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theriveroflight · 10 months

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hoping for a last-minute miracle

This year, I participated in @fyeahghosttrick's Ghost Swap! I wrote for @laughingmango, and used the following prompt: "Any sort of what-if with the detectives". Technically also sort of falls into the prompt with Cabanela/Jowd h/c, but this is (mostly) gen with hints of subtext.

Rating: T (very light cursing; death/violence)

Word Count: 8504 (whoa!)

Summary:

The evidence is getting filed away tomorrow. After tonight...no more second chances. The force is giving up on Alma, and they'll have to give up too.

(AU: Alma's death has been a cold case for the last five years. Cabanela and Jowd, in charge of the Special Investigations Unit together, have one more night to solve the case before the evidence is filed away and it sinks to the bottom of priorities along with every other cold case...)

Read on AO3

Tonight is the last night they have to get any more information on Alma’s case. Cabanela thumbs open the file again. A locked-room murder. There had been a gun hanging on the wall that had gone off, somehow. There were no fingerprints on the gun. The ballistics matched the gun perfectly.

Jowd said that it wasn’t usually loaded. If Alma needed to use it, she could load it herself.

“Cabanela?” Jowd asks, voice rumbling. “Do you think it’s hopeless?”

“I don’t know,” he answers. “It’s not that simple, baby. These cases…they might not even be connected.”

“When the first case happened with the rocker…I thought…” Jowd sighs. “I thought there might have been hope. That we could find some answers.”

“There’s still something I want to investigate,” Cabanela says. “There’s a meeting going down tonight with a man that we both thought was dead.” He grabs a different file and slides it over to Jowd. “I’ve already dispatched some of the force to keep an eye on it.”

“...the Chicken Kitchen?” Jowd asks, looking over the file. “Who’d you send?”

“Detective Memry was planted undercover. Rindge is supposed to keep an eye on things from the outside. Iiiiiiiii like to think it’ll go well.”

“Lynne said she couldn’t be here tonight.” Jowd frowns. “She took the night off. Said she was meeting someone.”

“And just wheeeeere did that meeting happen to be?”

“She never said.” Jowd looks back up. “I’m worried about her, Cabanela. You know she’s never been the best at controlling her impulses. I could blame that one on you.”

“Oh, come on, baby, you were the one that was gonna turn himself in for a murder he didn’t commit.” Cabanela leans back in his chair. “Youuuuu just might be the impulsive one.”

“Well, I never,” Jowd answers, a smile on his face. Cabanela smiles in return — at least he’s managed to get a smile on his partner’s face. They’ve been few and far between since the events of five years ago — Jowd’s dedicated himself to investigating Alma’s death with the rigor of a swordsman.

“Inspector Cabanela?”

It’s the chief on the radio. What could he want with them?

“Chief, what’s wrong?”

“Case at the junkyard,” he answers. “Want you to supervise them.”

“Who’s on the team?” Jowd asks.

“I’ll go, baby,” Cabanela says. He shuts off the radio. “Keep an eye on things at Point X for me, yeah?”

“I will.” Jowd looks at him in a softly familiar way.

Yomiel. The body is undoubtedly his, just as much as the coroner is undoubtedly a fake. Cabanela can tell just by looking. The way people act portrays just who they are — he mostly applies that to himself, but that applies to other people too.

“Inspector!” Both detectives salute him when he gets downstairs. The coroner just keeps working. Yet another sign that something is amiss.

“Evening, boooys,” he says, shooting them a disarming smile. “Hoooow’s it hangin’?”

The two look at each other, mildly disconcerted.

“Allow me to report, sir!” McCaw’s partner says. “We’ve brought a suspect into custody. She’s being held upstairs in the super’s office!”

“Good, gooooood,” Cabanela responds. “I’ll be right there. And just where is there?”

“Upstairs, sir,” McCaw answers. “Just past where you put your bike.”

“Thaaaaank you,” he answers. “I’ll just be heading on up there for an interview now. See you later, baby!” He prances back up the stairs and over towards the office. He’s been here before. Many a time, actually. Prof’s been a real help over these last few years. But nobody really knows about that.

But the person he sees when he gets up there surprises him.

“Lynne.” He looks at the patrolman keeping an eye on her. “Do me a soliiiiid, would you?”

The patrolman salutes. “Yessir!”

“Inspector Cabanela! I thought…I thought tonight was important.”

“Still got time to see you, baby,” he says. “Jowd’s on it. And you’re more important right now in this crisis.”

Lynne looks down. It pains him to see her distraught. She straightens up. “Wait. You said…crisis? Does that mean…I never even met that guy before tonight! I didn’t kill him!”

Hmm. So it sounds like Lynne doesn’t remember what Yomiel looks like, at least — it happened when she was young, at least, and the memory is probably hazy from how traumatic it must have been for her.

“Never? Then how’d you end up here, baby?”

“Well, uh, before tonight, that is…” Lynne raises a hand to the back of her neck sheepishly. “He reached out to me first, actually. He said that he had some important information about a case I’ve been working on.”

“Hmm…” Cabanela strokes his goatee. “Iiiii don’t believe your precinct assigned you to any big cases. Funny, isn’t it?”

“Huh?!” Lynne asks.

If he had to guess…she’s probably doing the same thing he and Jowd are. Trying to close a case that’s been open for far too long. Trying to heal Kamila’s heart.

Tonight is the last night. It only stands to reason that she’d be desperate.

“Don’t worry, baby. I don’t think you did it. I’m just tryna clear things up a little.” He smiles. It’s not as effective on her, since she knows him better, but it still works. “You’re not the type to shoot like that. And if anything ever happened to you…”

“Yeah,” Lynne says. “Yeah.” She swallows. “Inspector Cabanela…I have one question for you.”

“Go ahead, baby,” he says.

“Tonight is the night, right? That it…”

“I have noooo idea what you— Get down!” He shoves her out of the way as a bullet crashes through the window.

“Ngh.” What’s going on? Where is he? What…happened? “Lynne!”

“You’re awake,” a voice he doesn’t recognize says. “Great.”

“What’s…who am I?”

“You’re in the land of the dead,” the voice answers.

Cabanela — so that’s his name — opens his eyes.

“The…land of the dead?” he asks, right before he takes in who the voice belongs to. “You!”

“Huh?” the man who looks like Yomiel asks. Land of the dead…it would make sense. Yomiel is dead, after all. “I’m Sissel. And you’re Inspector Cabanela, I believe.”

“Thaaaaat’s right,” Cabanela answers. Sissel. That’s a name that pings some kind of recognition in him, but…he doesn’t know exactly where he’s heard it before. “So…I take it that I died, then?”

“You’re in the Ghost World,” ‘Sissel’ explains.

“I can’t be dead. Not tonight.”

“Someone told me that something very important was happening tonight,” Sissel continues. “If I had to guess, I’d say you were an important part of it. But…I can bring you back. Learn what happened to you.”

“Iiiiiii’m not sure who you think you are, but I don’t think anyone has that power,” Cabanela says.

“Let me show you, then,” Sissel says.

Cabanela’s death plays out in front of him — from the walk up the stairs to his conversation with Lynne.

“So that’s it, then?” Cabanela asks. “How are you gonna stop it?”

“That’s up to me,” Sissel answers. “I’ll do my best to stop whoever’s shooting you. I’ve already saved other lives before.”

“It’s in your hands now, baby. Nothin’ much I can do to stop it.” Cabanela leans back.

Sissel hums and gets to work. What that work is, Cabanela doesn’t quite understand at first. But then Sissel does…something to the van door and it opens.

A trick. Something that could happen in a locked room. Something that could happen…without a person there to witness it or to explain just what had happened.

Could this have happened to Alma?

Sissel drops some crates on top of the would-be assassin’s head. “And there we go.”

“Thank you,” Cabanela says. “You’ve helped more than you know.”

“Of course,” Sissel says. “Do you…know anything? About me?”

“Whyyyyyy do you ask?”

Sissel sighs. “Figured it was worth a shot, at least. It looks like you don’t have the answers I’m looking for, though. Let’s get back to the present now, shall we?”

Cabanela nods.

“It’s the night that her case gets filed away. Forever.” Lynne grips her arm and looks away. “Inspector Cabanela, I know you know what I’m talking about.”

“Well, Iiiiiii’m certainly not at liberty to tell you about it, baby,” Cabanela says. He needs to talk to Jowd as soon as possible — he needs to tell Jowd what he’s just learned. What the key is. “I gotta go now, baby. Get some sleep, would you?”

Lynne rolls her eyes. “You worry too much, Inspector.”

“I thiiiiiink in our line of work, it’s justified.” Cabanela turns towards the door. “I’ll just be going now. I’ll be sending that patrolman riiiiiiight back in, so don’t try to escape now, would you?”

“I won’t!” Lynne says.

Back to the precinct.

“Heeeyyyyy, Jowd,” Cabanela says. “Heard anything from Rindge?”

“I checked in with him,” Jowd responds. “He just arrived at the park. He’s keeping a lookout on things now.” His face twists. “At first when I called, someone else responded. He called himself…the guardian of the park?”

“Iiiiiiiinteresting,” Cabanela says. “They’ve got Lynne held up in the super’s office. They think she did it, baby.”

“Lynne?” Jowd asks. “Who…what was going on?”

“I don’t know,” Cabanela answers quietly. “The body…it was Yomiel.”

“Yomiel?” Jowd says suddenly. “No…there’s no way.”

“That’s what I thought,” Cabanela says. “Buuuuuut I have no idea who else it could be. It was…he was wearing the same suit still. Same hair. It’s like the past ten years never happened. Lynne didn’t remember him, though.”

Jowd frowns. “I can see why she doesn’t. It must have been difficult for her. But I could never forget what his face looked like.”

“Me neither.” Cabanela places a hand on his partner’s shoulder. “Iiiiii’m not sure what to do, but we’ll figure this out. I know it.” He smiles. “You and me, baby. Together we’re unstoppable.”

Jowd nods. “Indeed.”

“Iiiiiii’m gonna head down to the chief’s office now,” Cabanela says. “I think heeeee might know something about Lynne’s case.”

“Alright. If it’s really Yomiel, then…”

Cabanela nods. “Lotta things going down in this town tonight, baby. It’s up to us to unravel this.”

“And Alma…” Jowd sighs. “I hope we can put her to rest tonight.”

Cabanela takes a deep breath. “I hope so too.”

“This…with Yomiel…it can’t be a coincidence with what happened ten years ago. There’s just something we’re missing.” Jowd sighs. “I don’t know what the connection could be…or if there even is one. Maybe we’re just chasing ghosts.”

Ghosts. The man that had called himself Sissel.

Would Jowd even believe him?

“Speaking of, actually,” Cabanela says, “there’s juuuuuust one more thing I have to tell you. There’s another player out there tonight. He saved my life. And he looked just like Yomiel.”

“...how?” Jowd asks.

“Took out an assassin. Called himself…Sissel. Strangest thing was, I think he miiiiiight be a ghost.”

“A ghost.” Jowd crosses his arms. “I don’t want to say you’ve lost your touch, but…”

“I’m not quite sure either,” Cabanela admits. “Buuuuuuut I’m keeping it in mind. For when I find out.”

Jowd nods. “Alright.”

Cabanela wonders if Jowd picked up what he was trying to say. That it could have been…that it could have been what happened to Alma.

“The super sent us the security footage,” Chief says. Cabanela can hear the almost imperceptible sound of him rubbing his feet together under the desk and fights the urge not to wrinkle his nose in disgust. “I hate to say it, Inspector, but it looks like your protégé is in real trouble.”

“Just show it to me, would you?” Cabanela winks and takes a position to watch as the projector springs downwards. It shows the edge of the junkyard near the fence. He watches Yomiel as he stands in front of Lynne. Yomiel? Maybe it is Sissel. Maybe Yomiel got himself a copycat, ten years later.

