#mr. monk and the sleeping suspect

[mr-stottlemonk]

Monk - S02E07 - Mr. Monk and The Sleeping Suspect.

[spockvarietyhour]

Playstation 2 ad in Monk's "Mr. Monk and the Sleeping Suspect" (2002)

[stottlemonk-moments]

Stottlemonk Moments:

Monk s02e07: "Mr. Monk and the Sleeping Suspect"

[paulaogoz]

The episode "Mr. Monk and the Astronaut" (t4.e14) infuriated me because the capitan asked Monk if he could think of a better alibi that being up in space and, my guy, my dude... Did you forgot about that time the culprit was in a coma??? ("Mr. Monk and the Sleeping Suspect" t2.e7) and Monk was right????

That was an even better alibi.

[hottiemcdottie]

From Mr. Monk Goes to the Circus.

I love Bitty Schram for this performance. If it were a normal employer/employee relationship, Sharona could have just shrugged and quit, and Monk could have shrugged and found a new assistant. In fact, Sharona wouldn't have taken offense at being told to "suck it up," and might have just scoffed at him.

Instead, beyond being furious at him, Sharona is heartbroken. That's not a reaction that a regular employee would have anyway, but it's even more so because Sharona has made him part of her family, has been his heartbeat and his lifeline when he had no one else. She deserves to be recognized for that, and she deserves his compassion and decency.

And to rectify the situation, Monk did things that I don't think a regular employer would do, i.e. finding those Queen of the Night tulips (which are NOT CHEAP!), undoubtedly driving a florist insane over petal count and height to make sure the bouquet was perfect (for his girl!), and just sort of waiting around for her to come back to him. Dr. Kroger asks him what's going on between them and I think that's probably a question he should ask more often. You don't hear Monk talk about Sharona much in therapy until she's gone and Kroger is trying to help Monk through his grief. Dr. Kroger sees how destabilized Monk is without Sharona even as he advocates on Sharona's behalf. And on the phone Sharona still tells him to be careful, even though she's so hurt. She cries more than once over this in the episode but never to Monk, and this scene is where he starts to get it.

I don't believe Monk is truly unempathetic, and he doesn't want to make Sharona cry. I think he takes Sharona for granted, for sure, but I think it's because he loves her so much he's just absorbed her into the fabric of his reality. I think she's become part of him in such a way that he forgets she is her own person. In The Sleeping Suspect he admits he forgets to consider how lonely and overworked Sharona is, and how jealous he is at the idea that some other man could take her away. I'm baffled at how anyone could think this was intended to be a platonic relationship, but anyway!

It's funny how as soon as Sharona points out that he might be starting to understand, Monk reaches out to touch her. She stops him, of course, but I think it's interesting, given how he really doesn't ever initiate physical contact.

[djeterg19]

Chapter 8 and we continue to get drips of more info!

We start with Tharn taking the suspect to a cell. She wants to know if they believe her. Tharn just says they need to gather all of the evidence first. She starts crying because the person who forced her to murder took all of the evidence. Tharn puts a hand on her shoulder and tries to reassure her they will investigate everything thoroughly.

She tries to justify killing the man and telling herself he deserved it. That the man that forced her to kill was a hero. But her guilty conscience made her turn herself in even though the man told her no one would be able to put him in handcuffs. She wanted to roll the dice and see if she could make him pay for his crimes.

They meet to go over everything. The captain introduced herself again. Yai asks why they would put a woman in charge saying it would be too hard for her to control 6 men 🙄. She puts her resume on the screen for everyone to see her credentials. She's a criminologist that used to be stationed in the US. She pointedly remarks that, like Singh who is her brother(!), she uses her brain to catch criminals.

She lays out the three rules: don't go alone and work with the team, listen to the commander at all times, and don't bring personal issues to the workplace.

They start going into detail about the crime. This one is a bit different to the show. The woman was attacked and dragged into tall grass on the side of the street. The mystery man showed up and "rescued" her. He really chloroformed both the rapist and victim and kidnapped them both. He told he how to torture the rapist but she refused at first. She was starved until she gave in and started to torture the rapist. They go over the other two similar cases and then end things for the night.

They all head home. Yai mocks everyone for not having a wife to home to like he does. Phaya says he'll take Tharn home if they can stop for porridge first. As they eat Tharn again tries to get Phaya to tell him what the monk told him. Phaya refuses and thinks to himself that he won't burden Tharn and he will fight on his own. And I want to smack him for not seeing that they are in this together.

They get to Tharn's condo and Phaya realizes it's fancy and starts calling Tharn little master which Tharn hates. He says him mom bought it for him and that it isn't his money so he's not rich like Phaya. Tharn refuses Phaya's help taking his bag up so they part there.

Phaya goes home and finds his grandmother. She's worried about him and asks if he had the dream again. She worries since he's been having it for the last 10 years. She wants him to tell his mom but he doesn't want her to worry. Tells her Tharn took him to see the monk and that he needs to meditate to help get rid of the dreams. She gives him some books and he goes to read them and give it a try.

After practicing for a couple of hours, he goes to sleep and has the dream again. He's in a cave with stalagmites and stalactites. He is surrounded by bubbles that can't be popped. He's joined by a woman dressed in green and adorned with snake like jewelry. She calls him Mr. Noppharju a name that he doesn't recognize but it sounds familiar.

She tells him they don't have much time. That he will be back soon. Her name is Vanvisa and she is the older sister to Vassarat. Phaya thinks how similar the name is to Tharn's first name Vassa. Vanvisa realized Phaya is confused but she doesn't have time to talk. She tells him to not jump to conclusions about her actions to Phaya. She tells Phaya that even though she's ruled over by him, he cannot change karma. That Phaya is tied to her but karma to help each other. And that's why he can see her now. She tells him he saved her by Vassarat's plea. She thinks about how she waited for the right time to visit him. She's determined to fulfill her sister's wish even if it means punishment from her master.

Vanvisa is the old lady! That's how she was able to visit him. She tells him to pray they can meet whenever he does good deeds. And pray that those good deeds protect him like a shield. She feels her master returning and must go.

Phaya begs her to not go but he wakes up yelling alone. He tries to convince himself it was real.

[columboscreens]

Just thinkin, since Monk is the polar opposite of Columbo, who would win in a fight? (I'm on Columbo's side) but actually who would?

hmm. besides the cleanliness and obvious manifestations of extreme OCD, IS monk columbo's polar opposite? i admit i haven't seen nearly as much monk as i have columbo, but aside from being afraid of 600 things and Wife Dead, i'm not sure they're so different.

i get the impression that they're more two sides of the same coin than dipolar, if that makes sense. columbo acts a lot, so we see his real self much of the time ensconced in a persona, vs. monk who is up front about who he is to the audience. but it doesn't take long to realize that columbo has serious obsessive compulsions of his own, they just don't manifest as needing to wash his hands 80 times or requiring a certain pillowcase. they manifest as him harassing suspects nonstop, loitering around the crime scene for a week trying to do Visual Calculus, fastidiously rotating a piece of evidence in his mind, or not sleeping/caring for himself properly because he just can't figure out what's bothering him about what he's looking at. so he very clearly shares that obsessive tendency that translates so well to detective work, just less severely and largely on a different (but not necessarily opposite) part of the spectrum than monk.

so as for who would win in a fight? indeed probably columbo, if only because he isn't afraid of everything and wouldnt cry and swell up if you threw mud at him. though monk is formidable, so really who knows...perhaps there's a fatal flaw that i'm not seeing.

maybe we should break columbo by killing mrs. c so that they're on a more level playing field. now you've got me thinking about what columbo would do if his wife was murdered For Real This Time and he truly couldn't figure out who did it. he'd be just as insane and despondent about it as monk and THEN the fight would get interesting

[trashmenace]

Web Terror Tales Vol 5 No 1, February 1965

Web Terror Tales Vol 5 No 1, February 1965

Web Terror Tales came as part of a shudder pulp revival mini-wave. The plots don't really follow the traditional, Scooby Doo plotting of weird menace. A little sadism, usually in the form of whipping, but tamer than the original shudder pulps. They have the feel of the text stories shoehorned into horror comics, but even more mediocre.

