#one step ahead tengo

[pyroclastic727]

by me and @d3adlyb0i

[jaronofthebored]

one step ahead tengo is also nearsighted like jeego, but since he's "one step ahead" he actually bothered to get glasses

[aquamarineglow]

Tengo's thing is that he is always one step ahead of everyone. Sometimes too much.

Jeego's thing is that he can't see what's right in front of him.

This leads to many complications.

For example, six months into their relationship, Tengo starts discussing marriage, future children names, where they should live, etc .

Jengo gets confused and asks, "Wait... are we dating?? Do you like me?? I did not see this coming!!"

[couldtheybekira]

[ghost-on-my-trick-till-i]

Ghost Trick: Small Difference

Chapter two

First, next>

or you can read it on Ao3

fic below the cut

7:31 PM

Who am I?

Why did I die?

I’m hoping that following a chain of unusual events will help me uncover these mysteries.

At the other end of the phone line is the very man that had a stranger killed.

Our meeting – it's all so sudden.

I’m not sure I'm really prepared for what's to come.

When I entered the room I immediately noticed the strange air of the room. It was furnished quite spectacularly with dozens of photos of this older man hung on the wall, all placed within extravagant frames.

“Hmm, yes… if what I read in this file is true…” The blue man I saw at the phone began. “... this man could be quite a bedevilling bit of trouble for us. He needs to be erased – tonight.” The man closes the folder in his hands. “Confound that nearsighted Jeego! His skills are as feeble as his eyesight.”

“Not to worry, sir. I have already taken the next step, sir.” a larger blue man just across the small table with a strangely metallic mask says. The large man presses some inputs on a device then vigorously slaps the device. Then a large picture frame in the centre of the room spins wildly. On the other side of the picture lies a projection screen where an image of the man in red is now displayed.

“Hmm, yes. But, i say, the last thing i ever expected was to talk to the target himself…” The old man trails off. “Even if it was only over the telephone. I must admit, my good man, it put me in quite the tizzy there for a moment!” he laughs.

What is this place? These oddly luxurious furnishings… this oddly refined music… And that odd little machine… I've never seen a room like this before.

But one thing’s for sure… these people are assassins.

And what's more… That man in red is one of their targets.

The older man reopens his file.

That file that old man has… maybe it'll give me some information on my blondie.

I make the simple movement of going to the file from the phone, but as soon as I do the older man closes it.

“Hmm, yes. How much longer my good man?” he goes on.

“We are charging up our backup power now, sir.” his compatriot answers. “The process should be complete in about thirty minutes, sir.”

“Hmm, yes…” he pauses. “But confound that Jeego, I say! Every year, his “reliable range” gets shorter and shorter! He'll get coal in his next pay envelope, confound it!”

“Or might I suggest glasses in his next envelope instead, sir?” his assistant advises.

I glance at the, now closed, file. It seems that this file contains information on that man in red. But I can't read it when it's closed.

In my frustration I trick the file to see if I'm able to open it. To my surprise, and the old mans, it works and the file opens.

“Great Scott! D-Did you see that?” The old man jumps. “The file.. I say! The file reared up and snapped at me, my good man! Nearly bit my head off!”

“Not to worry sir,” the assistant replies without any emotion. “I've already seen to it that the target, Mister Yomiel, is no longer a threat, sir.”

“Bah! That isn't what I'm talking about man!” the old man exclaimed. 

Hmm, “Yomiel” eh? So that's his name is it? But this file… it's like it's written in a foreign language. I can't read it at all.

“Might I suggest putting the file away and relaxing, sir?” the assistant encourages.

Without responding, the old man snaps the file closed and the other types into his device, then slaps it just like before.

One of the paintings in the room flips around to relieve the fact that it holds a filing cabinet on the other side. The filing cabinet follows a path downwards to the old man and opens a drawer automatically. The old man extends his arm back and drops the file in the cabinet, in which it then retracts to its original position in the wall.

The assistant files more inputs into his device and slaps it, then the projector screen flips back into being a painting. Then the table flips over and I hear the phone fall below, and now on the table rests a bowl of fruits.

“You have a very important job ahead of you tonight, sir,” the assistant reminded. The older man sits back and grabs a patch of green grapes from the fruit bowl, and eats them.

Darn… the phone and I got set away so neatly, but to vastly different locations. How am I supposed to get back now? The only thing I've learnt is the name “Yomiel”

This is such a weird room. I've travelled through the phone line to get here, but where exactly is “here”? And who exactly are these people?

I enter the ghost world to take in my surroundings, and figure out how to get out of this strange place. I move to a nearby lamp then onto the projector. There's another lamp on the other side of the projector but it doesn't lead to anything.

Since it's the only thing I'm able to do, I trick the projector. The picture flips like it had done before and the image of Yomiel reappears onscreen.

“Egad, man! Are you trying to give me a case of the vapours?!” the old man gasps.

“My apologies, sir. But I did not touch it, sir.” the bigger man responds. “It appears that the equipment is still malfunctioning, sir.”

“Bah! Granted, technology is a convenient thing. But our use of it is just plain “off”, confound it!” the old man exclaims. “Hmm, yes… in any case… I don't wish to see the face of our current target, my good man.”

“As you wish, sir. In that case, might I suggest this, sir?” the large man says as he inputs into his device once again, ending with a hearty slap like usual.

The image on the screen changes from Yomiel to a woman I don't recognise. She dawns royal blue hair in two, triangular, buns, with a large bang on one side. Her outfit consists of a yellow tank top, a sleeveless jacket, and rolled up jeans. Underneath this all she wears some sort of slightly transparent, skin tight, bodysuit, that was ripped in many places. The entire outfit seems rather impractical to me.

“Hmm, yes… Sissel…” the old man says, thoughtfully.

“If everything goes according to plan tonight, we will have the power to change the world, sir.” the assistant says.

“Hmm, yes… it's a very important night, indeed, my good man. We can't afford to make mistakes.” the old man smirks. “And that's why we must get a hold of that Sissel… We must be very careful.”

Sissel… that must be this woman's name. Both of these names do seem strangely familiar, but from where? Did I know these people?

A “plan” huh? What could that be all about? Just what exactly are these men up to?

The assistant once again types on his device, ending it with yet another slap, and the projector gets put away.

“We are completely prepared for tonight, sir” the assistant says to his superior. Said superior continues eating his grapes.

“Hmm, yes… Now all we have to do is pluck the fruit of success!” he laughs.

One thing is clear, these villains are up to something. And another thing. There seems to be some sort of connection between these two people, “Yomiel” and “Sissel”. Why else would both of their names come up like this?

Now, I need to think of a way out of here. Most importantly I need to find a way to get the phone back up here, I'm stranded without it.

I know that if I trick the projector I can turn on the screen, but does that help me at all?

I decide to trick it again, to see if I can find an opening at all. The projector spins around again and turns on, bringing back the picture of Yomiel.

“Where is your head, man? I told you I don't wish to see this face!” the superior exclaims.

“My apologies, sir. It appears to be another malfunction, sir.”

“Well get it fixed, man, unless you want to see me malfunction!” the old man exclaims, emphasising “me”.

“Certainly, sir.” the assistant says as he re-inputs into his device, ending with the usual slap, and everything goes back into place.

I could’ve sworn I saw an opening there… I enter the ghost world again and take a good look at the cores around me.

Of course! The bottom of the projector screen has a jewel in it. If I enter that while it's spinning I could hop onto it and be put at the bottom!

I trick the projector once more, but this time I ghost into the jewel in the projector before it stops spinning. Now that I've reached the bottom I have a few more things to interact with.

“I say, this room is giving me the heebie-jeebies, my good man!” the old man says. “With the painting spinning around and the like! It's enough to give a man the jitters!”

“My apologies, sir. The room was just completed recently, sir. We are still trying to iron out the kinks, sir.” his assistant responds.

I look around to see what I can interact with now that I couldn't before. It's not much, just the fruit bowl and the device. I go to the fruit to see if there's anything I can do with it, nothing. That console that the assistant is always typing away at must do something though.

I move over to the console and trick it, hoping for something of use to happen, considering I don't know how the thing works at all.

To my delight, the console flips the table around again, bringing the phone back. Finally! My exit out of this weird room!

“It's a miserable state of affairs when I get startled by a telephone that doesn't even ring!” the old man exclaimed. 

Mere seconds later, the phone rings.

“Egad!” the old man gasped. “It's even more pathetic to be startled by the same telephone twice!”

“The problem must be solved, sir.” the assistant stated. “The “Mister Yomiel” problem, sir…”

What?! Yomiel?!

“Hmm, yes…” he pauses. “You did mention taking the “next step” a moment ago, didn't you, my good man?”

“Yes, sir. I sent “One Step Ahead” Tengo to his apartment, sir.” the assistant answers. “That telephone call must be him reporting in, sir.”

“Very good, very good!” the old man hummed, while picking up the phone.

Yomiel is in danger again!

I quickly enter the ghost world and head to the phone, this seems like an important conversation to be listening too.

“This is “One Step Ahead” Tengo.” a hitman that looks very similar to Jeego, says.

“And? Out with it man! Have you taken care of him?” the old man demands.

“No, he's on the bottom level of the junkyard.”

“What..?”

“It only stands to reason.” Tengo says. “They wouldn't call me “One Step Ahead” if I wasn't prepared to take him out before he was even in the right place.”

“I don't get it… but in any case, man, once you've done your job-”

“Then you'll promote me to head of the hitman division..?” Tengo cuts him off.

“No, man! Now you're even getting “one step ahead” of me!” the old man exclaims.

“We can discuss my new salary later.”

“Great Scott! Now you're even getting one step ahead of your last one step ahead!”

“I'll get back to my job now, sir.” Tengo says.

“Confound it! You're even hanging up one step ahead!”

Tengo hangs up and the old man puts the receiver down.

“What did he say, sir?” the assistant asks.

“He asked me to raise his salary.” the old man grumbles.

“What will you do, sir?”

“Maybe I'll give him some of Nearsighted Jeegos pay.”

Yomiel… I can't lose him! He's my only lead if I ever hope to solve this mystery of me!

I trick the phone and quickly go to the location the hitman called from, somewhere in the junkyard presumably, but it wasn't a place I recognised.

At the junkyard I'm now in a building I haven't seen before. The place is full of sciencey looking things that I can't even begin to imagine what they do. 

There's doors on both sides of the room, the hitman walks over to the door on the left and leaves.

Taking a look at the cores around the place, it doesn't look like I have any way to follow him.

Instead I used the phone to get to the lower part of the junkyard, where I had left Yomiel.

Yomiel was now sitting on a broken couch that was amidst a bunch of other garbage. 

“Is it possible that..? No, that wouldn't happen so suddenly.” Yomiel appears to be theoriesing about something, but I'm not sure what.

Yomiel continues thinking to himself until he hears the sound of someone coming down the stairs. He jumps up from the seat and stands in a cautious way.

Maybe it's that assassin that was here to kill Yomiel?!

I look over to see someone who is very much not the assassin I saw earlier. He's old and short and most noticeably he has a pigeon resting on his head.

“You don't look like the type to be rummaging around here.” the pigeon man says. “What's a guy like you doing here at the junkyard?”

“I was sent an anonymous note to meet someone here. They said they had important information about something I'm looking into.” Yomiel answers.

“Something you're looking into? You a detective or something?”

“No, it's just a personal situation I suppose. But I have a feeling that whoever sent that note isn't coming.”

“A man like you is quite striking. I swear I've seen you somewhere before” the pigeon man mentions.

“I was on the news a lot some ten years ago. Probably from that.” Yomiel answers.

“Ah yes, it's coming back to me. You're that criminal from Temsik park.”

Criminal..? Yomiel’s a criminal?

“Hey, I've done my time and I'm past that now. In fact I work for the police.”

Yomiel works for the police? What an interesting guy.

“I don't care about that sorta stuff. I only remember that day because that's when that meteorite fell.” the pigeon man mentions.

“The meteorite? You know about that?” Yomiel asks, slightly shocked.

“I'm retired, and I spend my free time looking into that” the pigeon man answers.

“What a coincidence, I'm also looking into the meteorite.”

“You a scientist?” the pigeon man asks.

“Something like that.” Yomiel smirks.

“You said you worked with the police right?”

“Correct.”

“Eh, you're probably trust worthy enough. Come up to my office and I'll tell you what I know about the meteorite.” pigeon man offers.

“I like the sound of that.” Yomiel says as he leaves up the stairs with the old man.

In an attempt to follow them I follow the same path I did to get to the upper level before. I hop to the ladder, to the tire, to the mannequin, to the blender, to the fan, to the flag. I see the duo walking above me but I realise that there's no way into the building from out here. 

I wonder if the pigeon man's office is the room I saw the hitman in earlier?

I return to the phone and travel over to the room I was in earlier.

When I get there, nobody's here. I probably just got here quicker than them. So I decide to wait it out a bit.

As expected, both the pigeon man and Yomiel walk in. 

So this is the pigeon man's office. All these machines must be for investigating the meteorite they were talking about. Despite that, I still can't imagine what any of the machines do.

The pigeon man and Yomiel walk forward and just as Yomiel is walking by the window…

BANG!

Yomiel falls down to the ground. The pigeon man does nothing but stand in, presumably in shock but he doesn't express much on his face.

Shoot! I was trying to prevent that from happening! To be completely honest I got so caught up in their conversation I forgot what I was here for.

I quickly move over to Yomiels body. Hopefully I'll be able to save him.

“Well that was unexpected.” I hear the pigeon man say just before I enter Yomiels core.

I enter his core and I see his remaining soul bobbing peacefully. 

“Are you awake?” I ask. The lamp told me that it usually takes a while before souls gain consciousness so I didn't expect an answer.

“Who's there..?” the soul answers.

I say nothing, I'm shocked I even got a response.

“Who are you?” the soul asks. “Don't ignore me like that.”