The man in the red suit flops back against the fencepost as Lynne takes out her pistol. She fires two shots, looking for all the world like she’s struggling. The first hits the man’s box. The second hits the man. The man flops forwards to the ground as Lynne puts her gun back.

“That’s not where the body was found,” Cabanela points out. He grabs the remote and fast-forwards the footage.

Huh. A black cat in the box knocked down the body. Odd.

“I don’t know what’s going on, Inspector, but…this looks like a case for the Special Investigations Unit.” The chief frowns. “He looks an awful lot like that suspect from all those years ago.”

“You’re right.” Cabanela frowns. “Yomiel…I didn’t think I’d ever see that face again. But to think that maybe…”

“What are you thinking, Inspector?” the chief asks.

“Oh, don’t worry, Chief,” Cabanela says. “I’m sure it’ll be alright, as long as I’m on the case.”

“Still keeping an eye on Point X?”

“Of cooooooourse,” he answers. “I’ve got some officers I trust keeping a lookout on the scene. And Jowd’s got an eye on them, too.” He’d trust Jowd with his life.

“I always wondered…” The chief trails off, and then straightens himself back up a little bit. “I always wondered how you were always so sure that Jowd didn’t do it.”

“I trust him,” Cabanela answers. “If he says he didn’t do it, he didn’t do it. Plain and simple, baby. Just the way he’s always liked it.”

“I suppose that’s true.” The chief sighs. “Still, I have to wonder after all these years…he could’ve been letting the case grow cold for his own sake.”

Well, Cabanela knows that’s…true. At least a little bit true. Jowd’s not doing it for himself, though. He’s got his little girl at home to look after. Kamila…Cabanela hopes she’s safe at home, and not doing anything else besides reading her book and listening to her music.

“Jowd’s not like that. Trust me,” Cabanela says. “I wouldn’t have kept him so long as my partner if I didn’t.”

They have to stop this. It’s simple enough.

“Chief,” he continues, “I’m heading back to the scene of the murder. Lynne should still be there. I’ll take her back to the precinct. Didn’t get the chance earlier.”

The chief nods. “Alright, Inspector.”

Cabanela heads out and bikes back to the junkyard.

But when he gets back to the office, it’s…empty. Or at least the person he’s looking for isn’t here.

“Where’d Lynne go?” Cabanela asks the nearest patrolman.

“I don’t know!” he answers, putting his hands up. “You left, called me back in, and she was already gone!”

Ah.

Cabanela sits down at the super’s desk. “Heeeeeey, chief. I need a favor. Put out an APB on Lynne for me, wouldya?”

“Got a runner on our hands?”

“Indeeeeeed. Now, I don’t like what’s happened, but that doesn’t change that she’s pretty heavily involved in what’s gone down here. And since she ran, it means she has something she wants to hide from me.”

“I’ll do that right away, then,” the chief answers. “Thank you, Inspector.”

“Don’t thank me yet, baby. I’ve stiiiiiiiill got work to do.” Cabanela sets down the phone. And then it starts ringing again.

“Chief told me you were here,” Jowd says, his low timbre vibrating over the line. “I just thought I should inform you that they’ve found Lynne. She’s at Point X.”

“What? Why is she at Point X?” Cabanela demands.

“Dunno. Detective Rindge just informed me.” Jowd sighs. “Do you think that maybe she got in over her head? That she was the one who scheduled the meeting because she was looking for answers?”

“Could be anything,” Cabanela answers. “I’m not sure exactly what she’s been up to tonight. But she told me something iiiiiiiinteresting earlier.”

“What’d she say?”

“She said that tonight was the night that her case was being filed. And she asked me to tell her about Alma.”

“I…” Jowd trails off. “That’s concerning. But I don’t think Lynne has the resources to arrange that sort of meeting.”

“That’s true,” Cabanela admits. “She told me when I asked her that Yomiel had asked her to meet. I’m not sure she was exactly…looking before now. When the opportunity strikes, you’ve got to take it.”

“Like tonight, then?” Jowd asks. “Rindge was heading in, last I heard. He should be talking to Lynne.”

“Thaaaaanks.” Cabanela sighs. “Keep me updated, will you?”

“Of course,” Jowd answers. “I wouldn’t leave my partner in the dark.”

Cabanela heads down to the basement.

“Heeeeeey, Prof,” he says as he hops down the stairs. “Get a good look at that body yet?”

“We already knew it was Yomiel,” he answers. Lovey-Dove coos atop his head. “Can’t conduct a proper autopsy, though. Could run some other tests…”

“Why nooooot?”

“Take a look for yourself,” he answers. Cabanela approaches the table. The man attempts to make an incision. The incision instantly heals. “I suspect the healing factor is the Temsik shard lodged in him.”

“Faaaaascinating.” Cabanela looks over the body.

“It’s a corpse, to put it shortly — he’s not truly alive. Somehow or another…he’s inhabiting his own body.” Lovey-Dove coos, as if to punctuate that ominous remark.

“I learned earlier tonight that ghosts are real,” Cabanela says. “That could be it. I just still don’t understand how.”

“Hmm.” He runs a scanner over the body. “Same radiation as the park, though. You’ve got eyes on that?”

“Yeah,” Cabanela answers. “Rindge was put there for the stakeout. We’re fiiiiiiiiine. Everything’s under control.”

That’s when the phone rings.

“Cabanela? Are you there?” Jowd asks, sounding more panicked now.

“What’s wrong?” he demands.

“It’s Kamila.” Cabanela could swear that his heart stops beating for a moment. “They’ve kidnapped her.”

“What?!”

“The demand is my life,” Jowd says. “They want me to surrender myself for her.”

“No,” Cabanela says.

“I have two hours to respond before they kill her,” Jowd says. “I know you can take care of her. You’ve been helping me out for years. I know you can do this, Cabanela.”

“You said two hours, right?” Cabanela says. “I’m going to figure out how she was kidnapped and rescue her before it’s too late.”

“It’d take a miracle to pull that off,” Jowd says.

“And if anyone’s in the business of miracles, it’s me, baby,” he answers. “I’ll find Kamila. Mark my words.”

“Good luck,” Jowd answers.

Cabanela puts down the receiver. “I’m afraid I have other business to attend to, Prof. Catch you later!”

He just nods in response. Lovey-Dove nods alongside him.

Cabanela walks up the stairs and hops on his bike. Time to go. Where could the kidnappers have taken them?

Maybe he’ll start by checking in on Point X. Lynne’s probably left at this point, but Memry and Rindge will still be there.

Cabanela sits down at a booth in the Chicken Kitchen and rings the bell three times.

“Memry,” he remarks. “Sit down. Did anyone come in tonight that was suspicious?”

“Besides that other detective?” Memry remarks. “And I’m not supposed to sit.”

Cabanela waves his hand. “Don’t wooooooorry about losin’ your job. It’s not like you’re gonna be here after tonight, baby.”

Memry sighs. “Don’t remind me! I loved the extra pay. Both from here and from the boss. I was making so much moolah it was worth all the crap I get being a waitress.”

Cabanela raises an eyebrow. Then again, she is on the job while she’s here, so she should be getting paid as a detective and as a waitress. Not that waitressing pays well, but depending on the tips she’s getting…he supposes he could understand why she’d want to stay longer in her position.

“Actually, there were a couple people upstairs earlier,” she says. “I tried to plant a bug on them, but Rindge told me that it didn’t work and all he was getting was the chef, for whatever reason. Could’ve sworn I put it on the chicken I was getting to them, but…I guess I’ll never find out what was in that giant suitcase they had. Seemed pretty heavy, too. The guy was having trouble carrying it. I bet that woman he was with could’ve carried it no problem, though. She was pretty strong, if you catch my drift.”

Cabanela rolls his eyes. “And where did they go after that?”

“Not sure,” Memry answers. “But whoever they were waiting for didn’t show up.”

“Iiiiiiiinteresting,” he says. “What’d they look like?”

“The guy was wearing a hat, and he was always a little hunched over. The woman was taller than him, even without her heels. She had a really wild hairstyle, though. Blonde hair, all around her in a spiral. Kinda wish my hair were long enough to do that, but then again, I don’t want to have to deal with it when it gets that long.”

“Detective,” he says, “do you have aaaaaaany idea where they went?”

“Nope! I wish I could tell ya. They left on a motorcycle, I think. Rindge might have the plate number. I heard he was lonely in that park…”

“They might come back,” Cabanela says. “Stay here until the restaurant closes, yeah? After that, you can hang out with him aaaaaaaall you want.”

“Fine, fine.” She rolls her eyes. “Wouldn’t want to get written up tonight.”

Cabanela leaves the restaurant and rides over to the park.

“Stop the park from being turned into a housing site!” a young man says, waving around leaflets. “Protect Temsik, rock of the gods!”

Cabanela grabs a leaflet just to placate him, and then jaunts on towards where Rindge is looking out over the edge, in the direction of the Chicken Kitchen.

“Inspector Cabanela!” Rindge says, straightening up suddenly. “Sir!”

“Relaaaaaaax,” Cabanela says, leaning up against the railing. “I’m just here to ask you something, baby. Did you spot a couple carrying a large suitcase? Memry in there seems to think youuuuuu might have a plate number for me.”

“I saw them leaving on a motorcycle,” Rindge answers, as impassive as ever. “I couldn’t see the plate number, though. Too small. They were heading east, though.”

“Thaaaaaank you,” Cabanela responds. “East it is, then!”

East. What was in that direction? Where would make for a good hideout for a couple criminals?

Oh.

Jowd and Kamila had moved out of their old house a few months after Alma’s death due to the fact that Jowd hadn’t wanted Kamila to stick around there so long afterwards. The house had become derelict since, and known as something that only teenagers occasionally looked through for kicks, to see if the house was haunted. It’d make the perfect place for something like this.

Cabanela gets on his bike and rides over there. There are some candles lit in the front room. He sneaks his way in instead of announcing his presence just to find that there’s a man sleeping hunched over that matches Memry’s vague descriptions…and Amelie, the Justice Minister’s daughter. What is she doing here?

(At least it’s not Kamila.)

“Hello, Inspector.”

He nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of that somewhat familiar voice.

“Sissel,” he manages to respond, “whaaaaaat are you doing here?”

“I was listening in on their conversation,” Sissel answers, raising one arm to shrug. “Couldn’t let the little lady stay kidnapped. Though I didn’t realize she was…”

“That’s not Kamila,” Cabanela says.

“I know that,” Sissel answers. “They got the wrong girl. She’s sick, though. I feel bad for her. Managed to get her free, but…not sure how to get her out. Get her out of here before the lady comes back, okay? I should go.”

Cabanela nods. “Alright. I’ll get her back to her family. I’m sure they’re worried about her. Sissel…”

“Do you need a favor from me?” he asks. “I’m already helping Lynne, so my plate is pretty full, but…”

“Make sure she gets through this night,” Cabanela says. “But I think you’re already doin’ that. So just keep on keeping on, yeah?”

Sissel smiles, the genuine happiness looking strange with the face he wears. “That won’t be a problem, Inspector.”

Cabanela snaps back into the real world and picks Amelie up.

The man straightens up. Cabanela freezes.

“Just my imagination…” He falls back asleep.

Amelie sniffles. Cabanela takes them both outside before setting her down.

“Heeeeeey,” he says, kneeling down to meet her at her own level. “How are you doin’?”

She sniffles again, and then sneezes. “I wanna go home. You’re a police officer, right? Can you take me home?”

“Yeah, baby, yeah,” he says. “I can get you home.”

“Okay,” Amelie answers. She wipes her nose on her sleeve. “Mommy and Daddy both said that I shouldn’t go out, since I’m sick like this, but I had to get something for Daddy.” There’s a lighter hidden up the sleeve of her nightgown. “Tonight is his birthday, but Mommy forgot, since she’s trying to finish her book tonight.”

“I’ll make sure it gets to him,” Cabanela says. He grabs his bike and places her on the seat, and then grabs the handlebars, letting her grab onto him. He wheels the bike towards her house. “And you, too.”