The Pain Tree by Aurelia Mulhare

The daughter of a Caribbean governor is obsessed with a hougan.

The Angel of Hell by Bursell Bradshaw

A journalist uncovers what a mad reclusive painter has been working on.

Mr. Borealis by Clement Duffy

An experimental cruise ship is hijacked by a supervillain. No ending, so they cut to an "it was a dream...or was it" cop out, repeating over a page of text.

Footlight Vengeance by Ramon Aguilera

A playwright gets revenge on his critics.

Prey on Me by Henry Cranford

A rich explorer is tormented by his cultist servants' savage rites on a secluded island. The

My Love, My Prisoner by Charles Patterson

A corpulent rich man suspects he's being poisoned by his child bride.

The Curse of the Borgias by Christine Crewell

A haunted painting commissioned by the Borgias. Some good imagery in places.

Repent at Leisure by Rip Kelly

A rich sadist finds a better way than divorce to get rid of her husbands.

Come Kiss the Lash by Justin Lamont

Catherine the Great was into whipping.

Murder: Scene One by Denham Kelsey

Cromwell tortures a court musician accused of sleeping with royalty.

Satan's Spawn by Pete Brown

An Indian monk is ordered by a mad hermit to torture a captive devil woman.

Glutton for Punishment by Ernestine Durrell

Tarzan-type actor turned gold digger plots to kill his rich wife. Good old fashioned twist in the tale for this one.

[thestarkerisobvious]

White

inspired by the incredible artwork of

@cutepandaprincess​

“White.  So white.  I’ve never seen anyone that shines so white.”

Tony only trusted her because everyone trusted her, including Fury.  Well… that wasn’t entirely true.  Nat trusted her, and while Tony Stark never thought he would give a second glance to anyone claiming to “see auras,” still Nat’s word carried a lot with him.

Round and soft and cheery and freckled and grey, she didn’t seem like a witch (although supposedly she had been lean and ravenhaired and darkeyed in her day.  Or so she claimed.  But then she got older “and wiser” and gave it all up as too much effort.)  In any case her ability to see into the future was invaluable in bringing in that last souped-up badguy with the ridiculous name, and so Tony had invited her to the New Year’s Eve party along with the rest of the team.  And if he sidled up to her at said party and tried to subtly get some relationship advice, well, no one had to know.

And if that entire party was just an excuse to get Peter in his arms on New Year’s Eve? 

Well, no one needed to know that either.

And there was the boy now, standing by a window surrounded by the best scientific minds at the Avengers compound, laughing and joking and looking entirely edible.  That crystal glass wasn’t even holding alcohol… even though the kid was well within drinking age.  But when Tony finally got the witch to realize who he was trying to describe (he couldn’t exactly describe him as “the most delectable piece over by the window”) she said the exact opposite of what he wanted to hear.

“Oh, oh.  So white, Tony.  I’ve never seen anyone that shines so white.  It’s like clouds… like flowers… like stars…”

…but then she only got distracted describing the gentleman on Peter’s left who was responsible for adapting some nanotechnology but was apparently having marital troubles.  It wasn’t easy, keeping the witch on topic.  But Tony poured her another glass of Champaign and did his level best.

“And what does it mean… a white aura… exactly?”

“White means purity and virginity, and peace.  Red auras are usually determination and passion… that’s you darling.  That’s you through and through.  The pink is friendship and unconditional love.   The green aura is often the peacemaker, or else someone at harmony with themselves, but more often that not one who can help others harmonize with each other.  Not the purple aura, of course that is one who is far too independent…”

And that was it for the rest of the evening.

He didn’t make his move. Even though he had been planning his move since the moment he realized the boy wanted him to make it.  Even though he had been planning this entire party ever since that moment.  Even though the point of the party was to have Peter there on New Years Eve when the countdown came. 

Even though Peter Parker cornered him when the countdown started.  Even though, at midnight, he suddenly had an armful of Peter and a New Year’s Kiss right on the corner of his mouth.  Even though Peter had held himself there for a moment, just waiting for Tony to move his head a fraction of an inch and close the distance.  Tony could feel the boy waiting.

Could feel the boy’s disappointment when it never came.

He didn’t make his move. Even though Peter must have laid awake all night in the guest-room waiting for him.  Peter had been invited to stay the night on the premise that, after the party, he wouldn’t be safe to drive.  Peter hadn’t had a drop to drink that night, but played along with the premise.

But he played along alone.

Tony wasn’t going to make a move.

How could he, when the witch had laid it out for him so plainly?

Peter was white. Peter was pure.  Peter was virginal.  Peter was unsullied.  

How could Tony possibly be responsible for corrupting that?

                                                     * * *

And so Tony resigned to live in utter misery.  Resigned to never accept that beautiful gift that Peter was making it clear that he was willing to give – a gift that Tony was entirely unworthy to receive.

For years he lived with that misery (okay he was being a drama-queen.  It was six months.)

By day Ironman and Spider-Man still worked together with perfect precision, taking down badguys with a witty quip or clever badinage or  a droll rejoinder, until villain and minion alike raised a flag in surrender.  At night they worked side-by-side or back-to-back in the lab, finishing each other’s thoughts with eerie precision and perfecting technology at lightning speed. Late-night lab sessions often ended with Peter sleeping in the ‘guest room’ rather than webslinging his way home in the early hours of the day.  

Tony still steadfastly called it the ‘guest room’ even though it was very quickly becoming ‘Peter’s room.’  Steadfastly called it the ‘guest room’ even though Peter once joked that more of his clothes were there than in his dorm.  Tony steadfastly referred to it as the “guest room” for the same reason he steadfastly refused to visit the “guest room” no matter how many times Peter slept there.  No matter how many Avengers joked that they were practically living together… no matter how many suspected that they were already a couple.  Tony was steadfast.  Because Peter was too pure for him.  The witch had said so.

He even asked her… once… when she was brought in to consult on a terrorist-cell case that they were considering.  She guessed his name wrong twice, then asked him delicately why he wasn’t with “that beautiful boy” she had met at the party.  “I thought that was your night… he certainly thought it was.”

“Did you see us together? See our auras?”  Tony asked cautiously, daring, for a moment, to hope.

“That lovely, angelic-white aura?  Oh yes sir.  Well, I saw many futures for him, so very very many.  He has such a storied future, that boy.  But I saw the two of you together… oh just for a fleeting moment I caught a glimpse…”

“And it changed, didn’t it,” Tony said, his voice dropping.  His head dropping.  His hopes dropping.  Why did he bother to ask?  He already knew the answer.  Had reminded himself of it night after night after lonely night.

“Oh yes, certainly. You’re very red, Mr. Stark. Very red.  Painfully red.  I knew it the instant I saw it… when I saw you together… together you had become so pink… not subtly pink... vibrantly pink...”

                                                         * * *

In times of weakness, Tony reminded himself of that conversation.  Of a witch who, when she looked at Peter in a roomful of people, saw a white aura so blinding that it took her breath away.  Virgin.  Pure. Unsullied.  And if Tony came anywhere near it he would taint it, like blood on white silk.  

He started trying to avoid the boy, he honestly did.  Stopped scheduling time together in the lab.  Stopped laying awake longing for the boy in the ‘guest room.’  But crime refused to acknowledge Tony’s resolution, and criminals kept throwing them together in the most ridiculous situations.  Alien sex pollen made things so awkward as to be almost unbearable.    Pretending that Peter was his sex-slave when they went undercover to get info on the Mob Boss?  Tony Stark suddenly had the patience of a monk.  When they traveled to Sokovia to investigate the arms deal?  There might only be one bed, but Tony had plenty of floor to sleep on. And when his head injury left Peter with amnesia?  Well the less said about that the better.

