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tsrookie · 3 years

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Always In My Heart

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Alyssa Brooks)

A/N: On today’s episode of ‘I have no idea wtf I’m doing’, we have something that I cooked up because I had terrible WiFi and no other app but Google docs would open up.

Trope: Fluff, but a tiny bit of angst?

Rating: General

Word Count: 2.3K

Warning(s): Mentions of character death

Summary: Their son has a very important question to ask.

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The delicious aroma of chicken and rice wafted through the Brooks-Ramsey household. The couple worked side by side in the kitchen as they had all those years ago, the only difference being that it was now a dinner for five and not just two.

Allison Dolores Brooks-Ramsey came into their lives nine years ago, and while it was earlier than they would have wanted, they didn’t regret a second of their lives ever since they first heard her voice.

The twins on the other hand, were planned, but nothing had prepared them for the chaos that Nathan and Natalie would bring. A new broken object every week, a dozen fights for the TV every day, and yet were nothing short of tiny tornadoes when they joined forces.

It couldn’t be more perfect.

“What time did Jackie and Emilia say that they would bring the girls back?”

“6:30, I think.”

“Ah. So we have time till 7:00.” They shared a knowing smile. Two aunts taking their nine and six year old nieces to the mall meant a complete raid of the toy store, and a new guitar.

“You need to stop letting everyone spoil the girls just because you have a soft spot for them, Ethan. Ally’s grown old enough to understand that she has her daddy wrapped around her finger, and we don’t need Nat coming to that realisation as well.”

“I don’t- I can’t believe you would accuse me of not loving all my children equally!”, he exclaimed in mock offense.

“Mhmm. So why did I have to come up with an explanation to tell Nathan why his dad wasn’t on board with ordering dessert when he asked for it, but relented once his sisters kept bugging him for another five minutes?”

He opened his mouth in protest, but decided against saying anything for his own good. “Well what can I say? They’ve inherited their mother’s persuasiveness. And I can’t really say no to you, can I?”

Alyssa’s lips curved upwards at that. The playful look in her husband’s eyes caused her to finally break into a grin. “At least you’re self-aware.” Stuffing the rice into the bird she added, “But I can’t exactly tell our son that his dad is too in-love with his mom that he sees her in his daughters and hence can’t say no to them. He’d gag in disgust.”

He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her, resting his head in the crook of her neck. “That he would. Alright I’ll try a little harder to resist their charms. Wouldn’t want my only son to end up hating me.” He said it without a hint of worry over it becoming true someday. Over the years, he’d learned to put aside his fears of not being a good father, and with the help of some therapy, and Alyssa’s unwavering love and support, he’d locked up his insecurities in a box and let it sink to the bottom of the ocean.

They took the stuffed chicken and put it in the oven, washed their hands and plopped down on the couch for some rare downtime.

“Crap.”

“Everything okay?”

“Fred’s mom got called in, so she’s dropping Nate off on her way to work.”

Ethan sighed. “There goes the hour I planned to spend with my wife, who I barely get to spend enough time with these days.”

“I swear, you were never this busy when you were chief. I have no idea why my workload’s ten times bigger.”

“I do.” Ethan smiled with pride. “One usually does have a lot of work when they’re at the front lines of the battle for making free healthcare accessible for every single person in the country. My brilliant wife, though she could choose to leave most of the work to her very competent team, opts to take it all upon herself. So that’s probably the cause behind all the extra workload she complains about.”

She smirked and perched herself onto his lap. “Well your very brilliant wife also knows that you called my team very competent just to avoid hurting my feelings, and that you and I both know that they’ll be running around like headless chickens without me taking care of things.”

“I know, love. But you can still make them do a little more instead of working yourself to the bone while still making sure that you have at least one meal with the kids every day.”

She sighed. “Yeah, to make sure that they don’t forget what I look like.” She leaned in closer. “Besides, are we really going to spend our last few minutes of peace talking about work?”

Just as she uttered the words, the door burst open, and Nathan kicked off his shoes and jumped onto the couch as Alyssa slid down from Ethan’s lap. She shot him a look that very clearly meant What did I just say?

Ethan gave her an apologetic look and ruffled his son’s hair. “Hey buddy. How was your day at Fred’s? I know you wanted to spend more time with him.”

“I did, and we were just about to open his new LEGO set when Mrs. Watson told us that she had to run up to her office for some emergency meeting.”, he pouted. “But it was a nice day. We watched Thor: Ragnarok and Luca, and we would’ve watched another movie if his dad didn’t tell us that two movies were enough for a day.”

Alyssa shot him a mildly stern look. “Well he was right. You’re too young to have movie marathons just yet. Two are more than enough, unless you want to have a headache.”

“But mom, I’m not too young! I’m a big boy! I can swing along the monkey bars at the park faster than Natalie, and soon I’ll swing across buildings just like Spider-Man!”

“Well Spider-Man got bitten by a yucky spider before he swung across buildings. Do you want to be bitten by a gross and poisonous spider?”

“Mommy, not all spiders are gross and poisonous. Dad told me that when I was four and got scared of them at the zoo.”

She rolled her eyes. Leave it to her husband to convince her kids that insects were anything short of creepy and disgusting. In reality, they were, but as someone who ran a mile away at the sight of a butterfly, she wasn’t going to accept that.

“That’s right, Nate. Some of them are certainly very poisonous and dangerous, but that doesn’t mean that you should be scared of them. If you maintain your distance and admire them from afar, there should be no problem at all.”, he said with a pointed look at Alyssa, who just huffed in annoyance.

Nathan giggled, his brown eyes lighting up with amusement. He loved watching his parents playfully bicker. It was way better than seeing them- ugh, kiss.

“We were pretending to be superheroes and Fred used his full name for his pretend name cause it sounded cool, and it is. Fredrick Anthony Watson sounds like something from that show you and mom watch with the guys in the stuffy suits.”

“When did you see us watching the show with the guys in the stuffy suits?”, asked Ethan with a slight hint of concern. Whatever he and Alyssa watched on their free nights was definitely not kid-friendly.

“I don’t remember. Maybe a few months ago.”

Their year old puppy, Ivy, woke up from her nap and bounced into the living room to jump onto her favourite person. Nathan squealed with joy as the fluffy hair of the dog tickled his nose.

Ethan and Alyssa smiled at each other. Getting another dog after Jenner was a decision that took a lot of convincing, but their kids were responsible enough and it was impossible to say no after two years of constant pestering.

“Fred told me that he was named after his great-grandfather William, and that he was this really cool guy who saved a bunch of guys from getting mugged in a dark, dark alley.” He turned to look at his parents as Ivy snuggled into his lap. “Who was I named after mom?”

The question caught her off guard, and she glanced at Ethan for backup.

When they knew that they were having a boy, they immediately knew what to name him. They hadn't, however, anticipated Nathan Daniel Brooks-Ramsey to ask such a question this soon.

Seeing his wife at a loss for words, Ethan spoke up. “C’mere Nate.” He pulled him closer and pressed a kiss atop his head. “We once had a friend named Daniel. He worked at the hospital as a nurse, and he was close to your mom and Aunt Sienna when they were interns.”

Having found her voice, Alyssa joined in. “He was an amazing friend. He was the only nurse in the hospital who helped me out when things got messy, and cheered up Aunt Sienna when no one else could. He’d join us for picnics and movie nights, and you could always count on him if you needed something at the hospital.” She took a deep breath, and Ethan nodded. “Things were going well, but then in my second year, something really bad happened.”

“Oh no.”

“There was this bad guy, who wanted his revenge on another bad guy, and he was ready to risk his own life, and the lives of everyone around him to do so.”

“That’s horrible! Who would want to do something like that?”

Ethan smiled wistfully. “A lot of people in this world actually do. You’re a good person, so you know that it’s wrong. But some people aren’t, and they don’t care about other people getting hurt because of their actions. That night at the hospital, Danny tried to tell the bad guy that it was wrong, and to think things through. But he didn’t listen, and did something that hurt both himself, Danny, Uncle Raf, another friend of ours, and your mom.”

His little eyebrows creased with worry, Nathan asked, “What happened then?”

“He… he died. Along with our other friend, Bobby. Do you remember what we once told you about an autopsy?” Nathan nodded his head. “Well Danny asked for his body to be autopsied, and thanks to him, we were able to find out what was wrong with mom and Uncle Raf.”

He fell silent for a moment, remembering the horrors of the day, and how eternally grateful he was to Danny for being the reason he didn’t lose everything. He couldn’t imagine a life without the love of his life and his children, and he wouldn’t have either if not for the sacrifices that were made.

He looked up at Alyssa, and she squeezed his hand in support. “We’ll tell you more when you’re older, but to make it short, you’re named after a hero too. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have you, your sisters, or mom here with me.”

Nathan wriggled out of his dad’s arms, and set Ivy down so he could hug his mom as tightly as he could.

“Well… if you can hear me Mr. Daniel, I just wanna thank you. Thanks for saving my mom. I love her so much and I’m so thankful that I got to meet her because of what you did. I wish I could’ve met you, you sound like a really cool person, and I’m sure you were. So yeah, thanks. A lot.”

Alyssa’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears, and she held her son as she expressed her silent thanks along with Ethan.

What they had was precious.

Fifteen years had passed since they first met, and yet each day they fell in love a little more like they did when they held hands for the first time in the dim light of the NICU watching over little Ethan, or when she finally got to see the real him the first time she visited his place; the first time in years he let someone know a little of the worries residing deep in his heart.

With all the odds against them, it was a miracle that they survived, even more so that they managed to raise three perfect children who had more love to share than they could ever comprehend.

And they’d never forget all the reasons that made it possible for them to survive.

Ding!

The timer on the oven went off, and they got to their feet to get the chicken.

“Was he a good cook dad?”

“I… don’t really know, Nate. Your mom knew him better than I did.”

“Well there was this one time where he helped Aunt Sienna bake an amazing cake, so I guess he knew his way around the kitchen.”, Alyssa recollected fondly. It was for Jackie’s birthday, one of the few nights where the competition was completely forgotten about.

Nathan’s face melted into a glowing smile. “I love cake. So I guess I really would’ve loved him.”

She mirrored his radiant expression. “You definitely would’ve.”

“Why don’t you go play with Ivy while mom and I get the food ready? You can help us with the dessert later.”

“We’re having dessert?!”

Ethan grinned at his son’s excitement. “You bet we are.”

“Yay!” They watched as Nathan ran off to go play fetch with Ivy in their enormous backyard.

Ethan pulled Alyssa in for a sweet, lingering kiss as soon as he was out of sight.

“You’ve been wanting to do that for a while now hmm?”

“Something like that.”, he murmured as they broke apart.

She could see the ever-increasing strands of silver in his brown hair, and the faint wrinkles along the sides of his forehead, but his clear blue eyes were just as loving and devoted as she remembered from over a decade ago.

“We have a pretty good life, don’t we?”

Ethan kissed her again. “No, we have the perfect life.”

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A/N 2: Aaaand I’m going MIA again. Honestly though, to everyone who’s read so far, thank you so much for sticking around. Means the world💙

P.S: I finally chose Chyler Leigh as my face claim!

Taglist: @whimsicallywayward15 @aleynareads @starrystarrytrouble @dxnicaramsey @decadentwinnerjudgedream @ilikemenbutonlyethanramsey @rookiefromedenbrook @eramsey28 @the-pale-goddess @ohchoices @wellhelloramsey @mvalentine @swiftlydarcy @utterlyinevitable @akshara16 @sushiharrington @drethanramslay @lion-ess24 @whippedforethanfreakingramsey @drariellevalentine @perriewinklenerdie @blossomanarchy @stateofgracious @takemyopenheart @open-heart-ramseyyy @maurine07 @udishaman @queencarb @ethanramseylover @rookiemarsswiftie @aworldoffandoms @lsvdw-blog @n03lia @openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfan @jamespotterthefirst @senseofduties

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#ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #open heart #playchoices #ethan ramsey fanfiction

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btsmakesmehappy · 4 years

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Broken Vase | 4

Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Angst, Fluff, Smut.

Pairing: Agent!Namjoon x Agent!reader

Rating: 18+ (Mature Content)

Word Count: 7,6k

Warning: panic attack (just a mild description), description of violence, cursing, murder threats, PTSD, Y/n insecure with her body, unprotected sex (Be careful guys!), body worshipping.

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 complete

Summary: You are one of the best agents in the Company, and so do Namjoon. After your last mission with him, you hate him and so do Namjoon. Suddenly, you assigned again with him as a married couple. How can you handle the mission, Kim Namjoon, and your emotional wound?

Series Masterlist: The Company

a/n: the last chapter! I am so happy that I finally finished this. Please wait for other story in this Agent universe!

Taglist: @kb-bangtanenthusiast @w0lfqu33n

It is weird how easy you forgive Namjoon. You supposed to despise him, but you found yourself comfortable with his presence. He supposed to despise you, but he hugged you tightly and comfort you when you were crying. You fell in a dreamless sleep in his arms after cried your eyes out. But again, maybe you don’t hate him. Maybe he doesn’t hate you as well.

It was the morning when a knock on your door awoke you and Namjoon. It was a new experience for you, to wake up with Namjoon’s face in front of you. Maybe if you woke in some guys’ arms, you would be freaking out. You always look terrible in the morning. But the guy is Namjoon, and freak out would be the last thing you do. It’s the look in his eyes that shows him that he doesn’t even care how you look for a bit. That look in his eyes somehow calms you down and even takes your breath away. He kissed the top of your head lightly as he released himself from you and walked towards the door. You stretched on your bed, tried to gather as much energy as you could. You took a careful look at him. He looks tired. Well, he only slept for 2 hours after the kiss.

The kiss.

What the hell are you thinking? Kissing –no, making out- with your partner and it was nothing to do with the mission. That’s professional. You remember how his lips attached to you, how the room was full of your smacking sounds, how you cried, and how he held you after. You could feel heat spreads on your cheeks. Oh my God. You just want to disappear. You must be out of your mind. The guy barged into the room as you sunk your face into the nearest pillow.

“Hey Y/n? are you better now?” Taehyung ran to you and hugged you tightly. You knew he would feel worried, or even guilty after leaving you alone in the pool last night. You knew that much.

You smiled softly and patted his back. “I am okay, Tae, don’t worry.”

He was still hugging you when Jimin pulled him away to hug you. “Hey, girl. I am glad you’re okay.”

“Hey chim, thank you so much.” You smiled as you hugged him back. Then your eyes darted to a bunny-like guy beside the sofa. “Oh, right. Kook, thank you for saving me.”

He scratched his back sheepishly, “You’re welcome, y/n. I know you will do the same for me.” Jungkook is an interesting guy. You worked with him before. He is always so different in the field and in the usual life. He can knock criminals out in just a single punch but cries when you tease him. He can be an international playboy in the field but runs away when the girl from the forensic division talks to him. Even now, he is still shy in front of you.

You chuckled softly. “I will do the same thing for you all. Thank you so much.”

Hoseok was walking towards you when his shirt pulled by Yoongi. “Alright, you children. Let’s get back to the mission.”

“We need a new plan. The tour agency has canceled the trip for today.” Jin stated as he sat on the sofa. He is the oldest of all seven and he also has seniority. He has been in the Company for almost 13 years and he is one of the agents that higher-ups trust the most.

You could see a line forming between Namjoon’s eyebrows. “What? Why?”

“James died last night.”

Namjoon’s eyes widened. “What? How did he die?” James was the one who tried to murder you, and suddenly he died? This is weird.

Yoongi answered shortly. “Drowning, but the autopsy report hasn’t been released yet.” He then scrolled his phone and clicked a few times. Suddenly your phone rang. “I sent you the news.”

Your uneasiness must be read by Jimin as he held your hand, drawing soothing circles on the back of your hand. “Cou- Could be it was murder? You stuttered.

“We don’t know if James is murdered or not, but we do know that Tiffany is murdered.” Jin sighed. “She got into a car accident and the autopsy report shows that she was intoxicated by alcohol at the time of the accident. It seems that she went from her own home. The police also found bottles of alcohol in her home. The police have already announced that it was an accident.” You heard another rang on your phone. Yoongi sent you the autopsy report.

Jimin said cautiously, “but in the autopsy report, there’s also a track of alcohol on the airway which hinted to an aspiration.” He pondered. “It seems that she was forced to drink it.”

There was dead silence in the room. “Could it be that James died because he failed?” you asked timidly.

Yoongi nodded. “Yes, we all thought so.”

Your hands trembled. He died because of you. You felt sick and nauseous. You were hyperventilating when Namjoon cupped your face suddenly, distracting you.

“Hey, Stay with me! It is not your fault, Y/n.” He stroked your cheeks. “Calm down okay?” You took a deep breath to control your breaths. It is weird how his voice can calm your mind with just those sentences. How his touches are enough to keep you on your feet. And when he removed his hands from you, you could feel his warmth still lingering on your cheeks.

“Alright, you lovebirds. Back to work! You both need to go out in an hour. We still need to follow Minister Lee.” Jin interrupted and walked towards the door followed by the other guys.

Before Hoseok got out, he turned to you and gave a huge smile. “Don’t worry Y/n. Everything will be okay.”

After you took a warm shower, you felt a lot better. You felt your muscles relaxing. You grabbed a dress which Jimin picked before. Jimin has been your handler for 3 years. And in those 3 years, he has complained about your clothes for almost like a million times. You only wore shirts and work pants every time you work, but since he came, half of your closet is full of clothes from him. Not gonna complained about it though, he always has a good sense of fashion. For you, Jimin is the nicest guy you’ve ever known. And you always thank God for giving you Jimin in your life.

You looked at your reflection on your mirror. The dress looks nice on you but it exposes your skin too many for your liking. You are not confident in this, not when your scars exposed in public. You don’t like people staring at you. And with these scars? People will think that you are a criminal or maybe in a violent relationship, or maybe just a girl that into BDSM. You walked to your opened luggage, rummaging inside to find something that can give your body something to cover.

After a few minutes, you sighed. You couldn’t find anything. You were biting your nail when Namjoon handed a blue cloth to you. “Use this.”

You unfolded the cloth to find a blue jacket. You smiled at him. “Thank you.” You knew this jacket. He sometimes wears it when he hangs out with his friend, which you usually see in Jin’s snapchat. So it seems that he brings his own clothes in this mission. You don’t deny that he is a good dresser. Well, he has a good body proportion after all. He will look good almost at anything. You wore the jacket carefully. It is a little big for your body but somehow it is kinda matching with the white dress you wore.

Your heart was already racing with how nice he smells when he just said casually. “You look cute in my clothes.” You could feel your heart dropped to the ground. He shouldn’t do it like this. He just smiled at you and grabbed your hand, dragging you out.

You both walked to the restaurant. You saw Dahee waving at you in the distance. “Nara-ssi! Come sit with us!”

You looked at Namjoon who nodded in agreement as you sat with them. “Good morning!”

“Good morning to you too. It is so sad that the tour was canceled right?” She said while putting meat in her mouth. She studied your face carefully. “By the way, you look really tired. Are you okay?”

You involuntarily put your hands on your cheeks, “Really? Yes, I am kind of tired. But I am okay. Just a little lack of sleep.” You replied with a smile.

She smirked, “You both must have a ‘rough’ time last night.” A statement that made Namjoon and Myunsoo choked on their water. Myunsoo then nudged his wife while you patted the back of your husband. “Aww, young love. You both should eat a lot.”

You chuckled at her awkwardly. “Yeah, we should eat.” You were standing up to pick the food on the buffet but Namjoon pushed you down to sit.

“I’ll pick some for you, babe. Just sit here.” He then kissed your temple and walked away. Your jaw dropped and turned to Dahee, only to find her almost shrieking in happiness. You’re almost sure that they could hear your racing heart.

You shifted the topic before she talked again. “So, what are you guys doing today?”

“We are trying to rent a private boat and just sail around.” She then whispered to her husband, and Myunsoo nodded. “You should come too! It will be fun! But of course, if you don’t have any other plan.”

You put your hands in front of your chest and waving them slowly. “Oh, no. We don’t want to disturb you.” Water. You gulped nervously.

“No, we will be delighted to have you on board. Besides, the more the merrier right?” She turned to her husband, who gave a polite nod.

You smile awkwardly. “Well, we don’t have any plans yet. I think I will ask my husband first.”

“Ask me what?” Namjoon asked as he put the plate in front of you. “I got you an omelet.”

“That was fast.” You raised your eyebrow. “And only an omelet?”

Namjoon then pinched your cheek. “I only have two hands, princess. And you love omelets. Besides, we can get anything else after this. So what do you want to ask?”

Dahee smiled at the interaction between you and Namjoon. “I invited you both to our boat this afternoon. We rented one. And before you refused, I have already told her that you won’t disturb or bother us at all. We will be glad if you come!”

Namjoon looked at you and took your hand in him, squeezing it gently. “I am down for it, if you want to go, babe.” Are you sure?

You smiled. “I’d love to. Thank you.” I think I am.

“Great! Then we should meet in the lobby at 3 pm! I can’t wait to see the sunset on that boat. We will head back to our room now. See you!” They excused themselves and walked away.

Namjoon was still holding your hand when he landed a surprise peck on your lips. “You know that you have me right?” He assured.

He is worried about me

. Your heart’s racing again, all fear, nervous, and relief mixed into one. You just squeezed his hand back. “Yeah, I have you.”

It’s already at 3 pm, and you have already in the lobby. Namjoon has already told the team. Some disagreed with this mission because it can be dangerous for you. But you explained that even it is dangerous and risky, protecting Minister Lee and Dahee is still your mission. Jin knew your passion for work but he also agreed that you were careless and naive. Thus, he agreed with your decision but the team would be following you in another boat.

A couple of minutes later, You and Namjoon then joined Lee couple in the car to the dock. Namjoon never let go of your hand. He squeezed it lightly when you were approaching the dock. Your heart was racing the entire time, but Namjoon apparently knew a thing or two to calm your nerves. When your hand got clammy, he kissed the back of your hand. When you broke out in cold sweat, he kissed your temple. When you gulped nervously, he kissed your neck. When you bit your lips, he kissed your lips. Namjoon thought it would distract you away from your fear and panic, but he just made brand new trouble for you. You found his kisses are addicting. You must be going crazy.

The voices from your in-ear were not helping at all. Some groaned at all of the kissings he did. Well, it’s not that you were muted at all. And that’s how you stepped on the dock in heated cheeks after hearing Yoongi said that your moans were distracting the guys. That embarrassment was enough to distract you from your fear of water.

A young man dressed in sailor outfits welcomed you in the dock. He happily greeted the four of you. “Aloha! Welcome to Aphrodite! I am Ben. Are you Mr. Lee?”

Myunsoo nodded and his wife reached out his hand to shake him. “Hi! I am Mrs Lee. We brought guests too, is that okay?”

“Of Course! So you are?” Ben looked at you and Namjoon.

Namjoon was the one who reached out his hand to Ben. “Hi, I am Mr. Jung, and she is my wife. Thank you for having us aboard.”

“Great! So, you guys should put your shoes inside this box. Shoes are not allowed in the boat because it can be slippery. And after this, you should directly hang around in the deck, and keep yourself comfortable! We will be sailing in 15 minutes.”

Fifteen minutes later, the boat has finally moved to the sea. The sail was kind of smooth. The weather is nice. There is even booze in the boat. It should be a nice holiday. But instead, you were too terrified to walk. You just sat on the deck, slowly sipping your orange juice. You were not drinking any alcohol, well, this is work after all. You even couldn’t hear what Dahee and Myunsoo talk about. Namjoon told them any stories about his fake work just to distract them. He knew Dahee would want to talk to you, but you were not in that mood for socializing.

Myunsoo has never talked for a bit since you’ve met him. But it seems that Namjoon’s stories made him opened up. Apparently, he loves arts too. The sudden change of her husband also made Dahee shocked. She rarely finds his husband talks passionately with other person and it makes her happy. It seems that her decision to invite you to the boat is a great one. She doesn’t want to interrupt him nor Namjoon. But when she wanted to talk to you, you were drowned in your own thoughts, so she didn’t want to disturb you. After all, the sea has magical things for every people.

It has been a couple of hours after you sailed away. The boat suddenly stopped in the vast sea, almost made all the people on board fall. Dahee yelled to the captain, “Hey capt, why are we stopping? Is this the place for the dolphins?”

“Aloha! Welcome to Aphrodite! I am the captain of this ship.” A voice broke out in the speaker. That voice. You got goosebumps. Your hands began shaking. Your eyes darted to the man behind the steering wheel. “Nice to see you again, Agent Y/n.”

Namjoon eyes widened. He subconsciously moved you behind him. Just how did he find you? The guys have been more careful this time. They checked the boat thoroughly, contacted the renting company. They checked whoever hop on this boat.

“So, this is the famous agent Namjoon. I am glad to finally meet you. I really wanted to meet you 5 years ago.” A devilish laugh erupted. “And seriously, you should be more careful with your phone, you know.”

It’s bugged? You were furious. You wanted to confront him but Namjoon whispered to you. “Stand back.” You took a glance at Myunsoo and Dahee. Their faces were full of terror and confusion. You heard then in your in-ear that the guys will be coming in no time. Even they were following you, they still far away. You should stall him. You moved back to Myunsoo and Dahee to make sure they’re okay. After all, their safety is your priority.

“So, are you the one who sent the threat to Minister Lee?” Namjoon started. After Myunsoo heard his name, he was shocked. He knew nothing about threats.

“You got me there. But, I couldn’t believe that the company will send Y/n. I didn’t think they will be that stupid. It is just easier for me.” He moved from the steering wheel and walked down to the deck. He toyed the gun with his hand. Making Namjoon move back and stayed in front of you, Myunsoo, and Dahee. “I always wanted Y/n, you know. And now they sent her to me, I just can’t be any happier.”

You yelled. “What did you do to the staff? Did you kill James too?” your hands turned into fists.

“You really want to know?” Ji Seok asked coyly. “What do you want to know? How I did it? Or what’re their last words?”

Another death. “You are a fucking psychopath.” You glared at him.

“It’s all your fault, y/n! You were the one who killed all of my members and you always chase me like I am a lost puppy.” He laughed. “You are the reason for their deaths.”

Namjoon gritted his teeth. “What do you want Ji Seok?” He was suppressing himself from jumping to him. Come faster, guys.

“Just like before. Money.” He smirked.

Myunsoo yelled, “I will give you anything. Just please let us go.”

Ji Seok smirked. “And Y/n.”

Deg. Namjoon stepped exactly in front of you, covering you completely from Ji Seok’s sight. He glared at Ji Seok. “You are not getting Y/n.” never.

Your heart was racing quickly. You didn’t know what to do. You know Ji Seok is capable to kill anyone in this boat. He could kill Myunsoo and Dahee. He could kill Namjoon. Your Namjoon. You couldn’t let that happen. You patted Namjoon’s shoulder. “That’s okay, Joon. I will go. I can stall him.”

He grabbed your wrist tightly. “No fucking way, Y/N! I will not let you go.” You could see tears forming in his eyes for a bit and then your eyes got cloudy too. “You promised me you will never leave me again.” He begged.

You let your tears fell. “It’s the only way we can survive, Joon. You should know it. It gives the highest chance for the victims to survive.” You laughed dryly. “Where is my Namjoon who thinks logically?”

His throat was dry. He indeed knew what were you talking about. It’s the most logical thing for agents to do. But now, he is no agent. He is just Kim Namjoon. He is just a man who witnesses a woman leave him. A woman who holds a special place in his heart. And he will not let that woman go. “I- I don’t care. I will not let you go.”

“Joon..” you whined as you tried to release his grip. “I have to.”

“No.” Namjoon tightened his grip. You could see his tears finally fell. “You told me not to negotiate with terrorists.”

“It’s in the past Joon. I have to.” You jerked his hand. “I am sorry.” You ran from him, not looking back. You were afraid if you saw his face once more, your determination would be broken. There are also uproars inside your in-ear. All trying to stop you. “I am sorry guys.”

Namjoon cried, “He is going to kill you. Come back here.”

Suddenly Ji Seok laughed again. “Oh Y/n. Always tried the best to help people. Even though you know what’s gonna happen.” He moved his gun and aimed it to you. You could hear Dahee’s screaming behind you. Maybe it just bound to happen. You’re getting tired of chasing Ji Seok and being chased by him. Maybe it is just for the best.

Bang!

“Y/N!” Namjoon shouted.

Namjoon’s voice woke you. Just before the bullet come through you, you nudged and charge Ji Seok. No, I won’t give up. The bullet grazed your left cheek, but you didn’t care. You ran to him and hit his wrist until his gun fell. You kicked the gun to Namjoon who swiftly grabbed it. It feels like a dream. You fought Ji Seok, with Namjoon by your side. Well, behind you with the gun, but it still counts.

Ji Seok has fallen down from your kick. Before you kick another one, There’s a big wave. It caused you to stumble and lose your balance. Then Ji Seok grabbed your legs and pushed you from the boat. To the cold sea.

“Bastard!” Namjoon then shot Ji Seok before he moved. He shot him everywhere until he ran out of bullets. Namjoon turned blind eyes as he walked to already weak Ji Seok and locked Ji Seok to the ground. He punched him as hard and as many as he could. Namjoon couldn’t even see clearly. His eyes were clouded with tears and anger.

Until someone pulled him away to stop him from hitting Ji Seok. “Stop Joon, you don’t want to kill him.”

Namjoon stopped by the voice. Your voice. He turned his body to you. And he found you. You in his jacket. You with wounded cheek. You with wet hair and body. He pulled you into his chest, hugging you tightly. “I thought I gonna lose you.” He sighed in relief then released you. He cupped your face gently, studying your face. “Are you okay?”