“Eh? Sorry, I'm not used to talking with the dead.” I respond.

“Dead? So I'm dead. That's unfortunate.” he says.

Personally, I'd describe being dead as more than “unfortunate”.

“You don't know what my life was like.”

“Eh?! How did you..?” I cry out.

“Though, to be fair, I don't know what my life was like either. I can't seem to recall a thing.” 

“Ah… the newly dead tend to not remember anything. I still don't. But your name is Yomiel if that helps.” I tell him.

“Yomiel, huh?” he pauses for a moment before the small blue soul in front of me transforms into the man in red. “I'm assuming this is me then. No other dead bodys around here for me to be.”

“That's right…”

“That really is unfortunate, I can't remember why but I know that me dying really isn't good.” Yomiel sighs.

“You also work for the police, if what I've heard is true.” I tell him.

“The police? That feels a bit odd, but I don't have any reason not to trust you.” he pauses. “Maybe I got killed because of my involvement with the police.”

“You seem to have been killed because of some sort of involvement, but in what way I'm unsure.” I tell him.

“What a weird way of putting it.”

“I’m still figuring things out, I don't know a lot but I'm telling you what I do know.” I say.

“Figuring it out? Are you some sort of detective or something?” he asks me.

“I wish I knew, I haven't regained my memories at all.” I tell him.

“Is that why you're a little blue thing instead of an actual person? It's a little weird to talk to something so clearly incorporeal.” he asks.

I'm just going to pretend I know what that means. “Yeah that's why.”

“Incorporeal means not physical.”

What? Can he read my thoughts?

“You seem to be thinking really loudly, I'm afraid.” Yomiel chuckles.

Shoot! 

“Maybe you should just stick to speaking out loud if you don't want anyone to hear your thoughts.” he suggests.

“The Lamp didn't say anything about this…” I mumble.

“Lamp?” 

“Let's just move on…” I begin. “I'm here to save you.''

“Save me? But I'm already dead.” Yomiel says, confused.

“Yes, but I have powers if the dead, and one of my powers is to go back four minutes before someone's death.” I state.

“Go back four minutes..? Interesting…” Yomiel trails off.

“And I'm going to use those four minutes to save you.” I assure him.

“Well get to it. I don't want to be dead any longer than I have to.”

“Right, let's go…”

Once again the world warps around me as I go back into the past, four minutes before Yomiels death.

The image of the junkyard comes into view as I witness Yomiels last four minutes, for the second time today.

I watch Yomiel descend the metal staircase of the junkyard.

He continues forward. “What is going on? I can't help but feel that there's something more sinister happening. Even before that hitman tried to kill me there was-”

The man was then cut off by the ringing of the phone nearby.

Curiously, it seems that he was just about to talk to that old man on the phone just four minutes before his death. I guess I wasn't gone for long at all.

“Who'd be calling the junkyard at this time?” the man asks aloud, but this time I know exactly who's calling.

Yomiel walks over to the phone to answer the call. There's a few slight moments before Yomiel speaks again.

“What a familiar accent. I just heard someone with the same one.” Yomiel remarks.

Unsurprisingly, it's going exactly as I remember it, other than the fact that I can't hear what that old man is saying.

“Whoever that was must be the one who wants me dead. How curious, what possible business could foreigners have with my life?” Yomiel puzzles before returning the receiver to its home. 

At this point I had left the junkyard to that weirdly refined room, so everything after this is brand new to me.

Yomiel walks away from the phone, towards the chair I had found him sitting in earlier.

“I was called here to the junkyard because someone claimed to have useful information, but guessing from that attempt on my life it was a trap. However, I came out of it unscathed, and the hitman was crushed beyond repair right in front of me. A most unusual turn of events indeed.” he ponders to himself. 

He seems really confused about the whole situation, not that I blame him.

“First, the crossing gate lifted, then the guitar played, after that a bicycle bell, and I could've sworn I saw the bike moving a little bit after that. Then a ladder extended unusually, finally the latch holding that wrecking ball let go." I can't see his expression clearly underneath his shades, but his furrowed eyebrows gave me all I needed.

“Most curious events indeed…” he trails off.

I looked up at the upper level of the junkyard to see if I could spot the hitman, Tengo, anywhere. Just in the corner of my vision I see a blue and black shuffling about.

Returning my attention to Yomiel, he sighs before sitting on the broken sofa. 

“Why in the world would such a helpful spirit be here? Did something die when… No, I was here and nothing of the sort happened.”

What..? Spirit? How in the world does Yomiel know that I'm a spirit?! It doesn't take a genius to figure out that something otherworldly was happening but a spirit? And said so confidently? I wish that Yomiel had his memories just so I could ask him questions!

“These powers are unlike anything I've ever seen before. But they don't seem to be particularly strong, but certainly useful in their own sense.” Yomiel continues.

Is this not his first encounter with a ghost? Maybe he’s died before and has been saved. Maybe that's why Lampy knows so much about this guy.

Yomiel picks up a miscellaneous piece of trash. “Why does this have to be happening today of all days.” he grumbles as he throws the piece of trash upwards to the upper level of the junkyard. “Talk about terrible timing.”

I glare daggers with my non-existent eyes at him. Why does it seem like he's frustrated that I'm here?! I saved his life, didn't I?!

“I guess I can't be so ungrateful, I would be dead without this mischievous little spirit.”

That's better.

“I wonder if they’re still here. If anyone's there, move something.” Yomiel prompts. 

At this point, I had already left, so nothing happens.

“Must be gone already, wonder what they’re doing.”

I must admit, I do wonder what would happen if I moved something now.

Yomiel places his hand on his chin. “Is it possible that..? No, that wouldn't happen so suddenly.” 

Those words sound familiar, this must've been around the time that I had returned.

Yomiel continues thinking to himself until he hears the sound of someone coming down the stairs. He jumps up from the seat and stands in a cautious way.

The pigeon man comes walking down the staircase.

“You dont look like the type to be rummaging around here.” the pigeon man says. “What's a guy like you doing here at the junkyard?”

“I was sent an anonymous note to meet someone here. They said they had important information about something I'm looking into.” Yomiel answers.

“Something you're looking into? You a detective or something?”

“No, it's just a personal situation I suppose. But I have a feeling that whoever sent that note isn't coming.”

“A man like you is quite striking. I swear I've seen you somewhere before,” the pigeon man mentions.

“I was on the news a lot some ten years ago. Probably from that.” Yomiel answers.

“Ah yes, it's coming back to me. You're that criminal from Temsik park.”

Right, I had forgotten that Yomiel seems to be some sort of criminal. I can't imagine what crime he’d commit though.

“Hey, I've done my time and I'm past that now. In fact I work for the police.”

“I don't care about that sorta stuff. I only remember that day because that's when that meteorite fell.” the pigeon man mentions.

“The meteorite? You know about that?” Yomiel asks, slightly shocked.

“I'm retired, and I spend my free time looking into that” the pigeon man answers.

“What a coincidence, I'm also looking into the meteorite.”

“You a scientist?” the pigeon man asks.

“Something like that.” Yomiel smirks.

“You said you worked with the police right?”

“Correct.”

“Eh, you're probably trust worthy enough. Come up to my office and I'll tell you what I know about the meteorite.” pigeon man offers.

“I like the sound of that.” Yomiel says as he leaves up the stairs with the old man.

The duo walk up the staircase silently, when they get to the top of the stairs I notice Yomiel looking around suspiciously. He eyes the things that had moved earlier, like the crossing gate and the bike. 

Below me, I can hear the blender turning on, then the fan not long after.

When near the entrance to the building I witness something particularly peculiar. Yomiels gaze glides up, right where the hitman sat. Yomiels’ eyebrows raise quickly and he averts his gaze down to the ground.

Could he have seen the hitman? Why didn't he say anything? 

Then both the pigeon man and Yomiel walk in the office. 

The pigeon man and Yomiel walk forward and just as Yomiel is walking by the window…

BANG!

…

Somehow after witnessing that I'm left with more questions than I had before.

“So those are my last moments?”

“H-Huh?! You're here too?” I stutter.

“I just seemed to come with you, and you seemed so concentrated before so I didn't want to say anything.” Yomiel chuckles. “But that reaction was pretty priceless.”

“Don't scare me like that. If I was alive I think I would've had a heart attack.” I murmur.

Yomiel pauses, and a frown appears on his face. “You saw that too right?”

“Saw what?” I ask.

“I looked right at that hitman, and didn't do anything.” Yomiel clarifies.

“Ah, yes, I did see that. I also thought that was strange.”

“Now I wish I knew what was going through my mind. This was completely preventable.” Yomiel huffs.

“Well after you've been brought back to life I'm sure you'll know the answer.” I tell him.

“Get on with that saving me thing won't you?” Yomiel demands.

“Yeah I'll do that.”

I gather my will and the world begins to warp. In my vision I see the grains of sand again before everything re-materialises before me.

“The office? Aren't I downstairs?” Yomiel asks.

“Yes, but we start out where you died, it's a little inconvenient.”

“Well the hitman is outside and we are inside. You can use the phone to move around, right? Travel to the lower junkyard and we’ll have more of a chance there.” 

“Yup! Let's go!” I boast.

Did I ever tell him that I can travel through the phone?

I move from the soul to a step ladder, onto a kettle, then to a lamp, then finally I arrive at the phone.

“Well? What are you waiting for?”

“It… isn't working” I mumble.

“How are we supposed to get out of here now?” Yomiel barks.

“Umm… I uh," I sputter. “I dont know.”

“Fantastic, we’re stuck here.” Yomiel grumbles.

“No, no! I'll figure something out!” I assure him.

“Maybe someone has to be using the phone to move across the line. Like how you can only get new numbers when people are using the phone.” Yomiel suggests.

Okay, I definitely didn't tell him that.

“Maybe you're on the right track here. But how can we get anyone to call the junkyard?” I ponder.

I move back down to the step ladder and see a core below the floor. I enter that and find myself in a lower room. The room is full of even more sciencey stuff than the other and papers are strewn across the walls. In the centre of the room, the pigeon man is sitting at a desk.

“There he is, maybe we can get him to call the junkyard.” I suggest.

I go up and return to the phone.

“First we need him up here.” I say.

“Maybe try to make some noise, it might lure him up here.”

“Hmm…” I think for a moment. “Oh I got an idea!”

I make my way towards the kettle, sitting on a small, portable, stove. I close the spout of the kettle.

“That’ll make some noise!” I beam.

“Heh, not bad.” Yomiel smiles.

The stove must already be pretty hot, because it only takes a few moments for the kettle to begin to whistle loudly.

“Augh, what a horrible sound” I wince.

I move down to the lower floor to see if the pigeon man has noticed, and sure enough, he's moving towards the staircase.

“Success!” I beam.

“Don't celebrate so soon. We still have to get him to call the junkyard.” Yomiel reminds me.

“Right… that might be a little trickier.”

“We might be able to use sound to our advantage again,” Yomiel says.

“Mhm,'' I hum approvingly.

I notice a paper on the wall with a core just within my reach. I travel around the room using paper and other science machines strewn about to see if I can find anything of note.

Most things in the room are not interactable, and the things that are just move in small ways. I do notice another phone just outside the door, beside the staircase, but it's just as useful as the one upstairs.

“Look down there. There's a hatch on the floor.” Yomiel points out.

“There is, but I don't see how that can help us.”

“You dense idiot, if there's a latch on the floor that means there's a lower level, there might be a lead down there.” Yomiel spells out to me.

“Oh uh, right.” I blush.

I move down and enter the hatch, sure enough, there's a lower level. Down there isn't much, a trash can, a few piles of random items, and a box. I reach out my spirit towards the box below me but it's out of reach.

“I can't reach anything down there.” I mumble in frustration. I trick the trapdoor to see if anything happens. The door then opens, but upwards, and now I'm even further from the lower level then before.

I groan and close the hatch. 

“Who's down there?!” I hear from above me.

“Looks like you got the attention of Mr. Pigeon.” Yomiel banters.

The man in question walks over to the staircase, when he reaches the stairs he hops onto the railing and slides down it. The pigeon man looks around cautiously when he enters the room.

“No ones down here?” The pigeon man hums for a bit. “Probably some teenage hooligans, I'll call the phone down there, that usually scares ‘em off.”

“Wow, I can't believe that worked.” Yomiel says in shock. Personally, I'm too shocked to say anything. Instead I silently head to the staircase and wait in the phone nearby.

It doesn't take all too long before the pigeon man calls the phone. Thankfully, Yomiel answers.

“Hello?” Yomiel asks.

The pigeon man says nothing, and hangs up immediately.

For a moment there I could feel the phone line returning to me, and I leave.

The alive Yomiel puts down the receiver. “That was weird.”

“We did it!” I cheer. “We’re in the junkyard!” Deep in my senses I feel like Yomiels fate has changed, even if it's only a little bit.

“Now to get up there.” Yomiel says.

“Don't worry, I got this!” I grin. It doesn't take long to go up the path that I had already carved for myself. But an unfortunate reality awaited me at the top.

“I moved the bike that got me up there…”I say with dread.

I return to the lower level where Yomiel is talking to himself once again.

Alive Yomiel picks up a miscellaneous piece of trash. “Why does this have to be happening today of all days.” he grumbles as he throws the piece of trash upwards to the upper level of the junkyard. “Talk about terrible timing.”

“Hey Ghosty.” Yomiel gets my attention. 

“Yeah?”

“Did that piece of trash have a core?”

“I think so.”

Yomiel says nothing, instead choosing to look directly at me.

“W-What..?” I stutter.

He continues staring at me. I think for a moment.

“Oh I could have used that to get up.”

“Good job.” Yomiel dead pans.

“I-Its okay! I can just rewind time again!” I stutter.

As I went to rewind time something felt different this time, like there are multiple points that I could rewind too. One felt further away then the other. I reached for the closer one and-

The alive Yomiel puts down the receiver. “That was weird.”