Whenever Tony even considered giving into temptation, not for his own sake but for Peter’s (the boy who was making his desires crystal-clear) Tony remembered.  The witch’s words.  White.  Pure.  Tony could only sully him.  Like blood on white silk.

                                                            * * *

Peter graduated early, because of course he did, and Tony gladly accepted the boy’s invitation to his combo-graduation-party-dash-housewarming-soiree in his brand new small apartment that he had rented across the street from Stark Tower.  Was he surprised, when he arrived with wine and a dozen roses, to find he was the only one invited?  Maybe he was. Or maybe he realized it was too late.

Too late to tell the boy “no” when he melted into Peter’s kiss.  When he gave in to those powerful arms and let Peter mold their bodies together. When he obediently let Peter lead him to the couch and sat, pushing the cream cushions aside so Peter could climb into his lap.

“But you have to tell me the truth,” he whispered between kisses.  Whispered as best he could.  “I know you’re a virgin…”  He didn’t whisper how he knew.  How he had been on the phone with a certain woman with a crystal ball the day before he bought the white roses…

“Um, sorry?” Peter said, pulling up, blinking.  Then he grinned. “Tony… no.  Nope.  You missed that boat a while ago.  Sorry.”

He giggled a little at Tony’s expression, then kissed the slack mouth with a chuckle low in his throat.  “Dude… you worry way too much.”

Underneath Peter’s gentle hands, Tony couldn’t deny that it was true.  His worries melted like snow under Peter’s warmth.  Under Peter’s knowing kiss.  They moved together in each other’s arms just as confidently as they fought in the clouds, Tony moving underneath Peter in sure, knowing strokes.  Peter peeled off his shirt and pressed his pale skin to Tony’s mouth, moaning his name.  Holding each other close they moved like moonlight on the water, breathing sighs as soft as feathers as they came in each other’s arms.

And that freezing fear? That chilling panic that always came when the sex was over, that always made Tony cover himself up and pretend to hibernate, all to avoid looking his partner in the face?  That fear melted just like snow in white sunlight.   Tony opened his eyes and looked up into Peter’s own, shining like stars.

“I should have known you would make it easy,” Tony breathed.  He wasn’t sure if his words made any sense, but Peter seemed to understand.  He stroked Tony’s cheek and smiled a knowing smile.

“I told you, you worry too much.”

“Agreed,” Tony chuckled drunkenly (even though that hadn’t touched the chardonnay) and nuzzled his nose into Peter’s hair.  Honey curls tickled his nose, and he was oddly reminded of dandelion fluff, the kind he used to blow away as a child when he made a wish.  He blew now.  He wished now.

“I love you Tony Stark,” Peter whispered, holding him close.  “I wanted to tell you at Christmas.  I wanted to tell you New Year’s Eve.”

“Oh I know, angel,” he said, and when he felt Peter relax in his arms he had no doubt.  

“I’ve always known it,” he murmured as he moved them off the sofa and down to the floor.  “I’ve always known,” he whispered, laying Peter’s back to the floor and bowing his head to lick up the milky-white droplets still clinging to Peter’s stomach.  “Mio angelo, il mio paradiso. I’ve always known.”  He pressed a kiss to the pale skin in the center of Peter’s chest.  What he was thinking should have alarmed him then, but it seemed so simple now.  An hour ago he had been reminding himself of the words of the silver-haired woman, now all he could think about were young men and diamond rings.  

“I love you Peter Parker,” he whispered.  It came so easily…

…and only then did he realize.  Only then did he understand.

“Pure, and virginal.” the witch had told him that night.  “White means purity, and virginity…

                                                 “…and peace.”

                                                      * * *

“Why are you calling me you ridiculous man?” she scolded when Peter was snug in bed in Tony’s bed, even as the white light of dawn lit up the penthouse.  “Listen to your lover.  You worry too much.”

“So you know,” Tony said, even as he struggled to explain why he had dialed her number in the first place.  She was supposed to be advising the Avengers on criminal activity, not relationship advice.

“I’m going to burn white sage over every inch of your domicile.  I’m going to strap a quartz crystal to your forehead,” she groused.  “I’m going to stop toasting to WORLD-peace and start toasting to TONY-peace.”

“But you told me, that night, you told me that when you saw us together you saw stained-white…”

“No, I told you I saw vibrant pink.  Who in heaven’s name thinks of pink as stained-white?  You’re absurd.”

“But you… you never told me what pink meant.”

“Oh for gods’ sake man… pink means friendship.”  She spoke more patiently, as if explaining it to a child.  “That’s why I thought you were so lovely together, that’s why I always thought it.  Because you had been friends for so long…”

“But you said something else that night, I just didn’t remember…”

“…I said several things that night silly man.  I told you I had seen so many futures for him, and one of them was with you.  And that was rose-colored loveliness, if that’s what you wanted to know.  

“And rose is friendship. Friendship.  And unconditional love.”

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

Mio angelo, il mio paradiso = “My angel, my heaven.”  

with many thanks to @mrstarksbaby​

[lecameleontv]

L’acteur Sam Ayers est né le 29/12/1957 à Youngstown (Ohio, USA) sous le nom civil Samuel Bielich III. Il a également utilisé le pseudo Sam Ayres dans sa carrière professionnelle.

Compte Instagram - 

Enfance : Il a grandi à Merrimack (New Hamphire, USA). A son lycée, il excelle en tant que quarterback. Puis il rejoint l'Université de l'Etat de Memphis. C'est là qu'il découvrira sa vocation, tout en jonglant avec petits boulots, études et baseball. Enfin, il s'installe à New-York.

Famille : 1998 : Mariage avec l'actrice Robin Trapp 1999 : Naissance de sa fille Alexis Ann.

Carrière : Il choisi de prendre le nom de sa mère (Ayers) pour se faire un nom dans le métier. Il commence par apparaître dans des séries-TV alors qu'il est encore étudiant. A New-York, il devient acteur professionnel sous son pseudonyme Ayers, avant de partir en Floride, recruté par les Studios Universal pour le Wild West Stunt Show. En parallèle, il apparait toujours à la TV, au cinéma et au théâtre.

En 1995, il déménage à Los Angeles, et devient aussi cascadeur pour les séries TV. Et en 1996, il devient le nettoyeur Sam pour la série Le Caméléon.

Sa filmographie : 2015 : - Roanoke search for the last colony (TV) --- Boyden Sparkes - Newark Ave. --- Harry Queen 2012 : - Wedding Day --- Even Mason - Bigfoot County --- Travis - General Education --- Samson 2008 : - An American standard --- Mr Packard - Exavt bus fare --- le conducteur du bus - Caught in the action (TV) --- Boss / Johnny Raga 2001 : - Le Caméléon : Island of the haunted (TV) --- Sam, le nettoyeur (non crédité) - Not another tee movie --- Paramedi (non crédité) - Angels don't sleep here --- David Roy 1998 - The Lion's Den --- Cop n°1 1997 - The Reel --- un messager 1995 - Bad Boys --- un détective 1990 - Quick Change --- Commandant de l'ESU