You reached out to his face. “I am okay.” You assured. Namjoon then joined his lips with yours, a short one. He needed this kis. He needed to make sure that you’re alive in front of him. “We should tie him up before he awake.”

“Oh right.” He then released you and walked to Ji Seok. You turned to find Myunsoo and Dahee sat on the floor in each other embrace.

“Are you both okay? We’re sorry to make you see something so traumatizing. And personally, I want to apologize for lying to you. It’s just our job-“ Dahee ran to you and hugged you. You were perplexed by her action, but then you just hugged her back.

Dahee cried as she hugged you. “Oh my God, I am just glad you’re okay.” You released her and patted her. You then nodded to Myunsoo beside her.

“Y/N! Namjoon!” You heard Hoseok yelled. “Are you guys okay?” Finally, the other boat came.

You turned to the other guys and gave them a thumb up. “Just take him away please.”

They stopped the boat just beside your boat. Jungkook and Jin then took Ji Seok away from Namjoon. Luckily, Namjoon didn’t kill Ji Seok. Lucky, because there will be no paper to fill in. Hoseok and Yoongi then asked Myunsoo and Dahee to go to another boat. Taehyung and Jimin ran to you. Taehyung hugged you tightly and Jimin draped a dry towel on your shoulder. They also asked you and Namjoon to go with the other boat while they stay with Jungkook and Jin.

The boat ride was silent. All of them just relieved that it’s over. Namjoon has never left your side since he stepped on the boat. He draped you with another towel and sat in front of you. He cleaned your wound and cover it with a bandage. “It doesn’t look that deep. But I still think that it will scar. Let’s go to the hospital after this, alright?”

You just nodded. You then reach out your hands to him. His brows knitted in confusion. “I am cold.”

He then took your hands in him, rubbing them to make you warm and blowing them in his hands. You giggled as you saw what he did. “I just want to make you warm.” He said sheepishly. He stuttered. “I- I know you just went for a few minutes, but I really miss you. I am just really glad that you’re okay.” He kissed your hand softly.

“I am sorry.” You then leaned to him, stealing a light kiss which made Namjoon gawked. “But I am here now.”

Namjoon then pulled you into his arms, hugging you tightly. He rested his head on the nape of your neck, breathed in all of your smell. “You are here now.”

You both stayed for a moment in each other’s embrace. You couldn’t care with Yoongi and Hoseok yelled in disgust behind you, and the voices inside your in-ear. The moment is just yours and Namjoon’s. You only heard the sound of the sea, the wind, and each other’s breaths, but this time, you are not terrified. You feel happy. You feel completed. This time, the sea is your best friend.

You walked separate ways after arriving at the dock. Jin, Jungkook, Yoongi, and Jimin handled Ji Seok, while Hoseok and Taehyung escorted Myunsoo and Dahee back to the hotel and she hugged you before you parted ways. You and Namjoon went to the nearest hospital. Apparently, the doctors didn’t comment much after Namjoon explained that it caused by the coral reef. It was relieving actually.

Namjoon has never released your hand in the hospital. When you got stitches on your cheek, he just held your hand and kissed it several times. It was only when Namjoon got a call from Jin, he finally released your hand to take the call outside. Well, he tried to answer it inside, but the old nurse glared at him.

You walked outside after getting treatment, finding Namjoon in front of the hospital. “Hey, what did Jin say?”

Namjoon closed his phone and put in inside his pocket. He then put his hand on your shoulder to ask you to walk with him. “Jin has reported to the Company, and Ji Seok is the priority for now. So, they’re going back tonight.”

The hospital is not located near the sea, but you could still hear the sound of the wave in the distance. The sun has already set, but still, the sky has the orange hue. “So are you gonna be okay? Your job, I mean.” You asked warily.

“Maybe, it’s going to be a little problem. But I don’t really care.” He smiled as he looked at the sky. “Sometimes we fail, sometimes we don’t. I don’t need a perfect score in my job.”

“I am sorry I didn’t tell you before. I was so mad about you at that time.” You sighed. “Well, I still now.” You turned to him.

Namjoon stopped. “Why are you still mad? He has already been caught.”

“You called me obsessed and took me off the mission. And oh, I am not sure that you remembered that the data you used was mine?” You yelled at him. “And you didn’t even thank me for it!”

Namjoon was flabbergasted. “Well, you did obsessed!”

“No, I didn’t!”

“Oh, right! You just collected that thick binder of yours just for fun! Oh and not to mention how you spent 3 years after that mission to look for his whereabouts and almost got fired. How about when you took ‘a leave’ just to chase him and almost died?” Namjoon shrugged and yelled. “Yeah, that looks like a nice hobby for me!”

“I-“

“Well, you know what another nice hobby that people in restraining order do? Oh, they love to follow their exes as a hobby!”

“STOP IT!” You were fuming and turned your back to him. “You are a jerk.” You walked away from him.

Namjoon then grabbed your hand to stop you. “Look, I am sorry that I hurt your feeling, okay?” He scratched his neck and sighed. “I took you off because I thought it could be dangerous for you, okay? You worked with too many emotions and I was just afraid that you would do things without thinking.”

“That’s wrong! I still went and guess what? I was right? You-“

“Can I please at least explain myself first?” he said softly. You pouted. “I’ll admit that it was not a wise decision. I didn’t think that your obses- I mean I didn’t think you would still go to the negotiation. You were right. I am sorry for not listening to you before and thank you for saving my team at that time.”

You just looked at your feet. “Our friend died, you know.”

Namjoon walked closer to you and rested your head on his chest. “I know.” He patted your head softly. “I wasn’t a good leader.”

You shook your head. “No. You are a good agent, and a good leader.”

“But still, Why you didn’t tell me?” He cupped your face. “I knew you didn’t tell me not just because you were mad at me.”

“I just didn’t want you to to get trouble. You looked happy.” You fiddled your-Namjoon’s jacket.

Namjoon felt his chest swelling. He couldn’t believe what you did for him. “I am just sad, you know, I should be the one who helped you 2 years ago.” He pouted.

You giggled and put one hand to his cheek, poking the location of his dimple. “Well, it was a dangerous situation. You wouldn’t handle it.” You said jokingly.

He moved your body and cornered you on the sidewalk. “Hey, I am better now. I bet that I can defeat you.”

You raised one of your eyebrows. “Really? Let’s do it then.” You leaned to his face. “What do you want to bet on?”

“You.” He said happily. He leaned forward too, until you could feel his breath on your face. “If I win, you will have to go on a date with me.”

You could feel your heart leaped up for joy. You smiled widely. “I thought that we have passed that date, but sure.” You tiptoed and gave him a kiss on his cheek. “Deal.”

He couldn’t hide his smile. He just took your hand again and walked. “Wanna walk around for a bit before we return to the hotel?”

“I thought we go home tonight?” you asked.

“No, I requested temporary leave for us. We can have a holiday for some days.”

It has been a while since you walked like a normal person, not as an agent. You have worked so much in these past years. The only outing you went was just eating with Jimin. Every holiday you got was spent in your apartment, working or maybe sleeping. This is a new situation for you and you like it. Namjoon has talked about how he spent most of his time working with Jin. How he was mad when Jin told a joke during a mission in his in-ear. And you talked about how Jimin raided your apartment and threw almost all of your clothes when you were away. It’s just like when you both just recruited, when you and Namjoon spent the night just talking to each other. You missed this.

It’s been almost midnight, but you still walked on the beach by the hotel. Time does fly so fast when you are with someone you care about. Namjoon ran around like a little boy and yelled happily when he found a little crab. “So, do you still afraid of water?” you barefooted and walked on the coast. Letting your feet wet with seawater.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I do.” You sighed. “it sucks.”

Suddenly Namjoon stopped and pulled you to him. He cupped your face gently. His face features were lightened by the moon, and he was beautiful. “I know it’s hard. But you will not be alone, okay? All of the other guys will help you.”

“I know. I have you.” You smiled sheepishly. You gazed into his black eyes.

His jaw clenched. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Your brows frowned. “like what?”

“Like you want me.” He diverted his eyes from you, avoiding your eyes.

You gulped. “What if I want you?”

He gruntled and crashed his lips on yours. His lips moved languidly with yours, molding your lips. His hands moved to your neck and he pulled you closer. You melted in his kiss. He bit your lower lips harshly. He parted his lips and pushed his tongue in. His tongue explored your mouth like he wanted to steal your breath away. You could smell his sweetness mixed with the saltiness of the sea and that’s intoxicating. You felt a heat slowly gathered to your core. His hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer to him. You moaned softly as he grinded his hips on you on purpose and you could feel his hardness underneath his shorts. “I want you.” As he released on your lips, he grazed his lips on your neck. Kissing every part of your neck until your knees went weak.

“Take me.” You moaned. “here..”

He cursed silently. “No, let’s go back to our room. I don’t want people to see your body.” He bit your earlobe. “This body is just for me.”

The walk to the room was messy. It was hard for you to stay sober. And it was getting harder when Namjoon grinding his erection to your ass in the elevator. You almost took him right there in the elevator. You need him badly.

You opened your room hastily, while Namjoon kissing your neck from behind. Just as the door closed, your lips attached again to his. He removed your-his-jacket and threw it on the floor and you messily open his shirt’s button. As his shirt thrown too, you couldn’t believe what you saw. His golden skin glowing in the moonlight from the window. He’s just beautiful.

He walked you to the bed until the back of your knees hit the bed. “I want to see you.”

You nervously pulled your zipper down and let your dress fell to the ground. Your arms subconsciously were thrown across your chest, covering your body. You could feel the embarrassment rushing in. He kissed your neck again. “Don’t hide for me. You’re beautiful.” His hand moved to your back to unclasp your bra and threw it to the ground. He then guided your back to fall to the bed. His lips crashed to your lips again. He moved his lips to below your neck. He kissed your chest, leaving a trail of saliva and sucked it gently. He wanted to know that you’re his. He kissed every part of your body and he stopped on your scars. He kissed and licked your scar below your clavicle, and the big scar in the center of your stomach. “These scars, they’re beautiful.”

You moaned as his hot tongue licked your side scars, sending shivers through your spine. “Joon.. Touch me.”

Without any waiting, he grazed his calloused fingers to your nipples. You could feel a jolt in you. He played with your breast while pinched your nipples which made you go crazy. You could feel your nipples hardened and then he leaned in and put your nipples inside his mouth. He flicked it with his tongue, nibbled it while his hand played with your other breast. As he moved his lips to your other breast, his hand moved to your thigh. He slowly opened your thighs while touching your inner thigh. He then sneaked under your underwear to touch your core. You’ve already so wet, basically, your underwear has soaked already. “So wet, just for me.”

Namjoon then took your pants off and threw it aside. He moved his head between your thigh, your core exposed. You’re so embarrassed. You’ve never been this exposed before. Just as you want to close your thighs, Namjoon held your thigh open. Namjoon found your clit soon after. He circling your clit and running to the slit of your fold. The touches were enough to make you shiver. “Joon..”

“Let me make you feel good.” Just before you said anything. He kissed you hardened bud lightly. He flicked your bud rapidly and made your back arching. He moved down as he licked your fold. Just in front of your heated core, he pushed his finger into you. “You’re so tight and wet.”

“I need you, Joon.” You begged.

“Gonna stretch you well first, baby.” Namjoon then thrust his finger in and out. He darted his lips on your nub and suck it gently again. You moaned whenever he flicked your clit. And he just knew that it’s your sensitive part, so he just attacked it again. You turned into a ball of moans as you moaned his name repeatedly. He could feel how your core was clenched around his finger that you’re close. He pumped his finger and increasing his pace. He even rub your sensitive spot inside which made you toe curled. “Come to me, baby. You can do it.”

His tongue still flicked your nub and your hand subconsciously grip his hair. Your breaths became uneven. You could feel the knot inside your stomach tightened and your thighs shaking uncontrollably. You automatically grinded your hips into his face to ride your orgasm. He licked your cum in your sensitive core skillfully, made you trembled every time he swiped his hot tongue.

“Beautiful.” He then kissed you passionately. You could taste yourself in his lips. He grinded his clothed hips to you. Your hand moved to his shorts open them. Seeing your frustration, he released from you and took off his shorts and underwear, leaving him completely naked.

“You are beautiful too.” You pulled him and kissed him again. Now you could feel his warm member grinding inside your thigh. Every time he touched you would moan his name. “I want you.”

He gritted his teeth. “I want this as slow as I can. But whenever you begged like that, I just want to slam my cock inside your warm pussy.”

“We have so much time after this. I just want to feel you now.” Just after you said it. He ran the head on your slick to gather your wetness. He then positioned himself in front of your core and pushed it slowly.

“Oh my God. You’re so tight.” He pushed it slowly until his entire length deep inside you. You felt slight pain with this stretch and you let out a small whimper. “Am I hurting you?”

You shook your head. “No, I just need a moment. You’re so big.” You waited until your pain subdued. You have never felt this full before. You love how his warm cock inside you. “Please move, Joon.”

He put all of his weight on his arms and putting his arms on the bed, caging your body. He pulled out his cock until just his head remains inside you and thrust into again. He began pumping in and out while you whimpering and moaned in delight. This felt so good. He then angled his hip a bit and hit the sweet spot inside you which made you clenched his cock involuntarily. “Baby, you felt so good. I don’t think I am gonna last long.”

You could feel the knot inside your stomach began to tighten. “Joon, I am gonn-.”

“I know, baby. Me too.” His pumping became more sloppy. “Can I come inside you?”

You nodded as you moaned. “Y-yes. Please come inside me. Fill me with yours.”

“Fuck. You’re so hot, you know that?” He then leaned to you and kissed you. His hand move to your clit and rubbing it. Your orgasm hit you stronger this time. Namjoon could feel how your walls clenched and pulsing against in his cock. After a few thrusts, he thrust you deep and cumming inside you. Painting your walls with his seed and falling on the top of your body.

The room filled with your moans and smell of sex. You both started to control your breaths. His cock was softening inside you and you felt his cum mixed with yours started seeping out. He began to release himself from you, and you whimpered with the sudden emptiness inside you.

Namjoon stood and walked to the bathroom. You couldn’t bother to sit, you were tired but happy. Namjoon then back with a warm towel and began to clean your messy core. “I really wanted to make this messier. But, maybe later.”

You giggled, “We can have as many as we want, Joon.” You reached out your hands. “Just sleep with me now.”

Namjoon then wrapped you inside his arms. Your head rested on his broad chest. Your chest swelled with happiness. You have never felt this before. You felt completed. You sunk your head on his chest deeply as your body trembled. Namjoon noticed this, but he just stroked your hair and back. “I am here, babe.”

“Thank you for saving me, Joon.” You choked as you wrapped your arms around him. Then you fell asleep again, lulled by his warm hands on your body.

Namjoon just smiled. You were sleeping naked beside him, scars on you, but you are still the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. He pulled the blanket to cover both of you. He swiped your hair behind your ear, to see you carefully. Namjoon realized, you are indeed hurt and struggling. You were a broken vase that shattered into pieces. You were having a hard time to glue it together. But, still, a broken vase will never be like before. It’s just bound to be thrown away.

He remembered how he talked to Myunsoo this afternoon. How Myunsoo finally won the bidding of a cracked vase for $10000. At first, he thought Myunsoo was insane, why did he even buy a cracked vase for such a high price? Myunsoo then explained that the vase was broken in the first place, but now the vase is repaired by mending with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold. Thus, a broken vase turns to something more beautiful and useful. It was the philosophy of Kintsugi, we shouldn’t throw away broken objects, instead we should try to repair things, and its breakage can become valuable. Not only the kintsugi vase hid the breakages, but it also illuminates them with gold.

You were still his broken vase, broken by all of the traumatic events and your negative experiences. You tried your best to disguise and hide them. But it is not the only way. You should look for a way to cope with all of those scars positively, and wear it with pride because it is your part of your history. And he wants to help you.

Maybe Namjoon is not THE perfect person for you. Sometimes he is selfish, he is clumsy, and he is not as strong as you. But he is a hard worker and he has something that might help you mending all your scars. Something that can be as valuable as gold.

Namjoon tightened his hug and kissed the top of your head softly.

“I love you, y/n.”

Epilogue

“So Yeah, that’s what happened,” Jin explained. He was in his boss’s office. The Hawaii mission just ended a week ago. Ji Seok still on the investigation, but with that many pieces of evidence, it was unlikely that he could be free.

The boss put his arms across his chest and nodded. “Alright. Thank you. You can go.”

As Jin walked towards the door, he turned to face his boss. “You knew about Black, about Ji Seok, About Y/n, and everything, didn’t you?”

The boss just smiled meaningfully. “I might know some things.”

“Why you let that happen to Y/n and Namjoon?” His brows knitted, he knew that his Boss is a smart and wonderful man, he respects him. But why in the hell he let those dangerous things happened to his agents?

The boss sighed. He stood up and faced the window. “You know right, that Y/n and Namjoon are great agents?”

Jin walked to the desk. “I know about that! That’s why-“

“And you should know that not only Y/n has a weakness. Namjoon too.”

Jin raised one of his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“Y/N has always been an emotional agent since the beginning. The way she uses her emotions and affects the work is one of her weaknesses, plus now she also has PTSD after that incident in Hawaii. Eventhough she is a great agent, she is still a young woman. She needs to be loved and respected. Furthermore, Namjoon has always been a logical agent. He excels in everything. But one thing he lacks at, He is selfish. He never understands nor experiences what does it feel to lose someone he loves so dearly. He lacks compassion.” The boss turned to Jin.

Jin’s jaw just dropped. “Wow. You do know everything, don’t you? So that’s your intention of why you put them together?”

The boss replied with a smile. “Of course. I just want my agents to be the best.”

Jin could see from the glass door, you and Namjoon giggling in the aisle. Namjoon has never looked at you, or any other person, like that before. And you have never seen with a smile since 2 years ago, but now you are smiling widely to Namjoon. “How do you know that they love each other?”

He laughed. His eyes turned into a crescent. “I just knew.”

First series: Done! Go check the other series because *sst... It’s all connected!

Series Masterlist: The Company

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scarpool-gmk · 3 years

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Title: Godly Marine: Killed Author: Scarpool Fandom(s): NCIS, Percy Jackson & the Olympians Pairing(s): Gen Rating: PG/K+ Summary: Chapter 7 (9/13) — Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale, Marine Corps Mechanic and Son of Athena, was murdered. Annabeth Chase is determined to find out who did it and why. She, along with Percy Jackson, Grover Underwood, and Clarisse La Rue, infiltrate NCIS where they team up with NCIS Agents Leroy Gibbs, Anthony DiNozzo, Timothy McGee, and Ziva David. Complete Genre: Fanfiction, Mystery, Drama, Humour, General, Action Warnings: N/A

Gibbs's command to 'bring them all' was still ringing in Tony's head as he finished dropping off the Kahale kids in the conference room. Their father was waiting for questioning.

The elevator dinged, signaling Ziva's and Gibbs's arrival. They lead Patricia Kahale in, Ziva taking point and escorting her to interrogation.

Tony walked next to Gibbs to report. "One in interrogation, the rest in the conference room."

Gibbs nodded and glanced around the bullpen. "Where are they?"

The long Island Agents. "Uh, don't know, Boss. They weren't here when we came back."

Gibbs lifted an eyebrow but stayed silent.

"So, how do you want to do this, Boss?"

"Let's start with the father."

Tony snatched the case file as they passed his desk. Then, not because he had an urge to share his current opinion, Tony said, "And the evil step-mother?"

"Let her stew."

"Right, Boss. How about the kids?"

"Have McGee bring them down. He's in charge of any incoming calls."

"Right." Tony started for the center stairs.

"Hey!" Gibbs called out. "You're with me. Write to him or something."

Tony frowned as he followed Gibbs. Although interrogation was way more fun than dealing with McProbie and the kids, Tony was uncomfortable that Gibbs wanted him to send a postcard through the building.

"Write to him?"

"Through your phone," Gibbs said.

"Oh! Er, you mean send a text."

Gibbs stopped in his tracks. Tony cringed. "I'm writing to him, Boss."

Gibbs continued on, leading them to the interrogation wing and pushed open a door even though he was never told in which room the man was being held in. Tony shuddered. The Gind. What power it beholds.

"Hey, what's going on?" Johnathan Kahale questioned as they entered. "You said this was about my son? What's going on with the investigation?"

"Mr. Kahale," Tony said, "This is Special Agent Gibbs."

"Hi," Kahale said and, after a brief hesitation, held his hand out. Gibbs shook in greeting.

"So, you are also on Michael's case? I had only met two other agents before being picked up by Agent David and Agent DiNozzo here. I didn't realize how big your teams are."

"Yeah," Gibbs chuckled, "I'm getting that a lot recently."

"Oh," Kahale said, unsurely. Tony understood. He would have said the same thing to that.

"So, how long is this going to take? With the kids here, I should really speak to my wife."

"Your wife is also here, Mr. Kahale," Tony said.

"Really? Can I please see her?"

"No," Gibbs said.

"What? Why not?"

"You are both suspects," Gibbs said.

"Excuse me?! I don't know how you came to that conclusion, Agent Gibbs, but I assure you that neither of us had anything to do with my son's death."

"Then I'm sure you can account for your whereabouts during that time," Tony said.

"I was home."

"Asleep?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes."

"Your wife?"

"Right beside me."

"Did you know about Michael's presence in the area?" Tony asked.

"It's like I told the other agents. No."

"And your wife?" Gibbs asked.

"No."

Gibbs reached into the case file and placed a sheet down.

"Explain," Gibbs said.

"I don't understand," Kahale said. "Are these my phone records?"

"Yeah," Tony said, "There were three calls during the night. One of which you made. You called Michael."

"How do you know it was Michael? It could've been anyone."

"Like who?" Tony asked. "Who would you call at one in the morning that used a number that magically disappeared after use?"

There were a couple of 'um's and 'well's as Kahale fished for an answer. And Gibbs was able to fill in Kahale's awkward moment. "Adrian Rodriguez."

Johnathan Kahale blinked. "Who?"

"Don't know him?" Tony said, hoping to get any sort of recognition, although it was apparent the name was meaningless to the man. "First Lieutenant Adrian Rodriguez. He was assigned to the same ship as your son. He used the same technique Michael used. Make a call. Dump the phone. You have quite the phone history. Remarkably, so do the First Lieutenant's parents. In fact, most of the calls you received from out of service numbers align perfectly with the First Lieutenant's folks. Gap lengths and all. Same day. Same hour. Same location."

Kahale sighed heavily. "It was Michael."

"Why'd you call him?" Gibbs asked.

"Wanted to set up a place to meet?" Tony suggested. "A place to kill him?"

"No! Never!"

"So why lie about contacting him?" Tony asked. "Was it your wife? She doesn't like him. That much is obvious. So what? Keep it hidden? Keep the son you had with another woman a little secret?"

"Michael wasn't some dirty secret!"

"He went missing," Gibbs said.

"Yeah," Tony said, adding some interpretation to that topic. "Why did he run away?"

Kahale shifted in his seat. "He didn't run away," he said. But his posture displayed the doubt he had. Interesting. If he had communicated with his son, shouldn't he have known the answer to that?

Gibbs opened the file again and placed down pictures of Michael's body in autopsy. He also placed down Ducky's official report. "He had tissue and muscle scars old enough to have been done before he disappeared," Gibbs said.

Kahale's eyes flashed up at Gibbs. "You imply that he had ever been beaten in my home, Agent Gibbs?"

"He was different," Tony said, hoping to diffuse the situation and redirect some of the clear revulsion from Kahale onto himself. "No pictures. No social life. Behavioral problems. No steady school. Mother doesn't exist. Who was she? Just some random chick?"

"She wasn't random. And she wasn't just some chick. She was intelligent. Exquisite. Knowledgeable about every subject. Well-travelled. Skilled beyond measure. She knew me before I even laid eyes on her. She's a goddess. And I fell for her, even knowing the consequences."

Wow. Tony might be jealous if his partner lit up like that about a previous flame that had no records. Not to mention, bringing a kid into the picture.

"I loved his mother. I still do. No matter how much she may now despise me. And I love Michael. I could never blame him for any of the things he brought with him. How could I blame him?"

'Blame him?'

"What happened?" Gibbs asked.

"Why'd he leave?" Tony said.

Kahale let out a breath. "He wanted to find his mother's relatives."

"Is she dead?" Tony asked.

Kahale shrugged. How helpful.

"You didn't know where they were?" Gibbs asked.

"No."

"So, what," Tony said, wrapping his head around this idea. "You just let a ten-year-old kid travel the country? Unsupervised? Alone? With not a clue where to go?"

"It wasn't planned," Kahale said, "He didn't say anything; he just left."

"But," Tony dragged the vowel out. "You were okay with his disappearance?"

The silence was the confirmation.

This was crazy! Who would do that? No, scratch that. Tony knew the answer to that. But these people just didn't fit that profile. This guy had to be lying. He was just following the given story, hoping that it would pan out.

"Well," Tony said, "that would explain why a couple of lawyers sent a missing person file knowing nothing would happen."

"Get someone to review his statements," Gibbs said, packing up the case file. "You're not charged with murder yet, but you will be charged with a list of other crimes."

Tony flung the door out dramatically. "Yeah, like child neglect."

Gibbs walked out, and Tony started to close the door, slowing down so it wouldn't close too fast. He waited for Kahale to plea. To bargain. To let loose.

But he didn't. And Tony had to eventually close the door. The click as empty as the amount of nothing they had gotten from that interrogation.

-Ζήβα-

Ziva sat on the corner of the table as Gibbs took up his spot on the chair.

Patricia Kahale sat on the other chair, hands folded and eyes pointed straight at the one-way viewing glass. She had remained silent on the car ride over. Interestingly enough, she had not requested a lawyer even though promising she would when last questioned.

Gibbs placed down the profiles of the two children, Jeremy Swallar and Natasha Hibashira.

"Last time you were here," Gibbs started, "You told me you did not recognize them."

Gibbs waited for a reaction. Mrs. Kahale did not so much as avert her gaze.

"Mrs. Kahale?" Ziva asked. 'If this is how it's going to be, we might as well just cut-'

"Who's on the other side?"

Ziva blinked, forced out of her thoughts.

"Another agent," Gibbs said.

"One of yours?"

"Yes."

"No one else?"

"No, just my guy."

"Good."

Ziva remembered how Mrs. Kahale reacted to Agent La Rue and seemed to dislike Agent Jackson. Did she know something they did not?

Gibbs tapped on the pictures. "You said you didn't know them."

Mrs. Kahale glanced at them. "I did."

"You lied."

"A mistake, surely."

"You were seen talking to them at a bar," Ziva said.

"What did you say to them?" Gibbs asked.

"I didn't say anything to them," Kahale stated. "Besides, aren't they a little young to be at a bar unaccompanied?"

"Who said they were unaccompanied?" Ziva asked.

"Was that not what you implied? Why would I talk to them, if they had their parents with them?"

Ziva had to hand it to Kahale. She could dance. Ziva gave her a little smile. If only just.

"They were looking for a ride," Ziva said, "We believe you suggested them to go to Tarsibo. He is your client, after all."

"I did not speak to them."

"You don't want to talk about them. Fine," Gibbs said, "How about we talk about your stepson. You haven't seen him for years?"

"No."

"You haven't spoken to him?"

"No."

"Your husband was," Gibbs said.

"N-" Mrs. Kahale stopped and threw them a questioning look. "If he was, I have no knowledge of that."

Ziva frowned. "So, you did not know that your husband was in regular contact with Michael?"

"No."

"Did you know your husband called him right before he died?" Ziva asked.

"No."

"You told me you didn't know he joined the Marines. Did you not know what happened to him? That he was even alive? Did you not care? Your husband never told you anything, and you never asked?"

"No," Mrs. Kahale said.

Ziva leaned back. One word for all of her questions. She was used to it, but Gibbs at least cared.

"I suppose it was his way of respecting my desire to not be a part of it," Mrs. Kahale said. She scoffed. "His way of shielding me from that side of his life."

"His ex-wife," Gibbs clarified.

"She was never his wife," Mrs. Kahale said.

Gibbs shrugged. "Your husband had a kid with her. He speaks very highly of her. I would understand if you were resentful."

Mrs. Kahale glared at him. "I don't hate her, Agents," she said, "But if she's so smart, why does she make so many rash decisions? I'll tell you why. Selfishness. Pride. She doesn't have to deal with the consequences of her actions. Someone else always deals with them."

Ziva raised an eyebrow. Yes. Definitely resentful.

"Sounds like you know her," Gibbs said.

"No. But I've heard plenty of stories."

"What kind of stories?" Ziva asked.

"Dramas."

Gibbs hummed. "You would describe them as tragedies?"

Mrs. Kahale lifted her chin. "I would."

"Like the epic stories of the Greek myths," Gibbs said.

Mrs. Kahale said nothing.

"Your husband said she was a goddess. So, was he a part of some cult?"

Mrs. Kahale kept silent.

Ziva narrowed her eyes. The woman obviously did not like whatever it was her husband and this mystery woman were a part of. Why keep silent?

"You can tell us what's going on," Ziva said, "We will help you. Why don't you say anything? Are you being threatened? Your children are here and safe."

Mrs. Kahale swallowed. "It's nothing like that."

Oh, but it was. There was a response at the indication of being threatened and her kids, just as clear as to when Gibbs mentioned Greek myths.

"The kids," Gibbs said, tapping the pictures. "How do they fit in this?"

The woman looked down and took a breath, collecting herself. Ziva sat back. 'Just when we were making progress.' Were they looking at this wrong? Were the kids simply an unrelated event?