Wow! It looks like that if I change something it's marked as a place I can rewind to!

“Okay no mistakes this time.” I assure as I head straight to the piece of trash that Yomiel will throw soon.

“You're a piece of work, Ghosty.” Yomiel smirks.

“Shut it.” I pout.

A little later alive Yomiel picks up a miscellaneous piece of trash that I reside in. “Why does this have to be happening today of all days.” he grumbles as he throws the piece of trash upwards to the upper level of the junkyard. “Talk about terrible timing.” I can hear him say below me.

Quite conveniently, the piece of trash lands near the ladder from before. It looks like Tengo shuffled a lot of things around to get the perfect position so many things are moved around differently. So differently, in fact, that following a simple path I can reach the bike that's still suspended on the electrical wire.

Maybe I can startle him like I did Jeego.

Sure enough, the ring of the bell causes Tengo to react in a similar way to Jeego, and he shoots the bike. The force of the bullet causes the bike to fall to the ground.

I wince at the fall even though I can't feel pain. “Well we’re down here now I guess.”

I ring the bell again to see if Tengo will do anything different. He looks over at me but doesn't shoot.

“What's the end goal here?” Yomiel asks me.

“Huh?”

“What are we trying to do, how are we saving me?”

“I dont know.” I answer.

“We need a plan to save me, you can't just play with random things and expect it to work.” Yomiel tells me.

“Well that always worked for me before…”

“I can't believe my life is in your hands.” Yomiel pauses to think. “I have an idea”

“Great! What's your grand idea?”

“You'll have to go back again.” Yomiel tells me

“Darn.”

“And you've already messed up, rewind it Ghosty.” Yomiel demands.

“Fine.” I say as I take us back to the lower junkyard.

The alive Yomiel puts down the receiver. “That was weird.”

I dash over to the trash piece once more. And get flung up to my destination.

“Okay Yomiel whats the plan now?” I inquire.

“If ringing the bike bell causes the hitman to shoot it, which makes the bike fall, we wait to do that until me and the pigeon guy are walking by. That'll get him caught.” Yomiel explains.

“Smart.” I say. I head back to the bicycle in the same way as before and resume time. “We might be here for a while.”

Shortly after I said that the pigeon man walks out of his office and down the stairs.

Yomiel glances at me. “You look like you have something on your mind.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“A surprising amount of emotions can be conveyed on that little blue spirit.” Yomiel says. “Tell me, what's on your mind”

“It's useless” I sigh. “I have a lot of questions for you but you don't remember anything.” 

“Once this is all over I'll answer whatever questions you have. Think of it as payment for saving my life.”

In my peripheral I see Yomiel and the pigeon guy walking towards us. “Oh, here they come”

When they pass by I ring the bell of the bike as instructed and Tengo shoots it again. The bike falls and lands right beside the duo.

Both Yomiel and the pigeon man spot the hitman. Tengo points his gun at the duo but Yomiel strikes back by pulling out his own gun and pointing back at the hitman.

“You've had a gun this whole time?”

“Seems so.” Yomiel responds.

I enter the ghost world again to stop the flow of time.

“We should probably do something to help you.” I say.

“Good idea, maybe there's something around here that can make noise.” Yomiel suggests.

I hum in agreement and search the area. There's the ladder, the bike, and a bunch of other useless trash that I can't mess with at all.

“There isn't anything here.” I tell Yomiel.

“We just have to hope that things play out nicely on their own.”

I reluctantly leave the ghost world to resume time. With Yomiel and the hitman at a stand off I can't imagine it going well, but I have no choice but to trust that it will.

Yomiel and the hitman don't take their eyes off each other. Both know it'll be a fatal mistake.

The Pigeon Man uses this mutual concentration to his advantage, and kicks a piece of trash out from the bottom of the pile, causing a chain reaction like no other that ends with Tengo buried in trash.

Alive Yomiel lowers his gun. “That was a close one.”

“Must be a pretty interesting guy to have hitmen after you.” the pigeon guy says.

“I can't imagine I'm that interesting. I have no idea why they're after me.” Alive Yomiel assures.

“Whatever, just follow me to the basement, you'll be safer there, and there's a phone down there so we can call the cops.”

“Don't bother with the cops, I think he already made a run for it.” Yomiel glazes at the pile of trash the hitman was once buried in.

“If you say so Mister Strange Guy” the pigeon man shrugs.

The duo enter the office building, leaving mine and Yomiels sight.

“We did it! Your life is saved!” I cheer.

“I have to admit, that was some pretty impressive stuff.” Yomiel confesses. “You gotta stick around in case I get in any more trouble with these guys.”

“Sure thing.”

“I'm tired of being dead, let's head to the present now.” Yomiel demands of me.

“Right away.” I sigh a little.

And for the second time tonight, I've saved Yomiels life.

But none of my questions have been answered.

In matter of fact, I have more questions than I did before. But hopefully I'll get some of them answered right away.

[businesscasualart]

Just finished Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective, chapter 2! Thoughts and opinions:

I am Loving these hitmen. Nearsighted Jeego, One Step Ahead Tengo, I hope there’s more, I hope they all come back….though I also kinda hope it doesn’t become a problem for me. Oh, Capcom game dogs named Missile, my beloved. Very endearing dog. <3 I’m not usually automatically endeared to animals so it’s saying something.

wdym that purple haired lil girl isn’t Lynne’s sister??? WHAT IS SHE DOING HERE????? They DO seem to have a sisterly dynamic, like we meet Lynne and think she’s the hapless, funny klutz one and then we meet Kamila, and Lynne calls her up already sick of her nonsense. That’s sisterly love. I know this, I am the himbo, comedic older sister. I like them both sm.

omg detectives detecting detectives

GANT ACE ATTORNEY??? TWINKED UP ON A TUESDAY NIGHT????

omg detectives detecting detectives detecting detectives

and they were detectives

very endeared to everyone rn. Green suit and blue suit detectives, my beloved. Weird prissy family with unknown drama, my beloved. Lynne and Kamila and Missile, my beloved. SISSEL MY BELOVED we got his name. I love how his corpse is just labeled “Sissel”. Like yeah, nothing unusual here. He’s got so much swag, so much rizz, he’s also so stupid, I wanna be him, peak male form.

[randomkposts]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66706330

Chapters 1/1

Fandom: Ghost trick: Phantom Detective

Warnings : No Archive Warnings Apply,

Characters: Emma (Ghost trick)

Ghost swap @fyeahghosttrick for block B, prompt 11

Ghost swap @fyeahghosttrick for block B, prompt 11, "In Rays timeline Emma learns of her husband's heart attack", by Anon.

I wonder why it doesn't gice me a nice box anymore for the A03 one?

Anyways spoilery notes about the game below here, for my notes from trying to figure out timeline

That the Minister had a heart attack in the Ray timeline, implies that his daughter was kidnapped. Of course, maybe they could have faked it. But they faked it by accident in the game timeline, so I decided against that. 

The next question is when did she get kidnapped. 

So this required some attempts at figuring out the timeline, which is hard as Sissel can travel through phone lines, and we have no idea about travel time. 

In game timeline , Kamillia left the apartment around 8pm. But Tengo likes being one step ahead, meaning Lynne's apartment could have been the first site of  death in the Ray timeline. 

Yomiel was in the apartment, in that timeline, which is a difference between Kamillia living to be captured, or getting shot. 

I'm going to chalk that up to timeline variance. Although, it could also be Ray. 

(Ray learning about how diseases work, and doing his best to swap stuff, to try to change some variables in the second timeline by getting some people sick and it working on someone. Possibly even just keeping Amilie outside too long. Or even psyching  out Beauty which gets her to change up the plan)

Wait, I suppose with timeline variants, the Justice Minister didn't have to die, and could have been visited in the hospital. But I only thought of that when I was mostly done writing this, so maybe in another story. 

Back to the timeline , The Chicken Kitchen Fiasco happened around 10PM. 

So how far is Temsik Park between the two locations?

Justice Minister found dead at 11:41.  

So if Kamillia died before 8PM, What time did they meet Yomiel at the Chicken Kitchen in Ray's Timeline? Did the abduction happen before or after? 

I'm inclined to think it happened before, as it would then give time to threaten before the execution. And the case is probably full in the restaurant. And apparently soundproof.  

I want to put the abduction between 7:30-8:25 range. That doesn't feel like an unreasonable time to go out to meet a tutor, unless it's winter. 

*The restaurant they met in is something I made up, as I couldn't think of an appropriate fictional place to meet. Cabenela likes pasta so I picked an Italian name and a kind of noodle. 

[ghost-trick-art-requests]

Hello and welcome to this blog!

You may be wondering what this blog is for. It’s for taking Ghost Trick character-related requests! My goal currently is to draw every single canon character from the game.

~~~

Rules (these will be updated as necessary):

Be nice to others! If you spam my asks or are mean to me/others I will block you

No reposting my art

~~~

Request Status: Open!

~~~

Let’s set down some rules:

Things I Will Draw:

Characters with canon designs. This means no OCs or finanSissel

Every single canon character

Things I Will Not Draw:

OCs

Fan designs

Beta designs

I might draw these after I’ve drawn every single other character, but that’s far in the future

~~~

Other:

Main blog is @owlfacenightkit

Somewhat inspired by @httyd-art-requests :3

IDs will be added to every image

If you haven’t played Ghost Trick, beware. There will be spoilers on this blog! But any spoilers will be properly tagged.