Séries-TV : 2021 - The ‘Cue --- Ep. 1.01 2016 - Powers --- Riotor (Ep. 2.02) 2013 : - Conan --- Notre Dame Coach - Raising Hope --- Matt 2012 : - Grey's Anatomy ---  un détective (Ep. 8.20) - Happy Endings --- officier de police (Ep. 2.13) 2011 : - Castle --- le barman (Ep. 4.04) - Los Angeles : Police Judiciaire --- Eddie Russ - Esprits Criminels: Comportement Suspect --- Detective Sykes (Ep. 1.05) 2010 : - Happy Endings --- un officier de police (Ep. 2.13) - Justified --- Jimmy, le Bartender 2009 : - Meteor : Path to destruction --- Capitaine Finnegan - Monk --- le portier (Ep. 7.15) - Terminator : the Sarah Connor Chonicles --- travailleur n°3 (non crédité) - Saving Grace --- Morton Yearly (non crédité) 2008 : - The young and the restless --- un garde - Tout le monde déteste Chris --- auctioneer - Des jours et des Vies --- George (10 782, 10 789 et 10 809) 2007 : - Urgences --- Mike Murphy (Ep. 14.09) - Dirty Sexy Money --- Raymond Pulaski 2006 - Dr [H]ouse --- homme (épisode 3*05) 2005 : - Numb3rs -- FTRA homme attaqué / vendeur News (2007) / CAL SCI vigile (2009)  (épisode 1*06)           (épisode 4*03) - Medical Investigation --- assistant médical 2002 : - Boomtown --- un policier (non crédité) - She Spies --- garde Big-Butt - 24 heures chrono --- Agent Jeff Breeher (Ep. 1.15 et 1.16) / officier du NYPD (Ep. 8*01) 2001 : - Alias --- Anton (2005) / garde armé n°2 (2004) / Homme au téléphone (non crédité) - V.I.P. --- Stanley / Shady Guy - Angel --- Démon Tough Guy (épisode 3*03) 2000 : - Malibu, CA --- un garde - Martial Law --- garde de Strode 1996 - Le Caméléon --- Sam, le nettoyeur (jusqu'en 2000) 1995 - SeaQuest DSV --- un garde 1994 : - Thunder in paradise --- un soldat - Fortune Hunter --- Nigel 1992 - Superboy --- Andrew

Cascadeur : 1995 - Pointman --- (Ep)

sources : imdb et gettyimages

[drkoestersmithrpg]

White

“White.  So white.  I’ve never seen anyone that shines so white.”

 Tony only trusted her because everyone trusted her, including Fury.  Well… that’s not entirely true.  Nat trusted her, and while Tony Stark never thought he would give a second glance to anyone claiming to “see auras,” still Nat’s word carried a lot with him.

 Round and soft and cheery and freckled and grey, she didn’t seem like a witch (although supposedly she had been lean and ravenhaired and darkeyed in her day.  Or so she claimed.  But then she got older “and wiser” and gave it all up as too much effort.)  In any case her ability to see into the future was invaluable in bringing in that last souped-up badguy with the ridiculous name, and so Tony had invited her to the New Year’s Eve party along with the rest of the team.  And if he sidled up to her at said party and tried to subtly get some relationship advice out of her, well, no one had to know.

 And if that entire party was just an excuse to get Peter in his arms on New Year’s Eve? Well, no one needed to know that either.

 And there was the boy now, standing by a window surrounded by the best scientific minds at the Avengers compound, laughing and joking and looking entirely edible.  That crystal glass wasn’t even holding alcohol… even though the kid was well within drinking age.  But when Tony finally got the witch to realize who he was trying to describe (he couldn’t exactly describe him as “the most delectable piece over by the window”) she said the exact opposite of what he wanted to hear.

 “Oh, oh.  So white, Tony.  I’ve never seen anyone that shines so white.  It’s like clouds… like flowers… like stars…”

…but then she only got distracted describing the gentleman on Peter’s left who was responsible for adapting some nanotechnology but was apparently having marital troubles.  It wasn’t easy, keeping the witch on topic.  But Tony poured her another glass of Champaign and did his level best.

“And what does it mean… a white aura… exactly?”

“White means pure and virgin, and peace.  Red auras are usually determination and passion… that’s you darling.  That’s you through and through.  The pink is friendship and unconditional love.   The green aura is often the peacemaker, or else someone at harmony with themselves, but more often that not one who can help others harmonize with each other.  Not the purple aura, of course that is one who is far too independent…”

And that was it for the rest of the evening.

He didn’t make his move. Even though he had been planning his move since the moment he realized the boy wanted him to make it.  Even though he had been planning this entire party ever since that moment.  Even though the point of the party was to have Peter there on New Years Eve when the countdown came.  Even though Peter Parker cornered him when the countdown started.  Even though at midnight he suddenly had an armful of Peter and a New Year’s Kiss right on the corner of his mouth.  Even though Peter had held himself there for a moment, just waiting for Tony to move his head a fraction of an inch and close the distance.  Tony could feel the boy waiting.

Could feel the boy’s disappointment when it never came.

He didn’t make his move. Even though Peter must have laid awake all night in the guest-room waiting for him.  Peter had been invited to stay the night on the premise that, after the party, he wouldn’t be safe to drive.  Peter hadn’t had a drop to drink that night, but played along with the premise.

But he played along alone.

Tony wasn’t going to make a move.

How could he, when the witch had laid it out for him so plainly?

Peter was white. Peter was pure.  Peter was virginal.  Peter was unsullied.  

How could Tony possibly be responsible for corrupting that?

 * * *

  And so Tony resigned to live in misery.  Resigned to never accept that beautiful gift that Peter was making it clear that he was willing to give – a gift that Tony was entirely unworthy to receive.

For years he lived with that misery (okay he was being a drama-queen.  It was six months.)

By day Ironman and Spider-Man still worked together with perfect precision, taking down badguys with a witty quip or clever badinage or  a droll rejoinder, until villain and minion alike raised a flag in surrender.  At night they worked side-by-side or back-to-back in the lab, finishing each other’s thoughts with eerie precision and perfecting technology at lightning speed. Late-night lab sessions often ended with Peter sleeping in the ‘guest room’ rather than webslinging his way home in the early hours of the day.  

Tony still steadfastly called it the ‘guest room’ even though it was very quickly becoming ‘Peter’s room.’  Steadfastly called it the ‘guest room’ even though Peter once joked that more of his clothes were there than in his dorm.  Tony steadfastly referred to it as the “guest room” for the same reason he steadfastly refused to visit the “guest room” no matter how many times Peter slept there.  No matter how many Avengers joked that they were practically living together… no matter how many suspected that they were already a couple.  Tony was steadfast.  Because Peter was too pure for him.  The witch had said so.

He even asked her… once… when she was brought in to consult on a terrorist-cell case that they were considering infiltrating.  She guessed his name wrong twice, then asked him delicately why he wasn’t with “that beautiful boy” she had met at the party.  “I thought that was your night… he certainly thought it was.”

“Did you see us together? See our auras?”  Tony asked cautiously, daring, for a moment, to hope.

“That lovely, angelic-white aura?  Oh yes sir.  Well, I saw many futures for him, so very very many.  He has such a storied future, that boy.  But I saw the two of you together… just for a fleeting moment I caught a glimpse…”

“And it changed, didn’t it,” Tony said, his voice dropping.  His head dropping.  His hopes dropping.  Why did he bother to ask?  He already knew the answer.  Had reminded himself of it night after night after lonely night.

“Oh yes, certainly. You’re very red, Mr. Stark. Very red.  Painfully red.  I knew it the instant I saw it… when I saw you together… together you had become so pink…”

* * *

 In times of weakness, Tony reminded himself of that conversation.  Of a witch who, when she looked at Peter in a roomful of people, saw a white aura so blinding that it took her breath away.  Virgin.  Pure. Unsullied.  And if Tony came anywhere near it he would taint it, like blood on white silk.  

He tried to avoid the boy, he honestly did.  But crime refused to acknowledge Tony’s resolution, and criminals kept throwing them together in the most ridiculous situations.  Alien sex pollen made things so awkward as to be almost unbearable.    Pretending that Peter was his sex-slave when they went undercover to get info on the Mob Boss?  Tony Stark suddenly had the patience of a monk.  When they traveled to Sokovia to investigate the arms deal?  There might only be one bed, but Tony had plenty of floor to sleep on. And when his head injury left Peter with amnesia?  Well the less said about that the better.

Whenever Tony even considered giving into temptation, not for his own sake but for Peter’s (the boy who was making his desires crystal-clear) Tony remembered.  The witch’s words.  White.  Pure.  Tony could only sully him.  Like blood on white silk.