Patricia gave an annoyed huff. "As I already told you-"

The files flew from the desk. Gibbs was frustrated. Ziva did not envy this woman. He slammed his hands on the table, glaring down at her. "Then tell me something new. And make it the truth."

No. Ziva did not envy this woman at all.

The door clicked open.

Gibbs turned his death glare at McGee.

"Um, B-Boss," he stammered, "you really need to know this."

Ziva quickly followed after Gibbs. Although apparently suicidal, McGee was still a dear friend, and Ziva wouldn't like to see Gibbs murder him.

Gibbs growled. "What."

McGee nervously wet his lips.

"Well, Ducky has already released his findings. All these reporters who were following the case got them and reported the info to their respective medias. Reshaun Sachs, the bartender; you knew that, of course- well know, you haven't forgotten. Well, he decided to find out what was going on since his business is obviously involved and-"

Oh no. McGee was rambling. And Gibbs's face was darkening with each word. Would her gun be helpful? Or perhaps her knife would be more practical. She decided on simply clearing her throat. Loudly. McGee stuttered to a stop. Ziva gave him a pointed look.

Ziva was relieved when she saw his face alight with understanding.

"Patricia Kahale was at The Drowsy Owl during the time of death. She could not have killed Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale."

-Αντώνης-

Tony did not like this.

He watched as Gibbs and Ziva entered the interrogation room.

"You are free to go, Mr. Kahale," Ziva said.

"Thank you. If I can just see my wife, then we can-"

"Your wife isn't cleared," Gibbs said.

"What?"

"She admitted to killing your son."

"What?! No! She couldn't have."

"How do you know?" Ziva said, clicking the door shut behind her.

"She was at home."

"Weren't you home as well?"

"Yes, but- she just couldn't have done it."

"We know," Gibbs said, taking a seat. "Although not in your house, she is witnessed being at a bar during the time of the murder."

"Then you know she didn't do it. That she's innocent."

"Mr. Kahale, aren't you curious as to why she would be at a bar so late at night?" Ziva asked. "Not telling you and lying that she was?"

"Maybe she was meeting with her friends. I trust my wife."

"Have any idea as to whom these friends might be?" Gibbs said.

"No, I did not see them."

"What did they tell you?"

"Nothing. As I said. I did not see them."

"But you spoke with them. You received a call before and after you spoke with Michael. A blocked number."

"You had to be awake to answer your phone. You had to have known your wife was not lying asleep next to you. Why did you lie?"

"No, I-"

"Did you follow her?" Ziva said.

"Were you at your house?" Gibbs asked.

"Ye-"

"We have your kids here," Ziva said, "We can ask them."

"How about you ask them?" Gibbs said.

"Stop, please-"

"Maybe," Gibbs said, "you can tell them why you killed their brother."

"THEY HAD HER!" Mr. Kahale screamed. "They had Patty! And they were going to kill her! Unless…unless…"

"Unless you killed Michael," Ziva finished for him.

A gasp broke Tony's attention away from the interrogation room to the reason he was placed behind the glass. Patricia Kahale stood next to him with her hands over her mouth, staring intently at the scene before her.

"I warned him. I called him. They gave me a car and a bullet. I needed to save my wife. I wanted him to help me. But he said there was no time and that there was no one in D.C. that could help."

He bowed his head. "They had my wife," he sobbed.

"No," Patricia whispered.

"She's not part of this life," Mr. Kahale said, "She shouldn't die from it. How could I have brought her into it?"

"No," Patricia said again, and the look in her eyes gave Tony a bad feeling. "John, no!"

Tony was a half-second too late. The woman ran out of the viewing room. Tony sped out after her to see her flinging the interrogation room open.

"How could you do it?!" She cried.

"Boss," Tony said, "I'm sorry she just…" He stopped as Gibbs held a hand up.

"I'm sorry," Mr. Kahale said, "But I couldn't let you be involved. I couldn't let them have you! And you came back home and didn't say anything, acting fine-"

"I was always involved! Michael's stench led them to our family even after he left. They threatened to take me, you, our kids. They told me what they did to people."

"You took up a deal," Gibbs said, "You help them get what they wanted, they leave you alone."

Mrs. Kahale nodded.

"How many are there?"

"Too many. It's a nest that has grown through some sort of pact between them all, and nothing is killing them."

"Why didn't you call the police?" Ziva asked her.

"That would just make things worse. Besides, Michael has obviously delivered a message to his people."

Gibbs froze for a second.

"Boss?" Tony asked. What was going on?

Gibbs snapped out of it. "You two," he told the Kahales, "Stay."

He stalked out of the room. Ziva and Tony followed, having to jog to keep up with him. Tony quickly texted McGee a heads up and to send the Kahale kids back upstairs. When Gibbs took the stairs, they knew whatever he figured out was bad.

"McGee!" Gibbs barked. "Search the Long Island team."

"But I already- okay," McGee easily complied, after looking at his boss, "Looking up Lima."

McGee shared his screen on the plasma as he loaded up the federal database.

"No," Gibbs said, "Not Lima. Don't go through any federal sites."

"Um, okay? Doing an internet search of Percy Jackson."

"News sites," Gibbs said.

"Boss there are hundreds of Percy Jacksons," McGee scrolling through articles, "We'll never find-"

"That one," Gibbs pointed.

It was an article from a few years ago. "Percy Jackson, Criminal or Victim?" The photo had an image of a young, disheveled Percy Jackson. And by his side…

McGee was freaking out. "Boss, I'm sorry. Their profiles should have-"

"Her," Gibbs pointed, "Age her up to now."

"Right. Aging."

McGee cut out the photo of the blonde and plugged it into the program. He had wisely shut his trap. As the image began to come into focus, Tony felt his heart stop. There was no denying it.

"Gibbs," Ziva said, quietly, "That's-"

BANG! Gibbs slammed his desk drawer closed and shoved his firearm in its place at his hip. There was utter silence in the bullpen as Gibbs strode off.

A few seconds later, Tony was the first to move. No matter how angry Gibbs was, Tony was still a cop. The rest of his teammates quickly followed.

They left the image of Annabeth Chase, otherwise known as NCIS Special Agent Anne Lima, on the screen behind them.

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need-a-new-hobby · 4 years

Text

The Boogeyman

summary: oc is dr. piper bishop. you may find a full profile on my tumblr (soon). her qualifications are 4 Ph.Ds in different branches of psychology, a master’s in history and bachelor’s in literature all by 22 (I wanted her to compete w/ reid). based on S2E6: The Boogeyman

When her honey-brown eyes fluttered awake, it was still dark. 5:30 am. She rose out of bed, rubbing her eyes, like a child waking up on a Sunday morning. Slipping on her ruby slippers, she staggered to the kitchen, remnants of last night’s class schedule and history projects strewn across her beige countertop, to make a cup of tea. It was strange, here in Ozona, to drink iced coffee, never mind tea. She set the kettle, pulled her long cardigan to cover her chest and regarded the manor in the woods. The whistle shattered her gaze at the dilapidated house.

In Virginia, 6 agents discussed the death of two children in the middle of Texas. "Nicholas Faye of Ozona, Texas, was beaten to death roughly 13 hours ago. Blunt force trauma to the head," JJ sighed. There was never a good day nor time to deliberate on innocent and defenceless children. But she’d worked this job too long to slip into that pattern of doom and gloom. "He’s the second young boy to die the same way in the last 2 months. A local hunter found his body in the woods. First victim’s name, Robbie Davis."

"Are these boys connected somehow?" asked Morgan.

"Ozona’s population is roughly 2 500. Everyone has some kind of connection."

"Well, if they weren’t linked before they certainly are now." Morgan wore the same grim expression of exasperation as JJ. The agents agreed that they were both murdered by the same offender who was hunting children. The repulsiveness wasn’t lost on any of them.

^-^

Piper Bishop was a history teacher. She asked herself why every day. Every day she’d sit on her front porch, sipping on tea, asking why. Her entire life, she’d wanted to help people, and her entire life, she questioned if it was enough. She wasn’t smart enough to go to medical school, her father had made sure she understood that at most. Her clear preference for the humanities was seen as repulsive, condemned for "supporting these damn bleeding-heart liberals". Neither were Daniel’s remarks lost on her either. She remembered her last reunion with her siblings. "You have 4 Ph.Ds Pipes," he’d said, blues gazing at browns. "Why are you teaching school kids?" She’d find the answer every time a young girl whispered about a bully in her ear, every time a young boy bared his scars to her. She’d tried doing the psychiatry gig, but the stigma behind her patients meant she had none. Her father’s words still stuck to her. Though she’d shaken him off, his voice became her own. What if he is right though? What if you really won’t amount to anything? Piper laughed at her own absurdity. She’d almost missed the sunrise. The warm sun peeking out at her behind the trees melted away all her doubts. "Time for school Dr. Bishop."

^-^

"You guys hear Elle was cleared?" Spencer sat down with his cup of hot coffee next to Derek. Well, more sugar than coffee anyway.

"Self-defence," Derek stated, flipping through the files, with an air of disbelief.

"So it was a good shoot." Derek turned towards the young agent.

"She hit what she was aiming for." JJ commented without a glance at the two men in front of her, eyes focused on the case at hand.

"That’s not what I meant."

"I know." The blonde agent said.

"If they cleared her," Morgan asked, "then how come she’s not here with us? Or Hotch?"

"Focus on the case," Gideon reprimanded, seated away from them. Taking it as a sign to change the conversation, JJ handed out the autopsy reports. Morgan then suggested the bludgeoning was a form of frustration or rage.

"With no apparent sexual motivation," Reid added, "that’s rare when the victims are this young."

"The unsure is taking pleasure from the kill itself." Gideon contributed.

"If it’s not sexual, what’s the significance in killing young males?"

"Most serial killers prey upon specific types to carry out fantasies of revenge.” Spencer answered, drawing on his memory. “Bundy killed women that looked like an ex-girlfriend who jilted him, Dahmer claimed that schoolyard harassment federal into his fury."

"Okay, so maybe these kids represent someone who victimised the offender?"

"Unlikely," JJ replied, "they just found another body. 11 year old girl."

^-^

Piper glanced over her desk quickly once more. Her worksheets were ready, her timeline of Alexander the Great was drawn up and her map of Alexander’s territory was pinned, dotted with little flags and sketched out. She was determined to make this module the best one yet to make up for the tension in the classroom. She’d already lost 2 kids to that coward in the woods, she wasn’t about to lose a third. The Persian horde had arrived and the young doctor opened the gates to receive the 45 little kids raging to their beloved history teacher. No, 43 now, she chided herself. Closing the door, she mentally reminded her to control her emotions. She turned to face her little devils, "Who’s ready to fight the Macedons?"

Her warm eyes flitted across the desks. That was weird. Three desks were empty this time. "Has anyone seen Sarah?" She entertained her class for a while and told them to take a worksheet each while she made a call. Piper popped her head into Mr Davison’s class and asked him to keep an eye on her class. She tapped her fingers erratically while the administration office checked up on Mrs Peterson. "Well,?"

"Dr. Bishop, Sarah’s not at home either."

Piper took a shaky breath before entering her classroom. She’ll be fine. She probably got lost on her way to school. The police will do their job. Relax.

"Okay, who can tell me who Alexander is?"

Hailey jumped up and recited, "Alexander III of Macedon, commonly known as Alexander the Great, was a king of the ancient Greek kingdom of Macedon and a member of the…" The young brunette stumbled. Piper could see the happiness leech from the young girl’s face.

"Argead dynasty, idiot." Jeffrey yelled, sticking his tongue out. "She can’t even speak. Are you dumb, Hailey?"

"Enough, Jeffrey, don’t you ever put someone else down for trying. If you keep your head down and keep studying, maybe you can be a teacher too, but trying and failing is better than doing nothing at all." Piper turned her attention to the tears rapidly forming in the child’s blinking eyes. Piper handed her a tissue from her desk and kneeled down next to her. "It’s okay kiddo. We make mistakes sometimes. That doesn’t mean we stop trying. What do you think that word says?" After a couple of tries, Hailey got the hang of it, and Piper could move on.

"Alex spent most of his years on a military campaign through western Asia and northeast Africa," Piper said, drawing their attention to what she’d say was an impressive map. "And by the age of thirty, he had created one of the largest empires of the ancient world, stretching from Greece to northwestern India."

^-^

Gideon and the local sheriff trudged through fallen leaves to the site of where the battered boy was. "This isn’t a dump site," Gideon noted, "the murder happened right here." Kneeling down, he said, more to his own benefit than the sheriff, "Autopsy report claims no sign of a struggle."

"Poor little guy never had a chance."

Gideon envisioned the incident. The 8 year old boy walking past, turning back to see his abuser.

"The victims knew their killer." He muttered to himself. "Followed them to this spot."

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, the kids went this deep into the woods because they trusted them. Probably stashed his weapon here beforehand. We’re looking for someone intelligent, methodical, but the method of killing doesn’t fit. It’s confusing. Doesn’t make sense." Gideon’s words were as fragmented as his thoughts, desperately trying to pull the pieces together.

Less than a quarter mile away from the other dumpsites, the gangly doctor stood next to the bagged and battered kid. "Violence was post-mortem," revealed the medical examiner on the case, equally horrified at the scenes unfolding over the past few weeks.

"So, the killer’s becoming more brazen."

"But now he’s spending more time with the victims even after death." Morgan glanced at the yellow 'Hunting Area' sign nailed to a tree. "If he’s a hunter," Derek turned to Spencer, "he’d know every inch of these woods."

^-^

The PA squealed out just as Piper was getting to the Persian conquest. "All students, please head to the assembly hall immediately, all teachers to the teacher’s lounge." The young woman herded the daydreamers out, grabbed her Doctor Who mug and rushed to the lounge. Whilst pouring herself a cup of coffee, James told her about the parents and the BAU members coming to discuss the murders. Steeling herself for a gruesome speech, Piper headed over to the hall to introduce the kids to FBI agents while James stayed behind to console parents. While the soles of her sneakers rushed, her head wandered. Who were these agents? Were these kids gonna be okay? At the entrance to the hall, her forehead wrinkled and her body collided with a lanky agent and her warm coffee stained the whole of both their cardigans, her brain juice spilling all over the floor.

"Sorry," they both exclaimed. Gideon and JJ walked by, snickering as she entered the hall, but Gideon barely spared them a glance.

"Seriously, I am so sorry." Piper gushed. "I have some tissues, and there’s a bathroom right there."

The agent just laughed and took the cardigan off. "Don’t worry about it, it’s brown anyway." He stared at your TARDIS mug. "Is that…" Piper blanched. Did she now also have to explain Doctor Who to him?

"I know it looks like a phone booth but it’s actually a…" She stumbled. "I have no idea how to explain this without sounding like I’m a complete lunatic."

"No, I know what Doctor Who is." He chuckled softly.

Piper sighed in relief. "Finally, you have no idea the glances I get for this thing."

"Reid!" Gideon yelled from the hallway.

"That’s me. Bye." Spencer waved awkwardly at the young woman in front of him, before sidestepping her quickly to get to his mentor.

^-^

"It could be someone you know or it could be a stranger you pass at the grocery store. But it’s vital that we keep our eyes open and our children close. Now as Ozona’s guidance counsellor, I can only help your children with the aftermath but our police department is working with the FBI, gathering information on the case. To elaborate on that, Agent Jason Gideon." James introduced the middle-aged agent to the anxious parents sitting in the lounge. Reid stood behind his mentor.

"We want you to know we’re doing everything we can to find the person responsible. Until we do there are a number of precautions you need to take. Let me go over some of them with you."

^-^

Piper watched the kids attentively, just barely paying Agent Jareau and Agent Morgan attention.

"It’s a buddy system," JJ started. "That means you always go everywhere with a friend."

"That’s because bad men and women only talk to us when we’re alone."

"We don’t know what these guys look like yet. It might be someone you know."

Hailey raised her hand.

"Yeah, sweetheart, you got a question?" Piper was touched by the kindness in Agent Morgan’s voice. You couldn’t fake that tenderness.

Hailey took a deep breath, "There was this little girl once on the news who just got grabbed right in front of our house. Could that happen to us?"

The tall agent looked back at Agent Jareau. Piper understood the hesitation.

"Hailey, sweetheart, nothing will happen to you, you have my word." She walked over to the young girl and gently rubbed her shoulder. "So long as you listen to the FBI, honey." She nodded to the agents and stepped back.

^-^

"Any more questions?" Gideon asked.

"Did you ever find his hat?" Mrs Faye asked in a trembling voice, fighting the urge to cry.

"'Scuse me?" Jason was confused.

"The red one I put on him. He was wearing it when he left."

"I’m sorry, Mrs Faye," Jason rubbed his hand.

"Mandatory curfew at 5pm." James interjected and dismissed the parents. "Just make sure you know where your children are."

^-^

Piper grabbed her bag after the last bell had gone. The ghosts of Robbie, Nicholas and Sarah hadn’t left your head. She wished she could kiss the fear away from those kids. Piper jumped at the rap on the door.

"Agent Morgan. What can I do you for?"

"Just a few routine questions." Piper gestured to the seat next to her desk.

"How can I help you?"

"How long have you worked here?"

"Must be about a year now."

"As a history teacher?" Piper smiled.

"Did you guess from the armour and the coffin?" The tall doctor swung his head to take a look at the almost replica of armour.

"Have you noticed anyone looking at the children in a strange way?" Morgan continued.

“Is this an original?”

“Gods, no. Everyone knows a teacher doesn’t make enough to own original Macedonian armour. Also Greece refuses to sell any artefact to American citizens considering their scuffle with the British Museum.” Her eyebrows furrowed as she considered Morgan’s question. "I don’t think so. The chances of a child predator in a small town are ridiculously low since state law requires registered sex offenders live 2,000 feet from schools and Texas’s registry is public. I suppose the problem would then be unregistered ones, in which case, kids are always under supervision. Most likely, only someone the kids trust would be the coward doing this. In that scenario, the only adults with that kind of trust would be family friends, family, the teachers and the bus driver. I’ve met all the parents and none of them fit the psychological requirements of a sexual predator and honestly, neither do the teachers."

Morgan smiled at your thought process. "Huh, you’d make quite the profiler, but we don’t think it’s a sexual act since the bodies don’t show any sign of a sexual assault."

Piper mulled over the new information. "I know those kids. They’re good kids and even if it just boils down to a case of rage, no adult within their inner circles would be capable of such a thing. It’s not that it’s impossible, but it is highly unlikely. A lot of these people have kids of their own." She saw the disbelief on their faces so she switched tacks. "What’s your profile of the killer?"

"We can’t disclose that to the public yet."

"Then think of it as a consultation." Piper said, pulling out her resume from an inner drawer.

Morgan whistled and Reid glanced at the sheet over his shoulder. "4 PhDs in clinical, child, abnormal and counselling psychology. Why are you a history teacher?"

Piper glanced at the door. "Everyone told me to start my own practice, and I did." She pointed at the glowing resume in Derek’s hands. "When people heard about this, they came too. But slowly they stopped. At first I thought it was a good sign. But I’d call them in a month, and they’d tell me they’d slipped back into their addictions, or their depressive episodes." She combed her hand through her hair.

"So I quit, packed my bags, moved to Ozona and asked for a teaching position." She let out a shaky breath. "I am more than qualified to help you out, Agent Morgan, so please let me." Morgan looked back at Reid who shrugged.

^-^

"Can I have your attention please?" The local department turned to focus on Agent Gideon. "We’d like to make something clear." He cleared his throat. "Due to the velocity of change, we predict this offender could try to strike again at any time. His confidence builds with every attack."

"Look for someone physically fit, shy, kind disposition. Someone you may trust with your own child. Because the killer targets kids, he may be small himself," Morgan took over, "and though we keep referring to this unsub as he, do not rule out a woman."

A mother and her young son rushed over to the small congregation. Piper recognised her. "Excuse me. My son Matthew never came home today."

Gideon stepped forward, asking where he was last seen. "His teachers saw him in the parking lot after school." At that moment, all officers and agents moved to start looking for the boy. Reid and Morgan turned to the map, trying to figure out how and where he may be taken. Noticing the woman in distress and panic, JJ asked the woman to take a seat. Piper watched the scene from a corner and focused on the little boy with her.

"What are you thinking about over here?" She knelt down in front of him.

"Nothing," said the child softly.

"You look awfully upset to be thinking about nothing. Wanna tell me what’s wrong?"

"Matty said he was just gonna ring the doorbell. At the haunted house. On the hill."

"Finnegan’s place," interrupted James.

"Forever kind of a local legend," the sheriff informed the agents. "Folks say he watches kids from the window. Hunts 'em. Skins 'em. Eats 'em."

"Why weren’t we told about this?" Morgan faced the sheriff. "Fables often come from an ounce of truth. We should exhaust every possibility."

^-^

As day turned to night and the FBI agents raided Finnegan’s manor, Piper sat on her porch, mulling the profile over and over. She knew the people in town. She’d have known if there was a killer in their midst. Do you, though? You think you know better that professional profilers? What, because you wrote a few research papers in 4 years. Get a grip. She glanced at Old Man Finnegan’s place. He’d stopped coming into the town after his wife died, she knew that much. No, it couldn’t be him. Why would the kids trust a man they fear? So, who? Shaking her head, the young woman walked into the house. She grabbed a mandarin from her little fruit bowl and busied herself making a cup of tea. I have to be making an assumption. C’mon Pipes! Her mind flashed back to class. The little boy in her 7th grade class yelling at little Hailey then the incident in April in the parking lot. Ignoring the yell of her kettle, Piper left her orange on the counter and rushed to her dining table to her binders. She scrambled to her 7th grade class binder. Jeffrey Charles and on top, her cursive handwriting that her mom was so damn proud of. Father, James Charles, guidance counsellor. Mother, unknown, left in Apr. 2006. She flicked to her notes.

Disruptive. Borderline bully. Possesses strained empathy for others. Loner. Apathetic towards school. Can be attributed to broken family.

She glanced at the time. 1:30 am. Shit. Should I call Morgan anyway? Piper pulled out her phone and the card Derek had given her. Not giving her brain the chance to overthink, Piper dialled the number. After 7 rings, she hangs up. Of course he didn’t pick up your call. Did you really think what you have to say matters? She brushed the nasty voice of her dad off, but left the phone on the table. She took the kettle off, turned the lights off, locked the door, and went to bed.

^-^

The boys separated in the night, torches and guns at the ready. Gideon and Reid took the back while Morgan and the sheriff took the front of the house. Morgan flicked the lights on and off, but nothing happened. "Definitely haunted."

Gideon and Reid edged towards the garage. "FBI," Gideon yelled, only to hear the soft mumbles of a child.

"I didn’t want the old man to find me."

"All right," Gideon said, rather gruffer than he intended, "No one’s gonna harm you."

^-^

Spencer settled down in the darkness. "Hey Garcia, did you get anything?" he greeted their tech analyst softly.

"Well, only that Finnegan’s house in the hill is like the Bates hotel of Ozona, Texas." She grinned and continued her knitting.

"Yeah, we heard the legends."

"Spencer, seriously, people that go into that house supposedly never come out. SpoOky!" Penelope sang.

"Garcia, could you at least pretend not to enjoy that rumour so much considering I’ve actually entered the house?"

"Sensitive," she mocked the young doctor. "Sorry,"

"Besides, local police say there are no reports of that happening."

"Yeah, this is true. All complaints filed were false alarms. But then there is that matter of his missing wife," the blonde taunted.

"Wife? What wife? When did she go missing?"

"Almost 50 years ago," she said sinisterly.

"Is there no record of her ever being found?"

"I got 2 words for you my friend, rear window." Reid abandoned his files to pay attention to his dear, quirky and unrelentingly mischievous friend. "That guy probably chopped that lady up into delicious, bite-sized little pieces."

Something creaked outside Reid’s window.

"Think about it, Spencer," she continued, "she may have never left the premises." Garcia could barely contain her giggles. "She may still be in the house," she whispered into her mic.

That creaking something creaked again.

"Garcia, I’m sitting here in the dark, alone. Thanks."

"While you’re waiting for a potential murderer to come home, that’s kinda dangerous." Garcia smiled into her mic, twisting her pen in her hand and picturing the deliciously scared features on Spencer’s face. "Kinda sexy," she added.

"I gotta go," Reid said, looking out into the darkness on the other side of the window.

"You’re having creepy fun, I wish I was there."

As Reid turned off his cell, he glanced back towards the noises on the stairs. Slowly standing up, he felt something. An entity. A presence. An existence. Spencer turned his head around, only to bump into a tall, dark stranger and he jumped, terrified. "You really are afraid of the dark," Derek said, smiling.

"I’m working on it," Spencer shot back quickly and walked away.

"You should work a little harder."

The sheriff came back to the group, reporting that his deputy would get the boy back safe. Morgan shook his head. The whole town was on edge. Perhaps that’s why Finnegan was in the wind. The agent flicked his torch to the wall, only to see a rack of rifles.

"The unsub didn’t use a gun," Gideon pointed out. He kept walking, piecing together his thoughts aloud. "Finnegan’s an avid hunter, why didn’t he use it?" He reached under the table to pull out Robbie’s lunchbox and Sarah’s backpack.

"I guess Finnegan brought the kids back here before finishing them off. But why wouldn’t he get rid of the evidence?"

"He considers them trophies,"Spencer said softly.

Morgan huffed. "When this is all said and done, I’d like to hang his head on a wall."

^-^

Morgan, Reid and Gideon paced the next crime scene, only this time it wasn’t a child. It was Finnegan. The medical examiner explained that he died of natural causes.

"His heart probably gave out while setting this trap," Reid suggested.

"Yeah, well, karma’s a bitch," the M.E. commented, "those coyotes were gnawing on him for a week."

"Before the second or third murders even happened," Morgan pointed out.

"This area’s off the travelled path, it’s a wonder anyone even discovered him at all."

"If you ask me," the medical examiner suggested, "those leaves didn’t cover him by themselves."

"If Finnegan’s been dead all this time, who’s living in his house?"

^-^

Piper Bishop rose later than usual. 7 am. She’d missed the sunrise. Shit. Pulling on her slippers, she went through the rounds; a cup of tea, pancakes, review of the class schedule and that’s when she remembered. She meant to call Morgan in the morning. She dialled his cell again. Nothing. Sighing, she told herself she’d drop by later today. She changed into her favourite outfit, white satin button-up, dark blue pants, grey blazer, drop necklace.

^-^

"Here’s a question," Reid asked, crossing his legs on the couch, "if a tree falls in the forest, does it make a sound in nobody hears it?"

Morgan stared at him. "What the hell are you reading over there?"

"I was just thinking," Reid gazed back at the journals on his lap.

"Found something," Gideon announced. The boys followed him into the kitchen.

"Provisions," he said, staring at the near-dozen near-empty dishes, "delivered by the church to every elderly’s doorstep." He waved his hand to all of them, saying, "Each one dated after Finnegan died."

"So the unsub ate everything?" Morgan asked.

"Almost everything," Gideon answered, "unopened bowls of creamed spinach thrown in the trash, each one wrapped with duct tape."

"One with each tray," Spencer noted, handling the casings carefully.

"So we’re looking for a guy who really, really hates spinach?" Morgan was exasperated.

"Who doesn’t?" Spencer retorted.

"Ritualised, meticulous, organised."

"He would eat the same particulars." Reid was confused.

"Full prints," Gideon ordered. At that, Gideon’s cell rang and seeing the name, walked out.

"It’s about Elle, isn’t it?" Spencer said, walking closer to Derek, arms crossed. "I talked to her in Ohio."

"Reid, we all talked to her."

"No, no, I talked to her before. I went to her room one night and…she was drinking."

"She almost died. I’d be drinking too."

^-^

To say Piper was frustrated would not even begin to cover her chagrin at being unable to talk to Morgan. He wasn’t answering his cell and she couldn’t find a sub this last minute. Her students felt the tension and none wanted to see her explode. They kept quiet, answering their comprehension questions of Alexander the Great’s Persian conquests. As soon as the bell rang, she started, rushing students out the door and grabbing her bag. She dialled the sheriff’s number and asked to meet his as soon as possible.

"Just hear me out, Sheriff," she pleaded.

"You really expect me to believe that a child could do something as heinous as this."

"Jeffrey isn’t an ordinary child. His mother left him in April, you know that. Children grow resentful of other children anyway."

"That’s ridiculous. So he’s a little jealous." He got up and started pacing.

"Except he’s not just resentful about mothers, it’s about James too. You and I both know how much he cares about those kids. Some days he calls me at 3 in the morning to talk about how stressed he is. Not 'cause of his workload, but 'cause he’s worried he’s not doing enough. Sheriff, I’m begging you to see reason."

"No, you’re delusional."

"I don’t think you know what that word means and you definitely aren’t qualified to use it.”

"A child would never do this."

"That’s exactly why you’ll never find your killer."

"Are you doubting me, Ms Bishop?"

"No," she said forcefully, "Quite frankly, Sheriff, you don’t know the first thing about kids. I’ve seen how worried Langdon gets sometimes because he’s scared that his Daddy isn’t going to come home one day. I’m not doubting your ability, Sheriff, I’m doubting whether you’ll find the unsub before another child has to die. 3 children are dead, I’m trying to help and for the record, it’s Doctor." For once, she felt calmer and having said her piece, she walked out the sheriff’s office, greeting Agent Gideon politely before she walked away from the both of them.

^-^

"Why the woods, JJ?" Morgan asked, sipping his terrible coffee in station’s waiting room.

"Hmm?"

"Your fear, you said it was of the woods. Why?"