Right now I am mainly taking requests for characters I haven’t drawn

~~~

All characters I have drawn so far will be linked below the cut

Characters I have drawn:

Bartender, Missile, Sissel, Memry, Cabanela, Officer Bailey

Characters I have not drawn and are open for requests:

Lynne, Kamila, Jowd, Alma, Beauty, Dandy, Sith, Sith’s Robot, Ray, Nearsighted Jeego, One-Step-Ahead Tengo, Emma, Amelie, Justice Minister, Chicken Kitchen Chef, Bailey’s partner, Green Detective/Detective McCaw, Blue Detective, Prisoner C38, Prisoner C74, Police Chief, Detective Rindge, Dabira, Lovey-Dove, Maintenance Supervisor, Medical Examiner, Yomiel

[cynicalrosebud]

Echoes of Duty (COD Sentinel AU) - Chp 5

Echoes of Duty Masterlist

Warnings: Canon-typical violence; You are responsible for your own media consumption

Notes: This chapter is rush af but I plan on editing it later!

The plane’s ramp lowered with a loud hiss, and Soap and Ghost stepped out into the heat of Las Almas, the dry wind whipping across their faces. The military base ahead of them was bustling with soldiers moving to and from vehicles, preparing for the operation ahead. As they walked down the ramp, Alejandro Vargas, his presence commanding as ever, strode toward them, a sharp, no-nonsense expression on his face.

“Sergeant MacTavish,”  Alejandro greeted with a firm handshake, his grip strong.

Soap cracked a small grin, tilting his head slightly. “Call me Soap.”

Alejandro nodded, before turning his gaze to the imposing figure next to him, Ghost. His mask and dark gear made him an intimidating presence — and Alejandro didn’t miss a beat. “Lieutenant... Laswell says they call you Ghost.”

Before Alejandro could continue, Soap was already chiming in, “Actually, I believe he prefers to be—”

“That’ll do,” Ghost interrupted flatly, giving Soap a brief side-eye. Y/n giggled at the small pout Johnny pulled after the scolding.

Alejandro let out a small chuckle and gestured toward the convoy of jeeps waiting for them. “Welcome to the city of souls.”

Soap’s eyes scanned the scene in front of him as he and Ghost followed Alejandro to the vehicles. “I’ve never been to Mexico.”

Alejandro’s response was quick, firm. “This isn’t Mexico… This is Las Almas.”

The city was its own beast, far removed from what most would imagine of the country. There was a harshness to it, a raw edge that made it clear that Las Almas had its own rules, and Alejandro Vargas was the one to enforce them.

As they approached the lead jeep, Ghost remained quiet, his attention focused, though the mention of Shepherd’s contractors broke his silence. “Shepherd's contractors are inbound to reinforce. They're bringing hardware. They’ll need room.”

Alejandro nodded as he motioned toward the vehicles. “My base is your base.”

“Good,” Ghost replied, his voice low and clipped. “Now, where’s Hassan?”

Alejandro's tone shifted to something darker as he turned toward the waiting vehicles. “Cartel safe house, ten clicks from here. Get in.”

As Soap and Ghost climbed into the lead jeep, Y/n slid in after them, silent as she slipped into the seat next to Ghost. She had been watching the exchange quietly, her senses tingling with the energy between them all. She knew her place here — observing, waiting until she was needed, her presence felt but unspoken.

Alejandro turned to address the men waiting in the other jeeps. “Vamos! Moverse!” His voice carried over the din of the base, commanding as always.

Once Alejandro was inside, his second in command, Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra, glanced at Ghost with a teasing smirk. “Tengo miedo de los fantasmas.”

Alejandro caught the exchange, grinning slightly. He turned to Soap, amusement flickering in his eyes. “You know Spanish?”

Soap shrugged, unbothered. “No.”

Alejandro’s grin widened. “You will…”

The jeeps roared to life, pulling away from the base as the convoy headed toward their destination. The tension in the air was palpable as they embarked on the mission, each of them prepared for the storm that awaited. As Y/n sat back in her seat, her mind was already calculating, feeling the weight of her connection to the Sentinels around her, knowing it wouldn’t be long before she’d be needed.

-

As the jeeps rumbled over the dirt roads, the air inside was thick with anticipation. Alejandro and Rudy exchanged a few words in Spanish, discussing the mission, while Soap and Ghost kept their eyes forward, each lost in their thoughts. Y/n sat between Ghost and Soap, quietly taking in the atmosphere.

After a few moments, Alejandro finally glanced back at Y/n as if he hadn’t noticed her presence until now, his curiosity piqued. "And you are...?" 

Y/n gave him a small nod, her voice cutting through the air. "Y/n. Guide for these two." She motioned to Ghost and Soap with a tilt of her head. "You must be Alejandro Vargas."

Alejandro grinned, giving her a nod. "Ah, the infamous Guide I've heard so much about." His eyes flickered with recognition as he continued, "I've seen what Sentinels like them can do... but never worked with a Guide. Interesting."

Next to Alejandro, Rudy glanced at her, his gaze more subtle but still curious. "Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra," he introduced himself, his voice calm but holding a hint of respect.

Y/n gave him a soft smile. "Nice to meet you, Rudy."

Rudy smiled slightly at the use of his first name, and Alejandro raised an eyebrow, clearly amused at how easily she slipped into the group. "It’s not every day you meet someone who can keep these two in line." He motioned to Ghost and Soap, who both remained silent, but there was a slight shift in Ghost’s posture as if he found the comment amusing.

"Someone has to," Y/n quipped back, glancing at Soap with a smirk. "They’re a handful."

Soap let out a small chuckle, nudging her lightly. "Careful, lass. You’re startin’ to sound like Price."

Alejandro laughed at their banter before nodding approvingly. "Good. We need every advantage we can get." His voice dropped, turning more serious. "Cartel’s not going to play fair. You ready for what’s ahead?"

Y/n’s expression shifted, her confidence solid and unwavering. "I was born ready."

Rudy gave her another look, his respect growing. "Well, then… welcome to Las Almas, Y/n. Let’s hope you don’t have to work too hard."

Y/n smirked. "Don’t worry, Rudy. I can handle it."

-

As the convoy moved further into Las Almas, Alejandro and Rudy shared a look, a silent exchange that only bonded Sentinels and Guides could have. Alejandro’s sharp senses, already heightened by the presence of the Guide seated nearby, softened the moment he caught the gentle yet resilient aura that Y/n carried. It was subtle but undeniable—there was something about her that made even the hardened Colonel feel a sense of calm.

Rudy, his Guide instincts attuned to reading others, felt it too. As he glanced at Y/n again, his usual guarded expression melted into something much softer, a protective warmth flooding through him. She was strong, no doubt, but there was a quiet vulnerability beneath her sharp wit that tugged at him in a way he hadn’t expected. He gave her a small, reassuring smile, something rare for him.

"You know," Alejandro said, breaking the silence, "it’s not often we meet someone who can manage Sentinels like them." His tone was softer now, less formal, as if he felt an unspoken camaraderie with Y/n.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, half-smiling. "I’ve had plenty of practice. They’re not so bad once you get to know them."

Rudy chuckled quietly, the sound a low rumble from the front seat. "Still… not easy. It takes strength." His voice held an uncharacteristic tenderness as if speaking to her directly as one Guide to another.

Alejandro nodded, his gaze softening further as he regarded her. "You’re in good company here. We look after our own." His words carried weight, a promise unspoken but clear in his tone. There was something in the way he looked at her, a subtle understanding between Sentinels and Guides that connected them all on a deeper level.

Rudy added quietly, "You ever need anything, Y/n... we’re here."

It was a simple statement, but the way Rudy said it, with that undercurrent of protectiveness, made it clear that both he and Alejandro already felt a bond forming with her. Y/n’s presence was like a calming balm to their heightened senses, and they would do anything to ensure she was safe, even as they prepared for the dangerous mission ahead.

Y/n gave them both a small, grateful nod. "I appreciate that, truly."

Alejandro and Rudy exchanged another look, a shared softness that only deepened with her words. Even though they had only just met, they both knew—they’d be keeping a close eye on her, not out of doubt, but out of a growing sense of protectiveness. She was already one of them.

[kat-is-laem-oa]

Chapter 4: Velvet Couches and Demon Summoning

(Previous Chapter) (Next Chapter)

From afar, an assailant slashed a man down the back, resulting in his tumble to the warehouse floor. Valentine had found the lair.

“Oh, God! Valentine found Magnus!” Clary yelled. She ran forward behind the group and Eljah stayed behind her. He was sure now that she was new to the shadow world. It was uncommon to learn about your angelic lineage this late in life, but if Eljah could exist, then Clary could be a late bloomer.

Clary and Eljah fell back from the group naturally, hiding behind metal horizontal poles at the sound of a child in distress. She was shaking her deceased warlock father, telling him to wake up.

Eljah stopped dead in his tracks.

“Papá! Papá!” echoed in his head. “Papá, por favor, despierta. ¡Tengo miedo, se acercan las sombras! Papá, te amo, despierta y mantente fuerte, ¡no puedo hacerlo!” The shadows. The shadows are coming. Wake up and stand strong. I can’t do it.

Clary found her confidence creeping forward, but something else was creeping in the shadows as well. As she yelled, "Watch out!” and marched forward to defend the little girl, Eljah turned to face the growing black void from the corner. His heart thumped hard enough it shook his body, but he still couldn’t move. The girl was safe thanks to Clary pushing away one of Valentine’s men, Eljah useless as a trance state took over. The fight echoed in the background.

“Clary Fairchild. Valentine will be so pleased to meet you.”

“Thank you!”

“Any time.”

“Eljah, what happened?”

“Eljah?”

“Just keep moving,” Eljah harshly responded, stumbling up and away from his spot. He held the metal previously behind him so hard it was indented and, wiping his hands, shook off tiny bits of its coating.

Isabelle wrapped her whip up, sure to investigate later when she had time. “Stick close. It’s safest if we stay together.”

Clary affirmed to the young warlock that she wouldn’t leave her alone. It soured Eljah’s mood more. How he wished he had someone like that growing up. When things got bad, he could only turn to himself… and maybe the street cats and dogs.

The entire group convened in Magnus’ now-destroyed living room. The velvet chairs and dark furniture tipped over or split in half. Said room had filled with splayed warlock bodies, and Jace respectfully closed their eyes one by one. Alec had come across Eljah taking a breather and the two walked in together, the last of everyone living.

Magnus was busy praising Clary for her bravery and heart and Eljah slid himself between some fallen furniture. He flexed his fingers, popping them again as an unconscious comfort technique.

Magnus stepped to the middle of the room, announcing, “Hold tight, everyone. We’re about to move.” He made eye contact with Eljah for the first time since crossing paths again. He looked concerned at the younger man's body language, nodding for permission to move ahead. Eljah took a deep breath and conceded.

This time, Magnus’ magic glowed blue. He moved them in the prettiest way Eljah had seen a warlock move whilst using magic. Eljah was straight to the point, but Magnus had flair just like his closet. The energy pulsated and then passed over every corner of the room, transporting them.

“Ah, much better.” Magnus sounded relieved, but after turning around, his face changed to disgust. “Ugh! It’s inevitable. After each move, I get the itch to redecorate.” He turned to Alec and Eljah, who were next to each other, pointedly telling them, “normally, I love a dirty lair, but this one is just sloppy,” emphasizing with a stomp to the broken table in front of him. Alec’s expression turned confused and slightly worried, while Eljah found amusement in the situation. Alec abandoned station and crossed the room as if he wasn’t attracted to Magnus.

Magnus moved on rather quickly. “I believe in payment for services rendered. Thank you for defending the warlocks.” He sweetly offered the necklace they’d returned earlier, telling Isabelle some of the history of their own family and the jewelry. He joked it would look silly on her brother and Alec physically reacted, telling Eljah these were siblings. Lightwoods, to be exact.

Eljah felt a twinge of jealousy at the obvious flirting, but especially at Magnus asking if Alec was more into flowers or cologne. Eljah’s answer, personally, would have been flowers.

He couldn’t tell who he wanted to be more…

“Okay, so how do we summon the memory demon?” Clary redirected. Eljah brushed off his butt, regretting it when he realized he brushed dirt onto freshly clean flooring, checking to see if Magnus noticed.

“Are you certain?” Magnus confirmed. “Summoning such a powerful demon could be lethal.”

“I’ll do anything to save my mother. Where is the demon?” Clary doubled down.

“Okay. Pretty boys! Get your team ready!” pointing in Jace and Alec’s general direction.

Jace spoke up, “you all know what to do.” But Magnus stopped him in his place.

“Alec, yes… but I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to you,” he pointed to both Eljah and Alec. Alec got real cheesy at that revelation and Eljah got shy. If the others could see his aura, it was consumed by a teal color that screamed “shy.”

Magnus beckoned Clary forward, saying, “come with me.”

—

Magnus led Clary off into a side room, and the others stayed outside. Eljah continued popping various parts of his body, stretching like a cat.

“Where are you from?” The voice of Alec startled Eljah, which made the taller man put his hands up in surrender, mumbling sorry.

“I’m from San Juan.”

“San Juan? Puerto Rico, wow,” awkward silence made an appearance, “uh, what institute did you train at?”

“Mexico City. It was the closest.”

“Was it… pretty?” Alec, for such a big and tough-looking guy, was incredibly awkward and shy. He cutely smiled, his energy gray with muddy, dark purple. Further proof of his anxiety.

“It was one of the prettiest places I’ve ever been. Overlooked the city and you could see everything. Tomas, the… previous head of the Institute,” he paused as he remembered his late father-figure, “used to take me to visit the city markets. I miss it a lot,” Eljah admitted.

“Why’d you leave?” Eljah felt like a Seelie out of water, tempted to shrug his shoulders despite knowing Alec is smarter than that.

“Shadowhunters, gather!” Magnus summoned. Relief flowed through Eljah, secured from extra questioning.

Magnus, in more comfortable albeit still flamboyant clothing, headed the group upon entry, but remained to acknowledge Eljah with an arm around his shoulders. The height difference made Eljah shrink, but he couldn’t deny physical touch and affection was rare for him. Especially from such an attractive group of people.

“Jocelyn was right, your artistry is beyond compare,” walking himself and Eljah next to Clary. She chuckled but denied the claims. Eljah, despite knowing summoning circles, always enjoyed the deep-rooted artistic nature of them, which the redhead tuned into with a rune activation. Although he was sure she was a natural either way.

“Oh, the only other person I’ve known who could draw as well was Michelangelo… who was excellent in bed, might I add?” Looking straight at Alec. Eljah could’ve howled at the shared reactions, familiar with some historical figures himself and their… deeds.

Upon viewing this specific circle, he realized everyone had a spot except for him. Magnus caught on quickly. “Don’t worry, little dove. You are my extra protection—you can stand by me, okay?” Everyone shuffled to their places, Eljah awkward behind Magnus.

“Okay, we’re ready.” Rolling up his sleeves, he told everyone to, “take your rightful place on the pentagram.” Eljah choked back a giggle at Clary’s confusion on where to step, considering it was a foot in front of her.

“We must initiate a bond. Once this bond is sealed, it cannot be broken until the demon retreats.” Magnus became more serious. “No matter what happens, we must not let go of each other’s hands.” He outreached his jewelry-clad hand to Alec. The two jolted as a low, booming sound built the connection.

One by one, the group magnetized together with wistful looks and gasps. Eljah could feel the shadows reach its oily hand up from deep within the Earth, the energy building and suffocating the air. He constantly wanted to turn around, senses on high alert for the incoming danger.