 * * *

Peter graduated early, because of course he did, and Tony gladly accepted the boy’s invitation to his combo-graduation-party-dash-housewarming-soiree in his brand new small apartment that he had rented across the street from Stark Tower.  Was he surprised, when he arrived with chardonnay and a dozen roses, to find he was the only one invited?  Maybe he was. Or maybe he realized it was too late.

Too late to tell the boy “no” when he melted into Peter’s kiss.  When he gave in to those powerful arms and let Peter mold their bodies together. When he obediently let Peter lead him to the couch and sat, pushing the cream cushions aside so Peter could climb into his lap.

“But you have to tell me the truth,” he whispered between kisses.  Whispered as best he could.  “I know you’re a virgin…”  He didn’t whisper how he knew.  How he had been on the phone with a certain woman with a crystal ball the day before he bought the white roses…

“Um, sorry?” Peter said, pulling up, blinking.  Then he grinned. “Tony… no.  Nope.  You missed that boat a while ago.  Sorry.”

He giggled a little at Tony’s expression, then kissed the slack mouth with a chuckle that was low in his throat.  “Dude… you worry way too much.”

Underneath Peter’s gentle hands, Tony couldn’t deny that it was true.  His worries melted like snow under Peter’s warmth.  Under Peter’s knowing kiss.  They moved together in each other’s arms just as confidently as they fought in the clouds, Tony moving underneath Peter in sure, knowing strokes.  Peter peeled off his shirt and pressed his pale skin to Tony’s mouth, moaning his name.  Holding each other close they moved like moonlight on the water, breathing sighs as soft as feathers as they came in each other’s arms.

And that freezing fear? That chilling panic that always came when the sex was over, that always made Tony cover himself up and pretend to hibernate, all to avoid looking his partner in the face?  That fear melted just like snow in white sunlight.   Tony opened his eyes and looked up into Peter’s eyes, shining like stars.

“I should have known you would make it easy,” Tony breathed.  He wasn’t sure if his words made any sense, but Peter seemed to understand.  He stroked Tony’s cheek and smiled a knowing smile.

“I told you, you worry too much.”

“Agreed,” Tony chuckled drunkenly (even though that hadn’t touched the chardonnay) and nuzzled his nose into Peter’s hair.  Honey curls tickled his nose, and he was oddly reminded of dandelion fluff, the kind he used to blow away as a child when he made a wish.  He blew now.  He wished now.

“I love you Tony Stark,” Peter whispered, holding him close.  “I wanted to tell you at Christmas.  I wanted to tell you New Year’s Eve.”

“Oh I know, angel,” he said, and when he felt Peter relax in his arms he had no doubt.  

“I’ve always known it,” he murmured as he moved them off the sofa and down to the floor.  “I’ve always known,” he whispered, laying Peter’s back to the floor and licking up the milky-white droplets still clinging to Peter’s stomach.  “Mio angelo, il mio paradiso. I’ve always known.”  He pressed a kiss to the pale skin in the center of Peter’s chest.  What he was thinking should have alarmed him then, but it seemed so simple now.  An hour ago he had been reminding himself of the words of the silver-haired woman, now all he could think about were young men and diamond rings.  

“I love you Peter Parker,” he whispered.  It came so easily…

…and only then did he realize.  Only then did he understand.

“Pure, and virginal.” the witch had told him that night.  “White means pure, and virgin…

                                                  “…and peace.”

 * * *

 “Why are you calling me you ridiculous man?” she scolded when Peter was snug in bed in Tony’s bed, even as the white light of dawn lit up the penthouse.  “Listen to your lover.  You worry too much.”

“So you know,” Tony said, even as he struggled to explain why he had dialed her number in the first place.  She was supposed to be advising the Avengers on criminal activity, not relationship advice.

“I’m going to burn white sage over every inch of your domicile.  I’m going to strap a quartz crystal to your forehead,” she groused.  “I’m going to stop toasting to WORLD-peace and start toasting to Tony-peace.”

“But you told me, that night, you told me that when you saw us together you saw stained-white…”

“No, I told you I saw pink.  Who in heaven’s name thinks of pink as stained-white?  You’re absurd.”

“But you… you never told me what pink meant.”

“Oh for gods’ sake man… pink means friendship.”  She spoke more patiently, as if explaining it to a child.  “That’s why I thought you were so lovely together, that’s why I always thought it.  Because you had been friends for so long…”

“But you said something else that night, I just didn’t remember…”

“…I said several things that night silly man.  I told you I had seen so many futures for him, and one of them was with you.  And that was rose-colored loveliness, if that’s what you wanted to know.  

“And rose is friendship. Friendship.  And unconditional love.”

[mr-stottlemonk]

loosing my mind over the saunter -> endearments -> direct eye contact -> smiles & smirks -> proud shoulder raise.

[shy-magpie]

RQG 146

[Author’s note: Sorry about the long break! I caught a bug and haven’t been able to edit for love or money. I have been writing the live blogs as the episodes come out but I suspect I will have to edit the stuffing out of them to get something that is both coherent and not twice as long as the show. Also I’m going to try to remember to toss a cut at the top of these things so it doesn’t take up so much of the dash etc.]

I love when they go auctioneer because they want to get to the content faster. Ooh reminder that the party have slightly conflicting goals. I almost spaced that Zolf's priority is the info to save the world while Cel is more narrowly focused on taking out the threat to their village. 

Final bets on whether: 1) the timelines are simultaneous 2) its the same room 3) who(or what) is in the chair ~Hamid time~ Another stealth check and I think Alex rolled something secret. I love these nerds, I don't think they even noticed they slipped into the more precise language of math to describe the place, always makes me feel trusted when people don't hide that kind of thing. Bulk head doors are a good sign. Alex might be trying to build up to it but Bryn wants to get a description of the figure in the chair as badly as we do if not more. Full blank-masked male, cables from the chair to the organ. Ben, sweetie, we aren't going to shoot-first-ask-questions-later, or even take that as your serious suggestion moments after you reminded us Zolf is aiming for capture. "Could be another one of the dead bodies" Pardon me while I glitch on the idea that it being another member of the doomed party is the only thing that I can't recall being proposed over the last week. Am I forgetting or did Figgis actually come up as a suggestion but not that? Alex adds a ladder, to save Hamid one of his last spells "Tension, tension, tension" I can't parse how many of them are chanting but who ever that is, know I adore you. I should be vibrating from stress and instead I'm grinning like a fool. Thats my boy! Hamid's spell slots might be running scary low but his mind is sharp as ever, he remembers his potions! Oh dangerous game, but the extra time invisible as he gets closer sounds worth it. Picked up a few things from Sasha. "Think" Alex is actively trolling. The lights are bad? You choose to do that, Alex, put away the "victim of circumstances" tone. Oh the organ! I needed a better description of that. Lydia might be the only one who loves this description more than me. A pipe organ that makes potions instead of music? Bryn has heard of one where each key is an alchemical symbol. I might need to hunt down art for that if its a known pathfinder thing. Hamid recognizes it but is the wrong school to understand this, both by training as a wizard and as sorcerer. The pipes are actually full of various fluids and powders. Yes Cel needs to see this. Thank you Helen! How much money has he spent on this? Where is he getting the money? I need that clipped! (tension chant evolved) Oh hell of a bet Hamid Sasha would be proud. The table is so proud of him. FTR I think that was Ben not Bryn saying "I stroke his cheek", because Bryn wouldn't risk Alex making that joke canon and using it to hurt Hamid. (naturally there was such no risk if Ben made that joke) Cable to the back of the neck, in clerical robes (crap I remember a “Shoin the healer painting”(?) but I thought he was an alchemist? Is this an assistant? Mini boss? Or is he multi classing), a party mask? Back to that theme. Its a prop corpse and its not the same room, I'm going to scream. Hamid don't you dare! Dollars to donuts its going to stand up and be some kind of creepy corpse robot Hamid waves Skraak in Speaker time, Shoin sounds worse maybe off script. ~~party time~~ Oh Cel has to lose most of the beast voice. Never mind! Smaller pencils acquired! I love this description even better the second time around. Oh bless Lydia for giving the fuller description. 55 HP! 14 Con! Comfort beard. Ooh Azu has a potion to make her even further stronger than Zolf. (iirc she had 1 point over him already) Yes he is in fact lawful evil and no he doesn't ever let them rest. Wise Cel/Lydia! I love Azu's auras! Aura of courage sounds especially useful. Yes yes Azu is good, brave, and resolute. Oh poor Zolf can't prep without either sleep or knowing for sure the fight is coming. Cel actually has 59 HP thank goodness! Another hall? Its circling the dome Hamid is in. It better be the same dome! I feel a bit like I'm betraying the party to enjoy the set design when the set is designed to kill them. They go as fast as they can while checking for traps. I refuse to parse that any other way. Oh poor Alex, we appreciate the set design even if the characters don't. Next door has a porthole to look through. Bless Helen/Azu for reminding them to check for traps. Cel can still disable it! It was a hand buzzer? Oh, to waste spells. Missed an in laid wood image of Shoin as a saint. This guy has too much ego and money. Anyone else thinking of that old joke where a guy has to become a monk to be allowed to find out what is behind a ridiculous number of doors and the punchline is you have to become a monk to find out what he saw? Ok it is a good thing its not the right door ~Hamid time~

Alex you troll! I refuse to concede we needed something to bleed to the stress levels. Shoin’s voice officially probably not a pre recording. I love Hamid! Hangs a handkerchief over the corpse's eyes. Poseidon? Couldn't be any god other than Zolf's ex? Ok doesn't seem in good enough shape to be a necrobot, but the organ might change that. Metal chairs sized for the party bolted to floor. I think Hamid is officially having fun not following Shoin's suggestion to sit at the table. Look at the leader in him collecting the paperwork Official connection between blue veins and the simulacrum! Also a spot for the power source Liliana was working on? Red string joke! ~break~ He Acid Blasts a speaker and it pisses Shoin off. Yeah "young man" was exact wrong thing to try. Were you trying to hit his daddy issues? I love one troll and 1 Kobold! Minion this! If Hamid speaks up? Shoin’s sense are fallible, might come up later Hamid is the best! Might die of being the best, but if he has to go its fingers up. Halfling, Dragon and troll, not a damn inch of leverage except what he gets Shoin to give him by refusing to follow orders. Pretending to attempt to comply is so much more frustrating (and better listening) than if he simply went "shan't". The party comes in! A swear! Not really another way to put it. The corpse explodes! Is Shoin the organ itself? A hug! A Cel & Hamid hug! Zolf backs Hamid's play, and  joins in Shoin baiting. Hamid hugs Azu and Zolf! Finally a proper Zolf hug! Cel finally gets to check out the organ. It prioritizes looks over efficiency and isn't just a potion maker. Some of it goes over Cel's head. Cel blocks the outlet. Lydia still thinks slightly sideways like me, and I love it. The cylinders are near boiling. Hamid orders Skraak to safety! Cel tries to hug Skraak, but Skraak doesn't recognize them. Poor brave little guy tried to attack before they can explain. Cel takes chatty!Skraak well and they have another little bonding growl exchange. They get ready to skip Shoin's game and go to the next room. Bad sounds. Fist sized drops of luminous green liquid from the top of the room that don't act right. Zolf attempts open the door to the next room, Hamid sprints towards it. Thank goodness someone wants to live. Natural 1? But its initiative, so that shouldn't hurt too badly right? Right? No effect thank goodness Homing blobs? I am torn exactly between that being cool and not something I want the party to deal with. How many fire balls does Hamid have left? I think Cel is out of bombs, and if we remember nothing else from Kew its that swarms require explosions. Zolf! Its the big brother of the buzzer door and is locked to boot. Azu attacks the goo nearest Zolf. Helen is too wound up to remember how to roll. Bryn and Ben couch her through it in that RQ way. Cleave! More blobs and the existing ones move towards people. Magic missile! 4 pews! 2 at the nearest to him, 2 at the one nearest Cel. I'd say squishy solidarity but Cel is pretty tough for once. Cel shoots the nearest 3? Then flies up 10 feet up and towards Skraak. Zolf blesses the party! Fair Alex! Not everything has to have a mechanical effect. Azu attacks again. It explodes, if Azu hits it it will die.  At least one person should be safe. Skraak! He froze! Worth a shot Ben You'll see? It tries to blob Skraak and isn't big enough to hurt them. Is Skraak safe from collateral damage? Hamid and Cel both protect Skraak. Hamid tells Skraak to use his spear, Skraak runs instead. Thank god he might not die trying to be a hero. Something drains into the pipe organ and the pipe organ attacks! OMG it is a 50ft tall brain soup drinking electric monster! Yes Ben! Perfect! Shoin Mr Ceiling-ed himself theory has player buy in! Bye! Also I will eat my hat if the drop blobs aren't able to merge into something more dangerous.

[xannnina]

TV Show: Monk Song: Hot&Cold Band: Katy Perry

Episodes used: Monk 1x01 - Mr. Monk and the candidate Monk 1x02 - Mr. Monk and the psychic Monk 1x04 - Mr. Monk goes to the carnival Monk 1x08 - Mr. Monk and the marathon man Monk 1x09 - Mr. Monk takes a vacation Monk 1x10 - Mr. Monk and the earthquake Monk 1x12 - Mr. Monk and the airplane Monk 2x02 - Mr. Monk goes to Mexico Monk 2x03 - Mr. Monk goes to the ballgame Monk 2x04 - Mr. Monk goes to the circus Monk 2x05 - Mr. Monk and the very very old man Monk 2x06 - Mr. Monk goes to the theatre Monk 2x07 - Mr. Monk and the sleeping suspect Monk 2x08 - Mr. Monk meets the Playboy Monk 2x10 - Mr. Monk and the paperboy Monk 2x11 - Mr. Monk and.the captain's wife Monk 2x12 - Mr. Monk and the three pies Monk 2x15 - Mr. Monk gets married Monk 3x02 - Mr. Monk and the panic room Monk 3x04 - Mr. Monk gets fired Monk 3x09 - Mr. Monk takes his medicine Monk 6x04 - Mr. Monk and the bad girlfriend

[commanderquill]

Anything Can Be -- Part Two

<< PART ONE

PART THREE >>

Summary: Barry doesn't know much beyond the space station he calls home. After all, he doesn't have to travel worlds to help innocent people as a Chief Inspector on Central Space Station. But he's put to the test when a Green Lantern, the stuff of myths and legends, shows up one night insisting he didn't kill the Blue Lantern bleeding out beside him. And as if that wasn't hard enough, they have only a few weeks to solve the case -- before the Guardians of the Universe come take Hal Jordan away.

When Barry gets to J Deck, he finds that most people have already left their stations. It’s time for the day’s switch, as people clock out early and their replacements clock in late. It’s disorienting to see people getting started on their work when Barry is just about ready to retire for the night. Even still he sometimes forgets that there’s an entire second life to the space station he’s never encountered.

“Hey, Patty,” he says, beelining for her desk, grateful to see that she hasn’t left yet. She’s ruffling through one of her drawers, no doubt trying to locate some file she buried there last week. Patty is more unorganized than he is, and that’s saying a lot.

“Hey,” she says, glancing up briefly to smile at him. “Mr. Nightlight is in interrogation room nine. Albert just finished getting a DNA sample.” She returns to her work. Barry shuts his mouth,  as she’d already answered the question he was about to ask. It makes him feel awkward, now that he’s walked all the way up to her desk but no longer has anything to say. He tries a different tactic.

“Would you believe me if I told you I just wanted to see if you were free tomorrow?”

She pauses only to send him the most straight look, her short blonde hair swinging slightly in front of her face.

“No?”

“No.” She’s right, but guilt twists in his gut, and he’s about to protest until she smiles and says, “You’re a workaholic, Bar. But so am I.”