“Stop right there.”

Cabanela reaches into his jacket for his gun. The woman has long blonde hair, falling around her in rings. Just like Memry described. She has a riding crop, too.

He grabs his badge first. “Inspector Cabanela, Special Investigations Unit. You’re under arrest for kidnapping.” He then reaches for his handcuffs.

“Hmph.” She strikes him. He flinches, puts down the kickstand so Amelie doesn’t fall, and advances on her, cuffing her to a nearby pole.

He flips the kickstand back up and keeps walking Amelie towards the street corner.

“Heyyy, Jowd, I got some gooooood news, baby.”

“Really?” Jowd asks, voice sounding rushed. “What is it?”

“Iiiiiii found her!” Cabanela answers. “Wasn’t Kamila that was kidnapped, though.”

“It wasn’t?”

“As far as Iiiiii know, Kamila’s still at Lynne’s place,” he says. “Say hi, Amelie.” He offers the receiver over to her.

“Um. Hi?” She coughs a couple times.

“Thaaaaanks.”

“Is that the justice minister’s daughter?” Jowd asks.

“That it is,” Cabanela answers. “I’ll be getting her home now, and then I’m headin’ over to Lynne’s apartment to check on Kamila.”

“Thank you,” Jowd answers, voice rumbling. “I’m…I’m not happy that someone else was kidnapped, but I’m glad Kamila’s safe.”

“That’s juuuuuuust fine,” Cabanela answers. “Understandable, even.”

He still remembers the pang of relief that he had felt when it hadn’t been Kamila in there. When he had seen Amelie, sniffling and sneezing instead.

“Then I suppose I’ve got to focus on the case,” Jowd says.

“We can focus on the case when I get back, baby,” Cabanela answers. “I’ll see you soon.”

Jowd hangs up. He’s always been a concise man — that’s one of the things that had made them fit so well together.

“Who was that? And who’s Kamila?” Amelie asks.

“Thaaaaat was my partner in the force,” Cabanela answers. “He’s Kamila’s father. And Kamila’s who we thought got kidnapped, not you.”

“Oh! So you two are her dads?” she asks.

Cabanela very nearly stops in his tracks. “Who, me? I’m noooooot her dad. Nosiree.”

“But you said that you were partners?”

“Detective partners, not like that,” Cabanela answers. “Which way was your house?”

“Ummmmmmm.” She deliberates on that for a little bit. “I think it’s that way?” She points to the west. Fair enough.

“We’re here!” Amelie lets go and hops off the bike. “Thanks, Inspector!” She waves as she walks into the house, sneezing one more time for good measure.

He hopes she’ll be okay. Can’t be easy to get kidnapped while sick.

He hops on his bike and rides back to the precinct. Time for him to touch base with Jowd.

That’s when the car hits him.

“Seems like you and Lynne are competing to see who can die the most tonight,” Yo—Sissel says. He doesn’t sound like Yomiel, at least — but the face being the same still throws Cabanela off when he’s not anticipating it.

“Is Lynne okay?” Cabanela asks.

“She’s fine,” Sissel answers. “But you’re not.”

“Iiiiiii got hit by a car,” Cabanela says. “What can you do to prevent that?”

“You’d be surprised,” Sissel answers. “Four minutes is a long time to change things.”

Cabanela just lets Sissel do his thing. As they watch…

Ah. Yomiel was driving the car that hit him. So it was probably intentional. Dammit.

“Who…is that?” Sissel asks. “And why does he have my face?”

Cabanela just sighs. “Iiiiiii’m not sure,” he answers.

“Let’s see what I can do,” Sissel says. “We might have to…get creative.”

“Well, a little creativity never hurt anything,” Cabanela answers, flashing a smile at Sissel. “You’ve gooooot this!”

“Thanks,” Sissel says, a little sheepish.

They start on the road, in front of where he died. Sissel takes him over on a leaf that drifts over, and eventually they manage to come down on top of the car. Yomiel has been…outside Jowd and Kamila’s house. What’s he waiting for?

And then the phone rings.

“Hello?” Yomiel snaps.

“Beauty’s gone! And the kid!” the man says on the other end of the line. That’s the man Cabanela had seen inside — the one that had been napping when he took Amelie back home. “Beauty was supposed to be back a while ago, ya see…”

Yomiel sighs, clearly annoyed. “I’m keeping an eye on the kid’s house. I haven’t seen her or her father all night. I don’t have time for your wild goose chases. You can live without your partner, can’t you?”

The man visibly shrinks. “Beauty’s my everything!”

“I’ll be coming to you,” Yomiel says. “I’m on my way now. You better not screw this up.”

Sissel jumps over to the car and triggers the lock.

Yomiel jiggles the door. “I don’t remember locking this…” He pulls out the keys.

“Looks like we didn’t buy ourselves that much time,” Cabanela says.

“No, but it’s still a little more time for you to get across that road safely,” Sissel says.

Yomiel finally gets the key and unlocks the car.

“Now what can we do?” Sissel asks.

“Do you…not know how a car works?” Cabanela asks.

“I barely remember what a car is!” Sissel responds.

“What?!”

“I’ve been trying to find my identity,” Sissel says. He looks over at Yomiel. “He probably has the key to all that. I don’t know why he’s just like me, but…that’s what I’ve been trying to do tonight.”

“A noble quest indeed!” Cabanela says.

“Do…you know anything?”

“I don’t think now’s the best time to talk about this,” he answers.

“After I save you,” Sissel says. “How do I operate this?” The gear shift.

“Not while the car is moving!” Cabanela says. “Are you crazy? You’re going to get him killed!”

Sissel attempts to move it. “It’s not moving anyway.” He looks around a little more, and swivels the mirror.

The world turns blue in front of them.

“Now then,” Yomiel says, focusing directly on Sissel, “I knew there was another ghost around town tonight, but…I didn’t think it’d be me of all people that was going around and stopping things from happening the way they’re supposed to. Not sure why you’ve got my face, but…things will still go down the way they’re meant to. However you’re trying to stop me…it won’t work. I will wipe out the last traces of Temsik before this night is over — and that will include you.”

Sissel sucks in a sharp breath.

The car speeds up. Cabanela, still alive, stops just before crossing the road instead of going.

The world turns red again.

“I don’t think that was how we were supposed to pull that off,” Sissel admits.

“Hey, I’m alive, aren’t I?” Cabanela asks. “I guess he’ll make it to his destination this time, baby. What’d you say last time? Go back to the new present?”

“Yes,” Sissel answers. “But…before I return you, I have to ask: did you know that man?”

“I did,” Cabanela answers. “He was shot earlier tonight. And I suspect his involvement in some other incidents. Especially after what I witnessed just now…”

“But me?”

“His name wasn’t Sissel,” Cabanela says. “Good luck figuring it out.”

Sissel looks down, but when Cabanela’s next aware, he’s back on his bike. He looks both ways before crossing this time, and makes it across without getting hit by any surprise cars.

“Kamila?” he asks. Missile barks when he walks in and runs around his feet.

She sets down her book. “Hey!” she answers. “Missile, could you please quiet down?”

Cabanela squats down and pets Missile.

“The neighbor said she’d try to knock the wall down if she heard Missile barking too much again,” Kamila says, sounding apologetic.

“You’re okay, right?”

“Of course I am!” she answers. “Tonight’s been…good, though I am a little sad that Lynne can’t hang out with me. She said that she’d be busy tonight.”

“And why’d she say that, baby?” Cabanela knows that if Lynne had really intended to stay out the entire night she would have probably told Kamila to stay home.

“I…don’t know, actually.” Kamila frowns. “Why are you here?”

“Your dad was worried about you. Iiiiiiii told him you were fine, but he wanted me to check up on you, juuuuuuust in case something bad happened.”

“Phone’s broken,” Kamila says casually. “I accidentally dropped the receiver earlier.”

“Huh.” Cabanela looks down at the phone. “Well then, Iiiiiii suppose we’ll have to find some other way to talk to your dad. I’ll go ask next door, yeah?”

“Okay,” Kamila says.

Cabanela hops over towards the apartment next door. “Hellooooooo,” he says when the door opens to him.

“And just what brings…a police officer to interrupt me on the holiest of nights?”

Great. It’s the Justice Minister’s wife. What was her name again…?

“My sinceeeeerest apologies, madame,” he says, bowing. “Iiiiiiii just need to borrow your phone for a moment. Could I?” He flashes his most charming smile at her.

“Well,” she says, “who am I to say no to a man like you?” She arches an eyebrow. “Phone’s over by the bed.”

“I’ll be quick, I promise,” he says. He saunters over the phone.

“Cabanela?” Jowd asks. “You were right about the ghosts.”

“That’s one hell of an opener, baby,” Cabanela says. “Buuuuuut I was going to tell you something first. Kamila’s just fine. I just checked up on her.”

“That’s good,” Jowd says. “But…you said a ghost might have caused Alma’s death. I just spoke to one earlier.”

“Greaaaaat,” Cabanela says. “You can tell me all about it later, baby. But I am currently borrowing this phone, so Iiiiiiiiii should probably be getting off.”

“That you should,” Jowd says, a tinge of warmth in his voice. “I’ll see you back at the station, Cabanela.”

He hangs up the phone.

“Thanks again,” he says, firing off a salute towards her. She’s too engrossed in her work to look up, pecking away at the keys one at a time. It strikes him as an awfully inefficient way to type, but then again, what does he know?

“You met Sissel?” Cabanela asks when he gets back to the station.

“Yes,” Jowd answers. “The only issue is…how can we prove it? How can we prove that it was a ghost?”

“I don’t know,” Cabanela answers. “I don’t have all the answers, baby. But whatever’s out there tonight is trying to get rid of everything Temsik.”

“Temsik, huh?” Jowd asks. “It’s always going to come back to that day.”

Cabanela puts a hand on his partner’s shoulder. “You’re not a bad person. I know it.”

Jowd frowns. “I could’ve killed him. I might have, even. I’m not like you.” He plucks a speck of dirt off Cabanela’s shoulder. “My coat’s not exactly clean.”

Cabanela rakes a judgemental gaze over Jowd’s coat. “Clean enough, I’d say. You’re standing beside me now, aren’t you?”

“Just because you kept insisting that I had to be here,” Jowd responds. “I’m just along for the ride.”

“I disagree,” Cabanela says. “I don’t want to be here without you.”

Jowd nods.

“Have you heard anything about Lynne?” Cabanela asks, shifting the subject away after a moment of awkward silence.

“No,” Jowd answers. “She hasn’t been seen since the Chicken Kitchen. We’re still looking, though.”

“Alright,” Cabanela says. “I think we need to prioritize Yomiel.”

“I agree,” Jowd says. “It has to be connected. Alma’s death, the meteor strike, Temsik….everything that happened tonight goes back to Temsik Park. The night’s wearing thin. Where would he go?”

“Maaaaaybe he’s trying to escape,” Cabanela says. “He’s working with the people that kidnapped Kamila.”

“And McCaw and his partner found someone crushed by the junkyard wrecking ball.” Jowd frowns. “It looks like he’s part of the same group that was at Point X earlier. Did we get any intel about them?”

“No,” Cabanela says. “I talked to Memry about them, and she said that they were the ones who kidnapped Kamila, buuuuuuuuut when she tried to plant a bug on them all she ended up with was the chef.”

“The…chef?” Jowd asks, confused. “What?”

“That’s what Rindge told me, at least,” Cabanela answers. “Iiiiiii’m not quite sure what went down.”

“I think I might have the answer to that.”

“Sissel,” Jowd says, offering him a warm smile. “It’s good to see you under better circumstances. Is someone dead?”

“Not right now,” Sissel answers. “It had to be the chef. The lady managed to figure out the bug. It caused that detective in green and Lynne to die.”

That…does not make sense at all.

“Could you please explain further?” Jowd asks.