“I will lead the ceremony, and you all must do exactly as I say. The demon’s name is Valak. And at some point, he will ask for payment in exchange for Clary’s memories.”

This worried Jace, who asked, “what do you mean? What kind of payment?”

“Unfortunately, you won’t know until he is summoned,” Eljah responded. “Just keep your hands together and take a deep breath.” After a beat of confirmation between everyone, Magnus announced they’d begin.

He strongly chanted in Chthonian, summoning Valak. Everyone looked panicked, Eljah included.

“The necklace!” Izzy called out, “it’s pulsing.” A rush of wind came through soon after, everyone looking up as thick black shadows came down upon the room. Valak growled and Eljah watched the group struggle to hold on.

“Valak is among us! Do not break the bond!” Magnus reminded. Jace called out to Clary to hold on, who affirmed she was trying. While Magnus focused ahead of him, Eljah activated the luck rune on his chest. He circled the group, making sure the lines were strong and nothing had been ruined.

“We must each relinquish a beloved memory of the one we love the most,” Magnus rushed through the hectic noise. Isabelle naturally went first. An image of her brother appeared within the smoke before harshly dispersing. Clary and Alec followed, but when Alec’s memory surfaced, his emotions shifted.

Panic. Eljah saw straight panic. He couldn’t understand why the Parabatais were confused. Parabatais often, if not always, love each other, but Alec was shouting betrayal and deception into the wind.

“It’s not true! The demon deceived me!”

“Do not break the bond!” Magnus warned.

“Alec, It’s okay!” Isabelle insisted. But the damage was done, and Alec ripped his hands away, throwing himself back. Chaos erupted as the others shouted. The black smoke dispersed and everything in the room was thrown back. Eljah, instead of rocketing into the wall, smoothly slid across the floor.

Valak’s wrath was unmatched by their fear as they saw him in full. The wind became more like a tornado and the air was scarcely fresh.

“I cannot contain the demon much longer!” Eljah felt the same level of panic as the others, uncertain whether he should assist Magnus and risk exposing himself or try to kill the greater demon.

Alec dumbly stood and made his way in front of the demon. Jace sought to push him out of the way, but in doing so, offered himself up to the demon’s grip. Clary screamed in shock and Alec huddled in the corner.

It felt like too long had passed before someone grabbed onto Jace.

“Grab him!”

“The demon is growing stronger!”

“He’s slipping!”

“Clary, Eljah, help us!” The man ran to Magnus’ side, concealed by the veil of smoke from the others, and snapped his fingers like a match. It lit up the fiery red and purple radiance of Eljah’s magic and he took a deep breath, expelling air as he pushed with all his energy to contain Valak. Keeping up his opposing facades wasn’t worth the release of a greater demon in New York.

“Clary! If you kill the demon, your memories will be lost forever!” With the last call for help by Isabelle, Clary bravely stomped her way up to Valak with her seraph blade in hand, impaling the demon still grasping Jace.

Eljah fell next to Magnus, and the others rushed to check on their blonde shadowhunter. Magnus gently raised Eljah from the ground. “It’s alright,” he whispered, “Shadowhunter business usually ends like this.” Eljah was too tired to laugh.

“Is he gonna be alright!?” Clary cried out.

“I don’t know. Does he normally just lay like that without moving?”

No one else was laughing.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

[bellofthemeadow]

The Road Ahead - ch 7 | Frankie Morales x female reader

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

For most of your married life, you dedicated yourself to waiting for Frankie. After each deployment, you patiently awaited his return, longing for the moment when he would be by your side again. During those nights when nightmares consumed his thoughts, you yearned for him to open up to you, hoping that he would find solace in sharing his pain. And as his addiction spiraled out of control, you held onto the hope that he would recognize his problem and seek help. However, despite your countless protests and pleas, you now find yourself waiting for him once more as he ventures off to Colombia, engaged in God knows what.

But this time is different. Determined, you make a solemn promise to yourself: You will never wait for Frankie again.

Rating: M for Mature (18 + no minors allowed)

Word Count: 9K (Again, I have no excuses)

Warning: Applicable for the entire fic / PTSD, drug use and addiction, postpartum depression, abusive familial relationships, self-hatred, unhealthy coping mechanism, explicit sexual content, violence, mentions of suicidal thoughts, super angsty

Chapter Summary: What is left of you and Frankie and is it possible to rebuild after everything that has happened between you two?

Notes: Hey everyone, thank you again to everyone who liked, commented or reblogged the earlier chapters of this series it means the world to me that you all enjoy this! I also wanted to apologized because this took way longer to write than I anticipated, and I wasn't able to have it ready by Sunday like I thought. This is kind of bittersweet as it is almost the end of this story, only the epilogue will be left after this. I wasn't sure which direction to take with it, but I hope you will all enjoy where I've taken Frankie and his cielo. Love you all so much <3 <3 <3

One Day at a Time

Frankie follows two steps behind his mother, his arms full of paper grocery bags, while Alma opens the door of the old yellowish one-story home where Frankie grew up. "Por favor, coloca los comestibles en el mostrador," she requests. "Sí, mamá," Frankie replies. He puts the groceries down and wipes the beads of sweat from his forehead. The Floridian humidity has been killing him today.

 Alma flutters back into the room like the 72-year-old tornado she is, this time with her arms full of seedlings, and she passes Frankie. "Y coloca la pizza congelada en el congelador," she instructs. "Sí, sí, no te preocupes, yo lo tengo." Frankie knows he was being short with his mother; his words were more biting than they should have been, especially since Alma allowed him to come back home after his stint in rehab. Shame creeps up his neck at his dry tone when his mother turns toward him. "Mamá…" However, Alma doesn't say anything. She approaches Frankie, softly grabs him by the shoulder, bringing him down to her level, and engulfs him in a tight hug that still makes him feel like a little boy after all these years. "Lo siento, Francisco. I don’t mean to boss you around Mijo. You know how mamas are." "Lo siento, Mamá. I didn’t mean to snap at you." Mother and son embrace in the middle of the kitchen, the full light of the afternoon sun illuminating the kitchen.

“Tell me what’s on your mind mijo. Are you not going to see Estrelita this afternoon? That always cheer you up.”

“Si. Once I put the groceries away, I am picking her up from Mrs. Hu and we’ll spend the rest of the day together.”

“And what about her mother?” Frankie lets out a sigh.

"We're going for lunch tomorrow. It's her first day off in a while, and honestly, the first day she won't be working an 11-hour shift. This new job is really working her to the bones.”

Since Frankie left rehab five days ago, he hadn't been able to see you. And it was eating at him, consuming him from the inside. He had already missed you so much these past few months, but now those added days were plain torture. You had talked briefly over the phone on the first night Frankie was back in his childhood home to arrange how he could see Ella in the upcoming days. The initial conversation had been awkward, to say the least. You had tentatively asked Frankie how he was feeling now that he was back, how rehab went, did he feel any different from before. Frankie had tried to be as forthcoming as possible, but he knows that over the phone he probably sounded like the stilted mess he felt like. But he tried, without the comfort of the routine rehab had provided, he was feeling anxious and tired. Rehab had gone as well as it could, although he was lonely and missed his family. You had taken a breath upon hearing his answer. He didn't feel that different, except for developing a newfound love for licorice as a by-product of sobriety. You had laughed at that, a breathy and airy laugh, as if you had been holding it in during the entire four months he was away. Frankie was overjoyed to hear he could still make you laugh, and he was tempted to do a victory dance in his old bedroom, between the posters of Top Gun and a young Winona Ryder.

After a moment had passed, a comfortable silence settled between you both, and Frankie had asked how you and Estrella were doing. Your voice sounded tired and sad over the phone. Frankie could picture you sitting on the edge of the bed, chewing on your bottom lip. Apparently, Ella was doing as well as a seven-month-old could be, although you were certain she was missing her daddy (Frankie's heart clenched at that thought). On the other hand, you were currently overwhelmed. You apologized for not being able to be there when he left rehab, and Frankie could hear the guilt seeping through your words. He was quick to reassure you, saying, "Don't worry about that, it wasn't much fun waiting for me to be cleared. It took almost two hours, it's not important." Your voice echoed in a quiet whisper that Frankie almost didn't catch: "It's important to me." Unsure of how to respond, he settled on humming softly.

You continued, explaining the reason for your absence. Apparently, the library at Florida University, while state-of-the-art, wasn't immune to flooding. You had spent the last three days knee-deep in water, trying to salvage the book collection, and you had been working almost eleven-hour days. You referred to it as a "nice little welcome gift." You told Frankie that by next week, you would finally be able to return to a normal work schedule, and you could see each other then. In the meantime, you assured Frankie that he could see Ella anytime and that you would clear it with Mrs. Hu to allow Ella to go with him. Although Frankie would have much preferred coming home to you and Ella, he understood why it was better for everyone involved that he stayed with his mother for a little bit. “Take care to not take it personally, it’s not against you personally. It’s important now to go at your wife’s pace. Take the time to show her how far you’ve gone, and allow time for you both to rebuild the trust that was broken” his therapist had said.

Nonetheless, Frankie was heartbroken upon learning that he wouldn't be able to see you for a couple more days. He had so much to tell you, so much to share, and so much to apologize for. But he could hear the exhaustion and stress in your voice. A baby, a new job, and a flood all at once? Frankie knew he would have needed more than cocaine to get through all of that. So instead, he murmured encouragement, "Don't worry about me, I'll take Ella during the day and spend some quality time with her. Gotta make sure she didn’t forget me, you know." The joke didn't land, and only a sniffle answered him. "I'll see you next week, take care of yourself, all right?" Frankie attempted to finish the conversation with his usual "I love you" but the line disconnected before he could get a word in edgewise.

Frankie flopped onto his bed, his eyes landing on the helicopter model on his bedside table, and he took a deep breath. He repeated the counting exercise, 1-2-3-3-2-1, five times. Grounding himself. It wasn't fair that you couldn't be there for the conversation he had dreamed of and meticulously rehearsed for the past three weeks, but life wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that you were married to a cocaine addict either, but what could one do? Frankie would wait for you, and for now, he would make sure to see Ella every day, creating memories with her and catching up on everything he had missed. Maybe at some point down the line, she would also crawl with him as she had done with you and Benny.

So, in the meantime, Frankie was back home with his mother. He tried to take on most of the household chores so as to contribute as much as he could. At the same time, he spent a lot of his evenings browsing online, searching for ways to appeal his suspension. He came across a recommendation for a lawyer who had served in the military back in 2002 and seemed willing to help him on that front. Will apparently knew the guy and according to him, he was legit. So, for the first time in a while, it looked like things were starting to look up for him.

Otherwise, Frankie devoted his afternoon to spending time with his little Estrelita. Without fail, every day at 1 pm, he would drive back to your home and knock on Mrs. Hu's door. This daily ritual was something he held onto tightly, never willing to miss a single visit. The anticipation would build as he waited for the door to swing open, and a rush of excitement and joy would flood his heart each time he caught a glimpse of Ella. However, no moment could ever compare to the overwhelming surge of emotions that nearly toppled him when he first laid eyes on Ella when he finally passed the two large doors of the Rehab facility 5 days ago.

Although you couldn't be there in person, you were adamant that Ella should be there to welcome Frankie back. So, you enlisted Will's help to bring Ella and make it a special moment. You provided Will with a detailed list of instructions, ensuring everything would be taken care of. In preparation, you gave him enough bottled milk to last at least two days, just in case, and a bag filled with Ella's favourite plush toys. You made sure Will was comfortable and capable of changing Ella if necessary, and he approached the task with the precision and efficiency of the military man he once was.

When Frankie swung open the wide entrance doors, his eyes were immediately drawn to Pope, who was making exaggerated arm movements, and Benny, who was jumping up and down like an excited child, holding a large sign that read "Kick the habit" adorned with an excessive amount of glitter. Although deeply touched by his brothers' enthusiastic welcome, it was the sight of Will, holding little Estrelita in his arms, that truly overwhelmed him. Frankie dropped his bags and sprinted towards them without hesitation. Scooping Ella into his arms, he held her delicately and pressed his tear-streaked face close to hers, unable to contain his emotions. Ella, for her part, displayed remarkable patience and giggled at the man holding her, tugging at his unruly brown curls and cooing happily. Frankie nestled his nose atop Ella's soft, damp head, his heart overflowing with a mixture of joy, longing, and remorse. He fought back the tears threatening to escape, determined to be strong for his precious Estrelita. After a few moments of simply holding her close, he found his voice, albeit choked with emotion, and whispered brokenly, "Papa missed you so much, Estrelita. My little princesa, papa is never going to leave you again. Te amo, Ella. Papa and mama love you so much."

As Frankie poured his heartfelt words into the air, a subtle shift occurred within Ella. Her eyes, previously filled with amusement, now glimmered with a glint of recognition. She seemed to respond to the familiar voice that had serenaded her during those long months, a voice that carried enchanting stories and was always brimming with love. Papa's voice was like a warm embrace that had the power to banish any lurking monsters from her world. It brought her solace and comfort, reminding her that she was cherished beyond measure.

Frankie found himself unable and unwilling to let go of Ella, holding her tightly for a solid 15 minutes before she started to fuss. Coming to the rescue, Will rummaged in the enormous pink bag you had packed for him and produced a bottle of milk, passing it to Frankie. Frankie sat down on the steps in front of the rehab center and fed Ella, cherishing this long-awaited moment of closeness after four months apart. The rest of the boys gathered around, expressing their sheer happiness at seeing their old friend, bombarding him with a flurry of questions. Did he feel better? Did he see God in there? Were the nurses hot? On a scale of 1 to 10, how much did he want cocaine now? Despite the barrage of inquiries, Frankie couldn't divert his attention from the little miracle nestled in his arms. In that moment, nothing else existed except his Estrellita.

Then came the time to head home. Frankie's heart was brimming with a mix of emotions as he prepared to leave the rehab center, his precious Estrelita nestled securely in his arms. As they walked towards the car, Pope couldn't contain his joy any longer, and with a hearty slap on Frankie's back, he exclaimed, "Fish, so glad to see you've ditched that half-dead corpse look. Cocaine was definitely not your colour." Frankie, caught off guard by the sudden impact, instinctively pushed Pope's arm back with the one that wasn't cradling Ella. An amused smile played on his lips as he retorted, "Pendejo,"