He matches her smile hesitantly. “We really should catch up sometime, though,” he says.

“Convince chief to give us a damn break and I’ll happily take you up on that. I’ve been meaning to show you this sad excuse for a cooking show that I’m streaming from Galafro. Can’t understand a word of it, but I’m pretty sure what they call food was never meant to be consumed.” She gives him a shark’s grin as he backpedals away from her.

“Sounds gross,” he says with a wrinkle of his nose.

“That’s the point!” she calls after him as he turns the corner.

The interrogation rooms are a series of nine rooms set up in a half-circle on the police station’s perimeter. Each room is remarkably soundproof but only separated by one wall, making it quick work to pass them all to room nine at the very end.

When he enters, the Green Lantern stares him down. It’s almost unnerving, to be on the other end of that stare. He’s seen suspects in a wide range of emotions, from desperate to pissed, when they sit in this room. Intensity tends to come along with those. But it’s never intensity like this, of the eager and quiet kind. Barry nods at him. “Hi,” he says lamely.

“You’re a CSI,” the Green Lantern says immediately. “What are you doing here? Someone already took a piece of my hair.”

“My name is Barry Allen. I’m the Chief Inspector of this station, and I just want to ask you a few questions.”

“I didn’t do it,” the Green Lantern insists immediately. “I--”

“Okay.”

That stops the Green Lantern in his tracks. But instead of looking relieved, he seems to grow even more suspicious. “If you know that, then why am I still here?”

“You’re a cop, right? Or something like it, anyway.” He holds the Lantern’s eyes as he slowly pulls out a chair and sits down across from him. He sets his messenger bag on the table and pulls his tablet out from the smallest compartment.

“That’s not an answer.”

“You’re our only suspect. If you don’t want to remain our only suspect, I suggest you cooperate and answer my questions.”

He doesn’t say anything. Barry flips his notepad open to a blank page. “Let’s start with the basics. What’s your name?”

“...Guy Gardner. G-U-Y. G-A-R-D-N-E-R.”

Barry spells it out on the top of his notes. “Okay, Mr. Gardner. Why don’t you tell me how you know Miss…?”

“Sister Sercy.”

“Right.”

“She’s a--” Abruptly, Gardner stops and declares: “Wait. I want a lawyer.”

Barry frowns at him. “Are you trying to sue someone?”

“What? No,” Gardner says, frustrated. “But I have the right to an attorney.”

“No you don’t,” Barry says, carefully. “Who told you that?”

Gardner takes a moment to curse under his breath. “No one. Nevermind. Okay, so. I know Sercy because she’s the fourth or something Blue Lantern, and I--”

His pencil stops, and he just barely refrains from snapping his head up to look at Gardner. “Blue Lantern?” he says, as neutrally as possible, but he doesn’t think he quite succeeds.

“Yeah,” Gardner says, unfazed.

“Explain.”

Gardner frowns. “You people know about Green Lanterns and the color yellow, but you’ve never heard of a Blue Lantern?”

Rumors. He’s heard rumors, starting maybe just two years ago, about new Lanterns flying through the cosmos. No one knew where they came from. No one knew what they could do. Once, there was a whisper of a Red Lantern. He heard it while in the middle of a crowd, so quiet he’d thought he’d imagined it, of destruction and devastation wrought on a planet stranded on the fringes of Lantern inhabited space.

When there’s no response forthcoming, Gardner says, “Hope,” like that answers every question he’s ever had. Before he can ask another, the Lantern continues: “Sercy was a priestess, I think, on… wherever she came from. Brother Hymn found her and brought her to Elpis, and I met her when I went to see that little blue troll for a thing. There aren’t a lot of Blue Lanterns, and they’re help like no other against the Reds and Yellows, so when we team up they all tag along. I guess you could call us coworkers.”

Barry occupies himself by writing on his notepad, because the alternative would be staring blankly at Gardner. What is this, a Lantern rainbow? “It doesn’t seem like you were very close, then,” he comments when he’s done.

“Uh, no, not really. We ran into each other here.”

“Start from the beginning.”

“Right. Well, I was on my way to Oa, and like I said, I ran into her in this star system. Our paths intersected, I think she was heading back to Elpis. We decided to rest up here so we could catch up a little. She wasn’t in a hurry and I was procrastinating, so we got rooms and went to the lounge. We were both on the figurative road for a while. Space travel, even with a ring as fast as ours, still takes super long, and there isn’t a habitable planet for light years after this stop.”

He brings his hands up, goes to grip his hair with his fingers and remembers that they’re in a yellow sheath. He stiffly  lowers them back down to the table.

“But I couldn’t sleep yet, and I went to go see if maybe her sleep schedule was just as fucked as mine, and I just… I found her. Like… that. Dead. Outside her own cabin… Fuck.” He crosses his arms on the table and drops his forehead onto where they meet. Despite the position, his next words are still clear. “I’m used to shit like this. She was too. This line of work, it’s dangerous. And I’ve always been in this line of work, even before becoming a space cop. But we let our guard down in times of peace. Even I do. War is different. You go to war expecting to die, because if you end up living, then you get to actually celebrate something that isn’t your buddy’s funeral. But in peace…” He scoffs. It’s a full-body effort. “Peace. All Will Be Well my ass, SaintWalker.”

“I want you to explain to me what exactly you did next, step by step. If you thought a thought, I want to know what it was. If you stepped an inch to the right, I want to know when. Begin when you’re ready,” he instructs softly, after a moment of respectful silence. Gardner takes a few more seconds just to breathe before lifting his head.

“I walked up the hall. The direction you came from. I saw her laying on the ground, and… I knew she was dead. I couldn’t see the blood on the ground at first, though. She was too far away. So I walked over to her and it was just… everywhere. I wanted to check if maybe there was a chance at saving her, so I asked the ring to scan for signs of life, and it came back negative. So I turned her back over  and tried to take the knife out. She… I couldn’t leave her like that. A Blue Lantern, killed by a fucking knife. That’s just… It’s wrong.”

“Have either of you been here before?”

“I have. This is the perfect place for a quick stop between far space and Oa. But I don’t know about Sercy. Blue Lanterns are notorious for never leaving Elpis. They’re like monks. They don’t like to travel, just live in peace and harmony by themselves. She seemed to know her way around, though.”

“Do you know who might dislike her? Something she mentioned, maybe?”

Gardner shakes his head. “No. She’s a private person. Blue Lanterns in general are relentless optimists. They don’t like to complain or talk about the bad things that have happened.”

“Did she ever tell you where her cabin was?”

“Yeah. How else would I have found her?”

“And where did she tell you this information?”

“Uh, one of the lounges on G Deck. One of the exterior-facing ones. I could see Docking Port 23 from the window.

“When was this?”

“A few hours ago.”

“Can you tell me anything that stood out to you in that room? Or even just the specific room number?”

“It… might have been L36. Uh…” Barry waits as the Green Lantern thinks. “The barista. He had this long black hair, tied it back in this weird triple bun type deal. Didn’t know what hot chocolate was. He knew Sercy by name, and we were at the bar when she told me. The lounge was pretty crowded, there were people all around us. I don’t remember.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m so stupid. I’m always supposed to be on alert. Kilowog is gonna kick my ass,” he says bitterly.

Barry finishes writing down his notes, then leans back in his chair with a sigh. The day’s grind is catching up to him, and he can feel the heaviness start to settle in his lower back. This kind of work is aging him way faster than he wants to be aging. But his mind is reeling, and he can’t seem to muster up the usual desire to get out of the station and relax on his bed. There’s no mystery as to why. “Who’s Kilowog?” he asks curiously, carefully.

“My drill sergeant,” Gardner says. “A tough-as-nails hardass. Always preaching that I need to keep my eyes peeled for anything. Imagine how good I’d be if I actually listened to him?” There are many other questions he wants to ask, but there’s a line he needs to draw for the sake of professionalism that prevents him from asking. “Did she talk to anyone else at the lounge?”