"Oh, I was a camp counsellor when I was a teenager. In the woods up in Vermont, I had the night shift. Tucked the girls in, turned off the lights, you know the typical stuff. Everything seemed fine, all the kids were asleep, you know. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Until, I noticed there was some blood on the hallway floor. So I followed the blood trail out to the camp director’s cabin, walked up to his bed and he was just lying underneath his covers, dead. Someone stabbed him. I ran out of there so fast, out the door, down the hall, I just remember it being really dark and once I got to the door, there was another counsellor. I guess she must have heard me scream. Anyway, they caught the cleaner on his way to town. He must have had the knife on him. So, that’s when I decided didn’t like the woods." JJ fought to suppress her giggles at Derek’s expression.

"You’re serious?"

"No," She laughed. "No, I don’t know why I’m afraid of the woods. Why is he still afraid of the dark?"

"Yeah, Reid?"

"Because of the inherent absence of light," he replied.

"That was good JJ," Morgan’s phone started ringing, "Just know that paybacks are a bitch."

"Hey girl," he called to his favourite tech analyst.

"I love our relationship. We barely need words."

"Talk to me baby."

"So I pulled two sets of prints of those trays," she said.

"Two?"

"Yeah, one of them belonging to a child?"

"Okay, which one of the victims? Why don’t you work with the Ozona Coroner’s Office?"

"Oh baby, that’s so yesterday. I’ve already got those minions working on it. The other set, however, is on the database. Name is James Charles, he’s the-"

"He’s the local guidance counsellor helping with the investigation."

"You’re kidding. Sending address now." Morgan looked at the two agents who had just abandoned their cups.

"Call Gideon. We know who the unsub is."

^-^

Piper was supervising the history projects. She’d managed to pull off having a history fair with a Renaissance theme to cheer the kids up. Each kid had to make a diorama and the history department would judge based on creativity, historical merit and above all enthusiasm, a word she was not feeling. A month ago, she would’ve been over the moon, but now, all she was thinking about was when the next body would show up. She’d yelled at the sheriff and Agent Gideon had seen it. It was unprofessional and now they’d never listen to her. So you finally agree then? It was a stupid and unnecessary thing to say. Clearly you aren’t as praiseworthy as teachers say. "Ugh," Piper swept her short wavy hair into a tight ponytail. Kneeling next to Langdon, she asked him where Jeffrey was. His shrug was worrying. Piper pulled out her cell and called the administration office. "Hi ladies, is Jeffrey at school today? He’s not in my class."

"His dad called him in sick."

"Thanks, girls." Piper tried to push it out of her mind. Maybe she was wrong.

After school was out, Piper grabbed her things and left. That’s right baby girl. Just let the police do their job and just go home like the insignificant bitch you are. She grabbed her helmet and was about to drive home when she got a call from the ladies in Administration.

"It’s James. They’ve arrested them Piper. What do we do?"

"Hang tight Claudia, I’ll deal with it, okay."

^-^

"Here’s the deal," Morgan leaned over James in the interrogation room, "I could stand here and tell you what I think you were doing in Finnegan’s house for the last 2 weeks. Or, you could do us all a favour. Sign a confession, maybe get a little something taken off your time. What’d you say?"

"I never stepped inside Finnegan’s house." James stared right back into Morgan’s eyes.

"What the hell do you think you’re doing?" Piper slammed the door behind her. The agents turned from staring at the small television screen. "Seriously, you think Jamie would do something like this?"

"Piper," The sheriff started.

"No, you don’t get that privilege anymore. It’s Doctor or nothing because clearly you don’t value my experience, Sheriff. I’m sorry to interrupt what clearly isn’t a waste of your time, Agents, but James couldn’t have done any of this."

"Then why won’t he talk to us? He had the baseball cap at his house, his prints are all over the food trays. I don’t see another explanation."

"His prints were on the food trays because he volunteers at the church’s food drive and he’s not the one with the baseball cap, it’s his son. That’s why he called him in sick yesterday, it’s why he’s hiding the truth from you all. James doesn’t have the time nor the motive. If his wife left him, why would he attack kids? More importantly when? When he isn’t at school, he has a session with a kid. If not there, helping with your investigation or handing out food for retired folks. The man has no opportunity and no motive. If anything, he’d be killing women resembling his wife, but instead he’s devoting every possible minute of his life to this community. As for why I think it’s Jeffrey, if you’d listened to me, Sheriff, the kid lost his mom in April. If you don’t know, if a kid loses a parent when they’re in their formative years as a result of abandonment rather than death, they grow increasing resentful of kids who do have their parents. Except for Jeffrey, it’s like he lost both. When his mother left, James devoted his life to the community and as a natural consequence, Jeffrey lost his father too. Whether you believe me or not is up to you, but 3 kids are dead and Jeffrey is missing." They were all standing up, ignoring the interrogation and gawking at Piper. Reid couldn’t stop staring at her and her ears began to redden significantly. Gideon broke the silence.

"Stay. Observe. You know him better than we do. Watch his behaviour and tell me if you don’t think he’s guilty."

Piper was slightly relieved that Gideon took her seriously enough to let her stay.

"How these last 6 months been for you James? Not too good huh? I don't know, your whole life is falling apart isn't it? Oh yeah you got to be feeling a loss of control, sense of abandonment. And I would guess, a little impotent maybe?" Morgan chuckled. "Come on man, give me something! Why did your wife leave you? What happened James, she get bored? I mean you don't seem all that exciting to me. She started feeling a little uninspired? You're not a minute man, aren't you? Uh, that's what it is!"

"You don’t think that’s a little uncalled for?" Piper exclaimed.

"We need him to talk. If he gets angry, he may slip up." Piper settled down.

^-^

"You think Dr. Bishop’s right?" Reid asked, playing with the handcuffs in his palm.

"I don’t know. I can’t believe a kid could be capable of something like this. She seems close to James too. Could be covering for him."

"I guess so."

"You know, it's bad enough his mother left and now his father's in custody. We’ve also got to take the poor kid into child services."

"It’s the law."

So is jaywalking. I don't have to like it. Good afternoon this is Agent Jareau, with the FBI, we're gonna be picking up Jeffrey Charles in about 20 minutes, if... Okay, I see. Thank you."

"What is it?"

"Dr Bishop may have been right."

^-^

"Jeffrey never was at school today. His father said he was sick." JJ informed them.

Piper’s instinct was to yell 'Aha!' but thankfully she went against it.

"Reid, go though his apartment." Gideon ordered.

"No, you don’t seriously still think this is his fault."

"I think he may have blamed his kid for his failed marriage."

"Then I can’t watch this interview. Let me help Dr Reid with the search." Everyone looked to Gideon.

"Okay, fine. Reid, keep an eye on her."

^-^

"Why are you so sure it isn’t him?" Reid asked her softly.

"Hmm?" Piper looked up from the abandoned dirty dishes.

"What you said back there, how are you so sure?"

"I’m not exactly the most experienced psychologist. I mean, I’ve studied it, wrote about it, talked in conferences about it, but I haven’t applied it, not the way he has. I guess, if he does turn out to be the killer," she huffed, "then he’s not the man I hoped he’d be." Reid stared at her.

Piper pulled the elastic from her hair and moved past Spencer to the bookshelf.

"It’s difficult. Being a single parent. Not that I would know. But I can understand." She pulled a book of the shelf. Kurt Vonnegut. "But James handled it as best he could. He put his personal trauma aside for the whole community. Only issue was," she turned to look back into Reid’s soft gaze, "his kid got the brunt of it. Most saints have something to hide, Spence. Gandhi accused his eldest son of 'alcohol and debauchery,' even sexual assault. And no-one believes me because no-one’s met the kid. He has serious rage issues, strained empathy for others and is apathetic to others."

"Huh. Look at this." Piper moved towards the doctor.

"It’s an EpiPen. So?"

"So, at Finnegan’s house, we found all the creamed spinach duck-taped and thrown out."

"Spence," Piper levelled her gaze, "Jeffrey has an allergy to dairy."

^-^

"Can I have a word with him?" Gideon asked. Morgan nodded and left the room. "It’s a rough day, huh? Coffee?"

"Yeah I wouldn't mind."

"Milk?"

"Please."

"So how long have you known that your son is a murderer?" Gideon abruptly asked without breaking eye contact.

"What are you talking about?"

"You might have been the one who brought the food trays to Finnegan's, but your son ate them, everything but the creamed spinach."

"You want me to confess? Is that what this game is? That's fine. You bring me another pen, I'll write out my confession."

"We found an EpiPen in your kitchen."

"So what that proves that my kid has an allergy."

"To milk."

Piper had had enough. "Let me in there, I’ll get him to talk. If Gideon threatens the freedom of his child, James won’t talk. He’ll talk to me."

"Not with Gideon in there." Morgan chided you.

^-^

Piper sat cross-legged on the chair, head resting on the back of her arms. Morgan was almost falling asleep. Reid was on his 8th cup of coffee. Piper’s ringtone woke Derek up and she couldn’t help laughing. "Big bad Derek Morgan’s afraid of a ringtone?" she laughed and raised the phone to her ear.

"Hi, Mrs Belle. How can I help you? Is Tracy okay?" Piper’s change of expression from glee to gloom wasn’t lost on anyone. "Okay, sit tight Mrs Belle, we’ll find her. Please relax." Piper hung up the phone and tied her short hair up again.

"Tracey Belle was just reported missing. Last seen getting off her school bus on Fuller Road."

^-^

What happened after was just a blur. Piper had managed to convince Gideon to let her come, citing her certification for hostage negotiation. They’d all strapped the Kevlar suits on and found a spare for her. Reid and JJ left in one car, Morgan and the sheriff in another and Piper was paired with Gideon.

"Why are you a history teacher?" Gideon asked.

"Hmm?"

"You’re 25, you have 4 Ph.Ds in Psychology, a Masters in History and Bachelors in Literature."

"Thought I wasn’t doing much good in a university classroom. Swapped it for an elementary school"

"I’m a profiler. Don’t lie to me."

"Yes, sir. They wouldn’t come because they didn’t want people to think they or their kids were crazy. So I stopped. I wrote books and papers. I taught at universities. But I kept getting this nagging thing in my head, that I should be doing more. So I packed and moved."

"Where’d you teach?"

"The main ones. Guest lectured at Brown for months at a time. Harvard was my alma mater so I was there for a semester. Columbia offered but I rejected them. They were kinda stung that I chose a high school over them." He chuckled at that. "None of you smile a lot."

"Hmm?"

"Especially you. Do the cases get that bad?"

"Yeah."

"So why do it?" The car stopped near the woods. They both got out of the vehicle and headed towards the others.

"Because it has to be done." He looked over at her and smiled.

^-^

Tracy was running. Her bag was gone. Jeffrey was going to hurt her. She knew she was at the playground, but after a few minutes, the woods had enveloped her. She prayed that her mom was looking, that someone was looking, but the only thing that filled the little girl’s little heart was the dread. Dread that in these big bad woods, she was all alone with a killer.

"Split up, she’s gotta be somewhere."

Bishop and Gideon ran through the woods looking for the small blonde.

"Tracy!"

Trees.

"Tracy!"

Trees everywhere.

"Tracy!"

They were looking for a red and a blond needle in a green and orange haystack.

"Tracey!" Jeffrey cried in a sing song voice. "Let's just go home. I was only playing! Why do you have to be such a baby? Tracey?"

Tracy’s feet hurt. She should have been home by now. She staggered towards the nearest tree and hid. He couldn’t find her here, would he? Her breaths were jagged and she was terrified.

Bishop heard screaming. "Tracy!" They ran towards the piercing scream. She saw the scene unfolding and determined to be anything but helpless, Piper ran in between Jeffrey and Tracy. "Stop!" Gideon ran to Jeffrey, locking him in one arm, throwing the bat away with the other. Piper pushed Tracy into JJ’s arms and breathed with relief.

^-^

In the aftermath of things, James was pacing, scared of what his kid had become, terrified of what would happen to him. Piper held her head in her hands, sitting on the parkside bench. Morgan gently pushed Jeffrey into the car. Reid sat next to her.

"You did good."

"Did I? I blamed a kid for a serial murder because he lost his mother. What does that make me?" Piper lifted her head to look at him.

"A profiler." Spencer rubbed her shoulder and walked away. Piper glanced at James, pacing.

"You think you could have prevented this?"

"Maybe if I’d been there for him…"

She put a hand on his shoulder. "James, you’d put the world’s problems on your own back if you could. You can still be there for him. What he did, it isn’t his fault and it isn’t yours." He looked at Piper, his gaze shattered, his soul broken.

"You really believe that?"

"I believe that care and love can make anything possible."

^-^

Piper packed her things slowly. She folded her maps, packed away the Macedon’s armour and the Egyptian coffin.

"So where to next?" Gideon leaned on her desk, arms crossed.

"Vacation to Italy, maybe Venice. Figuring things out." She shrugged.

"You did good today, but…you could be better."

"I’m sorry?"

"I want you on the team." Piper levelled her gaze to Gideon, standing straight.

"In what capacity?"

"Consultant, on a temporary basis. If you put in the hours and do the classes, maybe even an agent. You in?"

"This a one-time offer?"

"Yes."

"I’m in."

#criminal minds #spencer reid #derek morgan #penelope garcia #jj #gideon #spencer reid x oc #reid x oc

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five-rivers · 5 years

Text

Scarecrow/Grave Robber

I feel like I told whole bunch of people I wouldn't continue Unearthed. Here I am, continuing Unearthed, like a liar. But not finishing it. Because I can't decide how I want this scenario to end.

All y'all'll have to wait 'til the next event for another continuation, because for the last two Ectober prompts I'm doing completely different things.

Sorry.

Scarecrow/Grave Robber

Detective Collins looked down at the body on the autopsy table. He'd looked at bodies before. Corpses, rather. He and Patterson were APPD's homicide team, and did a lot of death investigations, even if Amity Park hadn't had an actual murder for years. A single casre of involuntary manslaughter, yes, several instances of assault, yes, a good number of accidental deaths, yes, murder, no.

Apparently, the knowledge that a so-called permanent solution to a problem might not be all that permanent, and that the problem might come back with superpowers was enough to put a damper on that kind of thing.

The corpse wasn't exactly a normal one, and it hadn't come to police attention in the normal way. Still, Collins was just doing his job.

So why the hell did he feel like a damn graverobber?

"Got anything for us, Molly?" he asked the ME.

"If you mean a cause of death, that's a hard no," said the red-haired woman. "If you mean a whole bunch of weird stuff, then yes. This is the strangest body I've ever seen. I think I'm going to have to call out for a second opinion."

Collins and Patterson exchanged looks.

"I think you'd better not," said Patterson. "This is the kind of thing that should stay in Amity Park."

Molly eyed the other woman shrewdly. "The rumors are true, then?"

Collins cleared his throat. "What rumors?"

"This is Phantom's body."

"Where did you hear that?" asked Collins.

At the same time Patterson said, "So he claims."

"The paramedics told me," said Molly. "It's been all over the hospital."

Great. As if this case wasn't 'interesting' enough. "What's so weird about the body?" he asked, bringing them back to the topic at hand.

"Well, first off, half of it's missing."

Collins looked down at the body. As far as he could tell, all of it was there, even if it was far from adult-sized.

"I know what you're thinking," said Molly. "I get it. I didn't notice at first, either, not until I took the x-rays. His bones are half as dense at they should be. At first I thought that he just had some kind of bone disease- that would make identification easier, right?- but then I started weighing other parts of him, and his everything only weighs about half as much as it should for a teenager of his height."

"Are you sure that's not just because of decay? Or because he was burned?" asked Patterson.

"Yes, I'm sure. He's pretty well preserved actually."

"Is he?" asked Collins, dubiously, looking at the blackened and whithered corpse.

"Yeah. What you're seeing here," she gestured at one of the corpse's arms, "it isn't skin. I know he looks burnt, but he's actually got all his layers. This is something he was wearing. I've sent a sample out for analysis, but I think it's mostly plastic and cloth."

Patterson sighed. "Guess that rules out burning to death, or someone trying to burn the body afterwards. What could have caused the, uh, halving?"

Molly shrugged. "Might have to do with how he died, or becoming a ghost. I don't know. I only deal with the bodies of the dead, not their spirits. You'll have to ask the Fenton, or the GIW."

"Anything else?" asked Collins.

Molly shrugged. "I found a lot of ectoplasm residue on him, and something that might be lichtenberg figures, but I won't know for sure until I can get his clothing off, and I'm not sure we want to do that until we figure out what happened to them and what they're made of."

"Right," said Collins. "Good call."

"Everything else is in here," said Molly, handing the file to Patterson. "But, just so you know, he does have the proper height, age, and body type to be Phantom."

"Any que-" the phone in the back office rang, cutting Molly off. She groaned. "Hold that thought." She ran off into the other room and shut the door.

"Sooooo," said Patterson, playing with the end of her braid. "Who gets to interview the Fentons?"

"Both of us," said Collins, looking at Molly's report. She hadn't written anything about how long the kid had been dead.

"Aw, you're no fu-"

The temperature of the already-cold room dropped, and all of Collins' hairs stood on end, indicators of an agitated and very close ghost. Both Collins and Patterson had their ectoguns (standard issue for APPD) out in second.

A ghost shimmered into view on the other side of the examination table.

"You need to stop this," he said, green eyes boring first into Collins', then Patterson's. "People are going to get hurt."

"Is that a threat?" asked Collins.

Phantom recoiled as if slapped. The shock faded, and his face settled into a more standard offended scowl.

"No, of course not. It doesn't make it any less true. So stop."

"We can't."

"Why not?" asked Phantom, aggrieved. "It isn't like this is about justice. I don't need justice. It was an accident."

"Because we don't know who this is, and we don't know who you are," said Collins. He did not add that, even if the body on the table had belonged to Phantom, they could not take his word that his death had been an accident.

Phantom threw up his hands. "I'm the guy who's been protecting Amity Park from ghost attacks for the last two years! And that's my..." he faltered. "My, um. My c- My body," he finished quietly. He took a deep breath, and some of his earlier fire came back. "Why would I lie?"

Collins could think of dozens of reasons, up to and including Phantom being the killer, though he doubted the young ghost had a murderous bone in his body. Either of them.

"It would really help," said Patterson, "if you could come down to the station to be interviewed."

Phantom's expression softened. "If it would help-" he broke off and shook himself. "I'll think about it." He frowned down at the body, looking rather ill.

"Is there any proof you have that this is your body?" asked Collins, slowly, more cautious than Patterson. He remembered hearing somewhere that ghosts didn't like being reminded of their deaths.

Phantom shifted slightly, and his gaze slid away from the corpse. "Other than knowing you had found... it, and being able to feel it? Not..." He trailed off, rubbing a circle into the palm of his left hand. Jerkily, he tugged off the glove. He kept his hand curled tight, and half hidden, as he stared down at the ground. Then he spread out his fingers, and thrust his hand at Collins. "This," he said. "It'll be the same on... it... as me."

In the center of Phantom's palm was a burnt-in star. It had seven points that faded out to lightning bolts as they twined up his arm, disappearing under his jumpsuit.

"Is that from when you died?" asked Patterson.

All the lights in the room flickered, and the the ghost hissed before vanishing. A light bulb near the door burst in a spray of glass.

The temperature returned to normal levels.

"What the hell, Patterson? You don't ask a ghost about their death. And what was the whole 'it'll really help' thing?"

"Sorry," said Patterson. "I know, I know, but how often do you get to interview the victim of one of these things?"

"Literally all the time. We do assault cases ninety percent of the time."

"When you put it that way..." Patterson grimaced. "The 'help' thing... Well, ghosts are supposed to be governed by their Obsessions, right? I took a class on that, a couple of months ago. Anyway, there's big speculation that Phantom's Obsession is heroism, or helping people. I thought maybe I could use it. It almost worked. You saw how he considered it."

"Yeah," said Collins. He rubbed his face, thinking.

Phantom said he could feel the body. How much could he feel? If he could just tell what was happening to it, that wouldn't be so bad. But if he could feel it like it was still his body? That sounded like torture.

Molly walked back into the room. She frowned. "What happened?"

"Phantom decided to pay us a visit. Say, Molly, I know you don't want to strip off his clothes, yet, but if you could just clean off his left hand..."

"So," said Collins, drumming his hands on the steering wheel. "Let's recap. What do we know?"

"The body is the right age, sex, and size to be Phantom, and has the same scars as Phantom," said Patterson. "The body is really weird and has a lot of ectoplasmic residue on it. Molly can't tell how long it's been dead. Forensics thinks it's been there two years, based on soil settling and a picture search. The cairn only started showing up around then, at the end of summer."

"Which is before the ghosts started to be a big thing," added Collins.

"Which makes the ectoplasm even weirder."

"And now, we're consulting with the only ghost experts in town who aren't the GIW to find out what could have caused that."

"But, unfortunately, said ghost experts are also the only people in town who had access to ectoplasm before the ghosts showed up."

"Which means they're suspects," finished Collins, moving from knowledge into theory. He sighed. "Of course, since Phantom claims to have buried his own body, he could have left the ectoplasmic residue."

"It's also possible some other ghost hunter did it," said Patterson. "The GIW did exist before the ghosts became a problem. Or it could just be a natural result of turning into a ghost."

"Right," said Collins. "So, who's going to ring the doorbell?"

The two detectives looked up at the front door of Fentonworks. Everybody knew what happened to people who rang the Fentons' doorbell.

Patterson sighed. As the more junior of the pair, she knew how this was going to pan out. "I'll do it."

She got out of the car, and went up the stair. Collins followed, but stayed a safe distance back.

With an air of resignation, Patterson pressed the doorbell.

Surprisingly, the door opening did not herald a flood of green goo. One of the Fenton children had opened the door. The boy. An unidentifiable expression passed over his face before he turned and shouted, "Mom! Dad! The police are here to see you!"

Odd. How did he know Collins and Patterson were detectives? They didn't have their badges displayed.

He scampered off as Jack Fenton bounded to the door. "Hi there!" boomed the big man. "Are you here to talk about ghosts?"

"Yes, actually."

The Fentons, once you got past the goo, were actually very hospitable. Maddie brought out tea and cookies, and sat the detectives down in the living room.

"What did you want to talk about?" she asked.

Collins and Patterson exchanged a glance.

"We were wondering," said Collins, "if there is any way to tell if someone has become a ghost by looking at their corpse."

Maddie clicked her tongue. "That's a common misconception. People don't become ghosts. They leave ghosts. Ghosts are impressions on ectoplasm, not people."

There was a very faint, unamused scoff from above, and Collins looked up to see the Fentons' son crouched behind the banister of the stairs. He noticed Collins' gaze and fled.

Interesting.

Meanwhile, Jack and Maddie's explanation was winding down. "But to answer your question, no. There's no way to tell if a person's death produced a ghost unless you encounter the ghost. The body would be completely normal. Is this about the body you found in William Park?"

Collins frowned. It was easy to forget how sharp the Fentons were.

"Yes," he said, deciding it wouldn't do any good to hide the fact.

"And you think it's ghost related somehow?" pressed Maddie.

"A ghost claimed the body was theirs."

"Hm," said Maddie, thoughtful.

"Well, it isn't impossible for a ghost to form with the Obsession of finding the person that murdered the human they are modeled on," said Jack. "I'm actually surprised you didn't encounter one sooner."

"The ghost in question wanted us to stop investigating," said Collins, watching their reactions. He wondered if he was revealing too much, but he really did need more information about ghosts and he refused to go to the GIW unless it was absolutely necessary. He'd talk to the cults (there were many in Amity Park, several of which were dedicated primarily to Phantom) first.

Maddie frowned. "That can't be right. What ghost was it?"

"Phantom," said Collins.

Jack and Maddie were already shaking their heads.

"That's impossible," said Jack.

"There are record of Phantom going back to the beginning of human history. Farther, even." Maddie got up and walked to a bookshelf, where she pulled out a large heavy book. She thumped it down on the coffee table, and began to thumb through the pages. "Here, look. This town in China even used effigies of him as a kind of 'spirit scarecrow.' Apparently he would show up periodically to fight 'evil spirits.' Ghosts. Just like now."

The dolls on the page did bear a shocking resemblance to Phantom. Maddie turned the page, and another. Each one had pictures of Phantom, though all in different styles, and clearly all from different cultures.

"There aren't a lot of these, true," said Maddie, "and when we were in college, a lot of it was dismissed as a hoax. But they existed when we were in college."

"So either our Phantom is the same, or he's imitating the legend," said Jack, "and the legend was never well known."

"We prefer the former theory, obviously." She sat down and leaned back in her chair. "Now, as for the body, normally, if this was any other ghost, I would say that they caused the death, but..." She pursed her lips, then shrugged. "As dangerous and inhuman as Phantom is, I doubt it. We are fairly confident his Obsession falls in the lines of 'protecting people,' and that wouldn't allow murder."

"He's definitely involved somehow, though," said Jack. "It's possible he's protecting the killer."

"I feel like we know less now than we did before," complained Patterson.

"Yeah..." said Collins. "Did you notice their kid? Did he seem a little off to you?"

"Maybe a bit," said Patterson, playing with the end of her braid. She paused, looking back at the Fenton house. "You know, I saw this theory on a website once," she said, slowly.

"What kind of website?"

"Conspiracy, I think, but it could have been a cult one. You know how it is. The theory was that the Fenton's son was secretly Phantom. The kid who posted it got laughed off, of course, but... Y'know, I think it was picked up by a cult or two. They're hard to keep track of. They keep having those schisms, and merging, and, you know."

"The Fenton kid would have had access to ectoplasm before the ghosts showed up," said Collins. Could his theory about Phantom masquerading as one of the living be correct?

"I guess anyone slimed by the Fentons would have, too, though," said Patterson.

"Right. Wonderful. You want to talk to the Cult Division first, or start interviewing kids?"

"Is the 'Cult Division' still Cameron Daily and his computer?"

"You know it is."

"Let's get started on those kids."

"Well," said Danny talking to Sam and Tucker over the Fenton Phones, "they're getting clues, but they're buried in so much junk that they're useless, or they're completely inconclusive."

"That's good, right?" said Tucker.

"Not if they think I killed someone!"

"It doesn't quite sound like that's what they think," said Sam. "Even your parents don't think that."

Which had been really nice, actually. Which was sad. But, hey, odd manifestation of post-human consciousness was a step up from evil manifestation of post-human consciousness. Right?

"They think I'm covering up a murder, then, Sam. That's just as bad." His tail twitched and flicked as he rode invisibly on top of the detectives' car. Ever since his... that... had been dug up, he had felt uneasy. Anxious.

Restless.

Basically, what was dead people were supposed to feel like when their remains were disturbed.

"I can't just go on letting them think that," said Danny.

"Don't. You're just going to get yourself into more trouble," cautioned Sam.

Danny bit his lip. "It's just an interview," he said, eyeing the police station. "It isn't like they can arrest me."

He flew in.

#danny phantom #ectoberweek19 #ectober #ectober 2019 #phanfic #my writing

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mommymooze · 3 years

Text

Bob

Bob-Original Character.

Warning: Crack (yes, I found crack!) vulgar, violent, bad humor, toasty cinnamonrolls Hubert abuse

Part 1

He confidently strides around the grounds of the Monastery like he owns the place. Noone dares to tell him he doesn’t. He’s always been curious, his quest for knowledge knows no bounds. That Riegan kid? An amateur next to him. The poisons and potions that boy comes up with? He made those before he was 9. Riegan is always bragging about Lysithia. Youngest girl to graduate from the School of Sorcery, she is such a prodigy, bla, bla, bla. He had graduated before his 10th birthday. His graduating thesis rewrote the book on transmogrification.

He doesn’t care for Claude practically sticking his tongue in Professor Byleth’s ear at every turn. Okay, so the doof hasn’t quite done that, but he can see that the guy really ‘breathily’ speaks in her ear, so he may as well be. Bob is not jealous. Byleth doesn’t interest him. Not in that way. He knows she’s the best choice for Professor for the Blue Lions. Golden Deer are too chaotic and disorganized. The Black Eagles are practically run by the Agarthans, unfortunately those idiots can’t see it. Besides, its easier to ‘fit in’ with the people of his ‘land’. He’s a noble, in the loosest sense of the word.

His fellow Blue Lions will follow Dimitri to hell and back. Little do they know that Dimitri already has one foot in hell. The guy is nuts. The things he talks about in his sleep, well, Bob’s seen people like that before. They have endured some really heavy shit and trauma. Usually it’s a one-way trip. Dimitri’s hanging on by a thin frayed thread and only Dedue is keeping him grounded. Looks like Professor Byleth is picking up on it. Saving Dedue’s life was the best thing that ever happened to Dimitri.

Now Sylvain, he got a rotten deal handed to him. Don’t blame him for his coping mechanism of getting back at the girls that are after him for his goods and not him. A bit self-destructive, but he does kind of enjoy it, until it goes south. Step in Ingrid, to save him. She’s such a knight in shining armor, rescuing princess Sylvain every time. Felix, he needs a complete emotional enema. He’s been blocked up since his brother died. His father’s been blocked up since his wife died. Felix locked down all of his feelings and emotions only letting out anger and hatred. Any time he has a feeling related to kindness or love, he beats it out of himself by training to death. Ashe, there is a sweet young man. A cinnamon roll through and through. He’s been through tough times and better times. You just can’t let harm come to a freaking ray of sunshine like him. Annette is definitely in the cinnamon rolls covered in sunshine category as well, even though her conception sperm donor is a dick. Daddy Gustav, ugh, Duscur screwed him in the head too. ‘I failed as a knight. I couldn’t protect them.’ So you dump your family, stick your thumb in your ass and watch Dimitri fall apart? Really? Yeah he super sucks as a father type thing. Mercedes is a fun girl. She’s seen some shit, yet she is so motherly to all the Lions. She is not one to give up, even on her loser psycho brother.

Bob is a model student. He watches the idiotic pranks that Sylvain pulls. Fart jokes? That is third grade stuff. They have the big mock battle between the classes in a few weeks. Bob catches the redhead getting turned down by Felix when he invites his bff to town to check out some girls. Bob just happens to be near the door when Sylvain exits.

“Hey man, heard you may be heading to town. Need a wingman?” Bob offers.

“Only if you buy the first round.” Sylvain grins.

They head out the front gates to the town on the other side of the woods. Talking about their favorite types of girls, Sylvain is ready to hit up anything in a skirt by the time they hit the closest drinking establishment. Half an ale gone and the redhead has found a couple of prospective tarts ready to take a bite out of. Bob takes a seat next to a young brunette cleric who shyly smiles as he sits. They chatter amicably, before the evening is over, he knows of her family, history, deity (not Sothis, gasp) how long she has done this, life’s dreams, battle experience, her strongest spells, affinities, favorite foods, shoe size and her birthday. Sylvain returns to the tavern a bit disheveled and a grin from ear to ear. Bob bids his little friend good night. Once he is finished suffering through the heavily detailed victorious encounter that the handsome cavalier has just experienced, Bob changes direction of the conversation to the redhead himself.

“Dude, why do you act like such a fuckup? Felix hits it right on the nose every time and you just crumble. You are much smarter than you lead everyone to believe. You hold back on your magic. You can handle a lance like nobody’s business. If you practiced some, get your speed up, you’d be deadly. What’s the deal?” Bob doesn’t exactly hold back.

“Look,” Sylvain whines, “I know I’m a fuckup. My father has my life lined up for me. He’ll pick out who I marry, I’m stuck watching over the Gautier territory, making crestbabies to grow up and wield the Lance of Ruin. My brother was fucked over by my father for not having a crest. I had to go out and kill him. My own brother. My whole life is so messed up, why should I even try?”

Bob leans over and whispers into the redhead’s ear. “Man, the winds of change are coming. This whole godessdamned world is going to be flipped upside down. Just when you think it can’t get any worse it does. It’s gonna be a mess. Then one day, there’s going to be a light in that darkness, and the world is tilted again. All the slates are going to be wiped clean and I intend on being there to rewrite it all. I just want you to come along for the ride, dude.”

Sylvain looks at Bob like he’s got two heads. “How much did you have to drink while I was gone? That is some crazy heavy shit. Whatever it was, you gotta buy me some next time.” He laughs as they get back to the monastery gates.

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

Bob quickly becomes bored with the highly censored library in the monastery and decides to find where the one is in Abyss. Besides, he hates the skinwalker librarian. The creep likes to hand out anti church of Seiros paraphernalia to anyone that would take one. Bob knew of Abyss long before he had ever arrived. He found out more information about Garreg Mach on the outside than on the inside. Once you go past the front gate, the church folks zip their lips shut. He sneaks around a few tunnels, keeping his eyes peeled for anyone nearby. Noting some footsteps slowly moving closer, he blends in with the walls. Two girls walk past, he’s just about to let them keep going, but he recognizes one of them.

“Hapi?” Bob softly gasps.

“Dipshit! Long time no see, jerk!” Hapi runs over and hugs him.

The taller blonde girl stands, waiting for a proper introduction.

“Oh, Coco, this is my friend, Dipshit. He helped get me out of the terrible place where, you know, those guys were.” Hapi says.

The noble woman offers her hand, “Constance Von Nuvelle. I am temporarily living here, however I strive to restore House Nuvelle to its finest glory.

Bob takes her hand, kissing the back of it, “I am very honored to make your acquaintance. How fortunate to meet such a beautiful woman as yourself in such an interesting location.”

Constance Nuvelle giggles at his introduction. Bob is all OMG she is so CUTE.

Hapi gives him the stink-eye “Aaanyyway, we should prolly take you to meet Yuribird. He’s the boss around here. “

So they meander over to the class room and meet Yuri. Tall, beautiful, with an air of mystery for kicks, Yuri greets the newcomer. “Any friend of Hapi’s is welcome.”

Bob explains his presence. “I’m not here to get in your business. Just wanted to check out your library. If I find anything useful to you, I know where to go with it. Mostly I am interested in all the crap that is going on topside.”

Yuri walks with him to the place where Seteth’s banished books have been stored. Bob tears into it like a man starved. Feeding on everything he can get his hands on.

Yuri decides to be sociable for a moment. “Whatcha looking for friend?”

Bob “the usual. Nabatheans, Agarthans, saints, Nemesis, relics, bloodlines, histories that may be a little closer to the truth than what they have upstairs. “

Yuri nods. “Sure. Have at it.”

“I’ll let you know if I find anything about the Crest of Aubin or the rest of you guys.” Bob offhandedly remarks looking through a few books.

Yuri starts cleaning under his nails with a particularly sharp dagger. “Funny, no one mentioned Crests, much less if anyone has one.”

“I can smell ‘em.” Bob says indifferently. “One of their experiments gone haywire. Hapi and I did time together. Ask her, she’s where I got my crest.”

“Have fun.” Yuri quips before heading out, stashing his dagger.

Bob is devouring this library. Opens every single book on every single shelf. Divides them into piles. Church, Magic, research, Agarthans, useful, and crap.

Encyclopedia of Fodlan’s Insects. Insects is what the Agarthans call Nabatheans. Winged bugs that need squashing. It also describes items forbidden by the church. These of course are things the Agarthans have used for centuries. Telescopes, viewing lenses, metal printing presses, decent condoms. Bob laughs out loud at the section on autopsies. Wouldn’t want you poking around inside someone’s head or chest. May accidentally find a crest stone or worse rattling around in there. Bob finishes sorting the upper levels of the Shadow Library. He hands a few books to Yuri to peruse, telling him to hang on to them, Bob would like a close look when he is done. Bob shuffles off with armful after armful of books, taking them to a quiet little nook that Yuri has permitted for him. Not much bigger than a closet, but its enough room to keep the books secure. Just as he’s on his last trips, who should happen to arrive at the library but Hubert von Vestra.

“Hey Bro, what the fuck you doin’ down here?” Bob impolitely and arrogantly asks.

“You. Why don’t you crawl back under your rock.” Hubert curses.

“Surprised to see you standing up. Usually you’re on all fours licking her high and mightynesses boots.” Bob shakes his head, getting his black and white bangs out of his eyes.

“Lady Edelgard deserves all of my praise and loyalty for everything she has been through. House Vestra shall always be at her service.” Hubert stiffly replies.

“Yeah, how’s that working out for you. She hasn’t been through half the shit I’ve been through. She’s barely holding it together. What’s fucking hilarious is she’s relying on you to help her keep it together. You still haven’t gotten over killing father. You should’ve let me know. I’d’ve done it in a heartbeat. Can’t wait till I can slit my beautiful mother’s throat and listen to her gurgling as the life flows from her.”

“He denounced you. You are not a Vestra.” The Black Eagle spits out.

Bob puts his hands on his hips. “Gimme a break. You and I are cut from the same mold. Same greasy black hair, at least I take care of mine. Same strong chin, handsome cheek bones, body structure. Hell we have the same color eyes from father. Just because I’m your half bro doesn’t mean I’m not part of your family. We’re both drawn to black and dark magic. We wield spells far above our fellow students. Just think of the things we could do together. “

“No. You are crude, undignified, unprodigious, and disgusting inside as well as out.” Hubert spits.

“We’re twins! I’m just the better looking one. Just ask anyone. You stand around like a starving vulture ready to pounce on everyone. Always looming and leering. That creepy guy intimidation thing only gets you so far. You need to work on your charm.” Bob schmoozes, moving closer to his half brother.

“I’ve had enough of this.” Hubert gives a disgusted frown and warps away.

“I love dicking with him. Fucking dickwad.” Bob laughs a deep and frightening laugh that scares some female out in the hallway who screams and runs away.

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

When Flayne goes missing, Bob becomes unhappy. She’s a sweet and innocent girl. Yeah, she’s got dragon blood and all that, but really she’s nice. Cinnamon roll nice. Too nice to be caught up in any Agarthan mess. And this kidnapping has Agarthan written all over it.

Bob shows up behind Hubert, smashing his face into a wall and nicking his half bro’s throat as he puts a dagger under his chin. “Tell her to call the Agarthan dogs back. Tell her how wrong it is to work with them. They are not your friends. The enemy of your enemy crap doesn’t work. They are only using you, not the other way around”

Hubert, bloody nosed from having it smashed into a wall mutters, “I will bring it up in our next conversation.”

“Yeah. Talk about it. All talk, no action.” Bob disappears through the wall. He materializes in the library behind Ashe.

“Ashe, take off your baseball cap.” The cool dark mage orders.

The grey haired cinnamon roll takes off his hat and sits very straight in the comfy chair in the library. He can feel the hand patting his head, then stroking his hair from the top of his head down to his neck.

“Good boy, you are a good boy Ashe.” Bob begins his mantra, praising and patting.

“Yes. I am a good boy.” Ashe repeats, closing his eyes.

Thirty minutes later Ashe is happily asleep curled up in the chair and Bob no longer has steam coming out of his ears. Bob looks around the library. Where is that Thomas creep anyway? Bob goes to the upper levels where Thomas’ desk is located. Pinned to the bulletin board is a cartoon of Rhea tied to a stake while they light a huge fire under her. A poster in Medieval script saying “Dragons must Die!!!” A stack of love poems devoted to Catherine, his forbidden love. And a large, oversized rubber stamp that says “DENIED”. But no sign of Thomas. Bob decides to pay the gatekeeper a visit. He floats down the three flights of stairs to the main level. Not only because it is cool if you can float, but he also won’t trip over one of Claude’s 17 pairs of roller-skates he leaves everywhere, especially on stairs.

“Greetings Bob, nothing to report.” The gatekeeper happily greets the black and white haired mage, cheerfully looking up into his piercing citrine eyes.

“Hey Keeps, you ever see the librarian head out of these gates?” Bob asks him in a deep, sultry voice.

“Oh yeah, I guess he left almost a week ago. I bet he’s going out to chase down some overdue books. Had a large empty sack on his shoulder.” Gatekeeper smiles ever so widely, a blush to his cheeks as he stares deeper into Bob’s eyes.

Caspar overhears the conversation, gasps, and runs straight to Linhardt’s room to save his best friend from being sentenced to death for his lack of library returns.

Bob returns to his room for the night to ponder the mysteries of the universe, Flayn’s location, why does Felix do that thing with his hair, and why does Dimitri find Alois’ jokes funny? They suck so bad. Is it the madness?

-----------

Breakfast with the Blue Lions is enlightening. There are rumors of some sort of dude that dresses up like the grim reaper, complete with scythe that is creeping out the people in the village. Just one more thing to add to the list of the weird crap that is going on around this place. As he walks across the courtyard, some guy from the kitchen bumps into him.

“Hey, watch it, bud.” Bob giving the guy the eye.

Kitchen guy stops him. ”Have you seen Manuela?” he asks as blood is dripping down his arm.

Bob holds his hands out like he is holding two invisible watermelons to his chest, “Really big…?”

The guy nods.

Bob smirks, “Never heard of her. What were you doing?” Bob curiously asks.

“Peeling potatoes. Knife slipped.” Kitchen guy says, not looking so good. Bob knows to avoid potatoes for dinner.

“Head for the training grounds, healers are always hanging out there for practice opportunities.” Bob says before heading to the stable area. Just as he walks past the Knights quarters, he hears a shriek in a perfect “C”. Probably Manuela. Just before he goes inside he stops a guy standing out front telling him to get the Blue Lions. You know, the group with the really tall hot blonde guy? Yeah, those Blue Lions.

The mage runs down the hall and finds a door partially open. He pushes it the rest of the way to find Manuela lying on the floor. She’s reaching out for something by the wall, as Bob gets closer he can smell them, Agarthans. He feels around and there’s a secret passage that opens wide to show a path down to the stink. The dark mage heads straight down the hole, lighting every torch on the way to guide the rest of his house. The Professor arrives at the bottom of the stairs to find all of the enemies in the immediate area are on fire. Bob is currently hurling fire spells through the gate at the enemies in the next room. “Die motherfuckers!! MUahahahahahahaha! Eat this!” Bob screams as he throws another fireball at one of the guys in the next room who tries to hide as far in a corner as possible, but still winds up having his robes catch fire and he screams in agony.

Byleth places her hand on Bob’s shoulder, whispering in his ear. “Calm down dude, you’re frightening the kids. Don’t scar our cinnamonrolls.”

Bob pulls a fist in front of his mouth. “Oopsie. Sorry. Was over excited. ::cough cough::”

The Blue Lions take over from here. Ashe unlocks the door as Felix and Sylvain rush in followed by Dedue and Ingrid. The professor heads to the left to unlock another gate.

Bob reaches over to pat Ashe on the head. “Good boy, you are such a good boy.”

Ashe smiles as his eyes glaze the slightest bit.

They move forward quickly wiping out the soldiers that are nearby. Felix and Sylvain take some warp tiles that send them to various places in the area where they can deactivate trap tiles. They all are joined together at the door in front of the death knight. Ashe opens the door. Bob’s already materialized in the room and hitting the big masked dude on the horsie with Dark Spikes T when the Flame Emperor shows up to send horsie boy off.

Flame Emperor “Go home Creepy McCreepface, you done good. I am the Flame Emperor. I will reforge the world.” And with that they both warp off.

Professor “We need to get these kids out of here.”

Bob, “I’ll grab Flayne, leave that other one, it smells bad.” He tosses Flayne over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Bob carries her all the way to the infirmary. When putting her on a cot, he notices that her shirt sleeves were sliced open to her armpits and there are multiple holes in her arms where the evil bloodsuckers have taken her blood multiple times. He whispers to Manuela that the girl is a few quarts low, then he leaves.

Bob heads straight to Hubert’s room. His half brother isn’t there, so he waits for him to show up. So he’s not too bored, he goes into his brothers notes on spells and adds a few extra lines here and there to Sigils and changes ingredients on some poisons.

As soon as Hubert enters the door he is tripped then given a knee in the back while his dear half sibling repeatedly smashes his face into the floor.

“I told ::slam:: you not ::slam:: to work ::slam:: with them. ::slam slam:: Fucking idiot! ::slam slam slam::

Hubert’s nose is quite crooked and he can’t breathe correctly through it now. “I toad her, but she woodit lissen.”

Bob continues his rant. “Now we have a kid that suddenly appears from being gone last year. “ He definitely does airquotes on the word “suddenly”. “She’s one of them, I know it. Dump her. Dump the Agarthans. And wash your hair sometimes, ew.” Bob disappears through the floor, listening to Hubert call him a few names that weren’t in the book. Bob needs to write those down.

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

It was time for the Battle of the Eagle and Lion and no Deerz allowed. Byleth has been working them pretty hard, advancing Bob as quickly as she can in magic certifications. He’s got reason down better than anyone in the group, so he’s been teaching them more advanced spellcasting. Byleth doesn’t say much but she catches on fast. If you can get Annette to shut up and concentrate, she does an amazing job. Mercedes doesn’t have her heart in it but manages to get a few reason spells down, Fire for sure, and Thunder is getting better. Felix is great with Thunder. Sylvain would be great with fire, but he screws around too much.

The horn signals for the battle to begin. Bob immediately heads for the back lines of the Black Eagles, materializing behind Linhardt, stabbing him with a blade covered with a powerful sleeping concoction. Lin would probably thank him. Bob heads over to behind Marianne in the Golden Deer. He whispers “good night, sweetie” in her ear before he holds a cloth covered with the same powerful sleeping potion. Lying her carefully on the ground he hides out in the nearby bushes to find out where Lysithia has gone off to.

He watches Ferdinand and Sylvain get into it. Handsome redheads on horses stab at each other repeatedly with pointed sticks. Finally, Sylvain gets the upper hand, but not by much. Ferdinand is out and heads to the boundary lines. Sylvain heads back to Mercedes for a bit of patching up. Annette is working on whittling down Ignatz, blowing his arrows off course as she attacks with wind spells. The professor is taking out Raphael and Claude. Bob decides to throw a mire at Hilda. She screams about her hair and how gross the magic muck feels all over her and gives up. Felix is giving Leonie a workout. Sylvain is back and taking on Lorenz. Lorenz throws a decent Fire spell at Sylvain, causing the redhead’s horse to rear up, he still is able to stay on the steed and then counter Lorenz with a decent lance jab that knocks the grapeheaded guy off his horse.

The battle continues on. It is between the lions and eagles, the deer are out. Its very helpful at this point that the eagles have no healer except for Dorothea. Her magic is going to be defensive not attacking for the most part. Edelgard marches down the field heading for Dimitri and Dedue, followed by Hubert and Caspar. Bob lost track of Petra and Felix, not sure who won that match. Bob grabs a large wooden sword lying on the ground and materializes behind Hubert. Swinging the flat edge of the blade at full force at the back of Hubert’s head, Bob provides Hubert with the headache of the month.

“Blockhead.” Bob smirks as he watches the dark mage fall and Bob disappears into the ground just under the swing of Edelgard’s axe. Bob shows up in a copse of trees not far away watching the rest of the blue lions completely wipe out the black eagles.

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

Bob is in Abyss, in the laboratory of the most creative and beautiful sorceress he has ever met.

“Darling, would you be so kind to join me for lunch today? I would be ever so honored and grateful if you would grace my humble presence with your enlightening company.” Bob croons.

“Ever the charming one, pumpkin. However I must decline as I have serious potions to concoct today and they simply cannot mix themselves.” Constance smiles ever so sweetly, batting her eyelashes.

“Ahh. I so adore your everworking and brilliant mind, however you do need nourishment for your delectable body. If I may, I will retrieve lunch from above and bring it back to provide you with the energy needed to complete your serious tasks. “ Bob dashingly offers, his hands on his hips, his hair waving in the breeze, a sparkle shows on his teeth with a ding.

“I suppose I must acquiesce to obtaining sustenance. Having your handsome face as accompaniment is also a great pleasure. Please do go, with haste and fetch our midday feast.” Coco wiggles her fingers, encouraging him to hurry.

“But of course my flower, my jewel. I shall return poste haste.” Bob says, holding his palm open for her to gently place her hand within it so that he may delicately kiss the back of her hand, and then lick it for good measure.

He then disappears through the floor, only a minute later to walk through the wall behind her.

“Every moment away tears at my heart, my sweet lady. I am overjoyed to have returned and bask in your beauty once again. Please join me.” The handsome dark mage waves a hand at the beautifully set table complete with two darling candelabras with Ashen Wolves colored candles, napkins and tablecloth.

They sit on the same side of the table. Bob smiles and he feeds her bite after bite until she is satisfied. Next time he may even offer to chew if for her if she so desires. He takes a napkin and lightly dabs at the corner of her mouth.

“There my precious one.” Bob coos in her ear. “Have you been sated? Is there anything else that I may obtain for you? I would pull the stars from the sky if you would only ask for them.”

Constance smiles, a bit of green something stuck on her teeth, “Nah, I’m good. “

Bob helps her from her chair and walks her back to the laboratory table. “Ahh. Then, although it pains me to do so< I shall leave you to your work.” He says before snapping his fingers, clearing the table.

Bob dips her, giving her a face sucking kiss until her skin on her cheeks is almost purple, as he stands her back up she is completely gasping for breath, trying to cool herself with her fan. She has a severe case of the vapors. He then rises into the air, disappearing through the ceiling.

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

Remire Village. Nice place if you like living in Hell!!!! Whole place is aflame. Dimitri is acting like Frankenstein’s monster getting creeped out by the flames everywhere giving him flashbacks of Duscur. Felix is getting flashbacks of feral Dimitri. Sylvain is getting flashbacks of the girls he had dated here, they’re all monsters now and after him. Ingrid is having flashbacks of when she was camping and her marshmallows AND her hotdog fell into the campfire. Bob is busy covering the eyes of Annette and Ashe to keep them from as much of the horror as possible, the smell around him of burnt cinnamon is concerning. Somehow they save the villagers, Thomas’ skin is removed from Solon, a pasty white older than dirt uglier than sin guy. Professor B beats up the old guy pretty quick and pastyboy heads for the hills.

The Death Knight is there. Bob pulls the cinnamon rolls over and whispers in their ears.

“Hey kids, would you like to see your dear Uncle Bob get rid of the McKreepface guy on the horse? I’ll let you laugh at him while he burns, okay?”

Ashe and Annette nod their heads very quickly has Bob hands them each a bowl of popcorn and a box of milkduds for the show.

“Huzza-huzza-HOOM! You’re about to meet your DOOOOOOM!” Bob cackles as the magic of Dark Spikes T whips from his fingers and chomps on the body of the Death Knight like Godzilla eating buildings in Tokyo. The only thing left of the dude is a Dark Seal that Bob wraps in a pink bow and hands to Professor Byleth.

“Don’t you want this, Bob?” the Professor asks.

“Nope, mother got me one for my birth day. Figured you could use a spare.” The dark mage quips.

The Flame Emperor shows up. “Deathknight, you’re having too much fuuuuuuuuuck! What did you do to my pet?”

“Chomp chomp bitch.” Bob says making hand gestures like his fingers are teeth chomping towards her face.

Jeralt is angry. “So you’re the one that did this to my favorite village?”

“No, no, you got it all wrong.” The Flame Emperor backpedals. “Yeah, Solon works with me, but man I didn’t know he was going to pull this shit.”

“Come to the dark side!” Flameface pleads. “I will give you cookies…”

“We got Mercedes, your cookies suck compared to ours. Oh, and you suck too.” Says Byleth.

“Look, Solon and his buddies, they are powerful. Together, me, you, The Sword of the Creator. We can take them down.” Flame face

Bob pulls his right hand into his sleeve to make it look like it’s been cut off. “I’ll never rule the universe with you!”

Dedue runs up saying his Princeliness is missing. Bob grabs his two cinnamon rolls protectively.

“Don’t let Mr. CrazySpaghettihead scare you. Lets go get some icecream.” Bob says leading them to the monastery.

#fe3h #fire embelm three houses #Blue Lions #Crack #my stories #Black Eagles #FE16 hubert von vestra #byleth eisner

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strongsassysexysloane · 4 years

Text

Ain’t Life a B*tch - Chap 3

The long return, id apologise for the wait but as you can see I got distracted by other muses...

The crime scene was a mess. No matter how many alleyways you'd walked down throughout your partying years, it always looked way more disgusting in broad daylight than it had the night before. Especially when there was a dead body dumped under last nights or last weeks garbage. You were leaning more towards last weeks by the god awful smell and felt sorry for Alex but someone had to sort through it. Ben was more confident and trained with getting statements and knowing the right questions to ask. There was almost need for another agent but luckily the Metro were assisting rather than hindering your investigation.

Jimmy arrived on scene not long after you arrived and he was a joy to work with. He was a young awkward assistant the last time you dealt with him during an investigation. Ducky must be so proud.

"I'll no doubt have more when I get back to autopsy but my monies on the bullet wound right through the neck." He smiles up at you from his crouched position in amongst the garbage and corpse.

"How can you be so happy in this muck." Alex whined, shaking off some trash from her arms.

"I've been in worse." Jimmy beams and you shake your head as he starts to tell a tale.

The glare you offer halts him in divulging a disgusting story. "Don't scare her off on her first case."

The next few hours were spent doing routine crime scene work. Alex demanded a shower once she got back to work for her efforts and you let her, no one could concentrate with the smells coming from her. The car you drove had to be cleaned out before you would even consider hopping back in it again.

You were back in the office just over an hour when Jimmy called you down for an update. He mainly pointed out that his first educated guess was the right one with a few interesting traces of something found around the bullet would but he imagines its probably from the surroundings but sent it to Kasie just in case.

"I would say go check in on Kasie but the last time she had so much trash and awful smelling evidence it was not a good day." The scared look he gave you was fair warning enough.

You'd met Kasie in passing but hadn't had the pleasure of working with her yet. She was highly recommended by Ducky and Abby. That was a day when Abby emailed you letting you know she was leaving NCIS. You two always caught up when you visited DC or when she took a holiday to Cali but that was hardly ever. It was an email friendship and no one else could put personality into an email like Abby Scuito.

"Warning received. Should I-" You turned sharply at the sound of the doors opening behind you.

"Doctor Palmer I-" Jack looked up from her file as she walked through the entrance to Autopsy and stopped dead in her tracks. "Sorry I just-"

"It's fine - I - I was just leaving." You wanted to slap yourself for the studder in words, instead you turned back to Jimmy with the best fake smile you could muster. "Thanks Jimmy, call me if you find anything else." You could see his eyes darting between you and Jack and tried to give him a warning look. The one where you hoped he didn't say anything too awkward but Jimmy was too Palmer to notice.

"Well isn't this not awkward.. I'm just going to return to the least awkward human in the room while you two figure who stays and leaves." He started humming some kind of tune, you recognised it but couldn't name it.

"Right well someone needs to work on reading faces Jimmy. I'm leaving." You smile awkwardly at Jack as you walk past her and she walks up to the table Jimmy is working at only making eye contact for a split second before ignoring your presence completely. The pain in your stomach only twinges slightly as you make your way back up to the squadroom.

You let Alex check in with Kasie in case there was the very likely chance you bumped into Jack in the hallway or god forbid the elevator. Now that would feel like time had stopped completely.

The case was running along smoothly and everything pointed to the Petty Officer being in the wrong place at the right time. Ben managed to turn the nightclub owner around and give you the security from the alleyway exit without much jumping through the right hoops. Kasie managed to clear it up well enough to make out two people making out right at the edge of the camera, faces where too dark to make any kind of facial recognition but you recognised the Petty Officer straight away when he burst out of the club and yanked the man off the woman. She almost fell down once the man was yanked off.

Ben raged watching the scene take place on the plasma screen in Kasie's lab. "She's drunk or high!"

You walked back around to stand by Kasie. "Wind it back to when they come into the alley." The emotions on edge in your voice. It never got easier no matter how many cases you solved.

"There." Alex pointed at the screen as the man and woman exited the club.

"She's barely able to walk, he's practically carrying her. No way she'd remember, let alone be able to kiss the guy in that state." The anger boiling in Ben's voice.

You watch Alex cringe at the screen and flick your eyes back to Kasie's computer. "There's our hero. He was trying to save the girl and got killed for it."

The video plays out and you all watch the Petty Officer get shot just out of screen but see his body fall into the trash and the dirtbag move and shift more bags of trash on top of him. Then watch as he picks up the woman and they walk, stumble, off camera.

"The inside security videos should be coming in either tonight or tomorrow morning. We should hopefully have a better angle and nail the asshole."

You squeeze her shoulder. "Thanks Kase. Sorry it wasn't such a -" There's no real right answer to that sentence. "Thanks."

"I know and no worries. Still love my job. We'll get him." She beems, going back to the video footage, probably trying to find any scrap of evidence she could find. The samples Jimmy had sent up to her earlier were exactly what Jimmy guessed. Two for two he said. Just some trash liquid, Kasie had said it and it was in fact a technical term, that and trash juice.

The elevator ride back up to your desks was a quiet one and you wanted to give a comforting word to Alex who seemed to be most affected by what you'd just watched. "Ben, go back to the club take Eddie with you and talk to the Bouncer again. See if there was anyone monitoring that door and if they did notice those two. Flash the Petty Officer's photo around again just in case."

"On it." They said it in unison and you all laughed.

While the others were out you catch up on the reports, check over the crime scene reports and statements. Everything was in order. Kasie called just before Alex and Ben returned. Bullet wasn't going to help until you could find the gun, of course the dirtbag at the most popular handgun in all of America.

Ben slipped his coat onto his chair and unloaded his badge and gun into his desk. "Bouncer said he did recall a 'couple' exiting around that time but couldn't say if they were regulars or not without a photo."

"No bartenders could fully recognise our victim. Said it was a busy night." Alex sounded bummed but it was the nature of a club, many people, many drunk people, you couldn't remember everyone.

"It's always a busy night." You sigh. "Good work. Nothing helpful from Kasie or Jimmy. Finish off your reports from the crime scene and statements then go home. Hopefully Kasie will have something in the morning so we can get this guy."

They left not long after that. You were left in the squadroom by yourself and you suspected Gibbs. It was just hitting 1900 when you resigned yourself to going home. Nothing was going to come from rereading the reports.

"You ever leave before 1900, Gibbs?" It was a stab in the dark but you heard the low chuckle almost immediately from the other side of the divider.

"Could say the same for you. Seems like a pretty cut and dry case and you're still 'ere"

You hopped up from your desk, slipping on your coat and leaning over the divider. "Still don't want to miss anything."

"'ear that." He tilted more in his chair so he could look up at you. "I'm waiting for someone. Gonna have dinner." It was the answer to your cocked eyebrow.

The playfulness in your eyes drowned. "Right." You knew exactly who that person was. Her purposefully didn't say her name to gage your reaction.

Bastard.

"Well I'm gonna go home. Enjoy your date." The word just slipped out and you cringed when Gibbs looked at you with curiosity and amusement.

"Never said that."

"Didn't have to." You shot back and Gibbs amusement left.

"Night Y/n."

"Night." You shrugged it off as best you could. He didn't not confirm it and you clung to that for far too long as you waited by the elevator for it to arrive and it did. Painfully in time for you to see Jack descend the stairs and lock eyes with you before you hopped into the elevator. You couldn't click the close button quick enough, no way in hell were you waiting to ride with them.

The bottle of wine in your fridge screamed your name when you got home, matched with your comfiest pj's and some leftovers you weren't sure how old they were. Tasted good though. Perfect end to a steady work day. Hopefully tomorrow you'd catch the dirtbag.

It wasn't long from arriving with two cups of coffee and bagels for your team the following morning that Kasie called and found the suspect. He was all over a woman who didn't look that interested but he bought her a few drinks and she was happy to chat. You watched the security feed as the woman began to stumble and the man held her up, walked her toward the side exit where the camera didn't reach but matched up the times with the alleyway tape.

The dirtbag had a record, so Kasie managed to find him pretty quickly from facial recognition and Ben took Alex to round him up. You were flicking through his records, background checks when you figured it might be worth while to have a profiler look in on the interrogation in case you couldn't break him. That was unlikely but an extra pair of eyes wouldn't hurt.

That thought quickly turned sour when you realised who the current NCIS Forensic profiler was. Never the less you get up and head for their office.

You take several deep breaths. The conversation that would potentially come out of you seeking assistance wasn't one you were ready for just yet but knew you needed to have it. So Ducky would be that someone and you were more than ok for it to be with him. Your friendship with the sweet man was long and many memories and stories had been shared between you both. After all he did know about your heart break those years ago, you just never wanted to divulge who it was. One because he wasn't aware of Jack back then and you didn't want him to go searching because you knew he would and two, because saying or even typing her name was too hard at the time. Still is.

"Knock knock" You say along with performing the action. Ducky's door is always open but you know it's the right thing to just make sure because he may be in one of his moments of thought and didn't want to just waltz in.

Ducky hops off his treadmill and walks around to greet you with a smile and a hug. "Come in my dear." He motions for you to take a seat in his little sitting area, with a still steaming pot of tea. You eye him suspiciously and he just chuckles. "I didn't know you were coming, I was just about to sit down for a cup myself. So please join me."

"Thank you Ducky, I didn't want to take up too much of your time. I know you're in the middle of a project for Vance." He was always doing something important whenever he was in the building which wasn't too often these days. His presence was definitely missed most days, the comfort of a good friend.

"Nonsense, take a moment. You are in the middle of an interesting case I hear." He pours you a cup and hands it to you as you both take a seat. You smile at your friend, he thinks all cases are interesting even the most gruesome and foul played.

You take a nice long sip and instantly regret it as it slowly burns your mouth and down your throat. Trying not to wince too much, you place the cup down on the coffee table and lean forward, elbows pressed into your knees, clasping your hands in front of you. "That's why I'm here, would you mind observing an interrogation with me, my Agents are picking the guy up now." You take a chance and look into the Doctors curious eyes, concern frowning his features.

"I would love to assist but isn't Jacqueline of more use?" He sips his tea, eyes never leaving your face, watching your expression, trying to find an answer there before you speak and he must've found something of an answer because he sighs. "What happened? She's a tough woman but she cares." He smiles, remembering a moment he must've had with Jack in the past to back up his words.

You can't help the small smile the graces your face but the anxiety is high. "Nothing happened, well not today. We have a past and I'm not ready to go and ask for her help, just yet." You escape his look by taking a sip of tea, this time taking it more slowly, enjoying the soft burn going down your throat.

Ducky reaches forward and squeezes your arm gently. "Is she-?" He didn't need to finish that sentence, he knew your past, knew too well that the only reason you wouldn't go to a person for help was because something too painful happened. Memories were a bitch sometimes, the pain ever present whenever you thought about it.

Taking in too much oxygen, you let out a shaky breath and just nod. Grabbing the cup of tea as a lifeline as it warms your hands. "Can't face her Ducky. It feels like it happened yesterday whenever I see her, can't separate the personal from the professional and I feel she is in the same boat as we can't be within metres of each other without one of us walking away." Squeezing your eyes shut, blocking the emotions from spilling over.

Ducky's hand is back on your arm, holding you there, grounding you to the now and not then. "Must've been a shock to see her when you came back."

You can't help the scoff that escapes your mouth. Opening your eyes, feeling, hoping your emotions will stay put for now. "It was for both of us. DC was a big change for me and then to see her. I'm surprised you haven't heard about it. Almost everyone in the squadroom saw us on the promenade." You take a sip of tea and look up at Ducky, his smile and eyes give away that he was being polite and knew about the interaction but from who? Jack? Gibbs?

"I did here about that. NCIS is horrible with gossip. A new/ old Agent coming to DC and having a clear past with another Agent is something that people want to know about and find out about."

"We are investigators after all." You shrug and drop you head forward, the floor was very interesting right now.

Ducky retracts his hand, sitting back in his arm chair with his cup of tea. "That they are. However that's not the point or what I want to talk about. You will have to work with her eventually. She works closely with the investigating teams. She's a great asset to have on your side." He's trying to reason, to give you the motivation to get her help but this isn't anything you don't already know. She was great at her job, five years had passed and you knew it didn't matter.

"I know that Duck. Just for this one, can you help? This big change of location, ocean for land and the memories that I buried long ago are just overwhelming me right now and I need to focus on this case. It's my first since coming back and I need to show my team that I have this. Not break down in the middle of an interrogation because the woman I love-d is standing beside me and I can't-" This time your emotions are too much and you quickly wipe away the tears that fall.

"I'll help. Give me a call when the suspect is here and I will meet you." He stands up, placing his cup on the table and opens his arms.

You can't help but laugh at his invitation. Hopping up, you place your cup down next to his and wrap your arms around your friend. "Thank you." You whisper into his ear.

"You're more than welcome. But please have a talk with Jacqueline soon. It may be painful but you both will need to work together. I'm not always here." He steps back and cups his hand on your cheek.

A big smile crosses your face, the comforting touch of his hand holds the emotions at bay. "One day." That was all you could promise right now and he accepts it, dropping his hand from your face. He picks up his tea and walks over to his treadmill. "See you soon Doctor." You gulp down the last of your tea before leaving, leaving a lot lighter and more emotional than you were when you entered his office.

It was a relief in a way to get those words out and talk to him. Like you knew it would be but that didn't make it any less painful. You took a moment and stopped into the woman's toilets on the bottom floor, luckily no one ever used this one except for Kasie. It was empty and gave you the moment of silence you needed, wiping your eyes and gathering yourself back up before going back into the bullpen.

You walk back into the bullpen to see Ben walk the dirtbag down the most wanted walk way and towards interrogation.

"Just waiting on Duck. I'll be there in a few minutes." You call after him and he nods in response, pushing the guy to keep moving.

"Ducky? Thought he was helping Leon with somethin'" You turn around to see an very nosey Gibbs looking over the divider at you. You quirk your brow at his curiosity but he doesn't back down. You hadn't seen him since last night and the twinge in your stomach came back.

"That he is but he offered to help."

"You ask and I am happy to receive, my dear." The Doctor walks up behind you, surprising you and you turn around, away from Gibbs even more pointed look.

So you lied, only a little bit.

"No one better for the task." You wink at him and he extends his elbow. He smiles at you dearly and you slip your hand through his extended elbow. You turn to give Gibbs a goodbye wink but see Jack is now standing behind and you just tug gently at the Doctors arm to start moving. "Onwards." You both laugh, Ducky's a bit more genuine and lighthearted than yours. The look you get from Gibbs and now Jack, will come back to bite you later. Gibbs wasn't one to back down from something he didn't know and when he turned to see who you were looking at behind him, he knew something was off. More so now than before but you couldn't think about that. You had a bad guy to interrogate and squeeze a confession out of.

Ducky really wasn't needed in the end. Ben and you had found a nice balance in the interrogation room, being able to read where the other was going to go and he followed your lead perfectly. It through the dirtbag off when you put down the dominance in the room and he tried to make a crack at it which didn't end well for him. The bluff of matching the bullets to his gun paid off. You really couldn't believe it when he slipped up and confessed.

Your teams first case was solved and there was hardly a hiccup. You couldn't wipe the smile off your face.

Kasie walked in to the bullpen and perched her hip against your desk. "Well if I ever see an ounce or scrap of trash ever again it will be too soon." Kasie sighs.

"What was that about loving your job, Kase?" You smirk at the scientist and the shocked look she gave you with a hand over her heart.

"I love my job, but the smell in my lab is going to take at least a week to filter out." Everyone laughs and she pushes off your desk. "Anyway, got other tests to run, cases to solve and smells to get rid of. Until next time." She salutes you and you give her a small one back.

"Thanks Kase."

The team goes quiet for a moment. Everyone reading over their final reports ready to finish. Alex takes a long sigh and you watch as she slumps furhter into her chair. She was all happy not a moment ago about the dirtbag finally getting his dues.

"You two cracked the guy, I was just there to help." Alex was doubting herself, it was clear as day in her words and her tone. You were about to jump in when Ben piped up.

You watched with a proud smile as Ben went to her defence and did his best to boost her confidence. There was no doubt in your mind now that this team was going to work. He was always willing to help his younger team mate, no matter what he was doing and that's what you wanted, needed to see. After being a one woman team for so long, you needed people around you that helped and cared not just about the work but about each other. This job was a stressful and most times ugly one, so the team needed to be more than a team some days.

"Nonsense! It's your first big case, you helped and we managed to get the guy because of your work. Don't doubt that Edison." He grinned at her widely, looking over his screen to make sure the young Agent got the message.

"Thanks Ben." Alex's mood lifted slightly and she went back to concentrating on her report.

A blonde head pops up from behind you and you catch her in the corner of your eye. "I here a drink is a good way to celebrate your first case closed." Ellie sings, looking over at you all.

"Thanks Ell but I got dinner plans with friends." Alex politely declines and Ellie pouts turning to you and Ben.

Ben's next to politely decline. "Sounds great but think I'll just hit the pillow. Didn't get much sleep last night."

It looks like Ellie's about to give up when you smile at her and she jumps up and down again. "Only a few." It's a weak promise but you really don't want to get drunk with her. It could lead to confessions which you really couldn't afford right now. You were barely keeping it together, this case was a great distraction.

"Deal! I'll just wrap up some things here and we can head out? Nick just went down to invite Kasie so hopefully she'll be coming."

"Deal. How's Kasie with a few drinks in her?" You laugh, imagining Kasie drunk. She'd definitely, hopefully, be a chatty, happy drunk. It would be entertaining.

Ellie shrugs before answering. "She's only ever had one or two. Been designated driver most time. We probably should stop taking her up on that. I'll buy her a drink tonight.. or two." Her smile spreads across her face as a plan emerges.

The laugh slips between your lips as you turn back to your computer and Ellie gets back to hers. Your team leave for the night and Nick comes back into the bullpen with an excited Kasie a few minutes later. "Ready?"

"Ready for what?" Jack's voice vibrates through you and you want to crawl into a ball. You knew exactly what was about to happen and had to think fast for a beyond lame excuse.

"Drinks. Nick just convinced me to come. What about it Jack?" Kasie offered, not seeing the hesitation in Ellie's face and Nick's shifty eyes.

"Sounds great. I'm ready."

Ellie leans back over the divider and you weren't prepared to see her so quickly. "Y/n, you coming?" The concern clear in her eyes, the lightness and eagerness to her earlier offer gone.

Your eyes shift between hers and your computer. "Thanks Ellie but I just realised I have plans with a friend I've been trying to catch up with since I got back to DC. She just messaged me.. So another time?" It came out somewhat less lame than you thought it would. At least you hoped it did.

A comforting smile curled Bishop's lips."Definitely."

You let out a sigh of relief when she doesn’t persist, grabbing your coat, you head home to a frozen pizza and half a bottle of wine. That would have to do for tonight. The look Jack gives you as you escape was one you weren't going to forget for a while. It seemed almost like she was let down. Like maybe she wanted you to join? That couldn't be right but maybe meeting outside of work would be easier than avoiding each other in the office. It didn't matter anyway, you weren't going. Alcohol and being around Jack Sloane was a horrible combo. The past proved that tenfold.

. . . .

Hopefully the next chapter will come within the next week... :)

#NCIS #jack sloane x reader #jack sloane #fanfic #Ain't life a bitch #ncis x reader #reader insert #fem!reader

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wherearemyglassesbro · 4 years

Note

Lawyer AU - what are the best court stories? Either the biggest failures, biggest upsets, or biggest successes?

Ahh!! This is exciting to write for!! :)

Defense attorney Kirkland: Arthur’s biggest success was his second trial, he’s so proud of that trial to this very day. Art is a man of strategy, he’s observed his city’s prosecutors in action many times before, he knows their personalities and how they think. But during Art’s second trial, a prosecutor from another city was brought in which totally threw Arthur off. He thought he was going against a Braginsky for sure! But he got some hotshot from the city next door. Arthur had never seen this guy before so he had no clue what he was getting into. The crime was straight forward, that’s what the prosecution said. ‘A husband and wife were killed in their homes, a neighbor discovered them but his prints were all over the murder weapon so he must have been the murderer’. After three days in court, Arthur pulled a win out of his ass by proving to the court that the husband and wife killed eachother, there was never a murderer! They were the murderers! The neighbor was innocent! The knife that bared his prints was handled by him two nights ago when the neighbors had dinner with the husband and wife. The other prosecutor was ruthless but Arthur stood his ground! He remembers that case fondly and keeps in touch with the neighbors still :)

Prosecutor Bonnefoy: Francis’s biggest failure was when he lost to Arthur for the first time. Arthurs 5th trial, Francis’s 23rd trial. Francis was beyond confident in that trial, he knew he’d win the second he opened the file! He had everything he needed! Evidence, witness interviews, a goddamn updated autopsy report!! But Arthur beat him on the second day of the trial. How you ask? Because of a smell. The smell of cologne left on the victim pointed to a whole new murderer and Francis was certainly not prepared for that! He had never even talked to that man, he only had a brief recess to prepare! That’s one of the hardest losses he’s taken since he lost to a brand new lawyer...He’s beaten countless newbies before her Kirkland beat him! And when he did that, Kirkland broke Fran’s 10-wins-in-a-row streak.

Prosecutor Edelstein: Roderich’s biggest case was when he had to prosecute his own father for breaking into neighbors houses and stealing their valuables. He didn’t want to take that case....But he had to, something in him told him he had to. That was his 12th case, he was still young when he took it. He put on a show of acting tough but he technically...Rigged the trial. He knew his father was innocent so he went easy on the defense. He practically let them win. His father was found innocent and Roderich’s career took a pretty big blow. His father...was guilty. Deep down he knew he was guilty. But he couldn’t let him to jail! He looks back on that case with a lot of shame...If he could go back in time and redo the case, he’d put his father away for sure, just so he’d learn his lesson.

Prosecutor Braginskya: The hardest hit Natalya ever took was the first case she ever lost. Her career started out with a 12 win streak! The newspaper printed many articles about her having the ‘Braginsky Blessing’ just like her brother, mother and grandmother. But just like every other attorney, she was bound to lose at some point. She lost her 13th case and now 13 is her unlucky number. She went up against defense attorney Héderváry, her first trial where she faced off against another woman! For whatever reason, Nat didn’t think this trial would be as hard as her past trials, she didn’t think she had to fight as hard as she usually did since she was going against Eliza! But oh lord...The trial was over on the second day and the defense won. Nat couldn’t eat or sleep or really do anything for almost a week, she was in shock from losing. She couldn’t face her family either, ignoring her brother’s worried calls. It took about another week for her to get back into the swing of things and she’s made herself a promise to destroy Héderváry if they ever face off again.

Prosecutor Braginsky: Ivan’s had his fair share of wins and losses but a trial that will always stick with him was when he prosecuted a judge and his wife!!! It was so wild!! The judge had to testify before the court and another judge!! And he and his wife were sentanced to life in prison for killing multiple men who had dirt on them! The trial itself was a mess. The first day in court was a whopping 7 hours. The second court day was postponed for three days because the police needed to investigate more. Then the second trial day took almost all day again! Multiple witness testimonies, the judge testifying with his wife multiple times, and at the end of the third day, after 9 hours in court, the judge and his wife received a guilty verdict. After that, Ivan went home and slept for a solid 13 hours he was so exhausted lol

Defense attorney Héderváry: Theres one trial that Eliza will always look back and laugh at. There was a domestic altercation between a couple and it needed to be settled in court. Eliza was there to defend wife A. Wife B, however, became very sick in the middle of the trial but no one believed her. She ended up vomiting all over the floor which caused a horrible chain reaction where wife A threw up as well. The bailiff couldn’t stand to look at them so as he moved away, he ran into judge’s stand and knocked himself out. The trial had to be postponed so everyone could recover, Eliza still thinks it was hilarious! The ‘bonk’ sound from the bailiff hitting the judge’s stand was just hilarious!! In the end, the wives changed their mind and they ended up canceling the charges against eachother. It all worked out! She tells this story at Christmas parties and stuff when people ask about her craziest trial!

#lawyer au :)#wohooooo #can you tell that I cant come up with cases right off the top of my head? lmao #pretend this makes sense ;)

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itsthemink · 4 years

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Here’s my 9-page story that I wrote within 3 1/2 hours before the deadline

Context: I made this character in high school, and then used him again in my first writing assignment for my fiction writing class (which was about him being the miserable dude whose job is to wear the Chuck E. Cheese costume) and in my second writing assignment (where he went to prom and his date asked him for punch, and there was no punchline). This being the first full-fledged story for this class, I decided to complete this character’s narrative.

(Full story below the cut)

Absurd Misery

Halloween night. This sacred holiday is the most mystical day of the year, where forces beyond our realm are at their strongest. The Halloween of 1989 was an anomaly, as it somehow managed to fall on Friday the 13th, making that Halloween the most cursed day in Earth’s history. Imagine how awful life would be for someone born on this day. It sure was a good thing that Erica Horne, world record holder for most mirrors smashed and the first woman to run a 5K underneath a trail of ladders, wasn’t expecting her water to break for another thirteen days.

Or so she thought.

Whatever cruel god lies in the beyond was hellbent on making the life of her son, Dudley Horne, filled with absurd misery.

Dudley Horne was brought into this world knowing grief, as both his mother and his father, Jacob Rye Horne, would perish during childbirth. Erica died due to complications from childbirth, and Jacob “had a random stroke or something.” Nobody ever knew what finally did Jacob in; the guy who did Jacob’s autopsy was really high that day.

Having no parents, Dudley Horne was raised by his grandmother and her three polyamorous husbands. His four caregivers gave Dudley Horne an excellent childhood, or at least as excellent as someone who is plagued by misfortune could have. Raising a child whose mere existence was an affront to God had its challenges, but Nana, Popop, Phil, and Larry made sure to raise Dudley Horne into a fine, upstanding, kind, and understanding young man. Instead, they taught him how to love, and that was the most absurdly miserable thing to have ever happened to Dudley Horne.

Life would find it amusing to take away all those that Dudley Horne held dear, starting with Phil in early 1994. Phil was the brand ambassador of a spray cheese company (despite being deathly allergic to cheese). He was filming an advertisement for their company’s new product with his five year old grandson, when one of the vats suffered a catastrophic meltdown and exploded, spraying thick yellow globs of death exclusively on Phil, the spray cheese company brand ambassador with the deadly cheese allergy.

It sure was a good thing for Phil that the company’s products contained zero cheese. If you were one of the executives, you would be shitting your custom tailored pants, since you’ve been lying to the FDA about your “cheese” products for decades. What was slightly less fortunate for both Phil and exponentially more fortunate the suits was that the contents of the cheese vat-turned-bomb were superheated to around 700 degrees Fahrenheit. There were rumors that, by the time they got most of the “cheese” off Phil, he was more perfectly cooked Philly cheesesteak than human.

The process of becoming a Philly cheesesteak because of a freak accident at the spray cheese factory was a slow, agonizing process, a process that both resulted in Phil’s untimely demise and was witnessed by Dudley Horne in its entirety. Nana, Popop, and Larry sued the company for millions, not knowing that a company as big as that would have much better lawyers. The company’s lawyers deployed the oldest trick in the book: make the defendants sound as dumb and greedy as possible. Thus, the headlines did not read “Loving Family Man Cooked To Perfection In Freak Accident.” Instead they read “Greedy Queer Couple Sends Deathly Allergic Husband And Stupid Five Year Old To Cheese Factory, Knowing That He Is Deathly Allergic, The Husband Dies, And Now The Dumb And Greedy Queer Couple Is Suing This Wholesome Family-Friendly Company For Millions ☹.”

The family lost the lawsuit, owing tens of thousands of dollars in legal fees alone. It was difficult, but thanks to Popop’s job as the region’s top corn producer, they were able to stay afloat on top of their debt. Popop’s job couldn’t save them from the public ridicule, however, and the grieving polyamorous couple and their five year old grandson Dudley Horne were relentlessly mocked for months. By sheer coincidence, in August of the same year, Stella Liebeck (the McDonald's hot coffee lady) would steal the limelight from the Horne family by having her life also ruined by corporate lawyers. Finally out of the public eye, and with Popop’s business to support them and plenty of therapy, the Horne family could heal from the tragic, freak loss of Phil.

Popop was next. It was the summer of 1999, the hottest summer on record, and corn demand was at an all time high. Being the region’s top corn producer was certainly a lucrative business, but it meant that Popop could not spend as much time with his family as he would have liked. But, as he grew that corn, he thought only of his family, and especially of his ten year old grandson Dudley Horne. Popop was Dudley Horne’s favorite grandfather, and Dudley Horne was Popop’s favorite grandson. To spend more time with at least his grandson, Popop started taking Dudley Horne with him to work a few years back, and Dudley Horne absolutely loved it. It’s such a shame, though, what happened to Popop.

June 12, 1999 was, for the most part, a completely typical day. Popop and his beloved Dudley Horne spent the day making sure the corn was growing as best as it could. As the afternoon turned into evening, the two took a much needed rest outside the corn silo. Dudley Horne certainly worked up a sweat that day, so Popop gave Dudley Horne some money to go to the ice cream parlor, which was just on the corn farm for… some reason. Anyway, Dudley Horne walked across the hundred acre corn farm to the conveniently located ice cream parlor, and walked back with two banana splits (him and Popop’s favorite). As he was returning to where he had left his favorite grandfather, Dudley Horne heard the sound of metal tearing and saw the corn silo spring a leak in the distance. Having flashbacks to how a food container malfunction took Phil away from him five years prior, Dudley Horne dropped the banana splits and broke into a full sprint.

The first thing that struck Dudley Horne at the corn silo was the menacing silence. Popop would have greeted him by now. Did the corn spillage take Popop? With tears now streaming down his face, Dudley Horne ran over to the mountain of kernels and began frantically searching the pile of grain for Popop. And he did find Popop, buried beneath a mountain of corn, unmoving and cold to the touch. The force of millions of kernels hitting Popop at once was enough to kill him instantly. Dudley Horne held his favorite grandfather’s body and wept, angry and confused and saddened at how the world could take away his Popop’s life in a deluge of corn. Why couldn’t it have been Larry? He was supposed to have Nana and Popop, not Nana and fucking Larry. He wished that it was Larry beneath a vegetable grave and not his beloved Popop. Dudley Horne never really recovered from the loss of Popop, and resented Larry, just for living, for the rest of his days.

Luckily for Dudley Horne, the rest of Larry’s days would only amount to a little over two years.

Larry was a bit of a family embarrassment, but Nana and the late Popop and Phil loved him regardless. You see, Larry was a marine life activist, or more specifically, a piranha activist. Larry’s life was dedicated towards destigmatizing those little murder machines and raising awareness for some stupid reason, like people don’t know what the hell a piranha is. As you can imagine, Larry’s lifework was very successful, if you consider success to be wasting your family’s time and money on advocating for a species nowhere near endangerment.

Larry’s lifework would, unsurprisingly, be his downfall, as the very fish he dedicated his life to would end up ripping him to shreds. The date: September 11, 2001. Larry had scheduled a really stupid event where he would fully submerge himself in a tank of over fifty piranhas. Nana and the eleven year old Dudley Horne had to attend out of obligation, much to Dudley Horne’s dismay. He was still grieving from the death of Popop. The two watched as Larry was lowered into the tank full of murder and watched in horror as the tank erupted into a vile mix of frenzied predators and chunks of Larry. At least the water was clouded with blood before they could see any gratuitous gore. Nana suffered a panic attack and fainted, and Dudley Horne sat in complete numbness. Wasn’t this what he wanted? Wasn’t this revenge for living when Popop couldn’t? Didn’t he resent Larry? Why couldn’t he stop the tears? Why did he mourn the loss of Larry, the grandfather he resented, who was tragically mauled to death by piranhas on September 11, 2001?

The emotional trauma of watching three of his grandfathers die in tragically freakish circumstances left Dudley Horne a husk of a person, which is some heavy stuff for someone who wasn’t even twelve yet. Nearly every waking moment of his life was plagued by the strongest misery, and the only one who could offer any comfort in his personal Hell was Nana. With her help, Dudley Horne, somehow, managed to begin healing, and lived life as a normal kid.

Take a wild guess what happened to Dudley Horne after that.

It was November 2005, a month after Dudley Horne’s sixteenth birthday. He was in his sophomore year of high school, and he was in the top ten percent of his class. He did not have many friends, but the few friends he did have were basically family. They were the first people he could bring himself to open up to after the tragedies of his youth, but they didn’t know that. Nobody would ever know about his trauma. Nobody could ever understand. But that didn’t matter, because Dudley Horne was finally content with life again. He finally got his driver’s license and was on his way to becoming an upstanding young adult.

Then Nana’s diagnosis happened.

It wasn’t good.

Stage three leukemia.

It was happening again.

Just as Dudley Horne was learning to live, fate tore any hope he had left to shreds, and he was broken once again.

Chemotherapy was incredibly expensive, so Dudley Horne applied for every job he could. The only place that responded was Chuck E. Cheese. They had an opening for a Chuck E. suit wearer, which was the job Dudley Horne wanted the least. But he had to support Nana. She had to live. So, Dudley Horne swallowed the last shreds of his pride and took the job.

The first day of Dudley Horne’s new job was a nightmare, that is to say, better than most of Dudley Horne’s days. Day one and he had to entertain some kids at a party, and one of them got so excited she vomited all over Dudley Horne. He didn’t care, he had a sick grandmother to support. This would, for some reason, not be an uncommon occurrence.

Nearly every day for Dudley Horne’s sophomore and junior years of high school, he drove his grandmother’s 1986 Honda Civic to work at his personal pizza parlor prison, and he was the best god damn Chuck E. that that sorry excuse for a children’s entertainment venue had ever seen. His outstanding performance as the rat bastard was rewarded with a few raises, surprisingly, and he was able to fund Nana’s cancer treatment.

In a shocking twist of events, something legitimately good happened in Dudley Horne’s life. Nana completely beat cancer. The odds were completely stacked against her-- she was an old woman with stage three breast cancer, but she still managed to kick its ass. Nana was cancer free, and that meant that Dudley Horne would never have to step foot in the dominion of Charles E. Cheese again. Despite the amount of agonizing shit that life had thrown at him, Dudley Horne came out on top, and he gradually became a normal teenager again.

In his senior year, Dudley Horne met the love of his life. Dudley Horne had seen Marcus Crowley around school occasionally, but he had never spoken to him before. They were assigned as group partners in English, and the two quickly struck up a close bond. Marcus was the first person that Dudley Horne was completely enthralled with; he liked talking to Marcus, he liked hanging out with Marcus, he liked everything about Marcus. Was this… love? It was a foreign concept to Dudley Horne, something previously reserved for his grandmother and her polyamorous relationship with her bisexual and two gay grandfathers. The feeling was foreign to Dudley Horne, but he relished in it.

Senior prom was rapidly approaching, and neither of Dudley Horne nor Marcus had a date. One night while thinking of his best friend, Dudley Horne had an ingenious idea. The two of them could be each others’ dates.

Two weeks before prom, Dudley Horne walked up to Marcus, and, wish a forced casualness, mustered the courage to ask Marcus,

“Hey dude, since neither of us have dates, would you be down if we went to prom with each other?”

Marcus was stunned. Did his best friend just ask him out? No, it was just a bro thing, Marcus told himself.

“Sure, sounds fun. Pick me up at my place at 8:30, prom starts at 9,” Marcus replied in a monotone voice.

Dudley Horne was ecstatic. This would be his one and only chance to make the perfect move on Marcus. He had dreamed of this for so long, and now his ultimate plan was finally in motion. He would ask Marcus out after they had a wonderful time at prom.

Prom night. Dudley Horne was as nervous as can be. After giving himself a pep talk, he drove off to meet destiny in the eyes and make it his bitch.

“What took you so long, Dudley Horne? Prom starts in seven minutes,” Marcus called to the usually punctual Dudley Horne. Shit, he thought, that pep talk was longer than I thought. With no further controversy, they sped off to senior prom.

They got there and prom, to put it bluntly, was a snooze-fest. It was just a bunch of teenagers dancing to shitty pop music. Marcus tried to break the awkward silence between the two and asked for Dudley Horne to get him some punch, and there wasn’t a single soul at the punch bowl.

Dudley Horne returned with Marcus’s beverage. Marcus turned to Dudley Horne and said, “This sucks shit. You wanna get out of here?”

This was unexpected. Does Marcus hate me? Dudley Horne thought to himself. Dudley Horne, not wanting to disappoint his crush, agreed, and the two left prom unceremoniously. Instead of prom, they chose to spend their evening on top of a parking garage, completely content with each other’s company.

Sitting next to Marcus on the roof of Nana’s Honda Civic, Dudley Horne finally managed to muster enough courage to come clean to Marcus.

“Marcus, I have to be honest. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love everything about you, your curly hair, your smile, your bright green eyes, the way you laugh, I… love you, dude. And I’ve never had the words until now. I know you’re not into guys or anything, but would you… like to maybe give us a shot?”

Marcus sat in silence, internalizing the question just posed by his best friend. He broke the silence by crying, and said with the biggest smile,

“Dudley, I’ve been so afraid you would never feel the same way… I love you, Dudley.”

The two shared a passionate kiss, and a beautiful relationship was born that night. When Nana died a few years later in a freak accident and was crushed by a falling piano, Dudley had Marcus to comfort him. For some reason, with Marcus, he didn’t feel powerless in the face of death. He was completed by Marcus, and felt true, unrelenting happiness for the first time in his life.

Dudley should have known better than to feel happy.

It was their 7th anniversary. Dudley had big plans for this year, going all out and cooking a lavish feast to celebrate their union. When Marcus was late returning home, Dudley thought nothing of it. The tragedy of his past was a mere echo, now that he had Marcus. When Dudley received a call at around eleven o’clock, his heart sank into his stomach. Marcus had suffered a heart attack and died en route to the hospital.

Dudley was in shock. He had dealt with cheesy death. He had dealt with corny death. He had dealt with fishy death. He had dealt with absurd misery for his entire life, and the grief of losing the one person who made it not miserable was staggering. This death was normal. He didn’t know how to deal with normal death.

Dudley, overcome with grief, withdrew from the world, not wanting to suffer anymore. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t be hurt. And he lived the rest of his life alone, contempt in his own absurd misery.

#my shit #story #fiction

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undonesmoved · 4 years

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WHITERIVER EMERGENCY SERVICES RESPOND TO REPORTS OF A CRASHED VEHICLE AT 7:27 AM ON APRIL 21, 2020. officer everett jacobs is the first on the scene, and discovers a black 1967 mustang that has collided head-on with an old maple tree that stands sentry on the edge of town. near the car is the person who made the call, the local doctor who bikes every morning before opening up his office for the day, and when jacobs asks him to step back, the doctor, with blood on his hands, looks up to him and says grimly: “one occupant, and i’m pretty sure he’s deceased.”

whiteriver is a small town, the kind of town where everyone knows everything, and the doctor, decker, is by no means a young man; jacobs saw him when he was a kid, brings his kids to see him because he’s the best (not the only practitioner, but in the eyes of his patients, he might as well be). it’s against protocol, the lines of text seared into jacobs’ memory, screaming protests at this breach, but when he hears those words - i’m pretty sure he’s deceased - jacobs waves him back, allows him to continue his examination, because either way, he’ll get a good look; if he’s alive, well, decker will treat him while they await transport to the big hospital in the city, and if he’s dead -- decker doubles as the guy who does the autopsies... (coroner, jacobs thinks belatedly; that’s the word for it.)

the ambulance arrives, red light swirling, as jacobs has cautiously treaded closer, sweeping the beam of his light across the interior of the car, rather uselessly because the sun’s already on the horizon, its golden-yellow rays glinting off something in the passenger seat. jacobs’ cousin anita is one of the paramedics, and as she and her partner exit the vehicle, jacobs is retreating, walking the perimeter of the car (admiring the paint, the detail, the love that was obviously put into it prior to the wreck), towards the passenger’s side, because this is his job: to determine what happened. but every step he takes is minuscule, and it seems to take him ages to reach the door, because this is his first dead body despite his ten years wearing a uniform; it isn’t that nobody dies in whiteriver, it isn’t even a town where you can proclaim no one is murdered (before his time, there was that serial murderer, fifteen dead bodies, there’s a memorial in the town square; just last week he arrested a handful of teens for vandalizing it) - but through luck, maybe, it’s never been him to respond to the calls involving corpses. they’ve only ever come when he’s off-duty, or preoccupied, and there’s a grumble in the precinct every time, someone wondering aloud why it’s never jacobs.

but it’s jacobs now, and as he pulls open the door of the mustang, he wishes to god it wasn’t.

blood has pooled on the seat, but that’s not what draws his attention, eyes tracking immediately to the pistol, engraved with - ivory, maybe? the grip is elegant, spattered with blood, lying amid the puddle of red and shards of glass from the caved-in windshield. the markings are clearly something, a depiction of something or -one, but he can’t make it out. his hand grips instinctively at the sidearm holstered on his belt, that hair-trigger reaction drilled into his mind in the academy, and he eyes the body - definitely dead, anita, max and decker had whispered, though not unkindly - but he doesn’t relax; jacobs fears dying, a goddamn idiotic phobia for a man in uniform, his brother reminds him frequently, and he has to bite his tongue every time so he doesn’t spit back, well, i didn’t want this job, but what the hell else was i supposed to do?

now he sees what the sun had reflected off of, and jacobs inhales, loosening his fingers, catching his tongue between his teeth as he pulls a glove from the pocket of his vest; gingerly, he grips the flask, gunmetal grey and liquid sloshing inside. he places his flashlight atop the car, clicked off, and with a small pause to fully glove both of his hands, he unscrews the cap, met immediately with the aroma of tequila - retracting from the stench with a visceral disgust. his father was a recovering alcoholic, though recovering didn’t join that label until jacobs was twelve, when his father nearly killed a man in a drunken hit-and-run -- and those twelve years were long enough to create a full-body aversion to even the slightest whiff of liquor.

he holds up the flask as if it’s the head of a decapitated enemy, and he’s the reluctant victor of some battle; slightly shamed, head bowed, expression pinched.

the trio discussing the extent of wounds, attempting to determine which killed their john doe all look up, and as a collective, they exhale, but it isn’t a noise of disgust; it’s a breath of sorrow, and they observe a moment of silence for the war this man had been fighting.

***

THE LICENSE IN HIS WALLET IDENTIFIES HIM AS JAMES FORD, but a multitude of forged badges - local and federal law enforcement - offer a myriad of other names. fingerprints call him dean winchester, and jacobs has a permanent crease between his brows as he studies the file that accompanies it: first-degree murder, robbery, assault, impersonation of a federal officer, fraud... it’s a laundry list of crimes, and the tension in his temples beats a steady rhythm the more he reads. there’s blogs and documentaries dedicated to this man, there’s conspiracies and theories and even an obscure book series from some writer who seems to be a ghost that follows a man named dean and his brother, sam - and jacobs’ dean has a brother named sam, too.

or had, at least, because he seems to be dead ---- though it seems dean has been dead a couple times, too. st. louis, then again in colorado, and apparently a handful of other times, but the reports are conflicting and his headache’s worsening. there’s reporters camped out in front of the station, in front of the hospital, scouting his house and anita’s and max’s and decker’s, searching for any word, quote, photo they can get.

he abandons his computer mid-article detailing the occult ties to dean winchester, proclaiming he’s a satan-worshiper, a demon himself, satan himself, jacobs retreating to the bathroom, locking himself in a stall, and trying to remember what that engraving on the handle of dean winchester’s gun showed.

***

SAM WINCHESTER IS SITTING IN FRONT OF THE TELEVISION, watching the nonstop reporting of the ‘apparent death of dean winchester’ - a headline accompanied by a subtitle that reads “again?” they call him a monster, a killer, insane, they remind the public how dangerous he was, that he was one of the most wanted men in the country once upon a time. social media has their theories, their criticisms, some expressing gratitude he’s dead, while others wonder how he’s managed to seemingly die so many times, how he keeps slipping out of custody, and anyway, is he really dead now? some post his mugshot and a series of tweets insisting they’ve seen him, met him, the more bold ones who don’t care about reputation coming outright and saying he saved them from a monster; that his story is real, only to be dismissed as “just as crazy as him” / “he brainwashed u, he’s a psycho, that’s what they do.”

they speak of him as if he isn’t a hero, a man who’s saved the world once or thrice or a dozen times.

sam is in a motel, because he could not be home; he could not let amelia see him crumbling. he had accepted that his brother was gone, though some part of him continued to hope he may resurface; after heaven and hell, why not escape purgatory as well? but time passed, seasons came and went, months became years and sam began to understand it was a futile hope, that he was merely hurting himself the longer he clung to this, the longer he kept dean with him; he was gone, and he wouldn’t want sam like this, anyway, always with an eye and foot towards the door. he would want him to live, and sam could hear dean say that, and hears it again in this motel room that smells of rotten linen: you deserve a life, sammy, it’s all i ever wanted for you.

the weight of the wedding ring on his finger grounds him, and he twists and pulls at it, just like dean did to the one he wears - wore. the one that belonged to their mother.

there’s a knock on the door, quick and efficient, and sam tenses, pulling from a holster on his side a sleek grey pistol.

a voice calls his name - not the false surname he uses now in this new life, but the one he was born to, and he shudders, cocking back the hammer of his gun, crossing the room with military precision.

the voice calls again, but not just his name; this time, she says, “i’m a friend. i knew dean.”

***

ZARI IS IN THE PASSENGER’S SEAT OF THE IMPALA. sam is behind the wheel. the car is freshly waxed and detailed, the rims shining silver beneath the pale moonlight. around the rearview mirror is the same air freshener dean liked, tree-shaped and bought from a gas station; a charm that bobby gave him bobbles beside it, a little sigil on a metal chain. zari doesn’t know the symbolism of it.

nothing about the car’s changed. dean’s arsenal and talismans are still in the hidden compartment of the trunk; sam and dean’s initials are still engraved in their spot; there’s still a dent in the hood of the car from a typically angry shapeshifter. dean’s knife made from dragonbone and his bible from pastor jim, one of the people who raised the boys when their own father couldn’t, and his stash of pain medication he always believed sam never knew about but did from day one, are all still in the center console; sam hasn’t changed a thing, has just kept up the appearance and the mechanics, keeping the impala pretty and running good for dean’s return. it’s been a week and the news still features his face, and zari is scrolling through a conspiracy thread when they pull into the parking lot; she’s quiet, and so is sam, and the radio is on but it’s low, tuned to one of dean’s favorite stations (sam never even changed the station, never touched the dial once). he looks sideways to his company, this woman who said she was a friend of dean’s - just a friend, she repeated, and sam nodded - who worked with him, hunted with him, because he’s been back for years and didn’t say anything.

he’d been back for years, and he never said anything.

she said it was because dean didn’t want to pull sam away from his life when he was finally living; “not again,” dean had said to her, and though she didn’t understand, sam has never forgotten the way dean crept into his stanford apartment, and how he’s blamed himself for what happened to jessica, in the same way sam shoulders the same guilt. sam is pale, waxen, feeling as dead as his brother is (“it is him,” zari had whispered, and she was crying when she said it; “it’s really him.”) he parks the impala, rolling to a stop and cutting the engine, and zari pockets her phone, looking up at him, then to the moon; it’s not quite full, but it’s swollen and it’s bright, and the lot is illuminated with its white light, the world in shades of white and blue. they exit, doors shutting in unison, and zari jerks her head to the left, to a set of doors by the loading bay of the hospital.

she and a ‘friend’, she said, bribed the right people, and they’ll bring dean’s body to them, to do with what they wish rather than have it cremated like the powers that be decreed.

the doors shudder open; a small woman keeps her head low as she wheels out a body bag on a gurney, not looking at either of them. in the doorway is a shadow, slightly larger than the woman, but it melds into the rest of the darkness after the exchange is complete; not a word is said while the body is placed in the backseat of the impala, and the woman disappears without even a nod.

zari and sam slide into the car, and sam swallows loudly, hands shaking, too badly to even turn the key; zari reaches to hold his wrist, and, quietly, they switch seats.

sam keeps his eyes on his feet, but his cries aren’t quiet, and zari holds his hand while she drives.

***

TWO PEOPLE STAND NEAR THE PYRE. sam reacts visibly to one as he turns to see them, rushing to help hoist dean’s body, sam’s grip failing; victor henriksen smiles at him, a brief flash of teeth, before shifting his focus to assisting zari in removing dean’s corpse from the bag. he’s been in a morgue for a week, but the freezer only staves off so much decay, and the four of them feel their stomachs churn at the sight of dean atop the unlit wood. victor retreats to the man he’d been speaking to before, who sam eyes with confusion, then alarm as his mouth twists in a growl, fangs glistening.

“yes, benny’s a vampire,” zari says, and sam feels his confusion deepening, heavy in his eyes.

benny offers a curt nod, then says in his southern drawl, “met him in purgatory. got each other out.” he sees sam’s disbelief, and he laughs - an awkward noise at a funeral, and benny coughs so that he doesn’t cry. he keeps it at that, not telling sam all of the things he could, because those things - the love he felt for dean, most of all - he wishes to keep for himself.

victor is stepping forward to hug sam, and sam finally gives him a good look, and he’s smiling now, as best as he can. he asks victor how he is, how he’s been, and victor shrugs his shoulders; he’d been expecting something violent, something vitriolic, for knowing dean was here and not telling sam.

but if sam feels that way (and he does, slightly, vaguely) he keeps it to himself.

it’s benny who lights the pyre; sam doesn’t question this, though he still wonders about him, finding it difficult to envision dean so close with a supernatural. as the flames burn, as dean’s body is reduced to ash, zari and benny huddle together, and victor has sam’s hand in his; as they offer dean to eternal peace, the four of them, the four who’ve loved dean the most in his life, all experience the same thing: the sensation like breathing on the napes of their neck, a shudder of a breeze that seems to say thank you.

the sun has risen by the time the fire dies, the wood spent, a pile of ash atop the blackened ground; benny drives the stake of a cross into the dirt, carved across it the simple inscription “DW.—1.24.79-4.21.20.”

#tomorrow is the day so have this 2.5k word post abt dean's death #five years after deciding it it's finally happened..................................... i am quite sad #(as if i did not do this all on my own)#ch : dean winchester.

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friendlylocalwhumper · 5 years

Text

“I think you need to see for yourself what happens to warlocks.” The cop unlocks Lux’s wrists from the interrogation table and cuffs them back together in front of him, pulling him along with fingers wrapped around his bicep. Lux’s jaw is clamped shut with his determination not to show an undue flash of fear, falling in step and keeping quiet.

He’s led out into the main area, walked past desks where cops type on their computers and write reports and answer calls. The cop guides him through a door, down a stairwell, down a hall, and they’re under the station, now, heading toward two metal doors. They swing open, and the smell of antiseptic and formaldehyde makes Lux cringe.

“Coroner’s office,” The cop informs, tugging on Lux’s arm until they’re standing next to an autopsy table. There’s a body on it, hidden by a white sheet. “Pull that off, let’s see what’s under there.”

He’s anxious, growing nauseous with the smell, but Lux tries not to hesitate too long before he reaches with cuffed hands to take hold of the edge of the cover and lift it carefully, folding it over onto the person’s waist.

It’s someone young like him. A guy, maybe twenty-five, so pale he’s nearly blue, straw-colored hair limp against his forehead. His eyes are closed, his lips forming a slight frown like he’s just a little put off by his untimely death.

A hand presses to Lux’s back and shoves him forward; Lux yelps as his arms are pinned against the edge of the table, his palms trying to push against the metal so that he doesn’t collide with the corpse. One of the cop’s hands goes to the dead guy’s face and pulls his eyelids open, the other slipping up from Lux’s back to grab onto his curls and shove his head down, mere inches away from those drying, cloudy, empty eyes.

The warlock is making a string of terrified sounds, breathless ones as he pushes against the table and only succeeds in pressing his back into the cop’s chest.

“Died of two bullets to center mass,” The man explains by Lux’s ear. Blue eyes flick to the side and Lux can just barely see the two small holes past the cuts across the cadaver’s torso. “Bullets from my gun. Best to shoot a warlock in the heart. He came after me, that damn magic in his hands. This is what happens to your kind - you ever see what it’s like in a morgue, warlocks taking up all the tables, all the drawers? Like rats picked up off the street and dumped in a room to get dissected and stored. You know why we do that, ‘stead of leaving them in the gutter?”

“N-n-no,” Lux grunts, arms trembling. “W-why?”

“Because we’re the good guys. We don’t want dead bodies along roads to churches, to schools, to communities. You know why we budget the cost to keep coroners here all day and night, all year? Why we crack open those bodies after they’re already dead and out of the public eye? Because we’re making sure our reports match up. We need to make sure there are two bullets in this boy instead of twenty, make sure he had magic at some point. We’re kept in line, we’re moral. There’s a system, rules, order. You bastards don’t respect that, but I want you to remember it. Just because the system works best for me doesn’t mean I’m gonna abuse it for fun. If one of us hurts you, it’s because that’s what’s best for society, it’s what keeps families safe. When we turn you loose, let you live, warlock, don’t run and whine to your friends about what we did to you, because all you’ve ever gotten was justice.”

Arms burning from the exertion of pushing back, Lux makes a startled sound when they give out and he falls forward, forehead meeting the corpse’s with a dull thud. Those eyes aren’t being held open anymore; with a sticky sound, they fell half-closed, and Lux can see into them, he can smell the stench of halted decaying.

“This is gonna be you. Lying in some morgue, cold and stiff, nameless. Happens to all warlocks, unless you die with your kind and get buried by one of them illegally. Chances are, though, this’ll be you. Unless - well, you know.”

Breathing through his mouth isn’t making it any better, isn’t taking away the smell, because now Lux can taste it. “Wh-, know what? Unless what?”

“Unless you stop using your magic. This kid died trying to hurt cops with his, and he got shot for it. If he’d kept to himself, let his freak powers die and just lived a normal life, he’d be breathing right now. Just don’t use your damn magic. Goddammit, I don’t want to kill kids, take a fucking hint and change, will you?”

This dead warlock couldn’t have attacked for no reason. Maybe he was protecting a friend. Maybe he was goaded into it. Maybe he’s been hurt before by cops, like Lux, and he wanted to stand up for himself for once, even if it meant he’d end up here.

“I d-, don’t think we’re the ones who need to change,” The warlock answers, bracing himself for violence.

The cop groans in frustration and yanks Lux back, the grip returning to his upper arm. “Typical. All rhetoric with you magic types. Normal thugs, criminals, they make excuses, but you mutant fuckers have some kind of pride. Gets you killed every time. Listen, I already killed one of you today, I did my part, not trying to write another report for your death. Let’s go.”

As he’s led back out of the coroner’s office, Lux looks back, rubbing at his face and trying to forget the smell as he takes one last look at the dead warlock so he can remember what the guy looks like. It just feels important, to remember.

“I, I can le-earn,” Lux stammers, once they’re back out in the hallway. “I need to learn, how to m-make sure I don’t die like that. Don’t wanna die, and - and I don’t want to hurt a cop, even if I don’t think they’re good people. You don’t want to kill us, not as much as you do… can we, can we m-maybe, talk about it? I didn’t know you check reports, do autopsies… I’m i-ignorant, you are too, we can talk, we can both learn.”

The cop stops dragging him along and gives Lux an odd look. “You want to learn how we operate?” His expression darkens, and in a flash, Lux is pinned to the wall, a forearm across his throat. “What, so you can go tell your warlock friends how to evade us?”

“No - no! I just - you’re wrong, about us, wrong to kill us, but - you can’t be evil, can’t be all bad, you - you stop murders, go to houses and stop h-, husbands hitting wives, you find lost kids - that’s good stuff, and you have a system, and I w-wanna learn about it. I wanna know why you do it how you do.”

It takes a good minute, but the arm is lowered, and Lux is pulled along again.

“Fine. We’ll sit in the Lieutenant’s office, she’s out on vacation. Talking with a warlock, pff,” The cop huffs, half frustrated with himself and half incredulous. “You try anything, I’ll bring you back down here and shove you in a locker with one of the frozen corpses, you got it?”

“Y-yes, got it, I understand,” Lux answers with a shudder, following along once more.

“Alright. Let’s start off with one thing. You’re not righteous. Warlocks are civilian-killing fucks who don’t deserve as many rights as they’ve got, so don’t come into this thinking you’re going to change my mind about anything.”

Lux leans back, sets his cuffed wrists in his lap, and frowns. “Oh.”

“Oh, what?”

“Well, I’d rather go back in my cell, then.”

The cop grows flustered, crossing his arms where he sits a few feet away. “That’s it? You’re giving up?”

Careful not to overstep his bounds, Lux answers slowly. “I, um… well, I think for two people to have a conversation, there has to be respect. You just shoved my face into a corpse, but I’m being polite anyway. I don’t know what I’ve personally done to deserve - what did you call it? - rhetoric.”

The man stares at Lux like he has two heads, but he has to either return him to his cell or rethink, so he sits back with a sigh. “Show a warlock respect. Hmph.”

“Trust me, I feel the same way about showing a cop respect,” Lux replies, although he reconsiders his tone when the officer’s shoulders square off. Okay, Lux really does have to show more respect here, remember his position.

“So. You wanted to know about our system. How do you think we operate?”

“Well, you - I mean… I guess I think that cops ride around, spot someone they think could be a warlock, and put pressure on them. Hurt them, a lot of the time. Kill them sometimes. And they just go about their day after that.”

The cop barks out a single laugh, shaking his head. “Go about our day. If we so much as spot a warlock using magic, we have to call it in. If we end up shooting a warlock, we have to turn in our gun, come to the station, write a report, wait for the autopsy and witnesses and our partner to do their report. Sometimes, IAB - Internal Affairs - has us sit down for an interview where we get recorded, repeat the report out loud but try not to sound rehearsed… used to stress me out, first couple of years.”

Lux tilts his head in confusion. “I didn’t know that. IAB - what do they do if a cop’s story doesn’t hold up?”

“Fuck, they take your badge, investigate further, hold your pay. Usually we don’t get fired, but it’s a career killer, having IAB keep an eye on you after suspicion is raised. Lose the respect of other officers, and that could get you killed on the job, just that hesitation.”

“Killed on the job… is that something you guys worry about? I mean, is it a real threat?”

The officer leans forward. “Hell, why do you think we hate warlocks so much? Number one cause of death for a law enforcement officer. Stories I’ve heard, blood boiling and guts exploding and mind control… I’m not too proud a man to say that if I have to step out of my car to face a warlock, I’m halfway to shittin’ my pants.”

“Oh - oh, it’s, it’s scary?”

“Facing death itself? Yeah. My wife left me ‘cause of the heartbreak it gave her, hearing my buddies tell her stories about days I nearly died. That’s no life to give a woman.”

Lux watches the man lose himself, a little, in his recollection of being left. “I’m sorry.”

With a lopsided shrug, the cop moves on. “Anyway. Yeah, it’s dangerous. Before the war with warlocks, precincts had a wall with framed pictures of officers who lost their lives in the line of duty. All respectable, their portraits with the American flag in the background. Now, we’ve got walls covered in little bronze plaques with just their rank and last name. Too many dead to put up pictures.”

The warlock doesn’t have a way to respond to that.

“So. What’s it all look like from your side of things? Shit, don’t think I’ve ever sat down with a warlock to ask that.”

“Mmh, it’s… scary for us, too. I think… you’re scared of us, and you turn it into hate to get by, to feel like you can face it. We do that too. I don’t r-really hate cops, ‘m just scared of them. Of you.”

“You’re not scared of me,” The cop dismisses with a wave of his hand. “Not scared to be here, you’re just trying to make me feel bad for you, let down my guard.”

“I’m scared,” Lux insists, the chain links between his cuffs clinking when he shifts his arms. “I’m so scared, I - I know I might die, every time I’m caught, and every day I’m not even seen, I know it’ll happen. Normal people on the street, they hate me, want me dead, but only when they feel like it… you, though, police, it’s your job to kill me. I know that, I know it, I never stop thinking it. There’s people out there waiting for me to mess up so they can kill me.”

“That’d sound like something I could sympathize with… if it wasn’t your fault for being hated like that. Just stop using your magic.”

The warlock shakes his head, trying not to get frustrated. It’s silent for a moment as he gathers his thoughts, sorts through them. “...I know if I use magic in public, it’ll get me killed. And I don’t want to die. Don’t wanna get hurt, don’t wanna be hated… never thought I’d live to fifteen, but here I am, and - I didn’t finish high school. I don’t own a house, or a car, I - I’d pay taxes if I could get a job and learn how to do them. You’re scared of warlocks, but - this isn’t our world. We’re just trying to survive. You see how we live as hiding and breaking the law, I see it as… living off scraps.”

“Living off scraps.” It’s quiet again, and Lux fidgets nervously as the cop thinks. “Afraid of us. Hmm.”

“Y-yeah,” Lux responds uncertainly. Waits. Speaks up again. “Do you really think we’re - evil, and disgusting, and we should die? Or… are you just scared of us? Do you just feel like we’re an unknown threat?”

“...I think you should stop using magic, be like us.”

“Okay, but, but other than that - like, do you think I should die? Not if I use magic again, not if I hurt a cop, just, how I am right now, sitting here?”

The cop looks Lux up and down, tenses defensively. “...No. I’d need a reason to kill you.”

“Okay,” Lux answers and then falls silent with a sense of finality.

“Okay? What, that’s all? You’re not going to argue more?”

“Argue? No, I, I just wondered how you think. I’m not gonna change anything by talking more. You’re probably gonna let me go, and another cop will pick me up some other time, and I’m gonna get hurt, and then one day I’ll get killed. I’m not saying that to be dramatic, it’s just what’ll happen. I’ll be down in that morgue, and it’ll be over. Probably pretty soon. I’m old, you know, for a warlock. Twenty years of not dying. Glad I heard a cop’s side of things before I go. I’m, uh, I’m gonna try to never give one of you a reason to think I’ll hurt you. I don’t like making people feel scared.”

“Well, if you don’t present yourself as a threat, you won’t die like that.”

“Right.” Lux’s tone clearly conveys his disinterest, his disbelief in that reasoning. Like the simplest fact in the world is that he’s going to be killed for no reason other than for being alive.

The man before him seems unsettled by the reaction, by the conclusion to their conversation, but he only takes ten seconds more to think about it before he stands back up.

This time, he waits for Lux to stand up on his own instead of pulling him up by his arm.

“What’s your name, officer?” Lux asks as he’s guided out of the Lieutenant’s office.

“...Chambers. Detective Chambers.”

“I’m Lux,” The warlock responds. “Thanks for letting me listen, Detective Chambers.”

“...Yeah,” The detective grunts, bringing Lux back to the holding cell he’s been kept in for the past few hours. He seems uncomfortable now that Lux has established himself as a person instead of just a part of the magic menace. “Wasn’t a waste of time, I guess.”

#mine #whump #afraid #threats #drabble #cops #lux #death tw #police brutality tw

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shushvera · 5 years

Text

*toy story shark vc* howdy howdy howdy ! i would like to make it known i’ve been unabashedly eyeing this since it opened ! anyway ! i’ve lost my ooc intro groove so we gonna move down to my ic intro down below:

oh hi there, welcome to holiday, VERA FLOROS. you’ve been here for TWO MONTHS? awesome! you look just like MARINA DIAMANDIS, it’s crazy. oh, so you’re a 30 year old ‘FORTUNE TELLER’/’MUSICIAN’. and you’re FEMALE and use SHE/HER? okay, just checking! oh, people say you’re INTUITIVE & DILIGENT but DECEITFUL & RASH? well, i’m sure that you can prove yourself here. you’re looking forward to the HALLOWEEN celebration? that’s a good one, you’ll love it. i have to get going now, bye! [fleur, 19, est, she/her]

i would like to start by saying i’ve played vera once (1 time) before and it was,, so much fun,, the dumbest smart person to exist. i’ve tweaked her bg a little (because..... that’s what happens when you read lucille ball’s autobiography that was SUMN.....), but ! who cares !

update: this got rly long so there’s a tl;dr at the bottom if that better floats your boat !

INTRO-WORTHY STATS

aka, stats that aren’t that deep™

FULL NAME: Vera Floros DOB: August 17th, 1989 AGE: thirty FROM: Abergavenny, Wales OCCUPATION: “fortune teller” & a musician who doesn’t understand marketing ORIENTATION: bisexual CLASS: middle class ( that inheritance kicked in ! )

BACKGROUND:

CHILDHOOD

triggers: parental death, brief mentions of child abuse

alright, vera was born to a very young couple in wales. they’d gotten married fresh out of high school and had a child (her) just two years later. that being said, for about two years after, her mother began distancing herself from the father... not because he was a bad guy, but he moved cities entirely and she was NOT about that.

to be perfectly redundant, for about two years, it was just vera and her mother.

grandparents weren’t about their daughter being married. at 18. did they help pay rent for a separate living space? until vera’s mom was 21, yes. but was she welcomed in their house? lmao!!!!!

THEN her father blew back into town. they reconnected, they both began working more so that vera’s mother didn’t have to rely on her own (we’ll get to her dad’s parent’s in a second).

vera, at the Tender Age of Three™ learned that she was a complete Daddy’s Girl™. although she loved her mom for obvious reasons, she connected with her dad on an entirely different level. he was fun! he was playful! he was young, but he was the perfect dad! he even told dad jokes! which she didn’t get until she was five because three year olds usually aren’t that smart! they did little ‘acrobatic’ things! it was cute and fun and good!

but? this is a roleplay character?

our man died from unexpected heart failure. the autopsy showed an abnormality that hadn’t previously been discovered, and we know our man rarely went to the doctor. vera was six at the time.

her mom: married at 18, mother at 20, widow at 26.

because she and her mom had never developed that Close Bond™, it was difficult for her mother to figure out how to... like... keep her from wandering around... because just telling her not to wasn’t working... so she was like “you know what.... a leash.”

we love ‘puppy’ by george saunders

so whenever her mom was at work and vera wasn’t in school, she was tied to a tree in the backyard.

cruel and unusual punishment!

eventually, her mom kind of just... threw in the towel... she left completely for a change of pace. she said she would be back and that vera would be under the care of her father’s parents in athens until then.

her father’s parents had always been more accepting of the young marriage. they’d been more supportive of them being young parents, in spite of her father having left for a while. they’d definitely been supportive of vera and her mother during that time because they were like “omg mood”

there were a few other kids under their care, all related or not. they did some work for her father’s parents, but nothing very laborious – just sort of... Bonding™ ja feel?

so her mom DID keep her promise and returned three years later when vera was nine. mind you, vera had never held any feelings of resentment towards her mother. when she was six, she... just didn’t get it. at nine, she was old enough to be like “i get u.”

BUT her mother DID get remarried. she didn’t resent her for that, but... she was not fond of the new husband. he wouldn’t accept the ‘dad’ title, was very stern, very serious, made her mom seem like an absolute joy, etc.

but her mom was in love, so what could she do? and then they had a son together, so what could she do? nothing.

that summer, to learn more Discipline™, vera was sent to live with her step-father’s parents in london. boy howdy, it was nothing like her father’s parents! they had a knack for pointing out flaws, induced actual laborious work, constantly quoted the bible at the worst of times, and thought that a single head nod was the equivalent of “good job!” there were a couple of other kids there too, but yikes.

TEENS ( *hang ten emoji* ) + COLLEGE

triggers: brief domestic abuse implications

early was filled with Drama™ surrounding her step-father’s parents and her step-father himself. the overall consensus was that he was not a dope dude, nor were his parents. vera’s mother filed for divorce and gained sole custody of their son (keeping in mind.... she basically already had sole custody of vera.... considering she was her only legal guardian left lmao)

after the divorce was filed, vera’s mother was like “u kno what. my parents hate me. my first husband is dead. my second husband was a douche. i have no reason to be here anymore.” so they went to the land of golden opportunity

but wound up in america instead

(joke patented by dr. doofenshmirtz)

vera, around sixteen at the time (y’all i’m figuring out ages as i go along bear with me), now attended some strange high-school where they were like “fahrenheit.”

by the way! it was in holiday! that’s important to note for possible future connections!

it wasn’t an unwelcome change, though. starting over... was nice...

but the problem was that she was like her father in that she always acted before she thought... which made her a very dumb smart person.

alright get ready for the single idea that drove this entire thing:

she majored in philosophy then was *pikachu shocked face* when she realized there were no jobs out there for philosophy majors.

ADULTHOOD

alright... so what do you do when you have no good opportunities for things in your major?

you would think you would do something like... idk... find a well-paying job that doesn’t require a major?

or maybe a job that just requires experience in ___?

or maybe a job that just requires a bachelor’s degree of any sort?

or maybe a job that doesn’t require a major, but would like a major similar to yours, thus giving you a leg up?

etc.?

lmao no. you go to new orleans and become one of many phony fortune tellers using the one good thing you got from your weird upbringing: easy analysis of body language.

in addition, you try to make something of your life through music, but have no clue what ‘marketing’ is because you really don’t understand social media and probably still have the egg as your twitter profile picture.

what do you mean print is out of style?

what do you mean no one listens to CDs anymore?

what do you mean garageband isn’t acceptable to record on?

that being said, it’s not like... she wasn’t good at it... i mean she was v good at it... but musician is in quotes because she has made NOTHING of her LIFE with it. DOES NOT UNDERSTAND MARKETING.

*sonic kid vc* WHEN WILL YOU LEARN? WHEN WILL YOU LEARN? *end vc*

she got some decent pay from being a ‘fortune teller,’ though. tourists totally flocked and using a fake russian accent helped, as did... just speaking a language they didn’t know while pretending to contact spirits...

at least she’s a good scam artist

can’t market very well, but could probs create the next big ponzi scheme

returned to holiday when she heard news from her brother that her mother had fallen ill.

honestly rest in peace.

is still around because... that’s her home! sentiment! also rip!

also marketing isn’t as hard in holiday so???

also testing fortune telling out in holiday is more interesting so???

DOPE.

PERSONALITY

either really dumb for a smart person or really smart for a dumb person.

still has a childlike trait tbh. i mean when ur growing up just laying beneath child labor laws, ur gonna have to become a kid again eventually.

really bad at technology for reasons unknown to... everyone, but really good at scams.

has not thought before she acted even ONCE.

hasn’t used her degree since she was 22. the closest she’s come is buying some misc. philosophy books and sharing tidbits with strangers.

“now this is a taoist anthem” - vera @ ‘soak up the sun’ by sheryl crow

so many ragrets.

will find a way to bring up she’s half greek in every conversation.

“and i’ve had mental illness since i was in middle school. good night.” - that video someone edited of professor tox

im so bad at personality sections but she’s got a fun one y’all one of the few characters i’ve played who’s had a Sad Backstory™ but wound up being a Fun And Comedic Character™

TL;DR

that was my first time ever writing this whole thing out, so it got real long. so we gonna give a tl;dr:

triggers: v brief mentions of parental death, brief mentions of child abuse, v brief implication of domestic abuse

born to a v young couple in wales. dad was like “brb” then he did, indeed, come rb. loved dad. but dad died when she was six lmao get wreckt this is a roleplay character.

mom was like “idk what 2 do” so she took notes from george saunders’s ‘puppy’ and just tied vera to a tree when she was gone adjsflka. went away for a while and vera stayed with her dad’s parent’s in greece. came back three years later and reunitedanditfeelssogood.mp3.

got married tho and vera was like “i don’t like this guy” and mom was like “i’m having his child.” lived with his parents over the next few summers. they almost violate child labor laws. like. just a hair more. hare? became source of any self-hatred lmao get wreckt

vera’s mom and step-dad divorced bc he was horrible and they moved to holiday when she was sixteen. she left for college when she was eighteen. she decided to major in philosophy which was a bad idea and the source of her entire character.

decided to become a phony fortune teller in new orleans instead of... idk... just getting a job that didn’t require a degree or sumn? pretty successful tho! talked in a fake russian accent around tourists bc? why not?

also did/does music but has no idea how marketing works. bad at social media. records things on garageband. an overall fool. good but a fool.

back in holiday bc mom died lmao get wreckt we’re an orphan now boizzzz

Sad But Rad™

WANTED CONNECTIONS

it’s 2:38AM as i write this part and i still have to go back and include a stats thing bc i love those then post ic but i’ll update this w/ some when im done i suppose?? but we do love brainstorming in this house!!

like this or hmu if you’d like to plot !

#holidcyintro #ok! i said this at the top of the intro but this accidentally got rly long so if reading it all doesn't float ur boat there's a tl;dr at #the bottom!

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veridium · 6 years

Text

10.06

Me talking about my personal stuff, and reflecting upon this past week’s therapy session wherein my therapist and I discussed my problems with love and intimacy --

This week, my therapist asked me to contemplate if there was a cycle of trauma I was inadvertently trying to resolve in my romantic relationships. What she meant by this is that, in some cases wherein people experience traumatic situations, they can subconsciously try to recreate the situation over and over so that they have a chance to change it or react in a different way than they did. When she first brought it up it really resonated with me because I never hear anyone explain something like that before, but when she did, it made total sense.

So, this week, I tried to pinpoint if there was a situation wherein I experienced trauma/extreme emotions, to the point where maybe I would want to have a chance at getting closure.

The way I love is fucked up - I attract people, get them to open up to me and feel safe with me, and then for one reason or another, I leave. Often times, I treat people like puzzles: I want to figure out what their deepest desires and problems are. I want them to feel heard and supported. But, somewhere along the way, something spooks me and I run for it. It’s something that I’m working through, and it’s been kind of confusing because I still can’t for the life of me understand how my ex and I survived 3 years. Maybe I was just so stubborn about wanting to prove that I could be with someone long-term, that I overlooked several red flags. Maybe I was just genuinely in love with her, the kind of love where reason and objectivity don’t matter.

I guess I’ll never truly know, and that is okay. The autopsy of a relationship doesn’t always have to be conclusive.

I told my therapist a couple weeks ago that it’s easy for me to regard it as a “civil service” of sorts if I remain single and uninvolved with others. I can be hurtful, cold, and distant, just as much as I can be warm, inviting, and empathetic. One of my exes described it as an all-consuming storm, followed by the calmest ocean you’d ever seen in your life. I remember feeling both enamored and horrified with myself for subjecting someone to that. Now, I feel like it’s my obligation to keep myself from others, so I don’t ruin them for the people they deserve.

This process has also meant that I’ve had to explore the ways in which my childhood shaped how I love, what I expect from love, and how I view people. My parents’ emotionally abusive relationship, their crumbling marriage, my dad’s alcohol abuse, and my mother’s chronic pain - it’s all this perfect storm. I remember the many, many times my mom would cry to me, saying that she hoped I didn’t think their marriage was the way it was supposed to be.

I believed her, and I believed what she said. I just don’t think I ever tried to find out what love and a relationship was supposed to be. I don’t know what love is when it’s not grounded in a need of survival or codependency. I don’t know what it feels like, what it looks like, or who is capable of it. I don’t know if it objectively exists at all, and I feel like a fool for believing in it.

Now, after years of watching my mom be trapped by illness and poverty in a tumultuous and brutal marriage for years, I think I just look at people and think they’re just trying to take me down. My mom was a vivacious, hardworking, active person; and then she married my dad, and they had kids, and he betrayed her trust by becoming an alcoholic and refusing to take care of himself. Then, she had me, and her injury happened. I think my loving is attached to mourning possibilities my mother and my sister, who is wish a horrible guy with whom she had two kids with when she was very young, could have had. I think I’ve internalized the narrative of being brought down by foolish love. I think I’m scared I’ll get snatched in the night by it, and wake up ten years from now with all of my dreams broken down and eroded.

I was willing to let my ex be the one because she gave me a home, and a life, to look forward to. I was ready to let myself die into it, because it would have been comfortable and quaint: grad school, settling down, building a home, having kids. I would have “had it all.” I just had to let everything unique and powerful about me die and fall away.

I don’t regret my breakup, nor do I regret sticking up for the person I am, regardless of all this fucked up imperfection. I may be a mess, but I deserve to be happy. I just don’t know if that’s possible for me, and it’s really fucking terrifying. I keep having the urge to want to turn around and look back at my childhood, and scream at the adults around me. I want to ask them why they did this to me, why the world taught me this, why I was thrown into the water without being taught the right way to keep my head above it. I want to know why they got away with it, without me knowing, until now. Now, when I have so little left of what is mine and mine alone, after my relationship absorbed my universe. Why now of all times am I realizing just how unable I am to love and be loved in return.

I’m sorry for ranting and whining about this. I truly feel so overwhelmed by it that when it comes to expressing it, it feels like throwing shit at the wall and seeing what sticks. I still don’t feel like I make any sense, and I don’t know what’s going to be the thing that eases the struggle. I’m just doing my best, and I don’t know what else I can do.

I am just so tired of being the graveyard of my family’s dreams.

#personal #rant #venting session #love #life #college #family

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comets-inked-on-pages-in-the-sky · 5 years

Text

So Bruce realizes that Red Hood is Jason, maybe its before the whole confrontation, maybe its during, but the point is he realizes this and he panicked just a bit. Because his son, his little boy who he had to bury, is ALIVE. And needs him to get rid of his murderer. But he can't and god does he wish he could. But he cant.

I mean sure, hes capable. It's not like its be that hard. It's honestly a miracle he hasn't accidentally killed the joker already. But to look at the guy who he watched fall further and further and did nothing to help. The guy that once upon a time he wanted to have join him in his crusade. One of two people to have ever held his heart. And kill him? It didn't matter that he'd killed his son. Bruce knew that if he killed John...it would destroy Batman, not the Joker.

So he took the only out he could figure out. He took out Jason's gun, as best he could. His hand was shaking though, and the batarang didnt hit his hand...instead it hit his throat.

And now he was choking.

And the joker was laughing.

He'd fucked up.

And he'd missed.

And jason would never forgive him.

All because he couldn't kill a mass murder.

His sons murderer

Just because he was still in love with the young man who became the joker.

So he knocked the joker out.

And he grabbed them both. His son and the man he once wanted to marry.

And he got them out. And he started bandaging Jason's throat while he waited for gordon to arrive.

It was taking far to long.

But it'd be worse if joh-the joker escaped.

And so he waited.

For 10 agonizing minutes as the police rushed to his location

As he watched the warehouse explode,

Covering jason body with his own.

With Alfred and Tim's help he was able to get jason stable. Dick had gotten the joker to Arkham and secured. Barbara had already signed off and turned in for the night. She'd come over tomorrow. He couldn't deny her the right to see the young man who'd been her little brother for those few years he'd been with them. Moving on autopilot, he sent Tim to bed. The boy needed to sleep more; he should send the boy home he knew, should not keep him here, not when he had a father of his own who Bruce was sure loved him. Even if he never seemed to question where tim was...perhaps he ought to investigate that.

But first to figure out what was wrong with jason. With his middle-youngest child, tim wasn't his no matter how much he wished the boy was.

He knew jason though. It wasn't that much of a stretch to imagine that jason would conclude that the type of criminals he'd been killing needed to be killed. But jason wasn't the sort to leave things to chance. Why would he risk Bruce being able to escape with the joker? Sure he had rigged the building to blow, but obviously it was escpable. And how was he alive for that matter? Bruce had buried him, been forced to bury his 15 year old son.

That was when the phone began to ring.

It was obvious that jason wasn't quite stable, far from it honestly. To be fair, he hadn't been entirely stable when Bruce had adopted him, but nothing like this. Though Bruce supposed it made sense, he'd seen the autopsy report on his son. The amount of trauma he must of gone through at the hands of the joker was immense, not to mention whatever else had happened in the 5 years since then. He must have been so scared to come back and realize the joker was still at large, Bruce thought.

He must have been so scared.

That was it, he realized. If jason was more stable he would have just killed the joker himself. Would have succeeded too. And he should not be proud of that fact, but screw him he was. Jason hadn't wanted to prove a point did he? He needed his dad to make him feel safe again. To get rid of his murderer.

And Bruce couldn't do it. He couldn't keep any of his children safe. He couldn't do anything about the joker. All because he was too weak to admit the man he once loved was gone.

"Master Bruce, the phone."

Oh. He should see what it was. It was so late though? And he needed to figure how he could make his son feel safe, and arrange for him to get help-

"It's Miss Talia, sir. She is quite insistent you speak to her at once."

All at once a memory rose to the surface. Talia had once accused him of not truly loving her, said that he was still in love who ever it was he was with before her. Talia had thought it was Selina. He'd insisted she was wrong. He hadn't been lying. Not exactly anyways. He wasn't in love with Selina, and he did love Talia

So much it hurt sometimes. But she hadn't been wrong about him still being in love with John.

"Beloved. Could you please explain to me, what on Earth possessed you to throw a batarang at our sons throat."

Our son.

Talia had called jason our son. Not his. Not a street rat or mentee or student. Son and hers.

His hand dragged over his face and he laughed hollowly.

"God Talia, I wish I knew."

Silence. She was pissed at him. He couldn't blame her. He could have killed jason...again.

"When I arranged for my father to allow him to return to Gotham I didnt expect you to be happy with me...I didnt expect you to greet him with more hostility then I've seen you show anyone since we were teens either."

"I-" his voice broke.

"Our son needed you to prove he could be safe Beloved...and instead you attacked him."

Her words were the sharpest knives...as always. He had no excuse. He should have found a better way. Should have just admitted that if he tried to killed the joker he would become the joker. He would have had to watch his son destroy his murderer, but that still would have been better than nearly killing his son.

"-oved?"

Talia was still talking. She was scolding him he was sure. Trying to convince him he needed to kill. And he probably should have. If it had been anyone else he would have. If it'd been anyone else he probably would have killed them years ago. All because over a decade ago he sent a man he loved down a path that destroyed him, he couldn't protect his son.

"Bruce!"

"You asked me once if I loved you."

She was silent.

"I told you I did. But I lied when I said I didnt love anyone else."

"You think I didnt know Beloved? I know that Selina managed-"

"It isn't Selina."

"Beloved?"

"After,

After I returned to Gotham, but before I adopted Dick, i met this guy. He, he was so bright. He was everything I wasn't...and I fell in love.

But I fucked up Talia.

I fucked up, and I got him hurt and...

And he lost it. And I told him not to get help and I tried to bring him into my life.

And..."

"It didnt go well."

"No. It didn't.

And then 2 years later I attended this performance and watched a young couple fall to their death-"

"And ended up adopting their son and roping him into your crusade."

"Yes, and the young man I was still in love with accepted it. He told Dick to stay out of the way and shooed him out of the room when we fought.

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growningupgeek · 6 years

Text

The White Christmas Case

Masterlist

Word Count-2715

Prompt-White Christmas by BIng Crosby(with a little lot of help from the movie)

Characters-Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Reader, shifter family

A/N-Written for @d-s-winchester 12 days of Christmas challenge. I asked for BIng Crosby’s White Christmas because it’s my favroite Christmas song and movie all in one. This was a blast once I got it moving and I enjoyed writing it. Betaed by the lovely @masksandtruths and @skybinx-blog thank you my dears. Tags are below the cut. If you’d like on or off my tag list just drop me an ask or a message. I promise I don’t bite hard.

-JediCat

Please do not repost my work on any other websites without my written permission. Credit doesn’t count.

I stared incredulously at Sam when he’d finished outlining the case he’d found for us. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Never about a case,” he replied seriously. “Why?”

I shook my head; I tended to forget the simple childhood things that I took for granted were something the Winchesters might not have had. Things like watching the same holiday movies every Christmas. Now Sam had found a case in Pine Tree, Vermont at the Columbia Inn and he didn’t even know what it was. But three deaths surrounded by odd coincidences was definitely our kind of thing. Dean tapped my arm to get my attention.

“You got an idea, kiddo,” he asked me.

I shrugged, “Maybe, but you guys aren’t going to like it much.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time, run it by us,” Dean replied.

I took a deep breath, even after knowing the guys for a few months I was a little shy around them.”Vic number 1 was found outside in a Santa suit frozen to death at the end of August. His suit was a replica of the ones worn in the finale of White Christmas. Vic 2 was found a month later next to a fireplace in the bar area. Autopsy found she’d drowned in buttermilk when there wasn’t a drop of it in the place. It’s reaching, but it’s another reference to the movie. Vic 3 fell down the main stairs in the lobby and a witness swears she saw Danny Kaye push him down the steps. That one is two clear references to the movie. I’m not sure what we’re dealing with but it sure likes White Christmas.”

Both boys stared at me blankly, neither getting where I was going because they hadn’t seen the movie. I sighed, “Most of White Christmas takes place at the Columbia Inn which is located in Pine Tree, Vermont.”

I could see the wheels turning and then the lights come on as they figured it out. Sam grinned and Dean groaned as he leaned back in his chair. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Some kind of monster that has a thing for old Christmas movies?”

So here we were, pulling up in front of an exact reproduction of the Columbia Inn. I got out of Baby’s back seat and filled my lungs with the pine scented air as my eyes wandered over the grounds. The hunter in me was taking notes of possible ambush sites and places where monsters could hide; the rest of me was looking around thinking about scenes from the movie. Out of the corner of my eye I caught Sam watching me with the oddest look on his face. I could feel my face heat up as I met his eyes.

“Take a picture, it lasts longer,” I sassed him.

He just grinned at me. “You look like a kid turned loose in the world’s best candy store.”

I stuck my tongue out at him as I grabbed my suitcase, startling a laugh out of both him and Dean. Sam let me carry it myself, unusual for him, but put his arm around my shoulders as we walked up the front steps into the lobby. The physical affection was also a bit unusual, but I wasn’t complaining, the warmth he gave off made up for the fact that I’d worn a lighter jacket than I should have.

There was no one at the desk so Dean gave a sharp tap to the bell on the desk and the clerk came out of the office. My eyes about popped out of my head because she looked just like Mary Wickes, and my smile got even wider.

“What can I do for you folks,” she asked with a bright, customer service smile.

Sam stepped forward. “I’ve got a reservation under Sam Wallace.”

I rolled my eyes, I’d made the boys watch White Christmas before we’d left and Sam had loved it. He’d spent a day with his laptop before we left making us all new fake IDs but he wouldn’t tell me what names he’d put on them. Now I knew why, I just hoped it wouldn’t give us away to whatever we were hunting. My attention was drawn back to what was going on by the clerk’s voice.

“Here it is Mr. Wallace,” she was saying. “One room for your brother and one for you and your wife.”

I managed to control my expression. What the hell was Sam thinking? Acting like we were married wouldn’t be a problem; I’d been harboring a crush on the younger Winchester almost since I met them. The problem was going to be not taking it too far when we were alone in a hotel room. My mind began to drift in a direction that was going to cause problems and I tried to jerk it back to the case at hand before it went too far. When I dragged my wandering mind back to where it should have been the clerk was saying, “Are you sure you want to stay? You must have heard about-”

“Yeah, we did,” Dean interrupted her. “But he’s been promising Y/N here that we’d stay here for her birthday.”

I took that as my cue to gush. “I’m such a huge fan of White Christmas! When I heard about this inn I made Sammy promise to bring me here.”

I grabbed Sam’s forearm and looked up at him with my best “I love this man so much” look on my face. I heard Dean snickering behind me but ignored him. I figured Sam deserved whatever he got for not warning me about us pretending to be married. But instead of being embarrassed, Sam was looking back at me with an indulgent smile on his face, playing the loving husband to the hilt. I felt my face heating up at the look in his eyes and hoped the clerk just thought I was a blushing bride.

Apparently she bought it because she finished checking us in and we headed up to our rooms. When we passed a young woman who looked like Anne Whitfield on the way upstairs I missed a step and almost fell on my face. A strong hand caught my arm before I could hit and I turned in time to see Sam give me a barely noticeable shake of his head. I nodded and we made it the rest of the way to our rooms without incident.

Dean was across the hall from us and I saw him shoot me a smirk as he shut the door to his room. The rat had probably known what Sam was planning and hadn’t let me in on it. I made a mental note to get even with him as I flipped the bird at his closed door.

I had to take a deep breath before I turned away from the door; facing Sam alone without giving myself away was going to be quite the acting job on my part. I schooled my face into a questioning look as I turned around. I almost lost my train of thought when I realized that Sam was standing next to the one bed in the room looking a little nervous but managed to catch myself before I gave the game away.

“So want to explain yourself,” I asked quietly.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck and refused to meet my eyes. “Dean thought that if I told you, you’d veto the idea.”

I rolled my eyes and sighed, “When have I ever refused to do what was necessary for a case?”

“We haven’t known you that long,” he was still looking at anything but me. “I can’t always predict how you’re going to react.”

I reached for my bag with a slow smile. “Good.”

Sam finally looked at me for the first time. “What?”

“What fun would it be if you knew me that well,” I asked as I headed for the bathroom and a shower before dinner.

Dinner was supposed to be “semi-formal” but I used it for an excuse to go all out for the first time since I’d met the guys. My outfit was a simple amethyst dress that I accessorized with a silver belt, jewelry and heels. I did my hair and makeup while Sam showered and changed in the bathroom. I put my hair in a bun, leaving a few strands to curl around my face and stuck with lipstick, purple eye liner, mascara and just a brush of lilac glitter along each cheek bone. I was just checking the fall of my skirt in the mirror on the closet when I heard a soft exclamation behind me. I turned to find Sam staring at me, so I spread my arms and twirled, unable to resist a little payback. When I stopped I gave him a questioning smile.

“Wow, you look…” he trailed off without finishing his sentence.

I gave him an appraising look. He was wearing a white dress shirt with the first couple of buttons undone with black slacks and his Fed dress shoes. My heart beat a little faster as he walked over and took my hand, tucking it in the crook of his arm while he brushed a piece of hair out of my eyes. I glanced up to meet his eyes and my breath caught at what I saw there. I had to be imagining things; there was no way he was looking at me like that. He bent towards me, tilting his head just a little. My eyes fluttered closed when he got so close that I could feel his breath on my cheek. Just before our lips touched there was a banging on the door.

“Come on you two, I’m hungry,” Dean shouted.

Sam brushed his lips lightly over mine and whispered, “Damn it. We’ll finish this later.”

He went to open the door while I tried to pull my scattered wits back together. Dean walked in, dressed much like Sam except that his shirt was blue and buttoned all the way up. He looked me over and let out a low whistle. “Wow, you really are a girl, Y/N. If I’d have known that was hiding under those clothes I’d have been married to you instead of Sam.”

I rolled my eyes at him and took Sam’s arm again so we could go down to dinner. I wasn’t surprised when we were shown to our table by a Dean Jagger look alike or that the floor show was Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye. I was beginning to form theories about what we were dealing with and I wanted to test them, so when I saw Anne head for the restroom I excused myself and followed her. As we were washing our hands I managed to brush my bracelet against her. She gave a low hiss of pain as I apologized for cutting her with a loose link of the chain. She smiled and assured me she’d be fine as she left in a hurry. I returned to our table and nodded at the boys. We finished our dinner quickly and headed for our rooms. I changed in the bathroom so I could wash off my makeup and then we headed for Dean’s room across the hall.

Over beers I told them about my run in with the girl in the restroom. Sam agreed with me that it was probably shifters, but Dean argued that there were a half dozen other things from ghouls too werewolves that it could be. I rolled my eyes at that, but agreed that he could be right.

“I’m sure a werewolf could imitate Bing Crosby that well,” I said sarcastically. “Or that a family of ghouls managed to find pieces of the whole cast to munch on.”

I chugged down the rest of my beer, more than a little tipsy by now thanks to the wine I’d had with dinner. I looked at Dean. “You know I didn’t grow up in the life like y’all, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m doing, Winchester.”

I made sure to slam the door on my way out.

I had a bottle of Irish cream stashed in the bottom of my weapons bag. I grabbed the ice bucket and headed down to the bar to fill it. As I came through the lobby, I heard singing. I stopped in the door between the lobby and dining room to listen. When I recognized the voices I peeked around the corner.

What I saw was Bing and Rosemary Clooney sitting by the open hearth fireplace singing Count Your Blessings. I smiled as I watched the scene play out, stepping out into bar area as they finished.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I didn’t want to interrupt your rehearsal. I just came down to get some ice”

“Rosemary” smiled at me. “So what did you think?”

I made a snap decision. “I think you’re wasting your talents. You shouldn’t be killing off your guests.”

“BIng” took a step forward, but I held up my hand. “Don’t think I came down here unarmed or that I don’t know what you are. I want to hear your side of this story.”

He looked skeptical but the woman started spilling almost immediately, with the man chiming in to add details. Turned out they didn’t actually own the inn and our three vics had found that fact out. All three wanted the land for its location but were planning to tear the buildings down. They hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone but hadn’t seen any other way out. As they talked I analyzed their body language like they boys had taught me. All signs pointed to them telling the truth. I had an idea but I knew Dean wouldn’t go for it, so I called Sam’s cell phone.

“Where are you,” he demanded, sounding both worried and pissed off.

“Hello to you too,” I replied. “I’m in the bar, could you come down here and bring my laptop?”

I hung up before he could answer, knowing that his curiosity would bring him down to see what was going on. I looked at the two shifters and smiled as I checked my watch, then told them, “Five minutes.”

I explained my plan to them as we waited and asked for some paperwork from them. “Bing” ran off to get what I asked for just before Sam showed up with my laptop under his arm. I had “Rosemary” tell her story to him while I hacked into the county database. This was the one area where I was better than either of the Winchester’s I could hack just about anything, even Sam had to admit I was better than just about anyone he’d ever met.

He looked at me when “Rosemary” finished and nodded. I breathed a sigh of relief; he’d back me with Dean. I sent the paperwork I faked to the printer in the office and rushed to grab it before anyone else could get it. Sam came stood behind me as I brought it back to the bar.

“This is everything you need to prove you own this place,” I said watching the faces of the shifters. “It’s all your in exchange for a promise to never hurt anyone except in defense of your lives.”

“Rosemary” and “Bing” looked shocked. They stared at the papers in my hand for a minute, and then met my eyes.

“I’ll swear on whatever you want, hunter,” BIng said softly. “Anything to save my family’s home.”

I handed him the papers. “That’s good enough for me. I hope you live a long peaceful life and that we never have to come back here again.”

The two shifters left, Bing clutching the papers. I turned and looked into Sam’s eyes. “Did we do the right thing?”

“I think we did,” he said. “And Dean will come around eventually.”

Then he smiled at me. “Let’s go to our room. I think we need to talk before we go to sleep.”

He put his arm around my shoulders and drew me close as we headed for the stairs. Whatever else happened, I had the feeling that this was the start of something good.

The Usual Suspects- @darkcastersruletheworld @black-shad0w-w0lf @imagine-that-supernatural @ladysaraharper @thedepthsoffandomminds @kbrand0 @soaringeag1e @supernaturalismalife @iwantthedean @jojomonsterbunni @little-red-83 @growleytria @ashleymalfoy @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @halespecterwinchester @driverpicksthemuusic @isometimeswritesomethings @whyisleepacesoamazing @mist-and-echoes @sassysupernaturalsweetheart @kaylas-obsessions @aerisawriting @letsgetoutalive @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @jodyri @soab1967 @busybee612 @appleschloss @kazchester-fanfiction @oriona75 @screeching-pterodactyl-fangirl @deandoesthingstome @littlegreenplasticsoldier @sammy-moo @for-the-love-of-dean @mrswhozeewhatsis @kittenofdoomage @sandlee44 @apeshit7x @purgatoan @fast-times-in-the-impala @wereallbrokenangels @wonderless-screwup @dontsassmecastiel @cherrie-liquor @deascheck @mrssamfuckingwinchester @winchesterprincessbride @tjforston @babi-correia @helixiaray @writingthingsisdifficult @mysaintsasinner @mogaruke @wheresthekillswitch @skybinx-blog @bohowitch @hexparker @jensen-jarpad @ellen-reincarnated1967 @masksandtruths

#12 Days of Christmas challenge #White Christmas #sam winchester #dean winchester #reader insert #supernatural fan fiction #spn fan fic #sam x reader #dean x reader #Christmas

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