"Hey, no swearing in front of the baby," Benny exclaimed with a touch of melodrama, pretending to cover Ella's ears. Her ear-piercing giggle filled the air, bringing a smile to everyone's faces. Frankie narrowed his eyes, and before he could give Benny a piece of his mind, Will stepped in, playfully knocking Benny on the head. "Come on, you know the baby doesn't speak Spanish, so it doesn't count, right, Fish?" he said. "Right.” Frankie levelled a hard stare at Benny, “I’m not planning on making a habit of swearing in front of my baby," Frankie assured.

Benny finally sensed that something was amiss, he took a deep breath and kicked his shoe against a rock, sending it flying toward the row of cars. "I was just saying..." he grumbled. Frankie took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and silently counted to himself. Opening his eyes again, he was greeted by Ella's sleepy face. He smiled before gently tracing the contours of her small face with his finger. "Thank you for everything. I don’t know how I could ever repay you for all you have done," Frankie vulnerably said, his voice filled with heartfelt gratitude.

And then Frankie was home. Well, not his true “Home." Not the home you both built and where you both made memories. The home where you started a family together. It wasn't the sanctuary where he felt the most happiness. But for now, his childhood bedroom with dated 90’s posters and marine carpeting would have to suffice. Until tomorrow that is when he would finally get to see you again. As Frankie meticulously arranged the last of the groceries in their designated spots, he instinctively reached for his phone and noticed a message notification from you. With a sense of anticipation, he double taps the message, eager to consume your words as if he had been starved from you and every morsel you were 0willing to give him would bring him back to life.

"Hey, hope your day went well. Just wanted to confirm that tomorrow at 10 am was still good for you? I have time for a small break, so I wanted to make sure Mrs. Hu is still available to take care of Ella on Saturday.”

Frankie's heart skipped a beat as he read your message, his eyes scanning each word with a mix of excitement and longing. In an instant, his fingers danced across the screen, his response punctuated by an urgency to reassure you of his commitment. "Still all good, and don't worry, I'm on my way to pick up Ella right now. I'll personally confirm with Mrs. Hu, so you don't have to take time off your break. Knowing you, I know you haven’t eaten anything today. Make sure you do please, mi cielo.”

As Frankie anxiously awaited your reply, stressing that he had been too forward, maybe he should apologize. The three familiar bubbles appeared, signalling your typing. His pulse quickened, his mind racing with thoughts of what you might be saying. The bubbles vanished and reappeared, teasing him with their fleeting presence. Finally, your message materialized on the screen, bringing a strange mix of relief and dread. "Perfect, thank you, Frankie. I appreciate it. Give a good smooch to Ella from me. See you tomorrow.”

Frankie's eyes lingered on your message, his mind briefly wandering to the unspoken words that you might have wanted to say to him. Did him using your nickname bother you? Did you not want Frankie to check on you anymore? Had he overstepped boundaries, slipping back too quickly into the role of the husband when maybe you weren't ready or didn't want that anymore? Tomorrow could be the day when you would let him down gently, he thought. Knowing you, you would handle it with kindness, expressing how your love for him had changed, making it clear that co-parenting was the extent of what you were willing to offer now. He wouldn’t blame you for it.

Frankie felt it in the blink of an eye—the overwhelming urge that surged through his entire being. It was like a bolt of electricity coursing through his veins, threatening to consume him. He closed his eyes tightly, took a deep breath, and silently counted to himself. 1.2.3, 3.2.1. Yet, the tension remained, refusing to be easily dismissed. He needed to ground himself, to anchor his spiralling thoughts. Five things he could smell, five things he could see, five things he could feel—Frankie went through the exercise, trying to find solace in the present moment. It provided only temporary relief.

Feeling the weight of his unease, he instinctively made his way to the top drawer of the kitchen. Opening it with a hint of roughness, he reached for an unopened bag of licorice. Grabbing a handful, he popped three pieces into his mouth, savouring the strong anise flavour as it traversed down his throat, almost burning in its intensity. It provided a fleeting sense of comfort, easing the edges of his turmoil.

Glancing at the time, Frankie realized it was almost 1 pm. He couldn't afford to delay any longer if he wanted to maintain Ella's well-established routine. You had always emphasized the importance of routine for babies since the moment you found out about the pregnancy, and Frankie wasn't about to fuck that up.  So today he would spend time with Ella, give her all the love he possibly can. Then tonight, when everyone sleeps, Frankie knows he’ll dream of you, as he has for the past 4 months.

__________________________________________________________

The next day, 9h35 am

You sit in a cozy booth tucked away in the corner of a charming diner. From the moment you entered, you could feel that distinctive "Instagram vibe" floating in the air. It was clear that every aspect of the place had been meticulously arranged to appear mismatched, deliberately striving for an eclectic aesthetic to preserve the nostalgia of the old-fashioned diner. Yes, you thought to yourself, gentrification was at work here. Even a grand flower wall greeted visitors at the entrance, complete with a petite park bench—a perfect spot for capturing that perfect profile picture.

This wasn't the usual scene you and Frankie frequented. He was always camera-shy, and you weren't particularly inclined toward social media. Nonetheless, you sought out this neutral ground, guided by the Google reviews that promised private booths—a perfect setting for the long-overdue discussion with your husband.

You scan the surroundings, taking in the vintage posters and old photographs adorning the walls. The mismatched furniture and worn-out booths in shades of blues and oranges catch your attention, loud but not too overwhelming. It's like magic, this hipster vibe, you think. You try to catch a glimpse of the menu on the blackboard near the counter, but since you requested the quietest booth, sacrificing the view makes sense.

You always order the same thing anyway: a large latte with almond milk if they have it, with a touch of hazelnut. Frankie, on the other hand, goes for a black Americano with five shots of espresso, like the maniac he is. He would often playfully tease you about your choice, mocking that it wasn't "real coffee" if it needed to be drowned in milk and sugar. In response, you would scrunch your nose, adopting a faux haughty tone, and retort, "I don’t take food advice from someone who considers beer as its own food group” Like clockwork, Frankie would seize you, pulling you close, and plant a passionate kiss on your lips, whispering, "Sweet, just like you, my love."

A rush of nostalgia washes over you as you close your eyes, relishing the memory. Glancing at your watch, you note the time: 9:40. Knowing Frankie's punctuality, he would be arriving any moment now. In your shared understanding, being 15 minutes early was on time, being on time was considered late, and the mere thought of being late was inconceivable.

As you anxiously fold napkins into little origami birds, the distinct voice of your husband reaches your ears, engaging in conversation with the barista at the counter. "One Americano, five shots, and one large latte with almond milk and three pumps of hazelnut," he orders. Your head twists instinctively in the direction of the sound, and in that moment, your eyes lock with Frankie's. It's as if time had stalled, and Frankie, looking like his namesake, is like a fish out of water. The sight of you completely disorients him, leaving him breathless as if the wind has been knocked out of his lungs. Or rather, the water from his gills.

You fare no better. Seeing Frankie like this, looking so good—better than you've seen him in some time—sends a shot straight to your heart. You're happy to see him looking so well, but at the same time, a twinge inside whispers meanly in your ears, "You couldn't help him get himself here. You don't deserve Frankie like this; he deserves better than the scraps you can offer. He'd only stay for Ella, anyway." The voices are harsh, leaving you on unsteady ground.

You look down at the table, trying to silence the voice. "He remembers my coffee order. That ought to mean something," you think to yourself. The voice let’s out a cruel chuckle as if to say, "Sure, keep telling yourself that." Now, it resembles your mother's voice, and you shake your head to rid yourself of the thought. You don't want to have a complete meltdown in the coffee shop on the very first day you get to see your husband again. You already feel bad enough that you couldn't be there when he left rehab. "What kind of wife am I?" Your heart breaks. "A shitty one," your mother's voice answers with fake saccharine sweetness.

After composing yourself, you raise your eyes again toward Frankie, who seems frozen in front of you. The torment of seeing him so close, yet still out of reach after four long months, feels like a form of exquisite torture. Your hands weakly wave in his direction, accompanied by a shy smile. Shyness—an unfamiliar feeling when it comes to Frankie; in fact, it's quite the opposite of the easiness that marked even the beginning of your relationship. Frankie always felt like your home, and to feel so uncomfortable with yourself is a feeling you are rather unused to having with your husband.

After enduring a couple of excruciating minutes, Frankie finally approaches you, skillfully balancing a tray with your two drinks and two muffins. A smile escapes your lips, appreciating Frankie's thoughtfulness once again. He places the tray on the table with a resounding thump, causing the dark liquid of his Americano to threaten an escape from the oversized mug. Frankie's face flushes with a cute red hue as he stammers awkwardly, "I got you your usual coffee. I figured you wouldn't stop loving hazelnut in your coffee in 4 months." Regret etches itself onto his face, and he continues, "Not that there would be anything wrong with that. You can change your mind. You can get what you..." His words trail off as self-doubt seeps in, "I should have asked. I shouldn't have just assumed. I can go back and order something else..."

"Frankie!" The sound of your voice interrupts his rambling. "Hazelnut is great, as I always tell you. It's the..." Before you can finish your sentence, Frankie jumps in, completing it with a small smile, "Superior nut."

"I also got a blueberry and a carrot muffin. You can take whichever you want," he offers. You return the smile, playfully teasing, "I know for a fact you want that blueberry muffin, Francisco Morales." You look back at Frankie with a wide grin, continuing, "It’s almost as if you knew that carrot is my favourite, so I’d leave blueberry for you." Frankie’s answer is his signature sheepish smile as he plucks the blueberry one from the tray and dugs into his muffin. You do the same, meticulously separating the top of the muffin from its bottom and creating little nibbles of carrot goodness.

After a beat, you kindly offer, "You look good, Frankie. Really good, actually. I'm genuinely glad to see you looking so well." Frankie's smile widens to the point where it could blind you. "Thank you," he says with gratitude. "I've been working really hard, but I think it paid off you know. I do feel better.” Frankie stops, chewing his lips as if he thinking what to say next, “I won't lie to you; rehab was really hard, one of the hardest things I’ve done. And it's still challenging, there are days that seem insurmountable. But at least now, I understand what I was doing wrong— not seeking help, being stubborn, thinking I could handle everything on my own." As he speaks, he places his hand on top of yours, which rests on the side of the table. "Not talking to you will always be my biggest regret.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, and you feel your palm growing clammy under his touch. Yet, you resist the urge to pull away, aware that it might be the wiser choice. Frankie has just opened the door to start talking about everything that has transpired in the last couple of months and everything that lies ahead in the coming years. But you're uncertain if you're ready for that conversation. Once you start talking, it becomes undeniably real. The decisions you make today will shape the future for you, Frankie, and Ella. The weight of that responsibility bears down on you, leaving you feeling both anxious and overwhelmed. The room becomes smaller and smaller as if the walls are closing down on you.

You withdraw your hand, trying to alleviate the pressure and make a show of grabbing your coffee, taking a big gulp to buy yourself a moment of respite. Frankie's expression turns disappointed, but you're unsure of what to do next. The silence hangs in the air, heavy with unspoken words and unaddressed emotions.

"I saw the new plush toy when I picked up Ella from Mrs. Hu yesterday. She seemed to love the unicorn. Thank you," you offer, attempting to break the tension. Frankie's smile flickers back, albeit weaker this time. "I wasn't sure if it was okay, but I wanted to get her something nice. I've missed her so much.”

"You're Ella's father, Frankie. Of course, it's okay for you to buy her things. She loves you," you reassure him, trying to offer some comfort amidst the complexity of your feelings. "I love her too. And I love you, mi cielo. I'm so, so sorry about everything. There aren't enough lifetimes for me to show you how deeply sorry I am for all that I’ve done. For everything that I didn’t do. But I am so sorry, and I intend to make up for it every day for the rest of our lives," Frankie earnestly declares.

You chew on your lip, your thoughts racing as you struggle to find the right words. It's time to confront the truth, to express the raw emotions that have been swirling within you. "I don't need you to make up for it, Frankie. I needed you to... I wanted... I don't know how to say it," you confess, your voice raw and vulnerable.

Frankie's expression shifts, a mixture of guilt and bitterness. "You needed your husband not to be a major fuck-up. You don't have to pretend, I know," he admits, his voice laced with a hint of self-disgust. "I'm trying so hard, mi cielo. I want to be the man you need me to be. I want to be the husband you deserve. The father Ella deserves.” “Frankie…”

"No, please, mi cielo, please. I need to say this," Frankie implores, his voice filled with urgency. He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before continuing, "I've been doing a lot of talking in group therapy, but I've also been listening. I was trying to understand where I went wrong if there was something I could have done different. And there were many things, but I've realized that the drugs, they weren't the actual problem. They were more like a symptom of the real problem; my therapist helped me understand that they were more like a physical manifestation of what was wrong deep inside me. Taking drugs was my way of externalizing all the pain and turmoil that I was feeling i within. In a twisted way, I never truly believed that I deserved you or Ella, and maybe a part of me wanted to sabotage the good things in my life. I don't know. I don't want to lie to you and tell you that I'm completely cured, that I won't ever feel the urge to do reckless things when life becomes overwhelming. But I don't want to be that man anymore. I want to change.”

Frankie's words hang in the air, heavy with honesty and vulnerability. He looks into your eyes, his gaze filled with a mix of remorse and hope.

"I want to tell you why I feel this way," Frankie continues, his voice filled with conviction. "I want to share with you what I’ve gone through, I see how unfair I was to you by shutting you out of this large part of me. I want to open it to you and show you everything, the good, the bad the ugly. I mean, only if you still see yourself doing so sown the line.

You could see the sincerity etched on his face, the genuine desire to make amends and rebuild what was broken. His words resonated deep within you, stirring a mix of emotions.

"I know, Frankie. It's just... It's just that," you said, exhaling audibly and averting your gaze to the side, trying to collect your thoughts. "You know it's not that simple." As you settled your eyes back on Frankie, his face displayed a mix of understanding and devastation, realizing the weight of your words.