“No.”

“Was she expecting to meet up with anyone? Did she talk about knowing anyone at the station?”

“No. Just the barista.”

“Where did you go after the lounge?”

“We went our separate ways after the lounge. I went back to my room because I was beat, she went… to the market, I think.”

“You said you couldn’t sleep.”

“What?”

Barry narrows his eyes. “You told me you couldn’t sleep, and that’s why you sought her out. Now you’re saying you went to bed early because you were tired.” Gardner pauses, like he’s either trying to remember saying that or he wasn’t expecting Barry to notice, but Barry didn’t get this job by being unobservant. “I have a hard time sleeping sometimes,” he says awkwardly.

Barry doesn’t answer, preferring instead to look on in silence for a while after. Gardner must understand what he’s doing, though, because he doesn’t even fidget.

“Did she say what she was going to get from the market?”

“No.”

“So you have no idea why she was going?”

“I just said that.” “Do you know the barista’s name?”

“No.”

“What time were you there?” “I don’t know. A few hours ago.”

Barry nods curtly, takes a final glance at his notes, then flips the booklet closed. 

“Am I free to go?” Gardner asks, but it’s in a resigned monotone. Barry wonders why he even bothered asking if he knew the answer was going to be no.

“Officer Kin will be through in a moment to show you to your cell. Thank you for your cooperation,” he says, and gets briskly up from his seat. He’s almost out the door when he turns around and takes a last look. The green glow of Gardner’s mask casts a sickly light on his pale cheeks. He looks small sitting there. Nothing like an intergalactic hero. “Mr. Gardner,” he says, and it takes a moment for Gardner to glance up. “If you didn’t do this, I will do everything in my power to help you and bring the real killer to justice.”

Gardner sighs. “Look. You seem like a good guy. I don’t know how the justice system here works, but if it’s anything like where I come from then I just I don’t have that kind of time.”

He must think that Barry is just going to leave after that, because he doesn’t continue. “What do you mean?” he prompts.

“When a Lantern dies, their ring comes off and typically finds a new host. Sometimes it goes back to their central power battery, or wherever the guardian of it dictates. I’m going to take a wild guess and say that no one in this station has spontaneously turned blue and started flying yet?”

Barry shakes his head.

“Then it’s probably on its way to Elpis, directly or through a new Lantern on a nearby planet. When it gets there and the rest of the corps learns that their Lantern is dead, they’ll discover where the ring came from and they’ll come find who’s responsible. I didn’t kill her, Barry. But they won’t wait for your justice system to figure out who the real killer is. Especially not once they tell the little blue trolls on Oa about it. I’d say I have maybe two weeks, if that.”

“I can’t do anything about that. Investigations take time. I’m sure we can negotiate with the… Blue Lanterns when they get here.”

“Blue Lanterns, maybe. But good luck trying to negotiate anything with the Guardians.”

“I’m sure they’ll be reasonable.”

Gardner scoffs, but says nothing more.

Barry has nothing to add to that, so he takes his leave. He shuts the heavy door behind him and stares for a moment, overwhelmed, at the far wall. He looks to his left, where Officer Kin on guard duty isn’t even trying to hide his curiosity. “How fast can you pull up the security footage of all that?” Barry asks. “I think I need to listen to it a few million more times.”

[darrowbyeightfive]

The Scenic Route (Part 2)

Part 2 of my silly All Creatures Great and Small/Doctor Who crossover: Tristan suspects Goldilocks, the Doctor suspects antimatter interference, and Siegfried suspects a student prank.

Part 1 is here and you should definitely read it first otherwise the following will make even less sense.

“Who are you, and what are you doing in my bed?”

Tristan had come home, tired and dirty, from a long day spent out on cold, exposed hillsides, and was looking forward to a hot bath before dinner. He whistled as he went up the stairs to his bedroom to collect some clean clothes. Pushing open his bedroom door, he was astonished to find his bed occupied. The mysterious person was snuggled deep under the covers, with only a little blond hair showing. Tristan didn’t remember any college friends having invited themselves to stay, and in any case, surely Mrs Hall would have put up someone of that kind in the spare room. So who was this? Unless… it couldn’t be one of the nurses, could it? Perhaps one of them had finally been kicked out of her accommodation for breaking the curfew too many times, and had thought to presume on his kind heart. He would be in tremendous trouble with Siegfried if a nurse was found in his bed. Siegfried would imagine all sorts of things had been going on that had not, in fact, been going on.

“I say,” said Tristan. “What do you think you’re doing, sleeping in my bed?” He went over to the sleeping figure and gave what he supposed must be its shoulder a gentle shake. If it was a nurse, or any other visitor whose presence had not been approved by Siegfried, then the sooner this person was out of his bed, down the stairs and out of the house, the better.

The Doctor woke, turned over, pushed back the covers and peered groggily at the person who had been speaking to him so indignantly.

Tristan and the Doctor started at one another in surprise. The Doctor’s surprise was tinged with trepidation. Could Omega have come back once more? Had he somehow managed to escape his pitiful antimatter existence and re-emerged into this world?

The Doctor propped himself up into a seated position, put out his hand and said “Hello, how do you do? I’m the Doctor.” The greeting didn’t really seem equal to the occasion, and perhaps a handshake wasn’t the best idea if one was dealing with one’s antimatter double, but he was feeling too ill and muzzy-headed for considerations of originality and caution to play any great part in his thinking.

Tristan, unperturbed by concerns about renegade Time Lords, just stared at the stranger in bemusement, before realising that his manners were wanting, shaking the Doctor’s hand and introducing himself.

“So, let me get this straight,” said Tristan, some time later. “You travel through time and space in that blue box thing that’s sitting out there in the paddock at the moment, trying to put things right, and you just happened to land on our doorstep at lunchtime today, suffering from some sort of influenza. I have to say that it feels as if I have landed in the middle of a novel by Mr. Wells.” He had extracted the story from the Doctor amid much coughing and many cups of tea.

“Yes. The blue box, as you call her, has something akin to a mind of her own. The old girl does her best by me. I think she must have known that in this house, at this time, there would be someone who would let me in and put me to bed without even asking any questions.” The tea and the sleep had given him a lucidity that he had lacked previously. “I’m terribly sorry for sleeping in your bed without asking, but I really did need the rest, and when I arrived I was feeling so giddy that I didn’t know what was going on.” He broke off as another coughing fit overtook him. “The lady who let me in was most tremendously kind to me. I really ought to thank her properly.”

James and Siegfried had arrived home by this point, and were gathered around the bed with Tristan, listening to the Doctor’s story.

“Well, little brother, I’ve got to hand it to you,” said Siegfried. “You really do know how to cause a stir. I leave the house in the morning and when I get back in the evening you have a sick time-traveller in your bed.”

“But – but – but – it wasn’t anything to do with me,” said Tristan, with an air of injured dignity.

“Are you quite sure this isn’t all a college prank, Tristan? All smoke and mirrors and stage make-up? You do have rather a regrettable flair for the theatrical. There was all that business with the ghostly monk not too long ago, after all.”

“Who told you about the monk?” said Tristan. Siegfried wasn’t supposed to know anything about that.

“No one,” said Siegfried. “It was just, let us say, educated guesswork. In any case, assuming our visitor is indeed a time-traveller rather than one of your more disreputable college associates, I would be very unwilling to let anyone with such a nasty case of flu fend for himself. You can’t put a chap out on the street when he’s in that sort of state, particularly when he looks so much like family.” Siegfried realised that he had been talking over the Doctor’s head, and made amends by addressing him directly. “I’m very sorry, old chap. My little brother does play so many pranks that I suspected that he had been up to something. Would it suit you to stay here for a while? And could you worry down some soup? We’ve got to keep your strength up, and Mrs Hall makes a most excellent cream of celery.”  

The Doctor, exhausted from giving so many explanations and from listening to the exchanges between the brothers, weakly croaked out a grateful “oh yes, please, and cream of celery would be splendid”.