations.

Hank Voight: Then this conversation becomes about favours.

Gabby Dawson: [sighs] Okay.

Hank Voight: Okay what?

Gabby Dawson: Okay, you help me, I’ll help you.

Hank Voight: You’re gonna wanna talk to a guy named T.T.

He operates out of a two-story on the corner of 27th

and State. And I wouldn’t advise you come knocking

for him on your own.

Gabby Dawson: Well, I can take care of myself.

Hank Voight: Fine. Just tell him Voight sent you. You’re looking for

someone to testify about the Red Hooks. That’s the

gang your brother was trying to take down. T.T. owes

me. And he’s motivated because the Red Hooks are

trying to move in on his actions.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah, okay. All right, got it. T.T. Got it.

Hank Voight: I’ll be seeing you around.

Gabby Dawson: Thanks for your help.

cutscene

Otis Zvonecek: I don’t get this inspector, man. This bar’s been here

for 30 years. The old man said he never had a

problem.

Christopher Herrmann: Shut up.

So how’s it looking?

Man 4 (Inspector): Unfortunately, we have issues. Main one being

the layout. Your kitchen and bar area are too

close together.

Christopher Herrmann: Mr. Stephanidies said that you’ve always

approved it.

Man 4 (Inspector): Ah, well, see, that’s a different situation.

Mr Stephanidies and I had an understanding.

Otis Zvonecek: Huh, okay. Let me handle this

[clears throat]

Man 4 (Inspector): [laughs] Oh God.

cutscene

Leslie Shay: What are you, posing for a calendar?

Kelly Severide: It’s called a football hold.

Leslie Shay: Oh… [laughs]

[baby coos]

Leslie Shay: Thank God he looks like Clarice.

[sighs] Was he crying?

Kelly Severide: No. Not too bad.

Leslie Shay: I must have been out like a light. I’m so sorry.

Kelly Severide: No, it’s fine. Really. I don’t mind.

Leslie Shay: [yawns]

Kelly Severide: Hey, this attorney you guys got…

Leslie Shay: Mmhmm?

Kelly Severide: Do you think he can locate people?

Leslie Shay: Like?

Kelly Severide: Like Renee… Whaley?

Leslie Shay: Really?

Kelly Severide: No, it’s not like that. Eric came to me, asking if I

could reach out. I guess they’ve all tried and

failed. He gave me a cell number. I left a

message, but… maybe if I just showed up

and… and… I don’t even know why I’m talking

about this.

Leslie Shay: You’re talking about it ‘cause it might help.

Kelly Severide: What would I gain from this? Nothing.

What?

Leslie Shay: I mean… today at the hospital, you reached out to

some father you’ve never met, but, uh, you don’t

wanna try and help out someone you almost

married?

cutscene

[keys jiggling]

[door opens and closes]

Gabby Dawson: Uh, my name’s Gabriela. I’m-I’m looking for T.T.

[gasps]

[gun cocks]

Gabby Dawson: [whimpers]

Man 5 (T.T.): Why you asking around about me, bitch?

Gabby Dawson: [whimpers]

Voight. Detective Voight. He told me to come see

you.

Man 5 (T.T.): You a cop?

Gabby Dawson: [whimpers] I’m Gabriela Dawson, Firehouse 51.

I need your help.

My brother’s a cop, and he was shot last night.

Girls are dying from bad dope. You know this

because they’re trying to move in on you.

Voight told me that you can get somebody to

testify against the Red Hooks.

[gun cocks]

Man 5 (T.T.): You come around her again…

Gabby Dawson: [whimpers]

Man 5 (T.T.): I’mma blow your head clean off.

Do you understand me?

Gabby Dawson: [whimpers]

[footsteps departing]

[door shuts]

Gabby Dawson: [gasps]

[pants]

cutscene

[engine revving]

[techno music playing]

[low chatter]

Kelly Severide: Renee.

Lady 1 (Renee Whaley): I will be right back.

Kelly Severide.

Kelly Severide: Good seeing you. How you doing?

Lady 1 (Renee Whaley): What brings you? Or is this just one hell of

an awkward coincidence?

Kelly Severide: No, um… I’m working with Eric at the same house,

51.

Lady 1 (Renee Whaley): Oh?

Kelly Severide: And he asked if I’d come…

Lady 1 (Renee Whaley): I’m doing fine.

Is that what you came to find out?

Kelly Severide: I guess so, yeah.

Lady 1 (Renee Whaley): Well your question’s been answered then.

Thanks for your concern.

cutscene

[door closes]

Chief Boden: This is probably gonna come as a surprise to you.

Jail visitation logs are monitored. Certainly those

concerning dirty ex-cops.

I got a call. Several, in fact. What’s my response

gonna be, Gabby?

Gabby Dawson: [sighs] I went there to see if Voight would provide

any help with the Antonio thing.

Chief Boden: Gabby.

[sighs] I can’t do anything about what you do off shift,

so I will save my breath.

I will give you a bit of advice. The news on this is

gonna travel fast. Sure as hell got to me quick. So

you may wanna bring in a certain someone from

this house before it gets on the grapevine and he

forms his own opinion.

Gabby Dawson: They tried to kill Antonio, and for all I know, they

may still wanna finish the job. Plus all those

OD’s…

Matt Casey: Voight tried to take me out! He’s a liar and a crook!

Gabby Dawson: I know. But sometimes you gotta, you know…

dance with the devil.

Matt Casey: Really? Is that the way it works?

Gabby Dawson: [sighs] Casey, I didn’t feel like I had any other

choice. I’m sorry.

Matt Casey: Hey, just do what you need to do, okay? I hope it

works out.

[door shuts]

Gabby Dawson: [kicks chair]

cutscene

Kelly Severide: Hey, Eric.

Eric Whaley: Kelly.

Kelly Severide: So, um, I-I saw Renee.

Eric Whaley: You’re kidding.

Kelly Severide: No.

Eric Whaley: [chuckles] That’s great.

Or was it?

Kelly Severide: Yeah. No she’s… she’s doing fine.

Eric Whaley: Where’d you find her?

Kelly Severide: This bar she works at.

Eric Whaley: Cocktail waitress?

Kelly Severide: Basically, yeah.

Eric Whaley: She good? She happy?

Kelly Severide: Yeah, she seems happy.

Eric Whaley: Thanks.

Kelly Severide: Mmhmm.

Eric Whaley: Hopefully I’ll hear from her.

Kelly Severide: Hope so.

cutscene

Christopher Herrmann: Big day. We just heard the news.

Man 4 (Inspector): Congratulations.

Otis Zvonecek: I think a toast is in order here, huh? This is vodka

my parents brought back straight from the

homeland. Now, Herrmann and I are on duty, so

we can’t imbibe, but don’t let that stop you.

Nazdarovya.

Man 4 (Inspector): Um… I’ll pass.

If you just, uh, sign where the “X’s” are, and

you’ll be all set.

I want to apologise for any misunderstanding.

I’ll get these into the system right away, and

you’ll get your fully executed copies in the

mail shortly.

Man 3 (Arthur): I was thinking about our first conversation about

what it is I bring to the table. I bring a lot of

intangibles, I think they call it. In fact, I’d say I

bring 25% worth.

Ah.

cutscene

Peter Mills: You gotta stop this now. You wanna get shot too?

Just… let the investigation play itself out.

Gabby Dawson: I think I just ruined a friendship.

Peter Mills: With who?

[station alert buzzes & blares]

(Over PA): Truck 81, Squad 3, Battalion 25…

[kissing sound]

(Over PA): Ambulance 61. House collapse, 1600 block,

North Poplar.

[sirens blares]

Lady 2: The ceiling fell in! It sounded like thunder.

Matt Casey: We’ll take a look. Just stay back.

Lady 2: Our upstairs neighbour, he’s a crazy hoarder. Keeps all

these magazines and newspapers. We could hear the

floor creaking for months.

Christopher Herrmann: Have you seen him?

Chief Boden: Ma’am will you move to the corner? This building is

compromised. Everybody proceed with caution.

Matt Casey: Main level collapsed into the basement. Can’t get in

from here. Where’s the entrance to the basement?

Lady 2: The door’s open. Oh my God. My daughter goes down there

with her boyfriend sometimes.

Chief Boden: Okay, we’re going in. Truck, Squad, get all the airbags

and cribbing we have. Get it out here now.

[indistinct chatter]

[wood creaking loudly]

Chief Boden: We need to create a tunnel using airbags and

cribbing. We’ll slide ‘em in one by one, and then we’ll

use the cribbing as support. Severide, you’re in front.

Call out the line.

Kelly Severide: All right, Casey, Herrmann, Capp, Cruz, Hadley,

Mills, you guys are with me. The rest of you guys,

up to feed the line. Let’s go.

[loud creaking & cracking]

Kelly Severide: More cribbing.

Capp: Cribbing.

Kelly Severide: All right, up on yellow.

[motor humming, wood creaking & cracking]

[indistinct radio chatter]

Matt Casey: Send the Stokes basket down the tunnel.

Christopher Herrmann: Stokes basket.

Matt Casey: You guys okay?

Teen Boy: Yeah. Yeah, I think so.

Lady 2: Oh baby. Oh my baby.

Christopher Herrmann: There you go. She’s okay, mom. Got

banged around a little.

cutscene

Chief Boden: There’s a young woman in the briefing room. Says she

wants to talk to you.

Young Woman (Rose): You Gabriela?

Gabby Dawson: I am.

Young Woman (Rose): T.T. told me to come here.

[dramatic music]

Gabby Dawson: I’m glad you did.

Young Woman (Rose): And I can trust you?

Gabby Dawson: You can.

Young Woman (Rose): ‘Cause I’m not playing around. All right, if

I’m gonna help, I need assurances. I need

out of town for my testimony. They’ll kill me

in a second if they knew I was here.

Gabby Dawson: Whatever you need, it’ll be taken care of. You have

my word.

What do you know?

Young Woman (Rose): Everything.

cutscene

[locker opens]

[pills rattling]

[locker door shuts]

cutscene

[low conversation]

Man 3 (Arthur): Hey partner.

Christopher Herrmann: Arthur… I wanna come clean with you.

[metal clanging]

Christopher Herrmann: All right, the thing is, I got a checkered

history in terms of business investments.

Some people, they hoard broken junk.

Well, I hoard broken opportunities. My

point is is that I’m really looking forward

to owning this bar. It’s an investment

opportunity that I truly believe is gonna

work.

Man 3 (Arthur): So what’s the problem?

Christopher Herrmann: You’re the problem. You’re a bully.

You use threats and violence to intimidate

people, so if you wanna have at it and

smash up my legs just like you did that

poor bastard inspector, then have at it.

I mean it.

Man 3 (Arthur): Is that right?

Christopher Herrmann: I’m a firefighter, Arthur.

I see a lot of things that, believe me, you

don’t wanna see. I don’t get squeamish.

Instead of 25%, you get 1. 1% of what I

foresee as being pretty solid profits. All

for doing nothing but walking away from

our bar and staying away.

Man 3 (Arthur): I’ll expect my 1% monthly.

[boot closes]

cutscene

Kelly Severide: Any word back yet from Daniel on the 50/50 offer?

Clarice: Mm, no, not yet.

Leslie Shay: Oh, he’ll take it. It’s the best deal he’s gonna get, and

he knows it.

Clarice: [sighs]

Well, Wesley is gonna have a good man in his life,

regardless.

Kelly Severide: That’s nice of you to say.

All right, well, there you have it. I can keep it in my

room until you’re ready to swap it out.

[phone rings]

Kelly Severide: Eric.

Eric Whaley: You sure Renee seemed okay when you talked to her?

Kelly Severide: Yeah. Why?

Eric Whaley: I just got a call from the hospital. She took a bunch of

pills.

cutscene

Antonio Dawson: I told you not to go Gabby on this.

[kissing sound]

Gabby Dawson: I know you did.

Antonio Dawson: Captain just told me your girl gave a full

statement, including the identity of the shooter.

Gabby Dawson: This ends it, right?

Antonio Dawson: Well, it should. But what did you promise Voight?

Gabby Dawson: Uh, I told him I’d return the favour. Whatever that

means.

Antonio Dawson: You’re in bed with this guy now, Gabby.

Gabby Dawson: Hey. Someone tried to kill my brother.

If you mess with my family, you mess with me.

I don’t regret what I did.

Antonio Dawson: I love you. And I’m proud to be your brother.

cutscene

[phone rings]

[phone beeps]

[door closes]

Nancy Casey: I’m so sorry, Matt. Ron and I just kinda lost track of

time, and something happened with his car. I don’t

know, it had something to do with the clutch. And it

broke down on us right on the Eisenhower, of course.

We had to call the tow truck, go to the service centre.

D-Do-Do you want me to get the driver’s card and…

or-or the receipt?

Matt Casey: Yeah. Get ‘em for me.

Nancy Casey: I don’t know why I even bother.

Matt Casey: You got two weeks to find a new place.

Nancy Casey: What? Where am I gonna live? Where am I gonna

go?

Matt Casey: I don’t know.

You got two weeks to figure it out.

Nancy Casey: He chipped away at me, you know?

[keys clatter]

Nancy Casey: Every day. Your father.

He convinced me that, not only wasn’t I a worthy

mother, I wasn’t even a worthy person. I believed

him.

Then he started to do it to you. Every day another

sidelong comment, another criticism. You

remember it. I know you do. You started to

internalise it, and my worst fear was coming

true… that he was gonna do to you what he did to

me. So that night he called, we argued… and he

said something about you. Something… so cruel.

And I snapped. And I went, and I got the gun out

of the box that he kept in the closet. And I took

the house key that you left out. And I drove

across town. And I shot him.

Just to shut him up. Just to never hear those words

coming out of his mouth again.

I know what you’re thinking. I know what you

thought. But I know you, Matthew. You don’t have

that kind of anger inside of you, that ability to

completely lose control.

You’re not me.

And I think that’s what you really wanted to know.

- end -

Definitions:

Axillary artery = Is a large blood vessel that conveys oxygenated blood to the lateral aspect of the thorax, the axilla (armpit) and the upper limb.

OR = Operating Room

Cagey = Secretive; guarded. Reluctant to give information owing to caution or suspicion.

Vice = Police division whose focus is stopping public-order crimes like gambling, narcotics, prostitution, and illegal sales of alcohol.

Epinephrine = Adrenaline, also known as epinephrine, is a hormone and medication. Adrenaline is normally produced both by the adrenal glands and by a small number of neurons in the medulla oblongata (long stem-like structure which makes up the lower part of the brainstem), where it acts as a neurotransmitter involved in regulating visceral functions (e.g. functions)

Imbibe = Drink alcohol

Cribbing = Temporary wooden structure used to support heavy objects during construction, relocation, vehicle extrication and urban search and rescue.

Eisenhower = Interstate 290 (I-290) is an auxiliary Interstate Highway that runs westwards from the Chicago Loop. The portion of I-290 and I-294 to its east end is officially called the Dwight D. Eisenhower Expressway. In short form, it is known as “the Ike” or the Eisenhower.

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