"So much has happened, and I don't want to rush into anything," you continued, your voice tinged with hesitation. "Perhaps we could keep the current dynamic, for now, allowing things to unfold a bit more slowly. With work calming down maybe we could take small steps towards building a stronger trust, maybe we could have dinner together as a trio a few times a week? I still want you to spend time with Ella as much as you want, but I also need to sort out my own thoughts and emotions before moving forward.”

A deep sigh escapes your lips as you continue, your voice trembling with vulnerability. "I know it might seem selfish, Frankie, but you really hurt me." Unable to contain your emotions any longer, a sob escaped, your resolve weakened by the pain. "You hurt me deeply, and now, I'm left questioning whether I can truly trust you." The tears wells up, despite your best efforts to hold them back, betraying the depth of your hurt and confusion.

Frankie's leg begins to bounce restlessly as he absorbs your words. "Mi cielo..." he murmurs softly, his voice filled with a mix of concern and longing.

"Look, Frankie, I'm not saying that I don't want us to find our way back to each other," you start, trying to articulate your thoughts as clearly as possible. "I just... I don't know what I want. I thought I would have it all figured out by the time you left the center, but it feels like I'm still as lost as the day I found you on that couch after you got busted. It's like I've been living in this constant haze, and now that you're here and you want to open up and work on us and our family, I can't help but feel overwhelmed with fear. So, so scared."

Your voice trembles with vulnerability as you continue, bearing your deepest concerns. "I'm afraid that history will repeat itself. I'm scared of ending up like my mother—bitter, angry, and becoming a bad mom to Ella. The thought terrifies me." Taking a deep breath, you fight to steady your racing heart. "Frankie, I don't know exactly what I want right now, but I do know that I want to do what's best for Ella. She deserves a loving and stable environment, and I need to ensure I can provide that."

Frankie looks down at his hand, his fingers fidgeting nervously, and swallows with difficulty. His Adam's apple bobbing harshly against his skin. "I... I understand," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. Closing his eyes momentarily, he musters the courage to ask the question that weighs heavily on his mind.

"Can I... Can I ask you something?" Frankie's voice wavers as he seeks your permission. "Of course, you can ask me anything," you reply, your tone filled with reassurance.

"Thanks, it's part of my new 'communication policy.' I'm trying to make my wants heard and all that," Frankie says, passing his hand across the nape of his neck in a nervous gesture. "If something comes up at home... you... Are you going to call me to fix it? I mean, you could call me at like 3 am, and I would rush home, you know that right?"

Looking at Frankie, a mix of uncertainty and bewilderment on your face, you respond, "Yes, of course, Frankie. I will always call you if something comes up. Why are you asking that?" Frankie's expression shifts to one of shame, and a vibrant shade of pink tinged the tip of his nose.

"I just... argh! You're going to think it's so stupid. It's just... I saw the video," Frankie confesses, his voice laden with vulnerability. Perplex, you ask, "What video?"

Unsure if you could be any more confused, Frankie explains, "The video with Ella and Benny. Will told me that Ben was there to fix the fan in the bathroom. And he was there the first time Ella crawled. It's stupid, I know. Benny is like a brother, and I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt me like that. But I felt so insecure and inadequate when I saw the video. I was in rehab, unable to help myself, while Benny was being the man of the house for you and Ella, and..."

Feeling a surge of empathy and understanding, you reach out to him, placing your hand on top of his and squeezing tightly. "Whatever happens, Frankie, you are Estrella's father, and nothing will ever change that. There is no one else that Ella loves more than her papa, you know." As you speak, Frankie let out a small scoff, doubting the truth of your words.

"No, no, no. It's true. I wouldn't lie to you about that," you affirm, looking into his eyes with sincerity. "Do you know why Ella started to crawl that day? It's because of you, Frankie." His gaze fills with uncertainty, Frankie asks, "What do you mean? I wasn't even there."

"No, you weren't physically there, but I played the voice recording you made every day for Ella. And while I was helping Benny remove the old fan, I guess the recording stopped. Ella just wanted to hear more stories from her papa. She was crawling toward you, Frankie."

Frankie's emotions overflow at your words, and he can’t contain his response any longer. "I can't... I thought... My god, what did I think?!" His voice cracks with anguish as tears stream down his face, making him appear years younger, vulnerable like a child seeking reassurance. "I would never think that you... It's just me, I am the problem, and... Ella was crawling because of me?"

You nod, your voice filled with tenderness. "Yeah, she was. Because she loves you, Frankie. You never have to worry about that."

Frankie's tears continue to flow, but there was a glimmer of relief in his eyes. "It's all I've ever wanted, being worthy of her, being worthy of you and your love," he confessed, baring his heart.

"Frankie..." you began, but he interrupts, "You don't have to say anything. It's okay," Frankie reassures you, a small smile gracing his face. "I'm just so glad I got to see you today, to talk. It was a long time coming."

"Yeah," you admit, your own smile forming. "I like this “open communication Frankie”. Do you know if he is planning on hanging around?”

Frankie lets out a laugh, the sound carrying a sense of newfound hope. "Oh yeah, him and “emotionally healing Frankie” are planning on settling down around here for a long time."

Your smile widens, warmth spreading through your heart. "I'm so glad you're better, and I am so glad you are home, Frankie."

"Me too, mi cielo. Me too."

________________________________________________________

That same night

As you settle in the comfort of your bed, a soft glow from the bedside lamp casting a warm ambiance, your eyes fix on Ella peacefully slumbering in the crib stationed at the foot of your bed. The events of earlier in the day dance vividly in your mind, refusing to release their grip on your thoughts.

The memory of Frankie's face haunts you—the subtle but unmistakable disappointment he tried to conceal when you mustered the courage to confess that you needed more time. The weight of that moment bears down on you, leaving you unsure. You can’t help but question yourself, wondering how much pain your hesitations were causing him. How much pain it was causing you. The flood of confusion and doubt was starting to overwhelm you.

As you lay there, the rhythmic rise and fall of Ella's chest serving as a soothing lullaby, you realize that love was a delicate dance. It required patience, understanding, and forgiveness. And in that dance, you and Frankie had stumbled, fumbling through the steps, yet you always found the strength to hold each other up. Were you holding him right now though? Was your dance so out of step that you couldn’t catch each other anymore?

You groan and roll over in bed, hoping that sleep would bring you some clarity. However, as soon as you close your eyes, you open them again and see the clock glaring back at you, displaying the time as 9:45 pm. Instantly filled with urgency, you leap out of bed like a woman possessed, making sure not to wake baby Ella. You hurry over to the small desk on the other side of the room, where you keep important papers. Frankie had also used this desk as a workspace sometimes when he didn’t want to bother you while you were making dinner. You could almost see him, sitting on the small chair, dwarfing the desk with his large frame and checking with various weather stations around the county if flying would be possible in the upcoming days. Those were the good days, you think to yourself, simple yet you would give anything to go back to them. You reach the desk in less than 3 strides, and you hastily pull open the top drawer. You retrieve Frankie's letter that had been sitting there, untouched, for the past four months. You had been avoiding it, trying not to think about it, but now the pull was too strong. Clutching the letter close to your chest, your hands trembling, you bring it back to bed. You turn on the bedside lamp, setting it to its lowest brightness, casting a soft golden glow in the room—enough light for you to read but not disturb Ella's sleep.

You stared at the envelope as if it had the power to scorch your fingertips, fully aware that its contents very well could. Gritting your teeth, you tear through the envelope, taking out the piece of paper adorned with Frankie's handwriting. It lay before you, an expansive canvas etched with the raw emotions of his pen. Inhaling deeply, you brace yourself and commence reading, finally ready to confront whatever lay within those written words.

Mi Cielo,

I'm trembling as I pen these words to you. Tomorrow, I am finally taking your advice from months ago and I am going to check myself into rehab. It has become evident that one truth remains steadfast in our marriage: you are always right, mi corazón.

Depending on when you read this, I might be in rehab or have already completed my time away from you. Perhaps I am even at your side right now! Reading these words together with you, cringing behind your shoulder. If that is the case, let me warn my future self: you had better treat her well, pendejo. Do not repeat the same foolish mistakes I made.

You burst into laughter, the sound echoing in the room, at the same time Ella’s squeal rings out from her crib. Holding your breath momentarily, you listen for any more sounds, but the silence reassures you. Letting out a sigh of relief, you turn your attention back to Frankie's letter.

During these past five days since I left our home, I have been replaying our life together in my mind. Every time, I am confronted with how much I fell short of being the person you deserved. If I could turn back time to those moments when you looked at me with your caring eyes, asking if something was wrong and how you could help, I would be honest with you. I would not hide the nightmares that haunt me, the overwhelming feeling I get from the sound of a garbage truck, or the fact that I am not okay when I pretend to be. Mi Cielo, I am sorry to admit that you have married a weak man, and for that, I apologize.

Apologies are just the beginning; words alone cannot fix everything. That is why I am going to rehab—to become the man you and Ella deserve, and because I want to improve myself too. I have realized that I have forgotten what it truly means to be alive. For too long, I have merely existed, following orders and going through the motions of life. Now that I have the freedom to make my own choices, it is as if I have forgotten how to do so. I need to learn and grow. I am scared, mi cielo. The thought of being away from you and our little Estrellita makes me feel sick. But I know it is the right thing to do, even if it tears me apart to leave you and our baby.

I will put in the work, and when I return to you, my love, you will never be alone again. I will be there by your side, committed to building the life we once dreamed of. Do you remember those letters you sent me while I was overseas? You painted a picture of calm evenings in our backyard, summer getaways to a lakeside chalet with our friends, and long lazy weekends in bed—a simple and perfect life. That is what I desire, mi cielo.

I lost my way because I could not face the man I had become, a man I did not want to be for you. Despite my intentions to spare you from pain, I ended up causing you so much hurt—the very thing I swore I would never do. I became lost, but now I am determined to find my path again. And when I rediscover my true self, I will catch up to you, embracing you in my arms, and we will walk the rest of our lives together. Side by side.

No matter what lies ahead, mi cielo, know that you are my everything.

Te amo, mi cielo, and I will see you sooner than you think. The day I see you again, I plan to shower you with love until my last breath. Every passing moment intensifies the yearning within me to hold you in my arms once more, to show you the man I have discovered within myself. I love you and will keep on loving you from afar.

Yours forever,

Frankie

Your body trembles involuntarily, tears cascading down and staining the letter in your grasp. Emotions surge through you, overwhelming and dizzying. The relentless question echoes in your mind: Why must everything be so tangled and convoluted? In your heart, you know the truth—you love Frankie, and he loves you. It was the one thing that has always remained steadfast, this bond between you and Frankie that has weathered many storms and endured even more hardships, but which remains there to this day. Maybe it is more delicate today, more tattered, and fragile, but it exists still, the letter and Frankie’s efforts are proof of that. You can feel it in your bones. Shouldn't that love be sufficient? It could be, you think. You sprint out of bed and leave the bedroom, grabbing your phone that was resting on the table next to your bed.

Urgently, you bolt out of bed and hastily exit the bedroom, snatching your phone from the nearby table. As you hurriedly make your way to the kitchen, your fingers dial a familiar number, and you anxiously await the response on the other end. Finally, a voice answers, "Hello?"

"Hey, Will. I'm sorry to disturb you at this late hour," you say, your words tinged with nervous excitement. "Do you think you could come over and watch Ella for an hour or two? There's something I need to take care of and it can’t wait for the morning."

_______________________________________________

Frankie pours a splash of soy milk into his bowl filled with honey-nut Cheerios. Soy milk isn't his preferred choice due to its texture, but his mother has fully embraced the diary-free way of life apparently. He isn't particularly fond of Cheerios either; it's been years since he last had them. Yet, he hopes that eating something familiar will bring a sense of comfort and help ease his frayed nerves.

Frankie lets out a weary sigh, realizing the need to stop dwelling on what transpired between you both earlier. As he had anticipated, you handled the situation with kindness, even offering apologies when there was no need. His therapist's words echoed in his mind—you needed time, and that was perfectly all right. He knows that not everything could always align with his timeline. The important thing was that he would still have the opportunity to see you and spend time with Ella. Nothing was truly lost, at least not yet.

With a renewed sense of determination, Frankie reminds himself to stay positive and walk alongside you on this journey you are undertaking. Pushing for a hasty decision would only impede both of you in the long run. Today, Frankie recognizes the significance of establishing his own boundaries and he must now respect yours. He's committed to doing so, honouring your need for space and allowing the necessary time for decisions to be made. Together, you'll navigate this path, supporting one another every step of the way.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Frankie hastily finishes the last spoonful of Cheerios, his gaze shifting towards the oven clock: 10:25? It seems late for someone to be arriving at the house. Especially unannounced. Aware that his mother is already asleep due to her early morning work schedule, Frankie hesitates to disturb her. Could he have forgotten something with Pope or Will? Maybe Benny needed to talk to him; he had been neglecting their friendship since his return from rehab, and he needed to make amends for that. He reminds himself that his own insecurities shouldn't hinder the love he holds for his old friend. Frankie makes his way to the front of the house and opens the door, “A bit late for knocking on people’s ….”

However, the words catch in his throat as Frankie beholds the sight before him. There you stand, clad in his oversized shirt that engulfs you in a sea of fabric, paired with small black shorts. It tugs at his heartstrings. "Mi cielo... What are you doing here? Is everything alright, did something happen? Where is Ella?" he exclaims, a mixture of surprise and concern etching across his face.

“Ella is with Will, at home.” you answer “With Will?! But why…”

"I read your letter," you say with apprehension. Frankie can feel his heart racing, pounding in his chest, as he braces himself for your words. "Mi cielo, that letter..."

"No, please. Now, I want to talk. Please let me, Frankie," you interrupt, pleading for your chance to speak. Frankie nods fervently, allowing you to continue.

"For so long, I've been consumed with worry for you, Frankie. I saw that you were suffering, but I couldn't reach you because you never let me in. It made me so angry and hurt. And I know it may sound selfish, but your struggles with addiction felt like a reflection of my failure as a wife. But now I understand that it's not the case. I could never have helped you unless you wanted to help yourself. And you have, Frankie, and I am incredibly proud of you.”