“In the timeline where that undercover detective plants a bug on the chicken, one of them manages to figure out they’re being listened to, and when the bug got destroyed, the detective in green died,” Sissel explains, slower now. “I couldn’t save Lynne without saving him. But if it helps, I’m pretty sure they were waiting for the other man in red.”

“You saw him?” Jowd asks.

“I did,” Sissel says. “I’m…not sure what’s going on, but I have to talk to him again.”

“We’re trying to find him too,” Cabanela says. “He has answers for us relating to an incident we’re investigating.”

“Lynne told me a little about it,” Sissel admits, “but I didn’t get very much from her. A murder that happened five years ago, right?”

“Yes.” Jowd frowns.

“She said…it was something she wanted to do for you,” Sissel says, speaking directly to Jowd. “To repay you for what you did ten years ago.”

Jowd looks down. “Whatever she told you…I’m not as much of a hero as she thinks I am.”

“Sounded pretty heroic to me,” Sissel answers. “Lynne said you saved her life.”

“And I nearly killed someone else in the process.”

Cabanela frowns at that comment.

“Doesn’t matter if it didn’t happen,” Sissel says with a shrug. Cabanela flinches.

“That’s not how I see it.” Jowd’s face is impassive. He’s shut down. Cabanela’s seen that face enough to know it’s high time they shifted the subject of conversation to something else.

“Anything else you have to tell us, Sissel?” Cabanela asks.

Sissel hums. “I learned my name from some people on a submarine. They said they were looking for a man that looked like me, going by the name Sissel. And that I was supposed to give them information.”

Jowd looks over at Cabanela. “The docks?”

Cabanela nods. He could go and make his escape down there to that submarine…

“I’ll see if I can find my way down there too,” Sissel says.

“I’ll call the office there for you,” Jowd says. “That’ll make it easier.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s the least I can do for you after you saved our lives tonight.”

“Don’t thank me.” Sissel seems to relax, despite the words. “I’m just looking for answers, and you all seem to have them. As long as I still don’t know the mystery of me…I’ll keep going.” He snaps them back into the real world.

“I will neeeeever be used to that,” Cabanela admits.

“It’s easier if you can sense him,” Jowd admits. “He’s waiting in the pen holder.”

Cabanela raises an eyebrow. “And how do you know that, baby?”

“I can…sense him, in a manner of speaking,” Jowd admits. “Call it detective’s instinct.”

“Like you’d know much about instinct,” Cabanela responds, mostly on impulse.

“You were right,” Jowd says. “It never sat right with me to just trust that I was right about what happened five years ago. But you said…”

“‘...if you can’t trust your instincts, trust me,’” Cabanela fills in. “I remember.”

It had been five years ago when the payphone on the street corner of Cabanela’s usual route home rang.

He was curious enough to pick up.

“Cabanela?” Jowd had asked, sounding like he was about to cry. Cabanela hadn’t heard him sound like that since his wedding, and this hadn’t sounded like a happy occasion. “Please. I need you here.”

“Are you at home?” he had asked, swinging onto his bike.

“Yes,” Jowd had answered, and Cabanela rode off as fast as his bike could go. When he got to the house, the sight in front of him had been astonishing, to say the least.

Alma was dead. Shot in the chest. Clean. Hit the heart. Cabanela remembers thinking that at the very least she had died a quick death.

And above her, Kamila had been crying, with Jowd soothing her.

“It wasn’t supposed to do that!” Cabanela had heard.

“Report,” Cabanela had snapped, using the same tone as the chief, just to get them to snap out of it.

Jowd looked up. “Thank you.”

“What’s going on?” Cabanela grabbed a pair of gloves from his jacket. They weren’t crime scene forensic style, but they were good enough. The gun on the wall…

“It’s not loaded, but the ammo’s not hard to find if Alma ever needed it,” Jowd admitted softly. “I taught her to shoot.”

“Every gun needs someone to pull the trigger,” Cabanela had answered, and Jowd had flinched. “So who could’ve pulled this from up here?”

“It was me,” Jowd says. “I shot her. With my gun.”

His tone is too flat.

“I don’t believe that for a second, baby.” The barrel of the gun on the wall was still warm when Cabanela pressed a hand to it.

Jowd had pulled Kamila in closer. Cabanela watched as her tears soaked into his coat.

“It was her birthday, wasn’t it?” Cabanela had asked, softer now. “Hell of a way to celebrate.”

Jowd flinched. “Watch your language.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Kamila had said again.

Cabanela knelt. “What do you mean, baby?”

“It was supposed to set off the party poppers,” she sobbed. “There was no string there. I’m not supposed to touch the gun.”

“I don’t know who did it,” Jowd said, “but my little girl’s not responsible for this.”

Cabanela looked at the gun in his hand. At the wall in front of him. At the decorations on the table, preparing for a party.

“She told me about it,” Jowd continued. “The machine. The cupid here…it’s supposed to face the table.”

“Then…something must have happened,” Cabanela said.

“I…don’t know what to think,” Jowd admitted. “Kamila, go up to your room. We’ll talk more later.”

Kamila nodded eagerly and scampered away.

“I know…I don’t want to think she could have done it,” Jowd continued. “But…the only person in the house was her. What else could it be? I want to say that she didn’t do it. I want more than anything to say that. But…”

“If you can’t trust your instincts, trust me,” Cabanela had told him. “I’m your partner. If I say she didn’t do it, she didn’t do it.”

They messed with the window, made the lock look like it was tampered with. There was an outside possibility now.

Cabanela had filed the reports, and tried not to think too hard about how he made himself accomplice to a crime.

“Sounds like you learned something from me after all,” Cabanela quips half-heartedly.

“It’s been years,” Jowd answers.

The lines start to blur after that long together. Cabanela knows Jowd as well as he knows himself. Maybe better, even.

Jowd picks up the phone and calls the docks.

“Sorry, I meant to dial someone else,” he says, and then puts down the phone. “Sissel should be on his way now. He’s not here.”

“Let’s go, then,” Cabanela says. “See if we can catch him.”

They find Yomiel uncovering a motorboat.

“So you’re not dead,” Yomiel says, directing the words to Jowd, bitterness seeping into his voice. “That just means I can do it myself.”

Cabanela reaches for the handcuffs in his coat’s inside pocket, and then he feels nothing at all.

The feel of a gun in his hand…the bang…what’s happening? Why can’t he do anything? He can’t see. He can’t feel. What’s around him? What’s happening?

When he comes to, he’s flat on the ground. Someone’s on top of his back.

“What’s going on?” Cabanela barks.

“Looks like you’re yourself again,” Lynne says from behind him. The weight gets off his back. He rolls over to see her and Jowd standing above him. “I managed to find my own way here, thanks to some intel Sissel gave me.” She offers him a hand. Cabanela takes it and pulls himself up. “Will someone just tell me what’s going on? I’ve been involved in this the whole time. Are you telling me that he’s the one who took me hostage?!”

“We need Sissel for this conversation,” Jowd just says, and they all pop back into the Ghost World.

“You two have been managing to dodge explaining this whole time,” Sissel says, blankly, without accusation despite the words. “There is no hiding here. Your thoughts are projected into speech. And yet…”

“His name is Yomiel,” Jowd says. “The man who took Lynne hostage. The man we’ve been chasing all night.”

Sissel’s form flickers and glitches before ultimately settling on a blue flame — one with sunglasses, but incorporeal nonetheless.

No more incorporeal than any other ghost, Cabanela supposes.

“I guess I know who he is, at least,” Sissel says. “But I’m not him.”

“No, you’re not,” Cabanela says. “That much has been clear from the start. The real Yomiel…”

Lynne gasps. “He killed Alma?!”

“That’s what we’ve been thinking, baby,” Cabanela says.

Sissel gestures over to Jowd. “He told me that you couldn’t solve the mystery until you found out about ghost tricks.”

Lynne looks down. “I’m sorry I’ve been getting in your way. Both of your ways. I didn’t realize it was all connected. I thought…I thought you had given up on it.”

“So you conducted your own investigation,” Cabanela says, “and you would’ve presented the findings to us if you had figured it out.”

“Well,” Lynne says, “I’m still not really sure. I’ve been hiding out here because it’s one of the shadier parts of town. It’s easy to stay away from the other officers.”

“Yomiel doesn’t just possess objects like Sissel does,” Jowd says. “He can also possess people.”

“So that’s what happened to me,” Cabanela says. “Did I…”

“Everyone but me’s currently alive,” Sissel says. “Missile helped.”

“Though I suspect one of my ribs is broken,” Jowd says dryly.

“Did Yomiel get away?” Cabanela asks.

“I think it’s more important that you’re alive,” Sissel says. “I have one more method of finding him. There’s a phone line to that submarine. And then…I guess from there it’ll be up to me. But what I do know is that whoever he’s working with has something planned for Yomiel and whatever Temsik is.”

“The park?” Lynne asks. “It’s always been named that…”

“He was hit by the meteor,” Jowd says. “That could be it.”

“I don’t have much longer here,” Sissel says. “Supposedly, I’m going to be gone once the morning comes. Not sure that’s true anymore, but…I have to find out the truth, and I think he’s the only one who knows.”

“Good luck,” Lynne says. “I’m rooting for you!”

“Thanks,” Sissel says.

“I know what happened to me now,” Lynne says. “He possessed me, didn’t he? I remember not being in control of myself. I can’t remember what actually happened, though…”

“There’s video footage from the surveillance footage of you shooting him,” Jowd says. “It’s irrefutable evidence. However, we also have evidence that he survived, unharmed. It’s likely that we could get the chief to drop your case.”

She perks up. “Really? You’d do that for me?”

“If anything, it’d fall under our purview, due to the…strangeness,” Jowd says.

“And weeeeeeee know for a fact that you didn’t kill him,” Cabanela says. “He’s still alive, after all.”

“More like he’s been dead the whole time,” Jowd says, frowning. “He said that to me while you were retrieving Amelie. He blames me for killing him. Was…”

“No,” Cabanela says. “You’re not right to blame yourself for it. It wasn’t you. It was never you.”

“He was going to make you shoot me,” Jowd says. “That’s what he did when he possessed you. You had your gun pointed at me. That was when Lynne came in.”

“Well, it’s not like anyone else was going to do anything.” She seems distinctly uncomfortable in a way that Cabanela doesn’t see often. “I mean, it sucks that I shot someone I barely knew, even if he did turn out to be totally alive and also evil. It would suck even harder to have shot someone I actually care about.”

“Thaaaaanks,” Cabanela says. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem!” she responds. “So, are you guys going to take me back to the station, then? I had a good run evading the law…”

“I don’t thiiiiiiink you’ll want to say that to the chief,” Cabanela says. The three of them walk back to the police car together.

“Then I just won’t,” she answers.

“It’s been a long night,” Jowd says.

The sun’s starting to rise. Cabanela hadn’t even noticed it was nearly dawn.

“We got a lot done,” Cabanela answers. “You think we need the SIU anymore now that we’ve solved the case?”

“We still need to find Yomiel,” Jowd says. “It’s not the end. We might know what happened, but…this isn’t over yet. Not until he can’t cause any more chaos.”

“I agree,” Cabanela says. “A new adventure awaits, baby!” He yawns. “But for now…I’m headin’ back home.”

“Have a good one,” Jowd says. “And I’ll see you then, too.”

Cabanela leaves and gets on his bike, taking one last look at the sunrise before riding off.

#ghost trick #cabanela #jowd #sissel #lynne #yomiel #i guess those are the main ones for this purpose...there are some other folks here but they have the biggest role #ghost swap #fanfiction #my writing

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hunnybby · 4 years

Text

based on assumptions: chapter 5

title: the study group

pairing: ennoshita chikara x fem reader

genre: general/fluff

word count: 1.4k

a/n: i think this is actually one of the longer chapters if not the longest one! thank you for your patience and your support :)

you’re greeted by saeko at the door, her eyes lighting up when she sees you as she embraces you in an air-tight hug. you are quick to return it, having not seen her in what feels like a thousand years.

“haven’t seen you in hoooow long?” she asks, swinging you back and forth before finally letting you go to take a good look at you. she gives you a good once-over before saying “so pretty” like it’s fact.

you flush slightly. “just trying to look as cool as you, you know?”

saeko’s always been like a big sister to you, welcoming you whenever you come over, offering you cigarettes to be nice even though you don’t smoke, giving you a lollipop whenever you say no to her cigarettes. sometimes you find yourself getting lost in her, which is what you’re tryinng to avoid now since you’re here for a reason.

you make haste taking off your shoes, remembering that you actually have things to study for- nevermind that you’re not in the same class as tanaka or nishinoya. they’re probably in tanaka’s room right now, trying to figure out who can collect more eraser shavings by vigorously rubbing it on a blank sheet of paper.

“are they...?” you point to where his room is located, and saeko affirms.

“almost the entire team is up there. go knock yourself out, use that brain of yours,” she waves, making her way back to whatever she was doing while you made your way to tanaka’s bedroom.

your head is looking at the floor to make sure you don’t accidentslly hit your foot against his door when you slide it open. “tanaka, it’s not fair that you have such a cool...,” you tilt your head up finally, sliding his door shut and your vision is greeted by the entire second-year volleyball players, “... sister?” she wasn’t kidding when she said almost the entire team were here, because they’re all waving and scooting around to make room for you.

including ennoshita. your eyes are like a moth to a light, so you are literally trying make sure you don’t stare for too long. maybe if you time your stares for each person it won’t look weird?

no. that’s dumb. you decide to give a slight wave back and set your eyes on tanaka, who is smirking at you. you see his eyes dart quickly to gesture towards ennoshita, who sits opposite of him, but you don’t move your gaze. instead, you stalk over squeeze yourself between tanaka and narita.

maybe you did so too aggressively, because now you feel 5 pairs of eyes on you as you dig through your bag for your literature notes.

it’s not as awkward as you thought it would be (though you would have liked the heads up from tanaka and nishinoya that the others would be here) and you find yourself enjoying the company.

besides the two aforementioned, you’ve never really seen ennoshita, kinoshita, or narita outside of school.

and they were funny.

during this time spent in your friends’ room you learned a few things:

kinoshita has a smart mouth, and he almost always aims his comments at tanaka, who takes it like a champ.

narita is phased by nothing, absolutely nothing, and will brush off weird comments coming from anyone’s mouth like he didn’t hear it. (and odd banter goes on during the time you’re all ‘studying’)

nishinoya will attempt sleep anywhere. even under the table.

ennoshita is, to your surprise, very intense when it comes to whipping the boys (read: tanaka and nishinoya only) in shape to prepare for exams. because, as you have heard from conversation, they can’t play without passing grades.

in the past few hours, you have also become aware that:

kinoshita and narita have left the building, literally, to go home.

nishinoya is now successfully sleeping under the table.

tanaka has excused himself from the room, claiming he had an important phonecall. with whom? you can’t be entirely sure. but what you are sure of is-

you and ennoshita have now become the only ones studying. across from each other.

it’s really hard to keep your eyes on your book. it really is.

but whenever you dare to sneak a glance at him, he’s hard at work. this doesn’t surprise you much. you’ve heard that he’s never had a failing mark. ever. in the history of him being alive. at all.

you think it’s impressive. so much so that you’re smiling when your eyes fall back down to your own work.

you hear a page turn. “what’s so funny?”

you look up, this time with your head instead of with your eyes. “hmm?” you press your lips together, holding back your smile from growing. holding back your beating heart from falling out of your mouth too, probably.

he turns another page and circles something. “you’re smiling,” he underlines something twice. “did you think of a joke?”

“no,” you say. “you’re pretty hard on tanaka and nishinoya,” you offer up, light-hearted. you hope he senses your going for playful banter.

the smile he returns tells you he reads you perfectly clear. “they told me to help them, so i am.” he sets down his own work to make eye contact with you, and you look back down at- what were you reading again? you couldn’t remember.

“did you need help?” he prods, scooting closer to the table, closer to you. any closer and you wouldn’t be able to hide the pink on your cheeks.

you stutter. because no, you didn’t need help. but yes, you were now lost. “uh- i,” you inhale, then exhale a tony laugh, “i lost my place while reading.”

“do you mind if i take a look?” he’s already reaching for your book. no, wait. he’s reaching for your wrist.

before he does though, your fight or flight response kicks in and you move your hand away at lightning speed. unfortunately for you, this knocks down your book bag and pencil case, both wide open, and all contents inside spill across the table and floor.

this doesn’t seem to wake nishinoya up.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry,” you whisper. you fail at hiding your blush, you know this. because you instantaneously feel yourself getting warmer and warmer by the second.

he’s already picking up your scattered pens and pencils for you. “no worries, i shouldn’t have tried to grab your book like that,” he tells you, voice still even and sweet.

you spare a glance at him and see he’s still smiling, and still you feel your heart leaping up to your throat. “it’s ok,” you say quickly. “i’m just uh,” you start to pick up two notebooks and place them in your bag, “i think i’m done for today.” you pick up one more notebook and place it on top of the other two.

you’re silently cursing yourself and your nerves for getting the better of you.

“ah, okay,” he responds. you think you hear disappoint in his tone, but you shake it off.

there’s two more pencils on the table, and you both aim for them. but your quick to grab them. you feel his hand brush against your own, and you make a small choking sound that you hope he misses.

when you toss the remaining pencils in the case, he takes it and zips it up for you. “the least i can do,” he says as he hands it to you.

there’s that brush again, but this time neither of you are pulling away. hands still connected by your pencil case. it’s awkward, you think. awkward, but you’ve never been near him this long; you don’t want the moment to disappear.

you think he’s about to open his mouth to say something, but the slamming of tanaka’s sliding door opening makes you both jump. you clench the case while ennoshita let’s go.

then, you’re on your feet, rushing to stuff your belongings in your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “i have to go,” you say to no one in particular, and push past tanaka on your way out, your footsteps echoing loudly across the house, followed by the shutting of the front door.

finally, nishinoya wakes up. “what’d i miss?”

there’s a small, nervous chuckle coming from ennoshita, and he rubs the back of his neck. “nothing.”

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unfolded73 · 4 years

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How Do We Get Back (7/16) - schitt’s creek ff

Summary: In a literal alternate universe where the Roses escaped financial ruin, David and Patrick struggle with loneliness and a sense that something isn’t right. A chance meeting in New York and a terrible tragedy drive them to question whether the timeline they are on is the right one.

Rated explicit. This chapter 3.6k words. (ao3)

_____________________________________

Chapter 7

“We’ve reached our cruising altitude and the captain has turned off the fasten seat-belt sign, which means you are free to get up and move about the cabin. However…”

Patrick pressed his forehead against the airplane window, staring down into the darkness. He couldn’t make anything out but he kept looking, almost as if he’d see a sign out there somewhere, something to tell him what to do. He continued to ignore the constant pressure behind his eyes; Patrick feared what his seat mates would think of him if he suddenly started to cry right there in seat 27F. He wasn’t a crier, but he felt very much like crying right now.

He’d been turning his time with David Rose over and over in his mind, looking at it from all angles, trying to figure out what it was about David that has attracted him so intensely. Patrick hadn’t understood his sexual orientation long enough to even begin to think if he had a type, or if David Rose was it. Thinking back over the boys and men in his past, he tried to see them through this new filter. There was Eric, his high school teammate — and yes, Dennis had been right, Patrick had been a little bit in love with him. Eric was tall with dark hair like David, so there was another data point. Going back even farther, there had been a deaf boy at camp when Patrick was fourteen. Patrick had never met anyone who couldn’t hear before, and had been mesmerized, watching the boy’s hands move as he signed. At night Patrick had lain in his bunk, practicing how to sign ‘Hi, I’m Patrick,’ spelling out the letters of his name over and over. Then when he’d finally met the boy, all the signing he’d learned had gone out the window. Instead of signing ‘Hi, I’m Patrick,’ he’d just waved like an idiot and run away. Maybe he’d had a crush then too.

The idea of picking apart every male friendship he’d ever had, every actor he’d ever admired, every Olympic swimmer he’d ever looked at, trying to decode if there had been sexual attraction there — it was exhausting. Okay, maybe the Olympic swimmer thing didn’t take much sleuthing, but the rest of it was exhausting. Besides, this wasn’t about his past. It wasn’t really even about David Rose, even though David was occupying most of his thoughts at the moment. It was about his future. It was about living the rest of his life as who he really was.

And thinking about that made him think about Rachel and how he was going to break her heart, and then he wanted to cry again.

The flight to Toronto from Newark wasn’t long, but the drive to Oak Grove once Patrick had retrieved his car from long-term parking was. It was already late, and Patrick’s head was muddled with emotional and physical exhaustion, so he stopped at the first Tim Horton’s off the highway and bought a large coffee.

An hour outside of his hometown, buzzing from the caffeine, a song he’d been listening to a lot when he’d first moved to Schitt’s Creek came up on shuffle, and Patrick started to cry. He wept for the way he’d felt then, before the bloom was off the rose, when he was so happy to have done something just for himself for once. He wept for all the lost years of his teens and twenties, when he didn’t understand who he was attracted to, didn’t understand why things with Rachel never seemed right. He wept for the marriage he’d stumbled into when a part of him knew it was a mistake.

By the time he pulled into his parking space, it was almost one in the morning and he’d calmed down. He unlocked his apartment door carefully, setting his suitcase down and going to check the bedroom. Rachel lay on her side of the bed, her breathing slow and even. The thought of climbing into bed with her when she was completely unaware of what he’d done, it felt like one more violation of her trust. He couldn’t do it. Patrick closed the door with a soft click and once he was ready for bed, fetched a spare blanket from the hall closet and settled down on the sofa. When he finally managed to soothe himself to sleep, it was by imagining he was in David’s bed in New York with its soft sheets and the smell of expensive aftershave on the pillows.

~*~

Moira Rose swept into the dining room at ten past the hour, one of her full, curly-haired wigs on her head. “David, I’m so glad you could join us for the evening repast!”

David always felt a bit like a teenager when he sat at his parents’ dining room table. “You insisted I come. You said, ‘I won’t accept no for an answer’!” He’d almost said no anyway; the idea of dragging himself out to his parents’ house in the suburbs had sounded like torture when Moira had called. But the guilt trip his mother would have given him had he refused was just a different, more insidious kind of torture.

Seating herself at her accustomed place, Moira gave him a knowing smile, like they were in on some joke together. “Well, I wanted to see everyone before Alexis leaves on her next adventure, and before I leave for Vancouver to shoot that episode of Arrow.”

“It’s one episode, it’s not like you’re going to be gone that long,” David said, spooning ravioli onto his plate.

“What even is Arrow, anyway?” Alexis asked.

“It’s a superhero show,” David said, giving her a surreptitious eye roll. “On the CW.”

“Eww.”

“Now now, kids, don’t knock your mother’s latest job,” their father said. “She’s apparently going to be a very important villain.”

“And there’s a chance the character could recur,” Moira said.

“Oh, goodie,” Alexis replied sarcastically, then pulled her phone out and started looking at it.

Moira swallowed a prodigious sip from her martini glass, and David took a moment to hope that she wasn’t mixing booze with pills. “Besides,” she stage-whispered, looking around as if for eavesdroppers, “apparently we need the money.”

David blinked at her. “What are you talking about? We have plenty of money.”

“Moira, we don’t need to talk about that now, sweetheart,” Johnny said. “Would someone please pass the salad?”

“So, David,” Alexis said, looking up from her phone and seemingly oblivious to the discussion of money problems. “What’s happening with that cute little button-faced guy who was at your place last night?”

He glared at Alexis for bringing his love life up in front of their parents. He’d been trying to think about anything other than Patrick, and Alexis talking about him wasn’t helping. “Nothing.”

“He seemed really nice, David,” she said, continuing her prodding.

“He was nice.” Patrick might have been the nicest person David had ever met, and David cringed when he thought about how they’d parted ways. It had just broken his heart a tiny bit to be unexpectedly confronted with the fact that Patrick was leaving New York. In that moment, he’d been completely unable to deal.

“So what’s going on there?”

“Nothing. He went back to Canada, where he lives.” He took a bite of salad, trying to affect an air of not-caring.

Alexis pouted. “Too bad.”

“Oh, are you having a long-distance love affair, David?” Moira asked. She was over-enunciating more than usual, and David estimated based on her speech pattern that she was on her third martini.

“No,” he said, the phrase ‘love affair’ making him physically recoil. He tried to think of something else to talk about.

“Speaking of our mother country,” Moira said, “did you hear about Gloria Gregson?”

“Who’s Gloria Gregson?” Alexis asked.

Moira scoffed. “Only one of the most decorated soap opera actresses of my generation. Anyway, the word on the street is that she’s given away all of her money and joined a cult.” Moira looked very smug about this fact.

“Is it me, or have I been hearing a lot in the news about cults lately?” David asked. Everyone else at the table shrugged. He tried to remember what he’d seen on the news a few days ago, but came up blank.

“Sold any paintings lately, David?” Johnny asked.

“No,” David said again, focusing on his plate.

“Well, keep reaching, son, I’m sure things will perk up.”

“Hoooow can they, John, when we can’t afford to pay for his patrons anymore?” Moira slurred.

“Moira!” Johnny said, his eyes very wide.

David dropped his fork with a clatter. “What? What is she talking about?”

“No no no, n— nothing,” his father stuttered. “She’s confused.”

David turned to his mother. “Mom?”

She looked contrite. “There might have been, in the past, one or two times that you father and I bankrolled a patron of the art at your gallery. Just two or three times at most.”

Alexis hissed in what she might have imagined was sympathy. “Ouch, David.”

“Dad?” David said, swinging around. “Is this true?”

“Is it true that it was only three times?” He asked, his face still betraying his panic. “Well…”

“Oh my God.” David pushed his chair back from the table. “So how much of the past success of my gallery am I actually responsible for?”

The guilty glance between his parents was all he needed to see. David stormed out of the house and didn’t look back.

~*~

A hand was shaking him. “Why’d you sleep on the sofa?”

Patrick cracked an eye open and saw Rachel’s face swimming in his field of vision. Levering himself up, he put his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, still exhausted after three nights of too-little sleep. “It was one a.m. when I finally got home; I didn’t want to wake you.”

She smiled. “That’s very sweet but I know this sofa sucks to sleep on. You should have just come to bed.”

Patrick didn’t respond, squinting at the clock on the mantle. “Shit, I’m gonna be late for work.” He’d forgotten to plug in his phone, so it was probably dead in the pocket of his coat, unable to sound his usual alarm.

“Yeah, that was the next thing I was going to tell you,” Rachel called as he dashed off to shower.

The day was a constant flurry of activity: a meeting with his boss to debrief him on the seminar (which Patrick had to mostly fake his way through, as he’d really only managed to pay attention on the first day), a backlog of emails to respond to, an issue with a client who was delinquent on their payments. But Patrick was glad for the distractions, glad to focus on something other than what he was going to say to Rachel.

Despite his best efforts to slow down time, the work day came to a close and as Patrick went out to his car, stomach in knots, he began to desperately entertain the idea of saying nothing. At least not right away. Maybe he needed to sit with this for longer, really figure out if his relationship with Rachel was truly unsalvageable. There was no need to rush into a conversation that once it was out, could never go back in the box. He imagined how that would go. He’d go home and they’d make dinner together. She would ask him about New York and he’d have to make something up, give some excuse for why he hadn’t taken any pictures. They’d watch something on Netflix and then eventually go to bed.

His stomach twisted, thinking of being in bed with Rachel. After him being out of town for four days, she’d have every reason to expect sex. Any normal newly-married couple, he assumed, would have sex under those circumstances. And he didn’t think he could go through with that.

Beyond that, it would be irresponsible to go through with it even if he found himself physically capable. Patrick was embarrassed to admit that it had taken until mid-way through the day for it to occur to him how reckless he’d been with David. No, he hadn’t had penetrative sex, but a few minutes of googling told him that he was at risk for a handful of STDs from what they had done together. He couldn’t go to bed with Rachel given that. He’d have to tell her.

For a few seconds, Patrick thought he might have a full blown panic attack right there in his car in the parking lot of Rollins Electrical Supply. It took several minutes of controlled breathing before he felt steady enough to drive.

“Hey, I thought we might order a pizza,” Rachel said as soon as he walked through the door.

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

She was tapping on her phone. “What toppings do you want?”

“I’m good with whatever,” Patrick said, setting his bag down and going into the kitchen. He opened the small cabinet where they stored a few bottles of rarely-opened liquor, wondering if a shot of whiskey would help. He pulled the bottle down, then put it back. Then pulled it down again, pouring a few ounces into a glass. He gulped it down, wincing at the burn in his esophagus.

“Pizza should be here shortly,” Rachel said when he rejoined her in the living room. She was still scrolling through her phone. “What is going on with these weird demonstrations everywhere?”

“What demonstrations are you talking about?”

Rachel shrugged. “I don’t know, seems like every time I look at the news people are rioting in cities, and police are killing protesters… the whole world feels like it’s falling apart.” She tossed her phone onto the sofa. “Do you want to watch something?”

He should let her eat first, he thought, not do this to her on an empty stomach. So he agreed, and Rachel spent ten minutes scrolling through the Netflix menu before finally picking an old season of Great British Bake Off. Patrick stared at the screen without really seeing it, thinking about David and wondering what he was doing. Had he gone to his gallery today? Was he out on a date with some new person from Tinder? Was he at home, also watching Netflix? Patrick wanted to text him, but he doubted that would be welcome. He pulled out his phone and read the few texts they’d exchanged on Wednesday.

“So, did you see anything good in New York?” Rachel asked when they’d set the veggie pizza up on the coffee table to share. On the TV screen, a baker sat on the floor and stared despondently into his oven.

The first image that popped into Patrick’s mind was of David stretched out naked on his bed, a beautiful and profane work of art. “I saw the Empire State building,” he lied.

“Cool, did you go up in it?”

“No, the line was too long. And I saw Rockefeller Plaza.” Another lie; he’d intended to do that, he just hadn’t quite made it.

“Aww, I’ve always wanted to skate there. Were there a lot of people skating?”

“Yep.”

When they’d both finished eating and before Netflix could auto-launch another episode, Patrick reached for the remote and flipped the TV off. “Rach, I need to talk to you.” He threaded his hands together, squeezing his fingers tight against the tops of his hands.

Rachel raised an eyebrow. “What about?” They’d never spoken about that night in the car a few weeks ago, when she’d all but said their marriage wasn’t working. Everything since that night had been mundane discussions of work and household logistics, the elephant in the room unspoken about day after day.

He opened his mouth and closed it, uncertain where to start. Terrified. “I’m so sorry,” was all he could get out, which just deepened her frown.

“Sorry for what?”

“You said the other night that getting married had made things worse, and—”

“I was just tired that night, Patrick, I didn’t mean—”

“No, you weren’t wrong. At least, you weren’t wrong that something’s never been right, but I never knew what it was. I ran away to try to figure it out, and I don’t know why it took me so long. Why I couldn’t…”

“Patrick, you aren’t making any sense,” Rachel said, bringing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them like she was trying to fold herself into a ball and disappear. “And you’re scaring me.”

“I know. I know, I just… I have to tell you…” He rubbed his hands over his face. “God, this is so hard. When I was in New York, I met someone.”

“What do you mean, you ‘met someone’?”

“I met a… a man. And I… Rachel, I broke my vows.”

The expression on her face remained confused. “Patrick, are you saying to me right now that you had sex with a guy in New York?” She didn’t look angry, but that was probably because she couldn’t wrap her head around what he was telling her.

“I mean, not sex sex, but…” He could imagine David rolling his eyes at that distinction. “But yes. Yes, I did.”

Rachel stood up and paced across the room before turning back to him. “Why?”

“Because for the first time in my life, I wanted someone,” he said without thinking, and then winced as he saw those words punch Rachel in the stomach.

“For the first time in your life,” she repeated, dazed. “So you’ve been lying to me? All these years?”

“Not consciously! Rach, I swear to you, I didn’t know. I didn’t realize that…” He hadn’t said it to anyone yet, hadn’t said the words out loud. It felt important to say them now. “That I’m gay.”

Anger was starting to flicker in her eyes. “How could you not realize? How could anyone not realize that they liked men and not women? Especially when you and I were…”

“I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t know. We got together so young, and I just… maybe I knew on some deep level, but—”

“And now you’ve gone off and fucked a guy and decided that you’re gay. Just like that.” She folded her arms across her chest.

Patrick ran his hands over his face. Her anger was the least of what he deserved, and he resolved to endure whatever she was going to throw at him. “It was different, with him. I’ve never felt…” He stopped. How could he make her understand without being needlessly cruel?

“You’ve never felt that with me, that’s what you’re saying.”

He nodded.

“So some stranger who you picked up in New York can make you feel things that I never have in fifteen years.” Rachel’s voice was like shards of glass scraping across her throat.

“I’m so sorry.”

“What the fuck does ‘sorry’ get me? It doesn’t get me back all those years I’ve wasted. It doesn’t undo this marriage.” Spots of color on her cheeks stood out against her pale skin, clashing with her red hair. “Why couldn’t you just have been honest with me that things didn’t feel right with me?”

“I tried, Rachel. Every time we broke up, I tried to tell you that. I did tell you that! But then you’d pretend to text me by accident and I’d be feeling lonely and you’d manage to glue our relationship back together—”

“Patrick, you’re a grown man; I shouldn’t be able to browbeat you into getting back together. If you weren’t happy, you could’ve just said ‘no’.”

He stood up too, now. “Don’t you get it, Rach? I never said no to anyone about anything, not in my whole life! All I’ve ever done has been to please people. My parents, my teachers, my coaches, you,… I never once did something just for me until a few nights ago. I was selfish, and I know how much this sucks. I will regret hurting you for the rest of my life, but I won’t regret finally taking something that I wanted. I won’t.”

A tear rolled down her cheek. “Must’ve been some guy.”

He smiled in spite of himself. “Yeah.”

“Are you going to see him again?”

“I doubt it,” Patrick said.

“So what do we do now?” Rachel asked.

“The apartment is yours,” he said. “I’ll go stay with my folks, see if I can find another place I can afford—”

The finality of what he was saying seemed to spark her anger again. “Just like that, it’s just over?”

“I should never have married you, and I take responsibility for that. I’ll pay whatever it takes for the… court costs or whatever. It should be easy, we don’t own much—”

“Say the words, Patrick. Say you’re divorcing me.”

“What’s the alternative, Rach? Do you want to stay married to me when we both know I can’t love you the way you deserve?”

“And you never did love me,” she said. It was realization after realization, hitting her painfully each time.

“I do love you, Rachel, but not the way a husband should love a wife. And I would pay any price to have realized that sooner, I swear I would. But all we can do now is… move forward.”

Swiping angrily at her face as more tears flowed, Rachel ran into the kitchen. His shoulders slumping, Patrick picked up his backpack and the suitcase that still stood by the front door, and he left the apartment.

Chapter 8

#schitt's creek #schitts creek #david x patrick #david x patrick ff #david x patrick fic #hdwgb fic #my fic

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babyawacs · 4 years

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me for posting my own invent ions because t h e m quelled it behind intelwall beca use t h e m fraud the case into daytime obviously as ch arged daytime withthe german government //// #sexual #hint right here rightnow because itis intel and iget xray radar mrud erbeamtricks tothis veryminute and because sexuality is oneo ftheir main worktools to chain or smear or discredit ******** hooooowmany times didgermans try to reinterpret sexualit y in 20years m i c r o s c o p y ******** this means that they rape murder poison experimernt operate arbit rarily w ha t t t t t t t t they want pedo orgy deedytyped after daytimecharigng it suffocatignme eventhis moment 2259 but ********* test if the porno you see once a year has a green or already yellow tagging all had titts ********* unlike their crimes d aytimecharged upto echr3781/20 fringe quell kill + sexual assau lt with minors daytime charged tothis fucking january dis msissed thatthe germans could do what up until t o d a y yesterday ///// publish how often this fraudsystem endangered wife maron hoooow manytimes while quelling anyinfo hooowmany of the incident s were obviosuly fail of protect im murder xray radar muderbeam t ricked this verymoment in a bgb roomrent contract insuch c onditions shuffling scums andharms charging that hooowmany ti mes didthey take onthe support system because theyare guilty liable daytime charged anytrick and decoy but immunise? evenif daytiem???!?!?chargingit?!? and give back whats his???? wha t kindof system doesthat whatkindof system wants to know l e s s ss s s what the scums do in such conditions hooooooow many times did they take on wife instead quellany info but triestofi nd tricks to cutherdown while allalong obviously fraudsystem caused mess a fail guilty liable causing authorities dayt imecharged repeatedly make it intheir fucking lowranks fl uctuation sucker clownsuckers this is a fraudsystem botch this is a german government +timecontrol accomplcie caused mess which shuffle cockroachproxies any decoy any harm they getawaywith //// #save #anyway btw btw btw no doom law yers i insist jailscums we save em and if were the mainsu fferer ofthemess evenmoreso /// lawyers we savethe kids a n y w a y. we dontletem we invovleinternatioanalcopgirls and weput authoritiesin firstline oftheir accountability directly letalon efor repeat. our lever is not the minor they use and hedge a f t e r alltheir crimes before thisis their solution? gotit anyth ing withthat pedo sleaze dirtydolly trick harms but we save them a n y w a y / //// #reinterpret #hedge #trickery as any cruddy lawyer they dowhatall cruddy lawyers do. tryto reinterpret facts a nd hedge anything remotely hedgeable. just that they do so against widely known hard tested fa cts. constantly. allalong. any agree notagree shitball ishedged andifnot thentricked. what did the civillian typeyou here ***** *** findout if they repeated crimes while their lawyers covered that and inthis situation didthe ir cruddylawyer trick hedge anything hedgeable reinterpet anythi ng reinterpetable ***** "#it. #was. #all. #the. #quibbledish" : #zombi: @law @law @harvard_law .@harvard_law @ap @reuters @bbc_ whys @france24 @haaretzcom @bild @phoenix_de @wired @wireduk did their lawyer let em repeat crimes: accomplice checkifthey h edged agree notagree shitballs. asif that overturns factuality iwrote this for year with a buzzword quibbledish orso where half ofthecooked would agree without ever knwoing whattheword is, b ecauseimadeit up right then but this gotrefined with a brainmess to agree or not agree itisntjust the dull and damage itis effor ted tricked here sero tolerance with incompetence navi does no t beat theres no road anyway whatever the navi says who els e makes transparency about these tricks who made transpa rency about lets say trick: agree to unknown=conflict agree to unknown ominuous possible=thinkaboutit delay interpreted as agr ee aaaaandsomuchmore (smashwords.com/books/view/ notforspi es-whatisahumanbeing book 55 2210) /// #find #nano #oilantenna #sex #implants #fix #fo r #monstrosities fidn xraymurderer beta or radar nuisance: drowsydizzy strafes fascinatingly playful asian playful anime or mangaa orso that triggers aaaaa aw adorable and oddly playful theycompensate hardline with playfu l- triggers protect and aaaw: remote contorlled backleg implan t buzzers for boner tricks which doesnt happen because itslikely br ain actuatored nerve actuatored but the trickery remotecontrol messes withimplants itis nobon er on even assmolest underway orso but themolester maybe on sex drug with twominutedelay the same stuff triggers boner itmustbe nerve relevant actuatingthen other implants notmine are then alwaysboner allnight fromthe backl eg toimplant trick inallofthis the messwith ballsfill deepcl ean balls lock hideous ballsfill right tobe on intelcoma and prostate drugging is allthetime asgroinmesses deed typed i ntel luxury them: aboner aboenr aboenr aboner! lets rein terpret his sexuality knewit! a confirmation for what ipretend allalong while imolesthim and hedoesnt notice but all letme moles thim with intelacces you: urgh!!!!!! once more demystifie d intelluxury donttouchmy implants wife fixes it based on howitwas+whatsheneeds with heartonedge dontmengele anything / //// #visualise #horror #show #hoooowmany #times today is neardeath mixtrick findoutifthe cocktroachgerman cockroaches try b lackmail shitball you slap this hooooowmanytimes the germans amde a horror show of their ilelgitiamte a c c c e s s s s thanks to fraudsystem which lullsit as german fengshui hoooooooooooooowmanytimes visualise //// scums and germans often tickby opportunistic tricks. atrick that works is a trick that works is a trick that works. beit fornow. neuralnet works shuffle data forthand back and sort them in a trillion tri al-error to reduce errors causality is forthem neglectable devi ation fromthe filter is the norm ie error correction but th at doesntmean they wouldntmake a trillion errors itis brilliant sorting tools but highlight causality ********* make a : be cause for: causality because this. triggered this, that is like thhis now. ********** //// @bild @bild_de @phoenix_de dinge sind nicht beliebig und austauschbar. ursache wirkung besip ieslweise. dumme menschen verstehen nicht wie schlaue ticken, aber das haelt sie nicht zwingend davonab einen mit nem stein zu he ilen vor dem komischen ding da dabei ist das oft nichtmal der enschuld menschen machen das wozu man sie ermoeglicht wozu sie hinwachsen das ueben sie darin werden sie besser das ist eine tatsache des lebens und der anpassung an die umstaende des lebens systeme pervertieren das dann halten sich einige tatsaechli ch fuer goettlich und die anderen naja pech gehabt und nu ran andie pyramide (ja mrs skinner) @law @law @harvard_law .@harvard_law @ap @reuters @bbc_whys @france24 @haaretzcom how ip lay is giveem thechance to complain about jail. iam near death mix brink poisoned again. bombthe cockraoch out. itdosntmatter wh othey are itdoesntmatter whatthey want they shuffle harm and oneo fthese cockroaches shows upwithpoison and tries sth. the alibi cove r is sth else like achepabooster but roomgaser circuitboardpusher and access cockroach poisosn neardeathmix gethtepieceof crap and squeezeit letsgetus answe rs inclduing who supplies em piece of crap itis so monstrous beneath surface usually noone gets that its amiracle whenits bac k to civilised thatthey can c o m pl a i n about calling them c ockroaches them the bbbestintent sneakaround barricades toraid chamber with intelaccess for pedo orgies tosmear the hooker trick as alibi and if itdoesnt work withpedotrick its back to hideous m urder tricks behidn earlympahtic aimed is: #why #would #a #fraudsystem #causing #the #mess #grant #them #regularly #harm #w iggle #room #then #hah.. #weird .@law @law @harvard_law .@harvard _law @ap @reuters @bbc_whys @france24 @haaretzcom where is this repeat so often untilthey get pre rogative fantasies thing from. isit really lackof prevention only they got that its legal and legit to what with em? mroethan on ce? /// #it #is #germany #they #use #minors #with #poisons #if #thats #purposeful #like #monsters #they #flip #between # the #necessary #monstrous #and #the #moral #arbitrarily #fitting #their #s #t #a #t #e #i #n #t #e #r #e #s #t #s find the poisongaser and xray cockroachgerman /////// find the poison gaser and xray cockroachgerman what is law saying about mistak es in robustness on r e p e a t e d crimes of scums they dontj ust sexual assault poison mengele arbitrarily but r e p ea t s o what is law saying when a security person r e a l l y gets pis sed withem ***** situations that wouldntbe just self defens e but nothilfe, not bystand on repeat crimes letalone for cing shitcops to do their job basically them covering scums *** *** to repeat crimes really dirty criminal authorities ca used mess intheir swamp just shuffle proxies and inthis to repeat crimes when security is overly robust r a r e l y whats law saying ******** and when allofthis happens in ra iding your own chamber posiongasing you inyour own chamber ****** ** bombout cockroachgerman gaser with murderer mix squeeze it for a civillian bombout means flashbang robust squeeze mea ns question youseethis on things a f t e r thebombout like: if shitcops refuse toget their scums theycan s i t i n j a i l w ith the scums I am Christian KISS BabyAWACS – Raw Inde pendent Sophistication #THINKTANK + #INTEL #HELLHOLE #BLOG https:/ /www.BabyAWACS.com/ [email protected] PHONE / FAX +493212 61 1 34 64 Helpful? Pay. Support. Donnate. paypal.me/ChristianKiss

.@fisa @fisa .@judge @judge @judges .@judges .@law @law @harva rd_law .@harvard_law @ap @reuters @bbc_whys @france24 @haaretzcom @bild @phoenix_de @wired @wireduk #lawyers ********* get f rom the supercourts and time “yes, we should have never expe cted civillian support systems to go after scums, which was allalong the job of the authorities , but those caused the mess as mistake and hosted proxies as fix” ********* this how many times did earlier case analysers confirm factually right this remove the trick thegermans use cause themess flip causal ity equalise with the survivors oftheir shit blame support l ater inbroken shitsystem s that try to fraud sth themselves inst ead be liable accountable they e a si l y flip the trick aswell frameit obscure pendulums or aeh-lllllllllakmus-aeh-tests asifthe facts wouldntbe clear a l l along as daytimecharged so repeatedly under risk what they quelled constantly /////// lawyers say homersimpsoy tricks of scums mixes with drugs of scums mixes with thinkabout a topic brainwave readout s o what why ca n germans immminently arbitrarily a c c c e s s s s s s s s s s s s t o mess between drowsy topic think strafe to subconscious to conscious to intent to deed intent to d eed to repeated deeds where does the shit scale this youdemystify cockroachgerman cockroaches try a n y t h i n g for 2 0years dirty dollty trick was partof it since 2001 a verfassu ngsschutz trrick early on but it neversticks and they get bor ed aboutit sothey e x c e s ss s s ss s s s s s s s in notime i t becomes all what themare about allalong ontop of who granted em access afterwards they fengshui nothinghappened or see wh at sticks as victimblame trickery allalong itisntjust deedtyp ed itis before d u r i n g a f t e r daytime charging it risking a n y t h i n g to because itis the authorities that cause themess they shuffle proxies s huffle harms and now y o u priority is posio ntricks today suffocaitosn gasersabove then ballsmess the implants are not applicable forminors but afix for germanmonstros iities by how it was and what wife needs germancockroaches n ear that?!? why? what the ///// #batshit #nuts #demyst ified #101 .@law @law @harvard_law .@harvard_law @ap @reuters @bbc_whys @france24 @haaretzcom @bild @phoenix_de @wired @wireduk #lawyers these now 147am are either mischief minors or clowns theyre about pretending people arent themselves nuts whenever theyget angry or emotional or sth they all are themselves allofem all hundred cases ever inbillions of people some in very l a t e stage f e a r diseases (these get worse in ye ars) snap play pretend theyre arnold schwarzenrambpo to tackle renounce pain fear anticipation of pain they a l l are the mselves but this way they process fear and pain renouncing i t fromself all hundred of em e v e r inbillions of peo ple centuries the intels that brainfuck all in any way pur psoeful likely tried to utilise it forspygames use the stigma t o pullout people outof society to discredit leaked info itis t he first thing snowden expected the classic trick inthis inge rman is hatedrug like raf terror trials 1980s victims seem like hate nuts youget after headimpact pack!!!! catapult hits as ang ry asyoucanget that multiply with tenfold whenyouhave probable c a u s e to be furious that is onetrick another trick is quell suppress shortterm memory thebraindoesnt store inlongte rm memory and woa whaddayamean youdont rememeber and suddenl y theyre someone else with intelcoma drug eraser effect of th ewake is one thing crimes onintelcoma autopilots withotu realisin g chekcthebook point a to g or pont a to point h the stateof minds ofthe zombis dont cockroach drugs ontheletters this is how itworks a mix of humbug like rohrschach association te st humbug left brain right brain hemisphere humbug using 10per cent of brainhumbug brain region clasification humbugs its highly dynamic network brains 4hemispheres top and bottom too turnsout you need a l l ofit just not atthesame time thi s alone demystifies 90percent of earlier pretends and templates and fooltricks as humbug the forehead cooking of the intels to make sheeple controllable damamges forehead foreheadinnermiddle raped kids angry get cooked spreadit with trick never develope d stigmas controls the population as fools underdeveloped fool s just that they damamge them to fit to a stigma itis fullo fthis shit allofit fullofit fullofshit the find difference shi tballs is related tothat itis not what the clowns pretend contr adictory itis an indication for the nuts that are emotionally outof control inthe e x t r e m e s of mania etreme outrageous undamapened highs quickly drop biolog ically into depressed low and this clinical this is the find con tradiction shitball for they callthat bipolar shitballs this cas e with repressed anger is s t o i c rather whatthey do what al lsee whats deedtyped and now you can demystify the intel s hits whenthey tried to f a k e these saytonaswinn ho mersimpsoy tricks forinstance unthinkable hadone trickwokred iget suffocation eraser the oldest trick that damamges brain s damamges heart damages brain memory is suffocations veryd angerous theyddidthis with arsendie interoxidaustausch cellsuff ocatiosn displaceoxygen with co co2 and neon and now you know itis one two three four five different harms of thosuands of harms and tricks deedtyped allalong ///// #isnt #there #a #purple #lightsaber #samuelLJackson #for #this #stuff #somewhere .@law @law @harvard_law .@harvard_law @ap @reuters @bbc_whys @fran ce24 @haaretzcom @bild @phoenix_de @wired @wireduk #lawyers l awyers can we charge those that separate my wife from me a n y info in 17years marriage or just 13years marriage that t his is n o t how it shouldvebeen but foremost that them que ll a n y info not even chamber access while germans doth ose things why arethey not liable for that lackof information they are guilty liable daytimecharged authorities they wou ld rather try to damamge me or charge me for posting my own invent ions because t h e m quelled it behind intelwall beca use t h e m fraud the case into daytime obviously as ch arged daytime withthe german government //// #sexual #hint right here rightnow because itis intel and iget xray radar mrud erbeamtricks tothis veryminute and because sexuality is oneo ftheir main worktools to chain or smear or discredit ******** hooooowmany times didgermans try to reinterpret sexualit y in 20years m i c r o s c o p y ******** this means that they rape murder poison experimernt operate arbit rarily w ha t t t t t t t t they want pedo orgy deedytyped after daytimecharigng it suffocatignme eventhis moment 2259 but ********* test if the porno you see once a year has a green or already yellow tagging all had titts ********* unlike their crimes d aytimecharged upto echr3781/20 fringe quell kill + sexual assau lt with minors daytime charged tothis fucking january dis msissed thatthe germans could do what up until t o d a y yesterday ///// publish how often this fraudsystem endangered wife maron hoooow manytimes while quelling anyinfo hooowmany of the incident s were obviosuly fail of protect im murder xray radar muderbeam t ricked this verymoment in a bgb roomrent contract insuch c onditions shuffling scums andharms charging that hooowmany ti mes didthey take onthe support system because theyare guilty liable daytime charged anytrick and decoy but immunise? evenif daytiem???!?!?chargingit?!? and give back whats his???? wha t kindof system doesthat whatkindof system wants to know l e s s ss s s what the scums do in such conditions hooooooow many times did they take on wife instead quellany info but triestofi nd tricks to cutherdown while allalong obviously fraudsystem caused mess a fail guilty liable causing authorities dayt imecharged repeatedly make it intheir fucking lowranks fl uctuation sucker clownsuckers this is a fraudsystem botch this is a german government +timecontrol accomplcie caused mess which shuffle cockroachproxies any decoy any harm they getawaywith //// #save #anyway btw btw btw no doom law yers i insist jailscums we save em and if were the mainsu fferer ofthemess evenmoreso /// lawyers we savethe kids a n y w a y. we dontletem we invovleinternatioanalcopgirls and weput authoritiesin firstline oftheir accountability directly letalon efor repeat. our lever is not the minor they use and hedge a f t e r alltheir crimes before thisis their solution? gotit anyth ing withthat pedo sleaze dirtydolly trick harms but we save them a n y w a y / //// #reinterpret #hedge #trickery as any cruddy lawyer they dowhatall cruddy lawyers do. tryto reinterpret facts a nd hedge anything remotely hedgeable. just that they do so against widely known hard tested fa cts. constantly. allalong. any agree notagree shitball ishedged andifnot thentricked. what did the civillian typeyou here ***** *** findout if they repeated crimes while their lawyers covered that and inthis situation didthe ir cruddylawyer trick hedge anything hedgeable reinterpet anythi ng reinterpetable ***** “#it. #was. #all. #the. #quibbledish” : #zombi: @law @law @harvard_law .@harvard_law @ap @reuters @bbc_ whys @france24 @haaretzcom @bild @phoenix_de @wired @wireduk did their lawyer let em repeat crimes: accomplice checkifthey h edged agree notagree shitballs. asif that overturns factuality iwrote this for year with a buzzword quibbledish orso where half ofthecooked would agree without ever knwoing whattheword is, b ecauseimadeit up right then but this gotrefined with a brainmess to agree or not agree itisntjust the dull and damage itis effor ted tricked here sero tolerance with incompetence navi does no t beat theres no road anyway whatever the navi says who els e makes transparency about these tricks who made transpa rency about lets say trick: agree to unknown=conflict agree to unknown ominuous possible=thinkaboutit delay interpreted as agr ee aaaaandsomuchmore (smashwords.com/books/view/ notforspi es-whatisahumanbeing book 55 2210) /// #find #nano #oilantenna #sex #implants #fix #fo r #monstrosities fidn xraymurderer beta or radar nuisance: drowsydizzy strafes fascinatingly playful asian playful anime or mangaa orso that triggers aaaaa aw adorable and oddly playful theycompensate hardline with playfu l- triggers protect and aaaw: remote contorlled backleg implan t buzzers for boner tricks which doesnt happen because itslikely br ain actuatored nerve actuatored but the trickery remotecontrol messes withimplants itis nobon er on even assmolest underway orso but themolester maybe on sex drug with twominutedelay the same stuff triggers boner itmustbe nerve relevant actuatingthen other implants notmine are then alwaysboner allnight fromthe backl eg toimplant trick inallofthis the messwith ballsfill deepcl ean balls lock hideous ballsfill right tobe on intelcoma and prostate drugging is allthetime asgroinmesses deed typed i ntel luxury them: aboner aboenr aboenr aboner! lets rein terpret his sexuality knewit! a confirmation for what ipretend allalong while imolesthim and hedoesnt notice but all letme moles thim with intelacces you: urgh!!!!!! once more demystifie d intelluxury donttouchmy implants wife fixes it based on howitwas+whatsheneeds with heartonedge dontmengele anything / //// #visualise #horror #show #hoooowmany #times today is neardeath mixtrick findoutifthe cocktroachgerman cockroaches try b lackmail shitball you slap this hooooowmanytimes the germans amde a horror show of their ilelgitiamte a c c c e s s s s thanks to fraudsystem which lullsit as german fengshui hoooooooooooooowmanytimes visualise //// scums and germans often tickby opportunistic tricks. atrick that works is a trick that works is a trick that works. beit fornow. neuralnet works shuffle data forthand back and sort them in a trillion tri al-error to reduce errors causality is forthem neglectable devi ation fromthe filter is the norm ie error correction but th at doesntmean they wouldntmake a trillion errors itis brilliant sorting tools but highlight causality ********* make a : be cause for: causality because this. triggered this, that is like thhis now. ********** //// @bild @bild_de @phoenix_de dinge sind nicht beliebig und austauschbar. ursache wirkung besip ieslweise. dumme menschen verstehen nicht wie schlaue ticken, aber das haelt sie nicht zwingend davonab einen mit nem stein zu he ilen vor dem komischen ding da dabei ist das oft nichtmal der enschuld menschen machen das wozu man sie ermoeglicht wozu sie hinwachsen das ueben sie darin werden sie besser das ist eine tatsache des lebens und der anpassung an die umstaende des lebens systeme pervertieren das dann halten sich einige tatsaechli ch fuer goettlich und die anderen naja pech gehabt und nu ran andie pyramide (ja mrs skinner) @law @law @harvard_law .@harvard_law @ap @reuters @bbc_whys @france24 @haaretzcom how ip lay is giveem thechance to complain about jail. iam near death mix brink poisoned again. bombthe cockraoch out. itdosntmatter wh othey are itdoesntmatter whatthey want they shuffle harm and oneo fthese cockroaches shows upwithpoison and tries sth. the alibi cove r is sth else like achepabooster but roomgaser circuitboardpusher and access cockroach poisosn neardeathmix gethtepieceof crap and squeezeit letsgetus answe rs inclduing who supplies em piece of crap itis so monstrous beneath surface usually noone gets that its amiracle whenits bac k to civilised thatthey can c o m pl a i n about calling them c ockroaches them the bbbestintent sneakaround barricades toraid chamber with intelaccess for pedo orgies tosmear the hooker trick as alibi and if itdoesnt work withpedotrick its back to hideous m urder tricks behidn earlympahtic aimed is: #why #would #a #fraudsystem #causing #the #mess #grant #them #regularly #harm #w iggle #room #then #hah.. #weird .@law @law @harvard_law .@harvard _law @ap @reuters @bbc_whys @france24 @haaretzcom where is this repeat so often untilthey get pre rogative fantasies thing from. isit really lackof prevention only they got that its legal and legit to what with em? mroethan on ce? /// #it #is #germany #they #use #minors #with #poisons #if #thats #purposeful #like #monsters #they #flip #between # the #necessary #monstrous #and #the #moral #arbitrarily #fitting #their #s #t #a #t #e #i #n #t #e #r #e #s #t #s find the poisongaser and xray cockroachgerman /////// find the poison gaser and xray cockroachgerman what is law saying about mistak es in robustness on r e p e a t e d crimes of scums they dontj ust sexual assault poison mengele arbitrarily but r e p ea t s o what is law saying when a security person r e a l l y gets pis sed withem ***** situations that wouldntbe just self defens e but nothilfe, not bystand on repeat crimes letalone for cing shitcops to do their job basically them covering scums *** *** to repeat crimes really dirty criminal authorities ca used mess intheir swamp just shuffle proxies and inthis to repeat crimes when security is overly robust r a r e l y whats law saying ******** and when allofthis happens in ra iding your own chamber posiongasing you inyour own chamber ****** ** bombout cockroachgerman gaser with murderer mix squeeze it for a civillian bombout means flashbang robust squeeze mea ns question youseethis on things a f t e r thebombout like: if shitcops refuse toget their scums theycan s i t i n j a i l w ith the scums I am Christian KISS BabyAWACS – Raw Inde pendent Sophistication #THINKTANK + #INTEL #HELLHOLE #BLOG https:/ /www.BabyAWACS.com/ [email protected] PHONE / FAX +493212 61 1 34 64 Helpful? Pay. Support. Donnate. paypal.me/ChristianKiss

.@fisa @fisa .@judge @judge @judges .@judges .@law @law @harvard_law .@harvard_law @ap @reuters @bbc_whys @france24 @haaretzcom @bild @phoenix_de @wired @wireduk #lawyers

********* get from the supercourts and time

“yes, we should have never expected civillian support systems to go after scums, which was allalong the job of the authorities, but those caused the mess as mistake and hosted proxies…

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