Your voice quivers with emotion as you confess all the thoughts that have lived in your mind these past months. "I know that our paths have been diverging for a while, but I still love you. I will always love you. There hasn't been anyone else I've loved as deeply as I love you, Frankie. Since that night at the bar, I knew you were the one for me. And I know it can’t be that easy, even if I want it to be. If love could cure all wounds, we wouldn’t be there right now. And I know that I don’t want things to go back to how it was before because it wasn’t right for us. The non-talking, the avoidance, the walking on eggshells. It can’t go on like before Frankie, if we do this, I want us to grow together, I want us to be on this journey together, as long as you promise to be with me, with all your being then I want to be with you. I want us to try together, to really try - the both of us.”

"Those four months without you, Frankie were like living in my own personal hell. I can't bear the thought of spending any more time apart than necessary," you express, your voice trembling with raw emotion. "I'm not ready for you to come back and sleep in our room just yet, but what if we set up a bed in the nursery? We can take it slow, see how it feels, and go from there. The important thing is that we do it together. You always tell me that I am your sky, and Ella is your precious little star, but, Frankie, you are my sun. Despite the clouds that have overshadowed us, I need to have my sun back in my life.”

You take a deep breath, your eyes locking with Frankie's. A broad grin spreads across his face, and he gently says, "Come here, mi cielo." Without hesitation, you launch yourself into his open arms, seeking solace in his warm embrace. Soft sobs escape your lips as Frankie holds you tightly, nuzzling the top of your head. It feels like a long-awaited reunion, a return to the safety and love that only his embrace can provide. In this moment, you realize how deeply you missed him and how irreplaceable he is in your life.

"I'll sleep on the floor in the bathroom, mi cielo, if that means I get to be with you and Ella again," Frankie says earnestly, his words filled with devotion.

You let out a snort, snuggling even closer to him. "No need to be dramatic, the nursery will be more than enough," you reply, a mix of amusement and relief washing over you. Frankie smiles, his lips pressing against your hair as he hums softly.

"We'll take it one day at a time, all right?" you suggest, your voice filled with a blend of hope and love, as you lean into Frankie's embrace.

"Yes, mi Cielo, one day at a time," Frankie affirms softly, his voice tinged with tenderness. His arms encircle you tighter, refusing to let you slip away. In that moment, you can feel the strength of his commitment, his quiet dedication to rebuilding what was broken. To mend the love of your little family.

As you both stand there, wrapped in each other's arms, the weight of the moment crashes on you. It's not about going back to how things were before; it's about forging a new path together. The hardships you've faced have reshaped both of you, moulding you into stronger individuals. Now, it's time to rebuild your love, piece by piece.

One day at a time, you will rebuild, and hand in hand, you will mend the broken pieces of yourselves back together again. In your heart, you know that it will be enough because together you are the better part of yourselves. For what is the sky without its sun? The sun's gentle rays bring warmth and beauty, and Frankie was always able to illuminate your life, filling it with love, joy, and meaning. And what is the sun without its sky? Just as the sky embraces the sun, you, like the sky, are Frankie's shelter and support. Your love and presence create the foundation for his warmth, his reason to illuminate the world. Together, you know that you can weather any storm and chase all the clouds away.

You love Frankie and he loves you, and for tonight as he holds you close in his arms that you have missed so much, that is enough. The rest will come one day at a time.

Epilogue

[jaronofthebored]

ghost trick would literally be inable to happen if """one step ahead""" tengo hadn't killed missile for no apparent reason in ray's timeline

yeah real one step ahead there bud, all that did was be your undoing and get you an invoice

[theideasofarchimedes]

JURASSIC PARK

screenplay

by

David Koepp

based upon the novel

by

Michael Crichton

and on adaption

by

Michael Crichton and Malia Scotch Marmo

December 11, 1992

1 EXT JUNGLE NIGHT

An eyeball, big, yellowish, distinctly inhuman, stares raptly

between wooden slats, part of a large crate. The eye darts from side

to side, alert as hell.

A legend tries to place us - -

ISLA NUBLAR

120 MILES WEST OF COSTA RICA

- - but to us it's still the middle of nowhere.

It's quiet for a second. A ROAR rises up from the jungle,

deafening. The trees shake as something very, very large plows ahead

through them, right at us. Every head gathered in this little clearing

snaps, turning in the direction of the sound as it bursts through the

trees.

It's a bulldozer. It drops its scoop and pushes forward into

the back end of the crate, shoving it across the jungle floor towards

an impressive fenced structure that towers over an enclosed section of

thick jungle. There's a guard tower at one end of this holding open

that makes it look like San Quentin.

The bulldozer pushes forward into the back end, the crate THUDS

TO THE FLOOR. A door slides open in the pen, making a space as big as

the end of the crate.

Nobody moves for a second, A grim-faced guy who seems to be in

charge (Robert Muldoon, although we don't know it yet).

MULDOON

Alright now, pushers move in. Loading team move it.

The movement as agitated whatever is inside the crate, and the

whole thing shivers as GROWLS and SNAPS come from inside.

Everyone moves back.

MULDOON (cont'd)

Alright, steady. Get back in there now, push. Get back

in there, Don't let her know you're afraid!

The men go back to the crate and begin to push it into the slot.

The crate THUDS UP AGAINST THE OPENING. A green light on the side of

the pen lights up, showing contact has been made.

FROM INSIDE THE CRATE,

we get glimpses of what's on the other side of those wooden

slates - - jungle foliage, MEN with rifles, searching searchlights.

The view is herky-jerky as the crate put into position.

MULDOON

Well lockedŠ Loading team, step away. Joffrey, raise

the gate.

A WORKER climbs to the top of the crate. The search lights are

trained on the door.

The RIFFLEMEN throw the bolts on their rifles and CRACK their

stun guns, sending arcs of current CRACKING through the air.

The WORKER gets ready to grab the gate when all at once - -

A ROAR from the inside the crate, and the panel flies out of his

hands and SMACKS into him, knocking him clear off the crate.

Now everything happens at once. The WORKER THUDS to the jungle

floor, the crate jerks away from the mouth of the holding pen flash, an

alarm BUZZER sounds - -

- - and a claw SLASHES out from inside the crate. It sinks into

the ankle of the WORKER. dragging him toward the dark mouth between the

crate and the pen. The WORKER SCREAMS and paws the dirt, leaving long

claw marks as he is rapidly dragged toward the crate.

Muldoon SHOUTS orders:

MULDOON

Tasers get in there, Goddamn it!

They FIRE their guns - the wood of the crate SPLINTERS.

Muldoon runs in and grabs the WORKER, trying to pull him free.

The wild arcs of currents from the stun gun flash and CRACK all

around, but in a second - -

- - the WORKER is gone.

CUT TO:

2 EXT MOUNTAINSIDE DAY

MANO DE DIOS AMBER MINE

DOMINICAN REPUBLIC

DONALD GENNARO, forty, in a city man's idea of hiking clothes

and a hundred dollar haircut, approaches on a raft being pulled across

a river by TWO MEN.

On the hillside, JUAN ROSTAGNO, thirty-ish, Costa Rican, a

smart-looking guy in workers clothes, is waiting for him.

ROSTAGNO

Tengo mil pesos que dicen que se cae

(I have a thousand pesos that say he falls)

(or)

Apuesto mil pesos que se cae.

(I bet a thousand pesos he falls)

Gennaro finally lands, and Rostagno helps him off the raft.

GENNARO

Hola, Juanito

ROSTAGNO

Hola, bienvenido

Rostagno leads Gennaro towards the mine. Dozen of shirtless

WORKERS claw and SCRAPE at a rocky mountainside that is the site of an

extensive mining operation. The work is all done by hand, pick and

shovel instead of dynamite and bulldozer.

GENNARO

What's this I hear at the airportŠ Hammond's not even

here?

ROSTAGNO

He sends his apologies.

GENNARO

You're telling me that we're facing a $20 million

lawsuit from the family of that injured worker and Hammond couldn't

even be bothered to see me?

ROSTAGNO

He had to leave early to be with his daughter. She's

getting a divorce.

GENNARO

I understand that.

(or)

I'm sorry to hear that. We'd be well advised to deal

with this situation now. The insurance company - -

Gennaro almost falls, Rostagno helps him.

GENNARO (cont'd)

- -the underwriters of the park feel the accident raises

some very serious questions about the safety of the park, and they're

making the investors very anxious. I had to promise I would conduct a

thorough on-site inspection.

ROSTAGNO

Hammond hates inspections. They slow everything down.

GENNARO

Juanito, if they pull the funding, that will really

slow things down.

(or)

If they pull the funding that's going to slow things

down around here.

A WORKER hurries up to them and busts into the conversation,

breathless.

WORKER

(to Rostagno)

Jefe, encontramos otro mosquito, en el mismo sitio.

(Chief, we found another mosquito in the same place)

ROSTAGNO

Seguro? Muestrame!

(Are you sure? Show me.)

The WORKER and ROSTAGNO scramble back deeper into the mine.

Rostagno calls back over his shoulder to Gennaro.

ROSTAGNO (cont'd)

It seems like it's going to be a good day after all.

They found another one! C'mon.

Gennaro struggles to keep up.

3 EXT CAVE DAY

ROSTAGNO and GENNARO move into the dark, dripping cave, where at

least a dozen other WORKERS are gathered in a tight circle, staring at

something intently.

Rostagno fights his way to the center of the group. One of the

WORKERS hands him something and Rostagno examines it carefully.

It's a chuck of amber, a shiny yellow rock about the size of a

half dollar.

GENNARO

If two experts sign off on the island, the insurance

guys'll back off. I already got Ian Malcolm, but they think he's too

trendy. They want Alan Grant.

ROSTAGNO

Grant? You'll never get him out of Montana.

GENNARO

Why not?

ROSTAGNO

Because he's like me. He's a digger.

Rostagno turns and holds the amber up to the sunlight streaming

through the mouth of the cave.

With the light pouring through it, the amber is translucent, and

we can see something inside this strange stone - -

- - a huge mosquito, long dead, entombed there.

ROSTAGNO

(smiles)

Hay que lindo eres vas hacer a much gente feliz.

(Oh you're so beautiful. You will make a lot of

people happy)

CUT TO:

5 EXT THE DIG DAY

An artist's camel hair brush carefully sweeps away sand and rock

to slowly reveal the dark curve of a fossil - it's a claw. A dentist's

pick gently lifts it from the place its has laid for millions of years.

Pull up to reveal a group of diggers working on a large skeleton. All

we see are the tops of their hats. The paleontologist working on the

claw lays it in his hand.

GRANT

(thoughtfully)

Four complete skeletons. . . .

such a small area. . .

the same time horizon - -

ELLIE

They died together?

GRANT

The taphonomy sure looks that way.

ELLIE

If they died together, they lived together.

Suggests some kind of social order.

DR ALAN GRANT, mid-thirties, a ragged-looking guy with intense

concentration you wouldn't want to get in the way of, carefully

examines a claw.

DR ELLIE SATTLER, working with him, leans in close and studies

it too. She paints the exposed bone with rubber cement. Ellie in her

late twenties, athletic-looking. There's an impatience about Ellie, as

if nothing in life happens quite fast enough for her.

Her face is almost pressed up against his, she's sitting so

close.

GRANT (cont'd)

They hunted as a team. The dismembered tenontosaurus

bone over there - that's lunch. But what killed our

raptors in a lakebed, in a bunch like this? We better

come up with something that makes sense.

ELLIE

A drought. The lake was shrinking - -

GRANT

(excited)

That's good. That's right! They died around a dried-up

puddle! Without fighting each other. This is looking

good.

From the bottom of the hill a voice SHOUTS to them:

VOLUNTERR (o.s.)

Dr Grant! Dr Sattler! We're ready to try again!

Grant SIGNS and sits up, stretching out his back.

GRANT

I hate computers.

He shoves the claw absent-mindedly into his pocket and he and

Ellie walk toward the source of the voice. As they walk, we get our

first look at the badlands. Exposed outcroppings of crumbling

limestone stretch for miles in every direction, not a tree or a bush in

sight.

In the dig itself, the ground is checkered with excavations

everywhere. There's a base camp with five or six teepees, a flapping

mess tent, a few cards, a flatbed truck with wrapped fossils loaded on

it, and a mobile home. There are a dozen VOLUNTEERS of all ages at

work in various places around the dig. The Volunteers are from all

walks of life, dinosaur buffs. Three or four of them have CHILDREN

with them, and the kids run around, like in a giant sandbox.

Grant , Ellie and a Volunteer walk down the hill. Grant spots a

KID kicking dirt onto one of the digs. He notices and frowns.

GRANT

What's that kid doing?

(to the kid)

What are you doing there!? Excuse me! Can you just back

off? This is very fragile! Are you out of your mind?

Get off that and go find your parents!

(to Ellie)

Did you see what he just did?

The kid stomps away, pissed off.

KID

Asshole.

GRANT

(to Ellie)

Why do they have to bring their kids?!

ELLIE

You could hire your help. But there's four summers of

work here, with the money for one. And you say it's a

learning experience, sort of a vacation, and you get

volunteers with kids.

He and Ellie arrive to where several VOLUNTEERS are clustered

around a computer terminal that's set up on a table in a small tent,

its flaps lashed open.

GRANT

(to the Volunteer)

Ready to give it a shot, Jerry?

A LITTLE GIRL moves a little too close to the machine.

ELLIE

Want to watch the computer?

Ellie quietly moves her out of Grant's way, to a place she can

see.

VOLUNTEER

Thumper ready?

MAN

Ready.

VOLUNTEER

Fire.

The VOLUNTEER throws a switch on a machine that looks a bit like

a floor buffer. The whole thing hops up into the air as it drives a

soft lead pellet into the earth with a tremendous force. There is a

dull THUD, the earth seems to vibrate, and all eyes turn to the

computer screen - -

ELLIE

How long does this usually take?

VOLUNTEER

It should be immediate return. You shoot the radar into

the ground, the bone bounces back....

The screen suddenly comes alive, yellow contour lines tracing

across it in three waves, detailing a dinosaur skeleton.

VOLUNTEER

This new program's incredible! A few more years of

development and you don't have to dig any more!

Grant looks at him, and his expression is positively wounded.

GRANT

Well, where's the fun in that?

VOLUNTEER

It looks a little distorted, but I don't think that's

the computer.

ELLIE

(shakes her head)

Postmortem contraction of the posterior neck ligaments.

(to Grant)

Velociraptor?

GRANT

Yes. Good shape, too. Five, six feet high. I'm

guessing nine feet long. Look at the - -

He points to part of the skeleton, but when his finger touches

the screen the computer BEEPS at him and the image changes. He pulls

his hand back, as if it shocked him.

VOLUNTEER

What's you do?

ELLIE

He touched it. Dr. Grant is not machine compatible.

GRANT

They've got it in for me.

The Volunteer LAUGHS and touches a different part of the screen,

which brings the original image back. Grant continues, but doesn't get

as close.

GRANT

Look at the half-moon shaped bone in the wrist. No

wonder these guys learned to fly.

The group laughs. Grant is surprised.

GRANT (cont'd)

Now, seriously. Show of the hands. How many of you

have read my book?

Everyone stops laughing and looks away. Ellie raises her hand

supportively. So does the Volunteer, Grant sighs.

GRANT (cont'd)

Great. Well maybe dinosaurs have more in common with

present-day birds than reptiles. Look at the public

[distant-screaming]

one step ahead tengo.......

NEARSIGHTED JEEGO 😭😭⁉️

[mregg109]

Tango’s meant for two.

[bikermicefan9887]

Here are two versions of a simpsonized version of a character known as "One Step Ahead" Tengo, from a video game called Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective!

I created these for the awesome @rolksart, and it is thanks to his fanarts and artwork that I have been inspired enough to create these!

Here is the original render of Tengo: