#How can i track my husbands cell phone without him knowing and for free

[thisisarcanereverie]

Should’ve Known Chapter 7

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Wanda or Steve they are owned by Marvel, I don’t own the gif either I just got it from Pinterest,

WARNINGS:Angst, Swearing, the stages of grief, loss, dark themes, 18 + from here on out. Also mentions of potential abortions.

WORDS : 2,329

SUMMARY: You are detained and questioned by S.W.O.R.D. Wanda reality is breaking and Vision is acting differently than she remembers.  

In case you missed last chapter

series masterlist 

ULTIMATE MASTERLIST 

You stared at the plain and depressing wall in front of you. If anyone saw you they would say you were staring into dead space but that wasn’t true. 

Your thoughts were consumed of Wanda and the baby. 

You didn’t plan on giving up on Wanda, she had woken up, it wasn’t long until her reality came crashing down on her and you needed to be there for her. You needed to help her with the pieces that were going to be left behind. 

Your hand rested on top of your stomach, gently brushing a thumb over the shirt. You didn’t know what the doctors did to you while you were unconscious, but you were certain that eventually they would find out if they hadn’t already. You still had mixed feelings about this pregnancy. You knew deep down it was likely the only time you will be pregnant and you can’t lie, already you felt a connection with the child even though at this point they were only a little clump of cells. 

This kid would be special, you felt it oddly enough. You immediately wanted to apologize even though it couldn’t hear you. You wanted to apologize for the life that they might have to live if that were the case. 

You remembered all the somber nights at the Avengers Tower and Compound. All the nights Steve told you he sort of missed being that boy from Brooklyn who always picked a fight he couldn’t win. He told you if he had known what would happen when he accepted the role of Captain America. He probably still would have done it, but still live on to regret it. 

Wanda had told you that she could never truly let go, she can never fully release all the emotions she kept bottled up. That people got hurt. That if she could go back and never sign up for HYDRA’s experiments, she would.

None of them wanted the life that they were forced into. Yeah some of them had volunteered like Wanda and Steve, but they didn’t fully realize the consequences of such actions then. 

Nat and Bucky never wanted this life, never signed on for it. 

Your child would be forced to the same fate if you allowed the pregnancy. 

You considered aborting the fetus, maybe it was better for it to never live than be born into this world. 

Were you even ready to be a mom? You had money saved up but that was for rent and the last of Steve’s avenging money that he had left behind. 

Steve. 

The kid would never know their father. Steve would always be that blank figure to them. That blank figure would be filled with so many questions and doubts. Everything but him. 

You didn’t want your kid to look at that blank spot and only think of what might have been or hate. You didn’t want them to think their dad left them because they didn’t love them. 

You thought back to the chair splintering under your hand when you remembered the pregnancy. 

You could easily hurt them and the thought alone terrified you. 

There were so many reasons on why you shouldn’t keep it, how maybe it was better this way. 

On the other hand you wanted to keep it. 

You wanted to be a mom. Or at least give it a shot, at least for this kid. Maybe you would break the cycle of abuse that either your parents or grandparents started. 

There was no maybe about it. 

You would. 

You had to. 

Rationally you knew you wouldn’t be a perfect mom and the kid wouldn’t have that perfect life you always wanted, but that didn’t matter. This kid would have their own life to live, their own adventures, their own highs and falls. This kid would have something that you didn’t receive and that alone would make all the difference. 

They’ll have their mother.

-

-

-

Wanda didn’t know when all of this started. The endless pit of nothingness consumed her and that was it. She remembers everything thus far, the black and white changing into colors. You support her through it all just as you did before. 

She wished she didn’t have to send you away but she had no other choice. You brought her back, made her remember that none of this was real. 

Wanda made a different version of you, it was simple enough, it was a simple illusion. You were there, but not there. 

This version of you was happy all the time, was her closest confidant, all the things she wanted you to be. Like how you used to be before Steve had left. 

Steve did a number on you just like Vision did with her. Steve left you in a different manner than Vision left her but the emotional toll it took was very much the same. 

Steve left you on his own terms, he was selfish and left everyone who was counting on him to return. For that Wanda would never trust Steve, real or not real, again. 

Vision didn’t have a choice, Thanos had taken that choice away from him. 

Wanda could feel her blood begin to boil at the thought of Thanos, wishing that she could have finished what she had started on that battlefield then. 

Avenging Vision. 

Wanda recalls the nightmares she had when she came back, the image of Vision's eyes turning milky white and the stone being ripped from his head and the way his head caved in. You would always hold her, you would always assure her that you were fine and that she hadn’t hurt you during the nightmares. She knew you lied but the thought that you cared enough that you didn’t mind her or getting hurt in the process helped a lot more than you would ever know. 

After the funeral Wanda didn’t know she was going to bring you back to her apartment. She didn’t know how more precious you would become to her after living with her. Wanda came to depend on you a lot more than she intended. At first she wanted to be kind, she knew the pain you were going through and didn’t want you to be alone. You didn’t deserve to be alone. 

Then you began to heal together, you sat with her while she was on the other end of the phone lines waiting for answers and filling out paperwork she needed to sign to legally locate Vision. You hugged her during her nightmares, even though her powers had more than once flown something dangerously close to your head. 

Wanda had held your hand when she helped you move out of the apartment you and Steve shared. She was simply there when you needed her to be. 

Wanda grew curious easily, after the first few nights she was tempted to look into your mind. She had mastered the art of doing it without anyone knowing. However, she wanted you to tell her, she promised herself to never use her powers on your mind. 

Now she had broken that promise and made you play your part in this reality, the best friend. Wanda didn’t read your mind but she had played with it. She had played with something so fragile and even when you woke up from her illusions you didn’t care about that. You had only cared about comforting her, about bringing her back from the waves. 

Wanda had no idea what she could possibly have done to deserve someone as loyal as you were in her life. 

But now she’s sent you away, like she did with Garladine. 

She walked into her home that she shared with Vision, her heart filled with something so bitter and so sweet when she looked at him. Like she was seeing the sun after a whole week of only rain and snow but knowing tomorrow there would only be more rain and snow. 

Vision turned around upon hearing the door close, Wanda was expecting to see him with that light and lovely look in his eyes just as he’s always done. She nearly stopped in her tracks when she saw instead nervousness and caution. He didn’t look at her the way Vision had always looked at her, or hell even how you looked at her. 

He looked at her the way that everyone else has looked at her before. 

Like she was going to hurt him. 

“Vision,” she called her voice as sweet as honey, “is everything alright.” Her husband flinched back when she tried to reach for him as though her touch had become poisonous. 

“I spoke to Norm,” He said his arms were crossed over his chest. His face contorted into a neutral state. Wanda felt unsettled, she felt him become reserved. 

“Oh?” she said not knowing what about talking to Norm would make him act this way. 

“I unearthed the man’s suppressed personality and I spoke to him free of your oversight.” 

-

-

-

“Hello Miss. (L/n),” You didn’t bother looking away from the wall, already whoever came in here was on your nerves. 

‘Miss. (L/n) we need you to answer some questions about the Hex.” You looked over and saw a man with the most punchable face you’ve ever laid eyes on. His tone may be nice but you met enough men like him to know how to spot them a mile away. 

“Only if you answer a few of my own.” You retort, you saw how the man stiffened. 

“I don’t think you're in a position to be demanding anything Miss. (L/n)” 

“You wouldn’t have come to ask me anything personally if you didn’t need to. Unless there was something that I may or may not know that could benefit you and even then you wouldn’t have come yourself, men like you have people get the answers for you, no you would only come yourself if it was something vital. Something that no one else on this base knows about.” You cock your head to the side and smile, feeling empowered as you see his hands tighten into a fit at his side. You apparently hit the nail right on the head. 

“So I feel like an exchange is in order,” You say standing up from your sitting position. The guards on either side of the man raised their guns at you. The man told them to stand down. 

“I answer 5 of your questions and you answer 6 of mine.” You held out your hand. 

“Miss. (L/n) why do you get to have more answers than I do?”

“Simple, you want something from me and me alone. I can ask any other agents around here my questions and not make a deal with you at all.” 

His hands flex and ball themselves back into fists and his jaw clenched in anger. You really were getting on his nerves. 

“I agree,” he reaches for your hand and shakes briefly. 

“I’ll go first,” he says. 

“How long were you in the Hex?”

“I’m not too sure of that but it’s safe to assume that I was there since it happened.” you responded, memories of the Hex were confusing and the memories of that day were blacked out almost completely. 

“My turn,” you say. 

“Who are you?” 

“I’m Director Tyler Hayward of S.W.O.R.D.” 

“My turn,” he says in a slight mocking tone.

“How did Wanda create the Hex?”

“Wanda’s powers are tied to her emotions; it's probably connected to that” You state. “What is S.W.O.R.D.” 

“Sentient Worlds Observation and Response Department.” He responds. 

“Someone really wanted your divisions to be named Sword and Shield really badly didn’t they.” 

“Yes,” he said, “How long were you aware of the Hex while in it?”

“I was subconsciously aware the entire time, although I wasn’t completely aware until the Hex was in color and a hag gave me a notebook.”

His expression was puzzled but he dismissed it. 

“What did my lab results come back with?” 

“Why do you think we took blood from you while you were unconscious?”

“You're a powerful man who set up a meeting with me in secret to ask me a question you don’t want anyone else hearing. It’s not beyond you to secretly steal some blood to run secret tests on it.” 

“Touche,” he admitted, “however badly I would want that Agent Rambeau interrupted me before I could give the order.” 

Finally he reached the last question, the question he wanted to ask all along. 

“How did Wanda reboot the Vision?” 

Vision, he was after Vision. Somehow this made you uneasy, why would he care how Vision for rebooted unless...

“You have Visions body don’t you.” It wasn’t a question, his body gave him away. For a man who was running a semi secret organization he wasn’t that good at hiding his body language. 

“I believe you didn’t answer my question Miss. (L/n), “ he pointed out, “I guess that means one less answer for you.”

You rolled your eyes, you would let him have that. 

“I don’t know how she rebooted Vision, much less without a body, I don’t remember much of the day it happened.” His eyes hardened, upset that he had hit another dead end he went to leave. 

“I still have one more question Haybitch!” You called out, his feet stilled and he turned to you, eyes wide and offended at the nickname. 

“What are you planning on doing to Wanda?” That was the question you wanted to ask. His eyes crinkled as he gave you a sarcastic smile. 

“I don’t know,” he said, “I don’t remember much of that meeting when it happened.”

He then left you to wallow in your own thoughts. 

You knew he had a secret he didn’t want anyone else finding out. 

You knew Wanda knew it. 

You knew he wasn’t going to let her talk. 

You knew whatever his plan was involved her not being able to speak again.

[ofstarsandfireflies]

This is what Finding Dory should have been.

Their marriage might have fallen through, but even though there were regrets whidh they hadn’t worked out, Stephen still wanted to be a part of Tony’s and Peter’s life, he still believed he and Tony could get back together, despite his ex getting back into dating other men.

Especially since Peter had been abducted little under a month ago by fish bowl head.

He wasn’t about to let either of them out of his sight.

Now Peter was trying to live a normal life like all teenagers, getting a girlfriend by the name of MJ and trying for his driving lisence, and even though Tony had offered, Stephen was adamant that he would be the one to take Peter for his driving lessons.

Of course, he wasn’t the calmest as he probably once would have been in a car, and he just manages to agitate Peter about driving, but they make it back to Tony’s house in one piece.

But while Tony is trying to date again and Peter is trying to act as normal as he can despite what happened to him and Stephen tries to be there for them as often as he can and getting shit about it from Mordo and Wong, Adrian Toomes is creating a suit to avenge his son.

He’s not after Tony, like he had initially been, no, no, Tony didn’t kill his son.

Stephen Strange did.

But he’ll kill the both of them and Peter too.

A son for a son.

Stephen has the day free from his Sorcerer duties so he tries to spend time with Peter and Tony, Peter being a little too crafty for his own good and allowing the two adults to enjoy some time alone together.

Tony sees right through this, but he won’t complain, he’s missed Stephen.

But when they’re heading out to lunch, both of them see people watching them, following them, and they know not only are they in danger, but Peter could be as well.

And both are ill equipped to deal with them because Stephen never brought his sling ring and Tony had left his housing unit back at the lab.

Sure, Stephen still had his magic, but that doesn’t mean he wants to draw attention to them and make it easier to find them.

So, they split up, Tony heading back to Peter and Stephen heading for the Sanctum where he can get what he needs to teach these guys to stop messing with his family.

And he makes it, but so does Adrian with Tony, holding a gun to his head.

And while Stephen raises his hands, and stalls for time, Tony manages to send a distress call to Peter, who immediately heads to the lab.

With a nod from Tony telling him Peter’s safe, Stephen lowers and unclenches his fists, the last thing he sees before he’s knocked out is Tony having a bag thrown over his head.

And all Stephen can think about is Tony’s state of mind from being kidnapped again, and hoping that Peter is safe.

Peter is safe.

He’s in the lab tracking Tony through the distress signal and waiting for it to stop so he can get there and help his parents out while he searches for what he needs, keeping an eye on whoever took them’s idiots running around in a frenzy searching for him on the monitors, kicking in locked doors to empty rooms.

He knows he’ll be found eventually, but he’s already made up his mind to help by the time he gets a call from Tony, who wanted to make sure he was safe and wasn’t planning on finding them because they’re from the same group who took him just a few months ago.

But Tony’s worried voice sounds proud when Peter’s resolve won’t be swayed, but doesn’t get a chance to tell him what to do before the door of their cell is opening and he has to cut the call short.

With their location set into Karen’s GPS, Peter gets out of the lab just as the ones who had come to grab him find it empty.

He’s got everything that Tony told him to grab if this ever happened, and he’s got their location.

But getting there will take time, time which Tony doesn’t have.

When the door had opened and Adrian Toomes walked in, his mechanic wings folding back into the device on his back, he ignores Tony for Stephen.

He wants to know where Peter is.

And Stephen doesnt tell him, Tony has a knife at his throat.

But Stephen still won’t tell, and winces when the knife slices into him deep, blood continuously oozing into Tony’s clothes amd dripping onto the floor beneath him.

Stephen knows how long Tony has if it’s not stitched, and he knows they have nothing to stitch him up with.

Once Adrian leaves again, promising to return in the thirty minutes Tony has left with Peter, Stephen is trying to cut through his bonds to get to Tony to help him, counting down the seconds in his mind and becoming more angry and frustrated the longer it takes to free himself, calling to an unresponsive Tony, who has fallen limp in his restraints.

Finally, finally Stephen is free, ripping off his shirt to apply pressure to the wound as Tony manages to tell him to take his watch and call Peter.

He does so, Peter answering straight away and telling him he’s at their location.

Stephen wastes no time in blasting a hole above them, Peter just managing to drop what he’d brought with him before a pair of mechanical claws grab him by the arms and lift him up into the air.

Stephen is up after him, promising Tony he’ll be back.

Tony grabs the sealing agent first and patches himself up, shakily pressing his housing unit to his chest when he hears the commotion of armed men running to their cell, alerted by Stephen’s destructive renovating.

Clearing his head, he stands up, swaying a little under the weight of his sleek armour, and kills anyone who has the misfortune of walking through that door.

Stephen chases after Peter, summoning the mirror dimension and locking the three of them within it, using the turning and separating buildings to catch up to Peter and grab hold of him, freeing him from the villain when a car comes out of nowhere and runs straight into him.

But Toomes isn’t going down that easily, and Stephen keeps getting interrupted by attacks.

Seeing no other alternative, Peter apologetically hijacks a car and they speed away, Stephen trying not to have a panic attack with how fast Peter is driving and how he’s swerving in and out of traffic coming and going in every direction, almost rolling the car more than once when he feels it balancing on two wheels.

Toomes is right behind them, not giving up as Peter tries to keep them alive long enough for Stephen to get them out of here.

But without a sling ring, they can’t exit how they normally would.

He needs to get to the Sanctum and get one, or at least keep Toomes occupied so Wong or Mordo can get them out of here.

Peter likes the second option, stressing Stephen out even more now he’s driving with one hand and calling Wong’s phone with the other, Stephen grabbing the phone from him before he gets them both killed.

Almost as soon as Stephen tells Wong what’s happening, a portal opens right in front of them, Peter, Stephen, and the car they’re in sailing over Wong’s head and crashing straight into the staircase.

Wong closes the portal just as Toomes reaches it, one of Vulture’s wings snapping off as he just makes it through, heading back to Tony.

Leaving Peter in Wong’s care, Stephen takes the sling ring and walks into the room where he’d left Tony, finding it abandoned.

He makes his way past all the bodies, hoping to find Tony somewhere close by.

And he does.

Tony’s suit is torn to shreds, all the power he’d had charged in it now all used up.

But he’s alive.

He’s shaking but alive and when he sees Stephen, the first words out of his mouth are concerning Peter.

But Stephen reassures him that Peter is safe at the Sanctum with Wong, and the wave of relief over the man he still loves almost brings him to tears.

It would be touching and damn near romantic if Toomes wasn’t there watching them, the last one alive out of the group of men he’d had with him.

Both Stephen and Tony hold up their hands, Tony’s more on instinct even without any more power left.

Looking over at Toomes, Stephen offers him a way out of this.

A way to live.

But Toomes doesn’t take it.

So focused on revenge, he aims for Tony, knowing it won’t be satiated if he’d aimed for Stephen, but his hand suddenly jerks behind his back, dropping his gun as a thick web ties him up, and Peter drops down with a proud look on his face.

The three are safe, and together again.

Not long after things settle down, life begins to move on.

Peter passes his driving lesson, which Stephen had no doubt in his mind he wouldn’t succeed at.

Stephen and Tony are trying their relationship again.

And Peter is giving this thing with MJ a real chance, asking her on a double date with his parents.

Yeah.

Maybe things will finally go back to normal now.

Quotes -

“The man who took our loved ones from us. The man who has brought us such pain and sorrow. We will find him. We will bring him here. We will not rest until his blood flows into this very ground. We will have our revenge.”

Adrian Toomes addressing his men

“Oh! I didn’t know you guys were still so cozy that she shares her marriage issues with you.”

“Wait a minute, I know you guys were close, obviously, but are you close again? Close like...”

“I’ll lay money she’s still got something for him.”

“Don’t go there, friend.”

“Maybe he still has something for her!”

“Can we talk about basketball? For God’s sake, come on!”

Wong and Mordo teasing Stephen about Tony

“So, this Jaime...is it...serious?”

That was a really smooth transition. I don’t know, it’s only been a few months.”

“Are you in love with him?”

“I guess I’m not sure yet.”

“Have you ever been in love before?”

“Not the way that mom talks about it.”

“How does she describe it?”

“She said that when you guys met...that it was super special.”

“Super special? She said that?”

“I think the exact word she used was...‘ magical.”

“Magical, huh?”

Stephen and Peter bonding.

“I have nothing against you. You didn’t kill my son. But your husband did. Now, he betrayed you by choosing to save your daughter instead of you. He left you here like a dog.”

“At least my daughter is still alive.”

Tony being the snarky bastard we all love

Anything part 2

There’s a new enemy with his sights set on not just Peter, but his parents too.

January, February

Missed a Day? Catch up here!

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5

Day 6 Day 7 Day 8 Day 9 Day 10

Day 11 Day 12 Day 13 Day 14 Day 15

Day 16 Day 17 Day 18 Day 19 Day 20

Day 21 Day 22 Day 23 Day 24

[thebrotherssalvatore321]

Keeping Secrets Ch. 28

Keeping Secrets Masterlist

Pairings: Damon x Oc, Tyler x Oc for a hot minute, Elijah x Oc for a hotter minute, Klaus x Oc endgame. Warning: Mental and physical abuse in some chapters.

When she woke up the next morning, Damon was already awake and gone. With a sigh she went back to her room and got dressed, had a blood bag then headed to the grill just to get out of the house. She was sitting at a table, drinking a cup of coffee that Matt had assured her was vervain free since the sheriff had started getting him to slip it in the coffee, when Tyler walked over to her. “Hey, have you heard from Caroline?” he asked looking worried.

“No. Not since Elena’s birthday party. Why?” she asked with peaked curiosity.

“My mom knows about her and now I can’t find her.” he answered. “Do you know where she could’ve taken her?”

“No, there’s only one person I can think of that would know.” Katie answered.

“Who?” Tyler asked.

“Her mom.” Katie answered.

“You think I should go to the sheriff?” Tyler asked with raised brows.

“Nope, I think we should go to the sheriff.” Katie answered.

TVDTVDTVD

Katie and Tyler stood outside the door of the holding cell that held Caroline, listening to Sheriff Forbes talk to her ex-husband. “That’s our daughter in there. She looks up to you. She loves you.”

“Then she’ll trust me to do the right thing.” Bill argued. “Let me do this Liz. Not because she’s a monster. But because we love her.”

“Tyler, Katie.” The sheriff called and the two of them came inside to see her standing on a spiral staircase pointing a gun at Bill.

Katie, pissed at Bill for hurting Caroline, simply jumped down while Tyler walked down the stairs. “You’re not goin’ in there.” Bill tried to step in Katie’s way when she neared the door, but the Sheriff fired a warning shot near him.

“Go ahead.” The Sheriff told them so Katie and Tyler went inside.

“Katie, Tyler?” Caroline asked weakly.

“We’ve got you Care.” Katie told her as she and Tyler broke the restraints that were keeping Caroline in the chair.

“Yeah. We’re gonna get you out of here.” Tyler told her.

“My ring.” Caroline said as she pointed to the floor next to Tyler. So he grabbed it and put it back on her finger then carefully picked her up. Her back was blistered from the sun and wasn’t healing due to the lack of blood in her system.

They were on their way out when Bill spoke up. “Katie Finnegan, a vampire. Your parents would be so disappointed. After everything they did to protect you from all of this.”

Katie stopped and turned to him with a glare. “What do you know about my parents?” she asked.

“I know they would die before they would let you turn or have anything to do with vampires.” He told her.

“Bill.” The Sheriff spoke up with a warning tone.

“No, I want to hear this.” Katie told her without looking at her. “Do you know how they died?”

“The first time or the second time?” he asked with a look that made her want to slap him.

“Katie we need to get Caroline home.” Sheriff Forbes spoke up.

Katie sighed, turned from him and headed up the stairs, content to get her information from the sheriff later since it sounded like she knew whatever Bill wasn’t saying.

She sat in the passenger seat of the Sheriff’s car while Tyler sat in the back with Caroline. “Katie, about your parents.” The Sheriff started, testing the water on the subject. Katie looked at her, clearly wanting to hear what she had to say. “They were on the founder’s council. They called me and told me that they found a vampire in New Orleans willing to turn them. They said his name was Marcel. I begged them not to do it and come home, but they wouldn’t listen. They turned and I didn’t hear anything again until your mother’s body was shipped here and cremated. I scattered her ashes over the empty grave. I still don’t know if your father is dead or still a vampire.” She told her then looked over at Katie’s watery eyes. “If you ever want to know what happened to your parents I’d try to find Marcel. It’s not much of a lead, but it’s all I’ve got.”

“My father’s still alive.” Katie told her and when the sheriff gave her a questioning look, Katie added, “Damon tracked him down for me before I turned. He said dad said he would never come home to me because it wasn’t safe for a vampire to be in my life.”

The sheriff laughed then looked at Katie apologetically. “I���m sorry, that’s not funny. It’s been a long night.”

“No, I see the irony.” Katie told her with a wave of her hand. “Thanks for the Marcel tip.”

“You’re welcome.”

TVDTVDTVD

She was sitting in her room at the boarding house, writing in her journal when Damon stopped in her doorway, leaning on the frame. “How was your day?” he asked with a sigh.

“Fine until Tyler told me that his mom figured out that Caroline’s a vampire. The sheriff brought us to a holding cell where Bill was torturing Caroline. He said that he was fixing her. We got her back, but I think she’s hurt emotionally more than physically.” She told him as she stood up and turned to him. “And Sheriff Forbes told me the name of the Vampire that turned my parents so that’s an upside. How was yours?”

“Elena and I went to see Stefan.” He said making Katie raise her brows at him, not surprised that he was with Elena today. “Let’s just say Caroline isn’t the only one of your friends who got emotionally hurt tonight.” Katie just sighed and placed her hand on the desk and leaned her hip on it.

“So Stefan’s really gone huh?” she asked, looking at him tiredly.

“Yep and now Elena realizes it too” he told her, still keeping his distance.

“I’m sorry.” She told him, meaning it. She knew Damon missed Stefan and she did too, but there was nothing either of them could do at the moment to make it any better.

“I need a drink. Do you want one?”

Katie picked her head up and shook her head. “Na, I’m good.”

“You’re still mad at me.” he observed.

“I’m not mad at you. Unlike the people of my past, you try to tell me what to do because you care about me and you don’t want to lose me. But there’s a fine line between caring and controlling.” He just stared at her. “So I’m not mad at you I just…need some time to clear my head I guess.”

“Okay. Goodnight then.” He told her with a nod then walked away.

~*Dreaming*~

Elijah and Hannah lay in bed in their room of the cabin, her head resting on his shoulder while his hand played with her hair, making her curls frizz even more than usual, but she didn’t care. “Tell me about your sister.” She asked just wanting to hear him talk.

“Rebekah is…spoiled.” He continued to tell her about how she falls in love too quickly and deeply. How stubborn, hot headed and snarky she could be as well as being a bit of a brat. “I don’t know if she would like you.” he finished.

“I don’t know if I would like her either.” Hannah said with a look up at him. “But I would very much like to meet her one day.”

Elijah slid his hand over her cheek. “Where my siblings travel trouble is sure to follow.”

“So, if I ever meet her, you will have to leave?” Hannah asked and he nodded. “I retract my statement. I never wish to meet her.” Elijah smiled and pecked her on the lips.

~*End of Dream*~

Katie once again woke up alone. Instead of wallowing in the loneliness like she wanted to she pulled herself together, got dressed and started on her dish for the founder’s potluck party. She figured since her parents were on the council she should participate in council events like Elena and Caroline.

Not having to work, she figured she would stop by Elena’s and check up on her after the events of the previous night. When she let herself inside she heard Damon and Elena in the kitchen. “Yeah, I knew your old family. They made sucky chili.”

When she walked into the kitchen she saw Elena hip dump Damon and giggle. Damon smirked down at her only for the smirk to fall when he saw Katie. She hid it well, but he saw the hurt in her eyes. “Katie, I didn’t know you were dropping by.” Elena said when she saw her.

“Yeah, I uh, made a dish for the founder’s party.” She said as she walked over and slid the plate covered with saran wrap onto the counter.

“Why?” Elena asked since Katie had never participated and her parents weren’t founders of Mystic Falls.

“Because I learned last night that my parents were on the council.” She answered getting interested looks from Damon and Elena. “Sheriff Forbes told me that a vampire named Marcel turned my parents.”

Things became quiet and the tension in the air was becoming stifling when Elena said, “See Katie didn’t make Chili.” to Damon who was still standing next to her with a point at the dish.

“That’s because everybody and their mother brings chili to potlucks.” Katie replied as she sat down in the barstool.

“See, told you.” Damon told her then looked at the puffs under the plastic wrap. “What did you make?”

“Pepperoni tomato basil puffs.” She answered.

Not long after, Damon got a call and went outside to take it. He came back inside. “I gotta go, but I’ll see you at the party.” He told Katie then looked at Elena. He pecked Katie on the forehead and walked away.

“Everything okay with you two?” Elena asked with a frown.

“Yeah, peachy.” She answered with a fake smile that Elena believed. It’d been a long time since she had to put on a show to cover up her problems, but apparently she still had it.

Katie played on her cell phone, not having it in her to make small talk when she had walked in on her flirting with her boyfriend, until Bonnie and Caroline showed up. “The problem with my dad’s normal side of the family is normal made for a really boring summer.” Bonnie said from where she sat beside her in the barstool while Caroline and Elena finished up the chili.

“After the last few days, I would kill for a normal family.” Caroline said then looked at Katie. “Hey are you okay? You’re being really quiet.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Katie lied and Caroline gave her a look that said she didn’t believe her. “Hey, Elena, my phone’s going dead can I steal you charger for a little while?”

“Yeah, you know where it’s at.” Elena told her with a point up to her room. So Katie headed to Elena’s room.

While she plugged her phone in she listened to the girls downstairs. “So when did you learn how to cook?” she heard Caroline ask Elena.

“Damon helped a little.” Elena answered.

“Damon’s helping you cook now?” Bonnie asked. “Aren’t he and Katie still together?”

“Both of you stop judging. He’s just trying to be a good-Ow!” Katie heard Elena hiss in pain.

“Did I splash you?” Caroline asked.

“No, no, my necklace.” Elena answered. “It burned me.”

“Maybe it’s a sign you shouldn’t be wearing it.” Caroline replied being her judgy self.

“Caroline.” Bonnie warned.

“What, I’m just saying. You know if you’re going to be cooking without Stefan.” She heard Caroline say. “How long does it take to plug up a cell phone?” she could hear Carline’s distinct footsteps headed her way and she sat down on Elena’s bed with a sigh. “Hey.” Caroline greeted and Katie looked up at her. “I’m guessing you heard all of that?”

“That Elena’s necklace burned her? Yeah.” Katie answered, dropping her eyes to her hands where she picked at her cuticles.

“That was weird, but you know that’s not what I was talking about.” She replied as she sat down on the bed next to her.

“Yeah.” Katie said then started chewing on the inside of her lip.

“I knew there was something off with you when we came in.” she told her with a slow blink at her. “I thought you and Damon were doing good.”

“I don’t even know what good mean’s these days. I’ve slept in my own bed the past two nights. Then I come over here and walk in on Elena flirting with him.” Katie told her.

“Maybe it’s not what you think.” Caroline tried to defend them, but Katie stood up and unplugged her phone.

“Or maybe it’s exactly what I think and I can’t even be that mad at him because I’ve been dreaming about Elijah all summer. It's not even him that's pissing me off. It's Elena.” Katie answered and walked out of the room before Caroline could say anything else.

“Elena’s necklace shocked me.” Bonnie told them when they got downstairs.

“That’s weird.” Katie said as she walked over to the counter and grabbed her plate of puffs. “I’m heading to the party early so Carol can have time to make one of the little name things for my dish since it wasn’t expected of me.” She didn’t give them time to say anything before she was already out the door.

“What is up with her?” Bonnie asked after the front door was closed.

“She didn’t want to tell you guys that she’s actually going to the boarding house. She forgot to drink her blood bag this morning.” Caroline covered for her attitude and Katie pulled out her dieing phone and texted Caroline a thank you.

TVDTVDTVD

Katie was at the party fixing a plate of food, just to look busy while avoiding the friends that she was eavesdropping on where they sat away from the rest of the group while Bonnie worked an identification spell on Elena’s necklace. When she peeked up at them she saw Caroline look at her then at Elena. “So you’re not, like, switching Salvatore’s, are you?” she asked Elena, making Katie’s heart stop.

“What?” Elena asked since the question seemed to come out of nowhere.

“Caroline.” Bonnie scolded.

“Stay focused.” Caroline barked then turned back to Elena. “As your friend who worries about her friends daily, what is the deal with you and Damon?”

“There is no deal. He’s been just as focused on finding Stefan as I have.” Elena defended.

“Yeah, but you are aware that he and Katie are still together right?” Caroline asked.

“Of course I know they’re still together.” Elena asked with an awkward laugh.

“Then why have you been spending so much time with him? You can’t tell me that hanging out with him and cooking chili has anything to do with finding Stefan.” Caroline pried knowing Katie was listening.

“Why are we even talking about this?” Elena asked, getting aggravated with Caroline.

Caroline didn’t get a chance to answer because Bonnie started talking about how the necklace has its own magic so Katie tuned them out. She was pouring herself a glass of sweet tea when she heard Alaric and Damon talking. “I think you need to take a beat with Elena.” Alaric told him and Katie couldn’t make herself look up at them. “Maybe try focusing on your own girlfriend instead of your brothers.”

“Excuse me?” Damon asked.

“Whatever it is you have going on with Elena, I think it’s a bad idea.” Alaric warned him.

“I don’t really think it’s your problem, Ric.” Damon told her with an attitude.

“It is my problem. I’m supposed to look after Elena and Katie doesn’t have parents to keep and eye on her. This is me looking out for them.” Alaric told him.

Katie walked over to an empty table and sat down, glancing up at Alaric and Damon as she did. “What do you think I’m doing?” Damon asked practically getting in his face.

“What I think…is you need to take a beat.” Alaric repeated before the sheriff interrupted to let Damon know the council meeting was about to start.

Katie finished off her plate of food then threw it and cup in the trash and left the party.

TVDTVDTVD

Katie sat at her desk in the boarding house, her journal open on the journal entry she had just finished. She took the necklace Damon gave her that she had been using as the page marker out of the book and put it on the empty desk. She tucked the journal into her shoulder bag then grabbed two boxes that were sitting on the bed and started downstairs. She had just gotten out of the door when her phone started ringing. She didn’t want to answer it when she saw Elena’s name on the screen, but she forced herself to answer in case it was an emergency. “What?”

“I just wanted to let you know that Damon tried to kill Bill Forbes and he killed Alaric, but thankfully he’s wearing his ring.” She told her sounding stressed and worried.

“Thanks for letting me know.” Katie’s words were flat.

“So he's probably going to be pissed when he gets home.” Elena warned her.

“Well he may or may not get even more pissed when he gets here.” Katie told her with the same borderline uncaring tone as before.

“Why?” Elena drawled even more worried.

“Because I’m packing my things as we speak.” Katie answered. “I’m moving back to my house, permanently.”

“What? Why?” Elena asked, sounding surprised even though she shouldn’t be.

“Don't play stupid, Elena.” Katie replied then hung up no longer willing to have this conversation with her.

She was putting the last two boxes in her trunk when she saw Damon walking to the house, spinning his car keys around his finger as he did. When he saw her out of the corner of his eyes he stopped. “What are you doin’?” he asked, not looking at her, sounding tired and aggravated.

“Moving back home.” She answered flatly as she grabbed the last box off the ground and sat it in the back of the car.

“I thought you said this was home.” He said as he walked over, tucking his keys into his pants pocket.

“It was, but if I’m being honest it hasn’t felt like home all summer.” She answered as she closed the trunk, leaving her hand on it.

“What are you talking about?” he asked tiredly.

“I’m talking about us, Damon.” She told him as he rested his hand next to hers on the back of the car. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel what is happening to us.”

“I love you, Katie.” He told her, putting his hand on her cheek making her eyes slip closed and a tear slipped down her cheek.

“And I love you, Damon.” She told him as she opened her eyes and took his hand from her face, holding it in both of hers. “A part of me always will. I am so grateful that I had you there with me though all of the bullshit in my life and I thank you for everything you’ve done for me.” Tears slipped down her cheeks, but she kept her voice strong even as her hands shook and she tapped the toe of her converse into the cement. “I want you to know that I will always be here for you if you need me, but let’s face it…you don’t need me anymore.” She told him with a shrug. “I see the way you and Elena look at each other and I’m not going to stand in the way of your happiness.”

“Katie…” he sighed with tears in his wide blue eyes.

“Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll stay, but please…don’t lie to me.” She told him as she held onto his hand a little tighter between hers.

“I…” he paused as a tear slipped down his cheek. “You’re not wrong. But I told you I wouldn't give up on you."

"And I told you I would always choose you." She felt her heart breaking as she placed her hand on his cheek, wiping his tear with her thumb. "We meant what we said when we said it, but...We just…changed over the summer…we grew in different directions and that’s okay.” She said with a shrug then took her hand off his face and wiped at her own.

“Do you think we can still be friends?” Damon asked and Katie smiled sadly.

“Eventually.” she nodded. "But right now I need space."

Damon breathed in a quick breath as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her into him. “Can I still call you Katie Cat?” he said into her neck.

She laughed through her tears. "Yeah.” she then leaned back and looked into his eyes as she cupped his cheek in her hand. They kissed each other one last time before they let go. He held her hand and walked her to her car door, opened it for her then waited for her to get in and shut the door as she cranked the car. He couldn’t watch her drive away so he whooshed into the house and made himself a drink.

TVDTVDTVD

Katie spent the next three days unpacking her things from the boarding house, cleaning and rearranging practically the whole house. To say she didn’t know what to do with herself without Damon would be an understatement. She felt as if she was just biding time before school started and there was something to give her life structure. She thought seriously about getting her job at the grill back, but she would just end up quitting again so she threw the idea out along with half of her clothes and shoes. However she couldn’t make herself throw out the red dress and heels that Damon had bought her for the Miss Mystic pageant or the white, black and blue dress she wore the night he gave her the vervain necklace.

She also found that in her solitude, no longer attached to Damon, random memories of her and Elijah would make their way to the front of her brain throughout the day. The more this happened the more she realized that even after Jonas Martin tore down the barrier of her memories, she herself had unknowingly been suppressing them because she had been with Damon. The more memories she recovered the more she wanted Elijah back and she itched to be with him once again.

TVDTVDTVD

She was shopping in town when she passed the hair salon, backtracked then went inside. When she came back out her auburn hair that once hung to the center of her back was now layered and just long enough to brush against her shoulders. Its dark red wavy strands were now mostly blonde with lowlights of her original color. She had been feeling like a different person, now she felt like it reflected on the outside.

As she pulled into her driveway Caroline and Bonnie pulled in behind her. “Hey, I’ve been trying to call you all day, where have you been?” Caroline asked as Katie started getting shopping bags out of the back seat of her car. “And what’s with your hair?”

“Retail therapy.” Katie answered holding up the shopping bags then looked up at her side bangs that were swept to the left side of her face. “Does it look bad?” she asked knowing Caroline would give her an honest opinion.

“No it’s just really different for you.” Caroline answered as they all headed inside. She watched Katie set the bags on the couch that had been moved from where it had been against the front wall of the living room to sit in the middle of the room across from the television that sat on the fireplace mantle. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Caroline asked for the thousandth time since she found out from Elena that she broke up with Damon.

“Yes, Caroline. For the one thousandth time I am fine.” Katie told her as she looked at Bonnie who was smiling at her knowing Caroline was getting on her nerves.

“Elena said you’re not answering her calls.” Bonnie added agreeing with Caroline that something wasn’t quite right with her.

“That is because I’m not completely happy with her right now and until I figure it out if I am being a typical vampire and overreacting or if I’m just genuinely displeased with her, I don’t really want to talk about it.” Katie answered as she pulled a sundress from Aeropostale out of a paper shopping back. “So what’s up?” she asked getting back to why they were here as she tossed the dress on the back of the couch.

“It’s senior prank night.” Caroline told her as if she should know these things.

“Ugh.” Was the only response it got out of Katie.

“Come on. I’m not letting you skip this.” Caroline whined.

“No, Caroline.” Katie responded as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Katie, you are the one that thought of covering the hallway floors in bubble wrap. We’ve been waiting for this day since freshman year!” Caroline ranted. “We’re about to be seniors. These are the memories that will stay with us forever and if we don’t create these memories now, then what’s the point of it all?”

“If I do this will you stop yelling at me?” Katie asked.

“Yes.” Caroline answered with a please smile.

“Fine.” She caved then looked at Bonnie. “Did you get the same speech?”

Bonnie gave her a tight lipped smile and a nod. “Yep.”

“Let me have some lunch and I’ll be ready.” Katie told them as she went to the kitchen and grabbed a blood bag.

TVDTVDTVD

Since it was her idea Caroline put her in charge of covering two entire hallways with bubble wrap along with Dana, her boyfriend Chad and a few other people. She wasn’t thrilled about working with Dana and Chad, mainly because Dana was annoying by herself but put her with Chad and they turned into one of those annoyingly sweet, lovey dovey, over the top couples that Katie wanted to strangle even when she did have a boyfriend of her own. However she stuck with the group she was given because her only other option was to be around Elena.

After taking three hours to cover the hallways with bubble wrap Katie abandoned the group and went outside where no one was and hatched another idea. With a look around to make sure no one was watching she moved all the trash cans on top of the sidewalk awnings. This is what she was doing when she saw a moving truck parked behind the school. Stefan and a blonde vampire girl were behind it, the blonde stabbed Stefan with a crowbar.

Curious Katie jumped off the roof as quietly as she could and headed inside assuming that Klaus was somewhere in there. It took a while, but she eventually found him, Elena, Chad and Dana in the gym where the seniors had been working on covering the floor with cups filled with water. “Katie, run!” Elena yelled at her.

Katie took in Dana standing on one foot while Chad stared at her with wide eyes. Her eyes found Klaus as she said, “Mmm, no…I don’t think I will.” Katie let the gym door shut behind her and walked over to stand between them and Dana and Chad.

“You really should listen to her, Love.” Klaus warned.

“Why, because you’ll kill me if I don’t?” Katie asked with a roll of her eyes.

“Why don’t you do me a favor and go find your witch friend, what’s her name…Bonnie?” he asked and she could tell that he was trying to compel her. She knew the smart thing to do would be to let him think it had worked and go get help, but at the moment she didn’t feel like being smart.

“Because I don’t take orders from you.” she answered with a smart ass look and shake of her head.

“You’re on vervain.” Klaus said with wide eyes.

Katie gasped exaggeratedly. “How’d you guess?” she asked with an attitude. “I’m guessing you’re here to kill her?” she asked, getting a disbelieving look from Elena.

Klaus copied her gasp. “How’d you guess?”

Katie smirked at him with a quiet laugh.

“What is the matter with you?” Elena asked Katie with a disgusted look.

“Nothing.” Katie answered then looked back at Klaus who had opened his mouth to say something, but the gym door opened behind him and he turned to see Bonnie and Matt walk in.

“Bonnie get out of here!” Elena yelled.

Klaus whooshed around stopping Bonnie from leaving. “Ah, you’re here. Now we can get started.” He told her then looked past her to Dana and Chad. “Uh, Dana, you can relax. You and Chad sit tight.” Dana and Chad sat down where they were standing then Klaus looked back at Bonnie. “I assume you’re the reason Elena’s still walking around alive?”

“That’s right. If you want to blame someone, blame me.” Bonnie answered,

“Oh, there’s no need for blame, love. It’s just that your witchy interference seems to have caused some undesirable side effects and since you caused the problem, I’m going to have you find the fix.”

The gym door opened again and Tyler and the blonde that stabbed Stefan outside earlier came in. “Let go of me.” Tyler yelled at the blonde that was holding his hands behind his back and told him to hush up.

“I’d like you all to meet my sister, Rebekah.” Klaus held his hand out at her as he introduced her. “Word of warning, she can be quite mean.”

“Don’t be an ass.” Rebekah told him and Katie noticed she too had the same English accent as Elijah and Klaus.

“Leave him alone!” Elena told Klaus as he grabbed Tyler by the back of his neck and headed to the center of the gym, but she got ignored.

“I’m gonna make this very simple.” Klaus started then turned to face the group of teenagers that was his audience. “Every time I turn a werewolf into a vampire hybrid, they die during the transition. It’s quite horrible, actually.” He bit his wrist and pressed it to Tyler’s mouth. “I need you to find a way to save my hybrids, Bonnie.” He told her as he forced Tyler to drink his blood. “And for Tyler’s sake…”

When Katie saw Klaus grab Tyler’s head she sped over and tried to shove him off of Tyler, but Klaus easily shoved Katie to the floor with his shoulder and broke Tyler’s neck anyways. “Tyler…” Katie sighed, not bothering to get up off the floor.

“You better hurry.” Klaus finished what he was saying to Bonnie then looked down at Katie. “And you, Love, will not try something like that again or I will have no problem removing you from my brother's life again.”

Katie glared up at him as she stood up. Matt kneeled down next to Tyler as Klaus walked off. “He killed him.”

“He’s not dead.” Katie sighed as she kneeled down across from him. “Klaus’s blood will turn him into a vampire werewolf hybrid.” Katie said while Elena paced back and forth pointlessly.

“And if Bonnie’s successful, he’ll live through his transition.” Klaus told them as he walked back over to them. “Go on then. Go and fetch your grimoires and enchantments and what-not.” He told Bonnie as he strutted over and grabbed Elena’s arm. “I’ll hold on to Elena for safe keeping.”

Elena gave Bonnie a nod and her and Matt ran out of the gym. Rebekah walked up behind Elena. “So this is the latest doppelganger.” Elena jumped and looked over her shoulder as Rebekah moved around Elena sizing her up. “The original one was much prettier.”

Katie bit her lips closed and smiled. Elijah had been right. She was snarky. “Rebekah, I don’t think you’ve been formally introduced.” Klaus said as he held his hand out at Katie. “Meet Katie Finnegan a.k.a. Hannah Easton-Finnegan.”

“Elijah’s Hannah?” Rebekah asked and Klaus smiled. “You're not nearly as wildly beautiful as Elijah described.”

Katie laughed. “I was going to say you were prettier than Elijah described, but…” Katie looked at Klaus, “I don’t like to lie.”

“Why you little-” Rebekah started at Katie but Klaus stopped her.

“Enough Rebekah. Take the wolf boy elsewhere would you?” he told his sister who rolled her eyes but grabbed Tyler’s hand and started dragging him out of the room.

“Ignore her…petty little thing.” Klaus told them as he walked around Elena and over to the bleachers where he sat down to wait for news from Bonnie. Katie watched Elena walk over to Chad and Dana, who Katie had honestly forgotten were still in the gym, and start assuring them they would be okay. Katie rolled her eyes and walked over to the bleachers on the opposite side of the room from Klaus and sat down in the middle of them.

She was playing around on her phone, listening to “Crawling” by Linkin Park when Klaus walked over and sat down next to her.

She ignored him. “You have seen me kill a werewolf, a vampire, your best friend and your long lost lover yet…You do not run from me and you have the gall to stand up to me. Why?”

She looked at him where he lounged back on the bleacher like her. “You’re leaving out the part where for several months straight I saw you rip my head from my body every time I closed my eyes.” Katie told him with a snarky smile then decided to answer his question. “Call it a lack of give a damn.” she said as she moved her eyes out over the rest of the gym. “Or stupidity. I really don’t know anymore.” she answered with a shake of her head and a shrug.

He narrowed his eyes at her and cocked his head to the side. “I don't know what it is, but there is something about you I like.”

“Yeah, your brother likes me too.” She popped off as she looked at him and he smirked at her. “So if you would kindly pull the dagger from his chest and send him my way it would be very much appreciated.” She told him with a sarcastically nice tone and finished with a smile.

His smirk grew into a smile. “What about Damon? I thought you were in love with him.”

“Things change…people change.” Katie answered honestly.

“I think it would be best if he remained with the rest of our family.” He told her as he looked back at the three humans in the room.

“Damn it.” Katie said as she snapped her fingers and moved her arm in front of her in an oh-shucks manner. “I had to at least ask.” She sighed and sat up, put her elbow on her knee and placed her chin in her hand. Klaus laughed at her attitude. After a few seconds of silence passed between them Katie twisted her head in her hand to look at him. “There wouldn’t be anything I could do to sway you, would there?” a devilish grin took over his face. “If you’re thinking naughty thoughts stop it. That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, love. I was just joshing you.” he laughed as the gym door opened and she expected it to be Bonnie and Matt, but Stefan walked in and over to them.

“Come to save your damsel, mate?” Klaus asked as he sat up and propped his chin up on his folded hands.

“I came to ask for your forgiveness.” Stefan answered. “And pledge my loyalty.”

“Well, you broke that pledge once already.” Klaus told him.

“Elena means nothing to me anymore.” Stefan told him and Katie could tell he was trying way too hard to sell it. “And whatever you ask of me, I will do.” Stefan finished.

“Fair enough.” Klaus said as he stood up and headed over to the couple in the room. “Let’s drink on it. Kill them.” He pointed at Dana and Chad who scrambled up. Stefan looked at Katie, who just looked at him emotionlessly, then looked at Klaus. “What are you waiting for? Kill them.”

“No, Stefan, don't. He’s not going to hurt me. He already said-” Elena’s words were cut off when Klaus backhanded her across the face.

Stefan charged at Klaus, but only ended up with Klaus’s hand on his throat. “She means nothing to you?” Klaus asked as Katie watched from the sidelines. “Your lies just keep piling up.”

“Let her go. I’ll do whatever you want. You have my word.” Stefan rasped.

“Your word doesn’t mean much. I lived by your word all summer, during which time I never had to resort to this.” Klaus looked him in the eyes. “Stop fighting.”

“Don’t do this. Don’t do this.” Stefan begged and Katie watched as Elena looked at him with wide tear pooled eyes.

“I don’t want to. All I wanted was your allegiance. Now I’m gonna have to take it.” Klaus told him and Stefan begged him not to compel him, but Klaus looked him in the eyes and said, “You will do exactly as I say when I say it. You will not run, you will not hide, you will simply…just…obey.” Klaus took his hand from Stefan’s neck and jerked his head to Chad and Dana. “Now kill them, Ripper.”

They all watched as Stefan whooshed over to Dana and bit her neck. The smell of the fresh blood drew Katie from the bleachers and over to stand next to Klaus. She didn’t even realize she had moved or that blood had rushed to her eyes until Klaus bumped her shoulder with his. “Would you like me to tell him to share?”

Katie looked at Elena only to get a disapproving look from her and for a second Katie wanted to tell Klaus yes. Instead she took a deep breath and let it out through her nose, pushing back the need to feed. “I’ll pass.” Katie answered with a look at Klaus who smirked at her. She looked at Elena who was still giving her a judgy look. “Don’t look at me like that. You have no idea what it’s like to eat tv dinners day in and day out when you could have surf and turf hot off the grill.” Katie told her with a glare.

“You say that like you drink animal blood.” Elena bit back.

“Animal blood is a tv dinner that’s been microwaved in an old boot that someone fished out of a redneck’s pond.” Kate answered. “I’d bite him before I drank that crap.” Katie jerked her head at Klaus.

“You keep up that fiery attitude of yours and I might just let you.” Klaus told her with a smirk down at her.

“Keep dreaming, Big Bad Wolf.” Katie popped off then looked back at Stefan. “I do miss the fresh stuff though.”

“What is wrong with you? He’s killing our classmates and you’re thinking about joining him?” Elena asked with a disgusted look.

“Um, hello, vampire.” Katie answered holding her hands above her head as she pointed to herself.

“Caroline’s a vampire and I can assure you she would not be acting like you if she were here.” Elena told her as she moved around Klaus who was standing between them watching Stefan continue to kill people. “There is something else wrong with you.”

“If you can’t figure out what’s wrong with me then you are way more self centered than I ever thought. I gave Damon a pass because my attachment to Elijah practically drove him away but you…? There’s no excuse for you.” Katie told her with a glare. She had been trying to hold it back and not hold Elena accountable for flirting with Damon when she was still technically with Stefan and Katie was with Damon. “And you know what? I’m pretty sure that magical little humanity switch that us vampires always talk about is stuck between off and on right now because at the moment I hate you.” Elena stared at her with a gaping mouth.

Klaus looked down at Katie with a smirk. “Easy, love, let’s not say things we don’t mean.” Klaus placed his hand on her shoulder and Elena was surprised when Katie didn’t shrug him off. “Why don’t you go take a breather, maybe check on your witch friend?”

“Gladly.” She answered and headed for the exit.

“And Katie?” he called and she stopped and looked back at him. She saw Stefan throw Chad to the floor, finished with his meal. “Do not run away. I’d very much like to have another chat with you before the night is over.”

“Ten-Four, rubber ducky.” She told him with a two fingered salute as she walked backwards to the door, pushed it open with her hips and walked out.

She pulled out her phone as she breathed in the cool air of the night and dialed Bonnie. As the phone rang Rebekah passed her like a woman on a mission and went into the gym. Bonnie didn’t pick up making Katie worry so she called her again. “Meet me at the pool!” Bonnie huffed into the phone then hung up.

Katie whooshed to the pool to find Bonnie pulling Matt out of the water so Katie grabbed him and finished turning him onto his back. “Wanna explain what’s going on?” Katie asked as Bonnie started CPR.

“Later.” Bonnie huffed as she kept up the compressions. “Come on Matt!” she yelled right as he coughed up water and turned onto his side.

Matt looked between Bonnie and Katie then flopped back down on the tiled floor. Katie zipped into the locker room and grabbed a towel then zipped back over to them. “Now does someone want to explain what’s going on?” Katie asked with a look between the two of them as she held her hand out to Matt who took it and let her pull him up.

“My grimoires don’t go back far enough to be able to help save Tyler.” Katie handed Matt the towel. “We needed Jeremy to talk to Anna and Vicki and see if they could talk to someone on the other side who might know something. But we can’t find Jeremy so this idiot decided to kill himself so that he could talk to his sister.” They left the pool and started walking through the halls on their way to the gym.

“But it worked.” Matt said as he walked around to stand in front of the two girls. “I saw her. I saw Vicki. She said she had a message for you.” he told Bonnie. “From the witch that put the hybrid curse on Klaus. She said that Elena shouldn’t have survived Klaus’ ritual. The hybrids can’t transition because Elena’s still alive.”

While they continued to talk Katie started thinking, remembering things that Elijah had told her back when they were together. Things about the witch that put the curse on Klaus, the first witch, their mother, Ester. Ester would have done anything and everything in her power, which was a lot, to keep Klaus from becoming a hybrid and siring more hybrids. It was a good possibility that she wanted Elena dead for a reason and that reason would be to keep hybrids from being created. When she heard Klaus’ voice she looked up from the floor she had been staring at in thought to see him giving her a curious look. “Why does it look like a light bulb just went off over your head?”

“Because I think I’m at least half way to figuring out the answer to your problem.” She answered honestly. “And killing Elena isn’t it.”

Klaus looked at Bonnie. “Your services are no longer needed. Good night.” Bonnie and Matt rushed off, happy to have the green light to get the hell out of dodge. “Why don’t you go check on Tyler and Caroline while I go make sure Stefan doesn’t kill my much needed doppelganger?”

“Since you asked so nicely…sure. Why the hell not?” she sighed and headed to where she could hear Tyler and Caroline talking in the Chemistry lab.

When she walked into the lab she saw Tyler leaning over one of the black counters. Caroline was next to him stroking his back caringly and Rebekah sat on the counter behind them playing around on a cell phone. “How is he?” Katie asked as she walked over to stand across from Caroline and Tyler.

“Not good. Any news?” Caroline asked while Rebekah completely ignored her.

“None that I know for sure.” Katie answered not wanting to get their hopes up. “I’m pretty sure Klaus sent me here to keep me away from Elena.”

“Why?” Caroline asked.

“We kinda…got into it and I told her I hated her…all while Stefan was killing Dana and Chad.” Katie admitted.

“Katie.” Caroline sighed with a judgmental look.

“She just has this way of pissing me off with a single look.” Katie replied and ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it back out of her face.

“Well, the verdict’s in. The original witch says the doppelganger should be dead.” Klaus said as he strolled into the room and over to Katie giving her a nudge out of the way so he could stand across from Tyler so she scooted around to the end of the counter.

“Does that mean we can kill her?” Rebekah asked eagerly.

“No, I believe Katie and I agree that it means the opposite.” Klaus said with a look at Katie then Rebekah.

“What?” Caroline asked just as Rebekah grabbed her to keep her away from Tyler.

“Call it a hunch.” He pulled a tube of Elena’s blood out and held it in front of Tyler's face. “Elena’s blood, drink it.”

“No, Tyler don’t.” Caroline said, struggling to get out of Rebekah’s grasp.

“If he doesn’t feed, he’ll die anyway, love.” Klaus told her. “Consider this an experiment.” Katie watched as Tyler drank the blood then fell to the floor in pain. After a few seconds he looked up at Klaus, his iris’s golden while the whites of his eyes were blood red and veins popped under his eyes. “Well, that’s a good sign.” Klaus said as he took in Tyler’s vampire fangs then looked up at Rebekah with a smile. He stood up and turned to Katie. “Now, let’s have that chat.” He jerked his head to the door and placed his hand on her upper back ushering her through the door. “You said you were close to solving my problem and you knew Elena didn’t need to die. How?”

Katie looked down at the floor as they walked through the hallway. “Elijah.” She answered.

“I’m afraid I’m going to need more information than that.” He told her with a look at her across his shoulder.

“I liked to hear him talk so I’d ask him to tell me about your family. This was every night, so I kind of know a lot about your history with your mother. I knew that she’d do everything she could to keep you from siring more hybrids. So if she said to kill Elena, that’s probably the last thing you’d want to do.” She told him as they came to an exit and walked out to where the moving van was parked. “That’s as far as I got. I had no clue her blood was the solution.” As they walked around the truck to the open back Katie’s eyes quickly found the coffins inside of it. “Is that…?” she asked taking in the dark wood coffins, one of which wasn’t covered in a thick layer of dust like the others.

“My family? Yes.” He answered and Katie looked at him then back to the dust free coffin. “Make one move toward Elijah and I will rip your head off again.” He warned.

“I wasn’t going to.” She said as she turned her watery eyes back to Klaus’. “I just really hate knowing that he is alone in the dark with a dagger in his chest. And I hate you for doing this to him.”

Klaus tilted his head to the side and looked at her down his nose as if he were thinking about something. “Can I see your cell phone please?” he asked and Katie pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and handed it to him. “Ugh, you’ve got to change that background, Love.” He commented and she rolled her eyes. She wasn’t quite ready to change the background of her and Damon kissing yet.

“What are you doing?” she asked as she watched him tap around on her screen then pull his phone out of his pocket.

“I just got your number and gave you mine. Should I think of a way for you to sway me, I will call you.” he told her with a smile as he held her phone back out to her.

“So why did you give me your number?” she asked suspiciously as she took her phone from him.

“If you ever have a problem I can help with, call me, but you only get one favor. So use it wisely.” He told her as he tucked his phone into his pocket then turned from her and pulled the back of the truck closed.

“Does asking you a question count as a favor?” She asked as he turned back around. He shook his head no. “For curiosity’s sake, what happened to Stefan and Elena? Stefan’s never been anything but a good friend to me.”

“I compelled him to flip his switch. He took Elena to the hospital for a little blood donation.” He answered.

Katie bit her lips closed and nodded. “God I hate you.”

"If you hate me so much why are you still standing here?" He told her with a look that suggested she actually liked him.

"Because I've learned the hard way how to tolerate the people I hate until I get what I want from them." She answered then turned on her heel and walked away.

[ahgaseda]

to kill an empire || chapter 21

⇥ synopsis : when you agreed to marry Jaebeom, the heir to a lucrative but not quite legal organization, you never expected the boy who was once your greatest rival would inevitably become your most powerful ally...

⇥ warnings : this story in its entirety includes but is not limited to strong language, recurring gang violence, mentions of drug or alcohol abuse, and explicit sexual content, and is intended for an adult audience only!

The street was dark. Night had fallen. As the car pulled up to the driveway of your house, you slid out of the backseat before the wheels could come to a complete stop. You dragged your feet to the porch, standing before the front door and staring at the doorknob.

You didn’t know who was inside, but you weren’t surprised there were no police involved. Your families handled situations like these internally with deadly private security. If protocols hadn’t changed, Jaebeom would be watching his cell phone, waiting for a ransom call or the like.

Deep down, he knew one wouldn’t come. Because he knew exactly who had taken you.

Tears threatened your eyes, but you held it together. With one last steadying breath, you stepped inside the home you shared with your husband for the last time.

The moment you entered the foyer, you could hear a number of voices speaking in hushed tones. Jaebeom’s was not among them. Following the sound of the conversation, you appeared in the opening of the dining room and your chest ached.

Jaebeom sat near the middle, his head in his hand with a glass of alcohol in the other. His hair was a mess, obviously from the number of times he had run a hand through his tresses. A dark shadow had clouded over his face and his eyes were bold red.

You imagined him in a fit of rage destroying whatever room he had decided to hide and cry in. What would have won in the end? His infamous rage or his fear, newly found when he realized just how much of his heart he had given you.

Mark, who stood watchfully behind his boss with arms folded, was the first to see you and he blinked rapidly to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. Then, he called your name.

Everyone glanced up, reactions of shock and confusion filling the room.

Jaebeom was the last to lift his gaze and the sight of you, seemingly unscathed, sucked the air out of his lungs.

Before anyone could bombard you with questions, you declared, “I’m leaving.”

Jaebeom stood abruptly. That was it? He had expected you to run into his arms, because god knows he needed you in his grasp that very moment or he would die even more inside. But that was when Jaebeom finally noticed the expression on your face.

Pain.

Jaebeom had fallen in love with every part of you, but he had become a master of reading your eyes. He marveled how expressive you became. Taught for many years to hide your emotions, you had allowed yourself to be free with him, unafraid to let your beautiful face show what you were feeling.

Rage billowed in the pit of his stomach. Someone had hurt his baby. And he was ready to burn the world to the ground if it meant you would smile again.

Without another word, you turned and headed straight for the bedroom. It came as no shock that your husband was hot on your heels, chasing you down, and once within reach, he grabbed your arm.

“What the hell happened?” he exclaimed.

You yanked your arm loose, avoiding his eyes, and continued on your way. “I said, I’m leaving.”

Jaebeom recoiled, but stayed a step at your side, asking, “And where do you think you’re going?”

“That’s for me to know,” you snapped harshly.

“Me, too,” Jaebeom countered. “I’m your husband.”

You hissed, “Not for much longer.”

Jaebeom stopped dead in his tracks, clenching his jaw.

Grabbing one of your suitcases from the closet, you finally looked at him and it broke your heart. “I already contacted my family’s attorney. We haven’t been married that long. We’re eligible for an annulment under the grounds that I was coerced into this union for the sake of a corporation.”

The floor fell out beneath him when Jaebeom realized you were serious. The words coming out of your mouth had clearly come straight from a lawyer. Jaebeom whispered your name and his voice shook, “Let me fix it. Just tell me what’s wrong. I can fix it.”

His pleadings were too much. You felt your resolve wavering, but then you reminded yourself of what was at stake. Clenching your hands into fists, you replied, "Guns... Really, Jaebeom? Really?!"

The blood drained from his face.

“That’s what I thought,” you murmured, hoisting the suitcase on your bed and yanking it open.

Jaebeom watched you, dumbfounded, as you tossed different articles of clothing into the luggage, opening and slamming dresser drawers as you did so. His adrenaline was high, so high it made his ears pound. His body was in a fight or flight response.

“You can’t leave me,” he finally said, sounding fragile and small.

With a shake of your head, you scolded, “I didn’t choose any of this and I sure as hell don’t want it. I don’t want to be the heir to an arms dealer.”

Jaebeom whispered, more so to himself, “I had no choice.”

Zipping the bag closed, you added shakily, “I don’t want to be married to one either.”

Jaebeom called your name again, forbidding himself from reaching out to touch you lest you push him away again.

Little did he know it would have stopped you where you stood. It would have broken the last of your resolve. You would have fallen into his arms and collapsed, telling him everything.

Jaebeom blinked through tears gathering in his eyes, his vision blurring. His tone was flat when he murmured, “You’re really leaving me?”

You finally turned to face him and your answer was firm, “Yes.”

His eyes narrowed, almost into a suspicious glare. “I don’t believe you,” he said slowly.

In that moment you felt he could see right through you, his stare piercing your soul. You donned your callous shield now more than ever. With a shrug, you deflected, “I don’t care.”

When you tried to move toward the door with your suitcase, Jaebeom stepped in your path and demanded, “Tell me the truth!”

Anger pushed through and you were quick to shoot back, “You want the truth? After all you’ve ever done is lie to me?”

Jaebeom was silent.

“The truth is…,” you lied. “I hate you.”

Jaebeom flinched. His world was falling, crashing down around him. For a man who prided himself in always being in control, he had never been more helpless. Panic bubbled in the back of his throat. He didn’t know what to do.

“You’re lying to me,” he finally said.

You scoffed. “Am I? Wouldn’t that be a role reversal?”

“You’re a horrible liar,” your husband added, but by his hesitation you weren’t sure who he was trying to convince. “You always have been.”

“Well, maybe I’ve learned from the best,” you retorted, making for the door with stomping strides.

Jaebeom moved into your path again and held out both hands to stop you, but still too afraid to touch you. “If you’re trying to hurt me…,” he trailed weakly and you could hear him breaking.

You recognized that you and he were at an impasse. You had to be out of that house before he broke down. Your heart would never survive witnessing the damage you caused. “Let me go, Jaebeom.”

“I can’t,” he choked, dropping to his knees before you.

Now it was your turn to panic, eyes going wide at the greatest gesture of vulnerability he could physically offer. "What are you doing?" you choked.

Jaebeom hung his head in shame and lowered until his brow touched the ground at your feet.

"Stop,” you said, face tensing with tears. Never would you have imagined in a million years you would see Jaebeom on his knees, begging you to stay with him. He hated bowing, despised it with every fiber of his being.

Life had taught him never to put himself in such a position so dangerous to his survival.

You hated yourself in that moment, reaching down and grazing his shoulders for a fleeting second before resisting the urge to comfort him. Yuto’s threat was echoing in your mind.

Jaebeom rocked back on his heels at your touch, but he still dared not look at you and kept his head bowed. "If I lose you…,” he whispered. “I lose everything."

With a roll of your eyes, you spoke with disdain, "Yes, the business. The alliance. The power."

Jaebeom peered up at you and tears rolled down his cheeks. "No, you. You are my everything."

The moisture that had been clouding your eyes immediately streamed down your face. "I hate you.”

Jaebeom shuddered.

“I hate you for getting me involved in this.”

He nodded, knowing damn well he deserved that.

You sucked in a breath between sobs and cried, “I hate you for making me fall in love with you."

Jaebeom blinked. You loved him. You were in love with him. That was all he needed to know.

You could see the fire spark in his eyes. The will to fight had returned.

Your husband reached out and took your hand, rubbing across your knuckles gently with his thumb. "Stay. Please, baby."

Resistant, you shook your head. "No."

He gave one last plead, "I'm begging you."

Pulling your hand away, you strode past him and to the door. "Goodbye, Jaebeom.”

Jaebeom sat there for god knows how long. His mind reeled and his chest felt empty, hollow. Once he had run out of tears, anger replaced sorrow and he picked himself up, calling for his loyal assistant.

Jinyoung stepped timidly into the bedroom. “Yes, boss?”

Jaebeom turned toward him, face flushed, and growled, “Get him on the phone.”

Somewhere in a dimly lit study, Yuto paled when he saw who was calling him. After letting a ring or two pass, he finally answered, “Hello, brother.”

Jaebeom hissed, “You took her away.”

Yuto swallowed the lump in his throat.

“I was happy for the first time in my life and you took her from me.”

Yuto felt his blood run cold. He had never heard his brother’s voice so low, so dark. He had evened the playing field. Now Jaebeom had nothing left to lose either.

“Jaebeom, I only did what...”

“You wanna play this game so bad,” Jaebeom interjected, squeezing the glass in his hand until it shattered to pieces in his grasp and blood mingled with the burning alcohol. “Hurting my girl is going to be the biggest regret of your life if it’s the last thing I do.”

Yuto opened his mouth to reply, but the line went dead.

chapter 20 ⇤ chapter 21 ⇥ chapter 22

Hey there, beautiful! If you enjoyed this, please leave a like or reblog or follow me! Or maybe buy me a coffee so I can keep writing? Or check out my masterlist here for more stories! Thanks for reading :) - Katya

This work is fictional and for entertainment purposes only, but is licensed and protected under a creative commons attribution-noncommercial-noderivatives 4.0 international license. Any instances of plagiarism will be dealt with accordingly. Do not re-post or translate without my permission.

{ copyright 2018-2020 © ahgaseda // all rights reserved }

[lepus-arcticus]

OMENS: CHAPTER FIVE one | two | three | four trigger warnings apply HORIZON MENNONITE COLONY JULY 23 - 12:06 PM

Abel Stoesz was cabled with stringy muscle, a sparse yellow beard struggling to assert itself under phlegmy, peacock-blue eyes. He had the brutish, loose-jawed look of someone who was willfully stupid, and Mulder, still on edge from the dead fox in the boat, was already itching to break his nose. 

Salome, his wife, was a waif of a woman; tiny, shorter even than Scully, and so agonizingly underweight that you could see the architecture of her skull beneath her face. Perched beside Abel on the stiff loveseat, she rested her bird-bone hands on the gentle, rounded swell of her belly, and a raisin-coloured bruise, smattered with green, framed one eye. Most of her was buttoned up in one of the ubiquitous puff-sleeved frocks of the religiously sequestered, but Mulder would bet that the bruise had a few cousins underneath the powder-blue polyester. They were a few days fresh, he estimated, probably about as old as the news of Anna’s death. 

Mulder longed for the opportunity to set Abel up with a few matching welts of his own, but settled for hating him privately in the interest of avoiding an assault charge and one of Skinner’s arduous ass-chewings. He consoled himself by grinding his molars together. 

Outside, white bungalows and red barns squatted in clusters on the flat expanse of land. A black storm battled the sun for dominance, and the glass panes of the windows, loose in their tracks, rattled against the wind. The other members of the colony, bonneted and behatted, milled politely about their business. 

He and Marion had been invited to stay for lunch by the community elders the moment they arrived. They’d been ferried along to the dining hall, but then Abel had emerged from the throng and snapped them away from the friendly masses, yelling for Salome, who scurried after them and into the dark of their tiny home. 

The air stank of hyssop detergent. No one offered coffee or tea. Marion refused to sit down, and Salome eyed the gun on her hip uneasily. 

Abel spoke first, and spoke plainly. “I didn’t murder my sister.” 

“It’s interesting you say that, Mr. Stoesz,” Mulder countered, struggling to hide the contempt in his voice. “Why do you assume that Anna was murdered?” 

“Why else would you people be here?” Abel glared at Marion, who was standing sentinel near the empty wall, arms crossed. Mulder half expected steam to billow from her nostrils. 

“Your sister’s husband mentioned that you’re not too fond of him,” Mulder said. “Would you say that’s accurate?”

“Hugh Daly is a scourge on this earth, and every day I pray for his retribution,” Abel sneered, spittle frothing in the corners of his mouth.

“Wouldn’t it be more Christlike to pray for mercy on his soul, instead of divine punishment?” Marion asked, her face ruddy with indignation. She stared Abel down with fiery determination, and Abel stared right back, the loose skin around his eyes twitching, not deigning to respond. The wind knocked against the windows like it wanted to pick a fight.

“What has he done to warrant retribution?” Mulder asked, and Abel turned back to him. 

“Anna always had a… disobedient streak. That’s why she left. But that man… he seduced her, corrupted her. Ruined her. Before he came sniffing around, before he made her his whore, Anna could have still come home. She could have returned to her people, to her rightful place.”

“Her rightful place?” Mulder prodded.

“It was my duty to bring her back. To correct her. She was my sister. My responsibility.” 

Mulder leaned back in his seat, hands firmly flattened on his knees so they wouldn’t accidentally crash into Abel’s ugly mug. He let his eyes pass over Salome’s battered, bitter face, and wondered what, exactly, constituted this man’s idea of responsibility. 

“You know, Mr. Stoesz,” he began, slowly, easing into a new strategy. “I… do admire your conviction. It takes a strong hand to correct a wayward woman, and so few men these days have the stomach for it.” 

Abel was visibly heartened, his mouth twisting into an agreeable, self-righteous frown. This is too easy, Mulder thought to himself. Men like Abel thrived on validation. If he could effectively convince him that he was on his side, he was sure Abel would, intentionally or otherwise, let the cat out of the bag. Or, maybe, in this case, the crow. 

Mulder could feel Marion staring at the back of his head, but thankfully, she didn’t say anything. He hoped she could trust that he knew what he was doing.

“I have a sister too,” he half-lied. “I understand. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect her. To bring her home if she was… lost.” His mind conjured a few versions of Samantha at various ages, abducted, cloned, ripped to a bloody pulp in the wheat. His chest contracted in a familiar pain, and he directed the images to the raw hollow in the back of his brain where he kept most of his thoughts about her, promising to return to them later for self-flagellation. 

Abel nodded fervidly, evidently gathering his thoughts. 

“Anna was the devil’s slut⁠—” Salome hissed in a high, thin squall, apparently unable to contain herself any longer. “Witch—”, then Abel violently gripped her arm, and she gasped and shut her mouth, glowering at her belly and skating a claw around it discontentedly. 

“She was still my kin,” Abel growled. 

Mulder, sensing an opening, leapt in for the kill. “Mr. Stoesz, have you ever experienced anything you couldn’t explain? Or suspected that you have the ability to make things… happen? To affect the world around you without necessarily taking direct action?” 

Abel looked at Mulder stupidly, his neanderthal mind stonemilling the words, trying to decide if he was accusing him of something or not. But before he could answer, Salome spoke again. 

“Hugh Daly is facing retribution for his sins. Whatever misfortunes befall him, whether they are acts of God, man, or Satan himself, he is deserving of.” She trembled with conviction, her bony jaw shaking. 

“And Anna, Mrs. Stoesz? What about her?” Marion said tersely, from over at the wall. 

“Perhaps she has also received her judgement,” said Salome, and Abel looked at her quickly, working, Mulder noticed, to keep his expression neutral. 

Mulder’s cell chirped in his pocket. “Excuse me,” he muttered, and removed himself to the porch, carelessly letting the screen door slam shut behind him. He jabbed the worn rubber of the call button and put the phone to his ear, squinting at the gathering storm. “Mulder.” 

“Mulder, it’s me…” Scully sounded breathless, resigned. He didn’t like it one bit. “Hey, you okay? What did the autopsy turn up?” He picked at a shard of peeling paint on the railing, wary of the sadness in her voice. 

“Anna Daly was pregnant.” 

“... Are you sure? How can you tell?”

“I found… remnants. Of the fetus.” 

Mulder flinched. “From what I can gather based on the apparent level of skeletal development, I’d estimate she was eighteen to twenty weeks along.” 

He sucked air through his teeth. “Jesus. You think Daly knew?” 

“I’m going to call him up to the station here and find out.” 

“You okay?” His stomach clenched with the brief flickering memory of her ova in a vial. Not now, he thought. She doesn’t need to know right now. Maybe not ever. 

She hesitated momentarily before answering him. “I’m fine, Mulder.” 

“You sure?” Scully’s voice took on an exasperated edge. “Yes.” 

“Because if you’re not, it’s…” “What do you want me to say? That it was fun?” She said, sharply. “Scully, that’s not⁠—”

“⁠—Listen, I have to get back. We’ll discuss it tonight.”

“...Okay,” he said, doing little to disguise the irritation in his tone. 

Held hostage by some unspoken, unacknowledged superstition, neither of them said goodbye. Mulder hung up the phone, took a stabilizing breath, refocused himself, and walked back inside. He settled back into a stiff-cushioned chair across from the Stoeszs. “I just got a call from my partner,” he said. “Mr. Stoesz, are you aware that Anna was pregnant at the time of her death?”  

Abel looked like Mulder had punched him in the gut, which was almost as good as actually doing it. 

“Are you serious?” Marion whispered behind him, and when he glanced over his shoulder at her, her eyes were saucer-wide. 

And then Abel leapt up in a sudden rage, prompting Salome to flee the loveseat like a frightened, emaciated rabbit. 

“Get out of my house,” he seethed, taking a few lunging steps towards Marion. She stumbled backwards, palming her gun over the holster. 

“Mrs. Stoesz, if you’d like, you’re free to come with us.” Mulder swiftly maneuvered himself so that he was between her and Abel, and reached out an upturned hand, but she gave him such a sharp, hateful look that his balls practically shrivelled, even as his heart went out to her. 

“You heard my husband,” she hissed. “Get out.” 

Just another person he couldn’t save. Add it to the scoreboard, boys. 

He stomped out of the house behind Marion’s flustered stride, the cool wind catching the edge of his trench coat and sending it flapping behind him. A few plaid-clad teenage boys waved excitedly at them from the flat of a wooden cart as they hoofed it back to the truck. 

Marion released a creative string of curses and condemnations concerning Abel’s personal attributes, including the diminutive size of his dick. “You drive,” she finished, tossing Mulder the keys in disgust. “I’m gonna end up killing us if I do. Fuck, that man riles me.” 

“You’ve got experience with him? Mulder asked, as he hoisted himself into the cracked leather driver’s seat of Marion’s cherry Chevy Scottsdale. A felted green air freshener in the shape of a pine tree swung from the rearview mirror. He started the engine, and Harvest swelled to life from the tape deck. 

“Kind of.” Marion said, slumping into the passenger seat. “Met him a few times. Mostly at Rhiannon’s, back when me and Anna lived there. He used to show up a lot. Rhiannon usually wouldn’t let him past the front door, so him ‘n Anna’d be arguing in the driveway… God, was she really pregnant?” 

“Yeah. Sc - uh, Dana found, um. She found evidence to that fact.” 

“Fuck. Goddamnit.” Marion was pale. 

Mulder pulled into the road and eased the needle on the speedometer upwards. The truck gasped and sputtered like it was having an asthma attack. The sky above had turned dark and threatening, but the sun pushed a few tenacious arms through the thunderclouds to illuminate the lonely stretch of highway. It was eerie as hell. 

“So… while we’re at it, can you tell me how you came to live at Rhiannon’s?”

“Why do you need to know?” 

“C’mon. Just help me out a little here.” 

Marion picked at a hangnail, sullen and slouching. “Um... I, um, left the res when I was 16. I wasn’t planning on staying in Horizon or anything, but Theo picked me up and kinda took care of me and set me up at Rhiannon’s. She took Anna in, too, when she ran away from the colony.”

“Did Anna ever say anything about why she ran away?” 

“Oh, gee, I dunno, she was probably tired of getting pummeled to shit by her brother,” she said bitterly, as if he was an idiot. She gripped the console and swallowed. “Fox, slow down a little.” 

“Oh⁠—” he eased off the gas pedal. “The… colony elders didn’t do anything about it? What about their parents?”

“Her parents have been dead for years. Highway accident. And the elders...it was none of their business, not their concern. You saw how Salome looked. They’re fucking heartless up there.” 

Mulder nodded, thinking. “So… do you think that Abel would be capable of all the things that have been happening? Setting the silos on fire? Drowning the horse? …Anna?” 

“No,” Marion said flatly. “I don’t.” She took a deep breath and let it stream out of her nose. 

“I’d love to know your thoughts on this, Marion.” 

“And I’d love to know what the fuck you were going on about in there. Affecting things without trying to. What does that even mean?” 

He eased into it as naturally as he could, cautious of her mood. “Well… in my particular line of work, I’ve seen people who… experience such a strong emotion that it can affect the physical world around them. Daly claims he’s been seeing omens, right? And I saw something strange myself this morning. A dead fox in a boat out at the lake.” She turned to him at that, quickly, with a sharp look in her eye. “That seems pretty on the nose, don’t you think?” he continued. “Perhaps Abel’s anger towards Daly is manifesting in these visions, or somehow these events are a result of⁠—” 

“⁠—Stop the car. Oh, God, stop the car. Stop the car.” Mulder glanced at her, and upon seeing the look on her face, immediately pulled over to the side of the highway, lurching over the rumble strip. Even before they’d rolled to a stop, Marion was heaving herself out of the passenger seat and vomiting noisily into the ditch, clutching her stomach. 

Mulder had to look away to keep from losing the rest of his breakfast. Jesus, first this morning, and now Marion... this was entirely too much upchuck for one day. He hadn’t even been going that fast. 

He hunted around the back seat for the bottle of water he’d spotted earlier. He replayed a few fresh, brutal memories of Scully’s poorly-hidden chemo nausea, her deathly pallor, her heart-wrenching heaves behind closed motel bathroom doors. He burned anew with guilt.

Mulder swung himself out of the truck when the retching stopped, toting the bottle. Marion was kneeling on the side of the road, arms wrapped around herself, weeping. He crouched down and placed a palm on her back, trying not to balk at the caustic smell of her. 

“Marion, have some water, okay?” He held the bottle out to her, and she looked up at him, teeth bared, her earth-dark eyes bottomless with desperation. “We’ll find out what happened to Anna. I promise. We’ll keep you safe. From Abel, from Hugh⁠—” 

“Oh, you stupid, stupid⁠—” she sobbed. “Abel has nothing to do with it. You can’t stop it, Fox. You can’t. You need to leave this place. You need to get out.” 

An investigatory thrill chilled the back of his neck, and a distant flash of lightning silently illuminated a fumey cluster of clouds. “What can’t I stop, Marion? Why do we need to leave?” 

Marion groaned in tandem with a low roll of thunder, her tears splattering onto the asphalt, a prelude of the coming storm.

“You can’t stop what’s happening.” Her throat was thick with fear. “No one can.” 

[flutteringphalanges]

                                              Mirabile Visue

Summary: Sister Agatha Van Helsing discovers she’s in over her head when a competitive game of chess ultimately results in her becoming pregnant with the child of her worst enemy, Count Dracula. Now tied by a bond deeper than blood, the two must learn to coexist and adapt in a world that could be potentially hostile towards their offspring. Parenthood has never looked so batty.

Characters: Dracula/Sister Agatha Van Helsing

Chapters: 7/?

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: You guys are simply amazing! Thank you so much for your feedback! Sorry for the delay, I have a few new Dracula stories so I’m trying to balance out updates for all of them! Also, my current avatar/icon was designed by the marvelous mitsukatsu! It's an adult Sorina. Any artwork you’ve seen related to this story has been created by them! Also the photograph in the chapter is done by her also! Go check out their tumblr! You won’t regret it! Here is the next chapter, as promised! -Jen

                                            Chapter Seven

                                      Zoe Van Helsings's Residence

                                                    Present Time

"What kept you?"

Sorina was never one for the spotlight. Besides her relationship with Jack and their occasional outings, she held to her privacy. No social media-mostly because Zoe had insisted she avoid it, attention was something she never sought. So now, the three pairs of eyes who stared her down with immense concentration left her feeling more or less uncomfortable. Especially, since they belonged to none other than her own parents and aunt.

"Why are they here?" Sorina asked, her mouth still dry from the shock of it all.

"Why were you out?" Zoe countered, arms folded. "You know the rules. How many times do I have to drill it into your mind. The world is a dangerous place, Sorina. You can't just go prancing about without asking-"

"I shouldn't have to ask, I'm one hundred and twenty three years old," she spat back. "Were you tracking my phone?! And again, why are they here?! How did they even get…"

"She invited us in," Agatha interrupted. "Your father can be very...persuasive," she through a disapproving look towards her husband.

"I offered to go find you myself," Dracula shrugged, the corner of his lips curving into a smirk. "Had a feeling where you were, father's intuition, but decided to give Zoe the choice. I walk into a club full of human feeling rather parched, or she could allow us both inside to wait for your return. I think she made the right call, wouldn't you say, Doctor?"

"Just come inside, Sorina," Zoe exhaled, pinching the brim of her nose. "If we keep arguing, it'll be dawn before we stop."

"Don't have to ask me twice," the young woman grumbled, pushing past the other adults. "All I wanted was one night! One night to feel the least bit normal. And with Jack! I'm sick of being stuck at the Foundation, mulling over this sorry excuse of an existence!"

"This Jack character," Dracula ventured. "I'm rather keen on learning more about him."

"I'm going to my room now," his daughter growled, ignoring his statement. "All of this has made me tired. Just stay out of my way," her eyes flashed to her parents. "I don't care what you do, I don't care if you stay here, just give me space. That's the least you can do!"

"Sorina," Agatha began. "We…"

But the halfling had already climbed the steps, reaching the second level. The parents exchanged looks and Dracula offered his wife a small smile. But Agatha didn't return the gesture. Sighing, she ran her fingers through her hair. One minute her daughter was a happy, lively three year old, and now, what seemed like moments but had actually been years, she had developed a hatred for them. Who could blame her? She couldn't begin to imagine what it must've felt like to believe she'd been abandoned.

"She'll come around," her husband said, taking her hand. "Give her a chance."

"I'm starting to question that," she admitted, her attention shifting to Zoe. "I hate to impose on you, but could we burden you with staying the night-or, day rather? Our apartment is still being fitted to meet our needs. I understand if you don't-"

"Basement," Zoe mumbled. "I can't offer you much else. I'm doing this for Sorina. Not you. Even if she is upset," she gazed up towards the stairs. "If you met your true death, I think she's suffered enough hurt to last her lifetime."

"Thank you," the vampire smiled. "We won't stay longer than necessary."

"Oh I know," Zoe replied simply. "I'll just rescind your invitation if you do."

Dracula opened his mouth, clearly about to make a snarky reply when Agatha grabbed his wrist tightly. "Enough," she said firmly, eyes boring into his. "Be gracious and let's go. I'm feeling rather off. I think a nice rest would help."

The doctor watched closely as the two vampires made their way to the basement door. Grasping the handle, the count twisted it open. When Agatha wasn't paying attention, he threw Zoe a dirty look before disappearing into the darkness. When they were finally gone, the woman sighed, leaning tiredly against the wall. As she debated whether or not to go and confront Sorina, her cell phone began to buzz from within her pocket.

"Dr. Zoe Van Helsing, who's this I'm speaking to?"

"Dr. Van Helsing? I'm one of the researchers at the Harker Foundation? We ran some tests on the blood samples you collected? You're going to want to hear this…"

                                                        XXX

"I love you more than words can wield the matter, Dearer than eyesight, space and liberty. Do you know what that's from, Sorina?"

The little girl looked up curiously from where she sat in her father's lap. It was late and her mother had already gone to bed. Sorina, however, could not find the will to sleep. Instead, she curled up close to her father, relaxed by the warmth of the flames in the fireplace.

"No, Papa," she admitted.

"It's from William Shakespeare's play, King Lear. It means, my little one, that I, and your mother, love you more than anything else in this world," he murmured, stroking her head. "More than the moon and the stars. The sun. More than everything. You are our most valued treasure. Nothing will take away our love for you," he smiled. "Even if we aren't there."

"Aren't there?" Sorina asked, straightening up. "Where are you going, Papa?"

"Nowhere, Micul mea liliac," he assured her. "I just want you to know, that no matter what, no matter the distance, the time, the place, you are always in our hearts as we are in yours. You can remember that, yes?"

"Yes, Papa," she promised, smiling. "I love you."

"I love you too, my darling Sorina," he murmured, touching his forehead to hers. "Forever and always."

Forever and always.

Sorina woke with a start, sitting up abruptly in bed to find Agatha standing at one of her dressers. The woman looked just as surprised, something held in her grasp. Before her daughter could utter a word, the vampire spoke up.

"Sorry, I thought you were fast asleep," she gave a small smile. In her hands, Sorina could make out a picture frame. "Is this you? Well, of course it is, but when was it taken?"

Slowly, the girl rose from underneath her covers. Why she had not snapped and demanded the woman leave, she was unsure. Walking to her side, Sorina took the picture carefully from her mother and examined it. It was faded, black and white, but she remembered the outfit so well. A blue hat that complimented her curls, a matching mid length dress that fell just below her knees, and a pair of oxford shoes she'd been given as a Christmas present.

"1934," she said, brushing her fingers against the frame. "We were holding a dinner party-well, Uncle Abraham was. I was allowed to attend. One of those rare occasions. There was a photographer and everything. I felt free that night, normal. I was passed off as a distant relative, it was exciting really…" Sorina sighed, the nostalgia of it all bringing both comfort and sadness. "That was before the war really struck England. Before life became...much harder."

"I'm sorry I was there," Agatha replied, hesitantly reaching out to place a hand on Sorina's shoulder. She didn't flinch away. "I cannot begin to imagine what it must've been like."

"No," the girl whispered, tears beginning to cloud her vision. "No you can't. You don't know what it's like to watch those you love die time and time again. To witness such horrors, forced to hide like some prisoner. To believe that after all this time...after everything…"

The picture clattered back onto the dresser as the former nun wrapped her arms around her daughter. Sorina's cries turned into sobs as she buried her face into her mother's shoulder. Agatha held her tight, almost as tight as she did their last night together on the Demeter. Sorrow. Pain. It ran from the girl's body onto hers. So many years. So much agony built up.

"It's okay now," she murmured. "Everything is going to be alright."

"Mum," Sorina whimpered. "Mum, I missed you so much!"

The two held each other tightly, finally finding the comfort both had sought so hard for.

                                                      XXX

"Pregnant? There's absolutely no way that's possible!"

"The results don't lie, Dr. Van Helsing," the researcher responded on the phone. "Agatha is indeed pregnant. The only explanation we can gather is that she conceived prior to being turned. Then in that comatose state-vampire sleep, whatever terminology you wish to use, the fetus too became dormant, its growth only restarting when its mother was awakened. I've...well, we've never seen anything like it."

"Can you tell how far along she is?" Zoe breathed, glancing behind her at her closed bedroom door.

"A few weeks," he replied. "A month at most. Do you think they're aware?"

"If they were, I'm sure we would've known by now," the doctor said quietly. "So this...anomaly, is it dangerous? Is it like Sorina?"

"It's too early to tell," the researcher responded. "But we need to keep her monitored. Something this unpredictable can't be ignored. She needs to come back to the Foundation. By any means necessary. If she won't come willingly…"

"I know," Zoe interrupted, resting her head on her palm. "I'll handle this...let me see what I can do."

"Keep up posted," the man said before the phone clicked off.

The doctor stared down at the floor, her mind racing. So much had happened in so little time. And now this. A pregnant vampire. Sorina's mother. A sibling. Hadn't she been given enough on her plate. She inhaled deeply through her nose and closed her eyes. God forgive her.

                                                            XXX

Jack Seward sat at his desk, casually enjoying a bag of crisps as he clicked through online videos. Despite being wide awake for so long, he didn't feel nearly tired enough to call it a night. As he moved his hand to click to the next viral sensation, his phone buzzed.

"Hello, Jack."

The young man's brow furrowed. It was odd, a number he didn't recognize. Perhaps one of his friends got a new phone? He pushed the chips aside and paused the video, his fingers moving against the keys.

"Hi, who's this?"

He watched as the typing icon blinked. The moment the message appeared, his blood ran cold.

"Count Dracula. Or, you may better know me as Sorina's father. I think it's about time we became acquainted."

Until that moment, Jack thought it was just a saying when people claimed to wet their pants when they were scared. Good thing for modern society. It was about time he put that washer and dryer to good use.

[badwolf-in-the-impala]

~The Edge of Heaven~

Moodboard credit: Myself, @badwolf-in-the-impala. None of the pictures are mine obviously. Only the editing.

Chapter One || Chapter Two ||

A/N: Sorry I suck and took forever to get this posted. I have one too many fics and not enough brain cells to go around lol...anywho, one minor change that I made, after some more writing/character building for James, is I decided on a different Faceclaim for him, so that has been changed in the Moodboard. I decided that Luke Evans ended up being a better fit than Paul Wesley...cause you know, I’m the worlds most indecisive person. But yeah, I’ll stop rambling now. ENJOY! Let me know if you would like to be added to the TAGLIST ^-^. Sorry if this chapter is kinda shitty.

Word Count: 4,669

Pairings: Thomas Shelby x OC

Face-Claims: Emily Rudd as Aurora - ((Luke Evans as James))

Rating: Mature/18+

General Warnings: Spousal abuse, verbal abuse, physical abuse, violence general Peaky related things...none of which I romanticize, support, or condone by any means. 

Chapter Warnings: Controlling spouse. Abuse - physical and verbal. General angst. 

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

Several hours after Aurora and James had returned home from the party, Aurora sat alone in their porcelain, claw-foot tub. Knees tucked into her chest as she rested her chin a top them, trying her best to ignore the throbbing of her freshly bruised left cheek, and the split lower her lip. James’ outburst upon their arrival home having been far greater than she anticipated...and while this hadn’t been a first time occurrence; it was the first one in awhile.

The short drive home had been quiet between the two of them. He was drunk and Aurora could tell by his body language that he was upset with her, even despite his calm demeanor on the outside. But his grip on the steering wheel of their car told a different story. His fingers gripping it so tight, that it caused his knuckles to turn a ghostly shade of white. 

Her first mistake upon exiting the car, had been daring to open her mouth in hopes of giving her husband an explanation; and more importantly, to apologize for leaving him while she went gallivanting off around the property with Ada.  “I’m sorry abou’ this evenin’, James...really, I didn’ mean to be away for so long while I was with Ada; it was jus’ so nice to see everyone again I lost track of--” 

The blow that came from his hand striking her across the face was hard enough to knock Aurora off balance, as it caught her off guard mid-apology. Sending her stumbling backwards as she tripped over the bottom of her dress and collided with the walkway beneath her. The gravel biting into the delicate skin of her forearms and knees, causing her to cry out.

“You shut your Goddamn mouth, you useless fucking Whore! Do you have any idea how much of an embarrassment your behavior was too me, tonight?!” James had roared as he stepped over her, raking an agitated hand through short brown locks of hair, sending it into disarray as he began pacing back and forth, like a lion in a cage, as his temper spiraled out of control. Aurora immediately falling silent as she stared at the ground; cradling her injured cheek carefully as the situation escalated. Not trusting herself enough just yet, to try and get back up on her feet.

“Leave it to my fucking wife, to be the one running around, just like old times, throwing herself at any man who’ll fucking pay attention to her like she’s a Goddamn Harlot! You just can’t fucking help yourself, can you?! CAN YOU?!” He scolded.

“I-It wasn’ like that!” Aurora stuttered, trying to defend herself. “If ye’d jus’ let me explain-”

“I know what I fucking saw, Aurora! Are you trying to say that I’m a liar?!” James fumed as he rounded on her, dark eyes clouded with rage;  his voice starting to go hoarse from all the shouting. Aurora shook her head in reply, falling silent as James continued to rebuke her for the behavior she had displayed earlier that evening, and more importantly, for her actions of spending time alone in the presence of another man without his permission.

Eventually, James yanked her up to her feet once he felt his point had been made, before dragging her alongside him by the arm into the house, where he abandoned her in the foyer of their home and locked himself in his study with a bottle of whiskey for the night. But not before delivering one final backhanded slap across her face, the one that left her lower lip swollen and split. Filling her mouth with taste of copper as she forced herself to keep her chin up in an attempt to hold back the tears that threatened to fall, as her husband glared down at her for one more brief moment. His dark eyes filled with such hatred and disgust towards her that it made Aurora wish she could physically disappear.

Thus, how she came to find herself sitting alone in the tub. Door locked and the water turning cold, as she patiently waited for the sounds of his incessant pacing to finally cease so that she could sneak off to bed. Knowing it would be better for her to avoid being caught in her husband's presence a second time that night.

So when the house had finally fallen silent, Aurora climbed out of the tub and toweled herself off; brushing out her dark hair and braiding it, before slipping into her silk nightgown and tiptoeing carefully down to the bedroom that she and her husband rarely shared. Pausing briefly outside the door of James’ study, just to be sure the pacing had actually stopped. Finding only silence coming from within the room as she pressed her ear carefully against the door. 

Aurora allowed herself a quiet sigh of relief as she turned and hurried the rest of the way down the hallway and into the bedroom...Locking the door behind herself and crossed the room, climbing into bed and burrowing deep beneath the blankets, into the feather tick mattress, as she closed her eyes.

Her quiet, brokenhearted sobs falling on deaf ears as she lay there, silently wondering to herself where she had gone so wrong with her life. The tears that fell from emerald eyes, soaking and staining her pillowcase, as she cried herself to sleep.

~

The next morning when she woke, James was nowhere to be found in their home, and the absence of his car meant that he would likely be gone until late evening; if he even came home at all. Leaving Aurora to enjoy a somewhat stress free day, filled mostly with unpacking the last of their belongings and organizing her new home a bit more, once she had completed all the chores that needed doing out in the Stables. All the work falling to her for now, as James had yet to hire any sort of help since the move.

Aurora had been in the midst of cleaning up her dishes from lunch when the phone started to ring, and thinking it could possibly be her husband, she was quick to stop what she was doing and answer it. “Turner residence?” She answered in a cheery tone, despite the solemn expression she wore on her battered face.

“May I speak to Aurora, please.” The woman asked politely.

“This is her?” Aurora replied.

“Aurora! It’s Ada!” The voice greeted excitedly, putting a small smile on Aurora’s face almost instantly.

“Hi, Ada.” She chuckled softly. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this phone call?”

“Well,” Ada started. “The boys an’ I are still over at Tommy’s, an’ we got to wonderin’, if maybe you and y’er husband would like to come over? Maybe visit over some tea?” The tone of her voice held an air of hopefulness about it, and by the sounds of the scuffle going on in the background, Aurora was guessing that Ada wasn’t the only one listening in on the conversation.

“I don’ see why not.” Aurora glanced up at the clock, noting it was still early enough that a few hours couldn’t hurt. It’s not like James would be back anytime soon and besides, it’s not like he needed to know anyways if he was going to be an absolute dick about it. “Lemme jus’ tidy up a lil’ first and I’ll be over in say, half an hour?” 

“Sounds lovely!” Ada exclaimed over the collection of hoops and hollers from Arthur and John that could now be heard in the background. “We’ll see you soon!” And on that note, they hung up.

Aurora was quick to dress; changing into black pair of riding breeches, long sleeved teal blouse and a pair of riding boots. She touched up what little makeup she already wore and tidied her hair up a bit. Tying it up into a half ponytail, leaving the underneath bit down and throwing on a light wool duster, before heading back downstairs where she left a note for James, just in case he should return before she did, explaining that she had gone out for a ride and would be back before supper. 

She made sure to leave the note where he would be sure to see it and headed out to the stable to saddle up one of her horses. Settling on a Dapple Grey mare that she hadn’t ridden in a while; the horse more than eager to get out and stretch her legs. Especially after all the weeks of traveling overseas they’d had to endure.

“Settle down, Lady.” Aurora told the animal firmly as she gave her a pat on the neck, calming the beast a bit before Aurora finished doing up the saddles cinch. The horse nickering softly and turning her head to nudge Aurora’s arm, demanding more attention and nearly knocking her over in the process. “Oi, don’ go gettin’ cheeky with me now! I’m movin’ as fast I can, you impatient nag.” The horse gave another snort, turning her head away as Aurora finished up and untied her before leading them both out of the stables. Mounting the animal with ease before steering them down the drive and off towards Thomas’ estate. 

 ~

The ride took a little longer than expected, after Lady had decided to take them on a little detour across the ditch bank and through some willows. The trip resulting in a broken set of reins, a missing stirrup, and one bruised ego on Aurora’s part. Mumbling under her breath at the horse about having to walk the last two miles of the way, as they reached their destination finally. 

“Car troubles?” Thomas’ voice caught her by surprise, making her jump slightly as she turned around to where he was standing near the front door, shoulder propped against a pillar, enjoying a cigarette. A small smirk fixed to his lips after clearly having witnessed her mumbling to herself.

“Nah.” Aurora chuckled softly with a shake of her head as she approached him. “But I can sell ye a horse real cheap, if y’er interested?” She joked; Lady giving an unamused snort as she jerked at the broken rein in her hand, catching Thomas’ attention. 

“Rough trip?” Thomas questioned as he pointed to the damaged tack, flicking away the last of his cigarette, one brow raised curiously, as he approached them.

“That would be puttin’ it mildly.” Aurora sighed as the horse bumped her nose against her lower back, pushing her forward a bit. 

“Sounds like ya could use a drink then, eh?” Thomas chuckled as he waved over a nearby footman. “Take Mrs. Turner’s horse ‘ere over to the stables.” He instructed the older man who took the reins from Aurora. “An’ have the stable lads fix up the busted tack for her, eh?”

“Of course. Right away, Mr. Shelby.” The man nodded as he turned, flashing Aurora a quick smile before leading the horse off to the stables.

“Thank you.” 

“Don’ mention it.” Thomas grinned as he looked down at her, though that grin quickly faulted as he took in the bruising on her cheek, as well as the split that adorned her lower lip. Neither of which had been there the night before. He was just about to ask what had happened when the door flew open to reveal Ada, hands on her hips as she glared at her older brother.

“She’s not jus’ ‘ere for you, ya know!” Ada scolded playfully as she started to usher the pair back inside. “I know ya missed her, but ye have’ta share, Thomas!” Aurora gave a soft laugh, watching as Thomas rolled his eyes at his Ada, who’d gone off rambling about the tea getting cold or some nonsense he could have cared less about, as they were dragged along into the drawing room where everyone else sat waiting.

“Jesus! Wha’ happened to y’er face?!” Ada gasped as she turned around to ask Aurora how she liked her tea, finally slowing down long enough to take notice of the injuries.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Aurora brushed it off with a soft laugh as she took a seat in one of the nearby armchairs. “I must’ve been drunker than I realized las’ night...Fell gettin’ out of the damn car when we got home.” 

“Ye really haven’ changed a fuckin’ bit!” Arthur gave a hearty laugh in response, making it Ada’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Aye, she always was a touch acciden’ prone wa’nt she?” John joked, kicking his feet up on the table as he settled back in his own chair. Wiggling his brows playfully at her, as he rolled around the toothpick between his lips as they curved upwards into that cocky grin of his that Aurora remembered so well.

“Yeah? Well, tha’ never stopped me from pullin’ yer dumb arse outta the fire, more times than I should ‘ave, now did it?” She shot back with a playful glare, John holding up his hands in mock surrender, knowing she wasn’t wrong.

“Still feisty as ever too.” Arthur commented as the group broke into a fit of laughter, seemingly convinced that what happened to her face had been nothing more than a mere accident...All save for Thomas. Who was more than a little skeptical. The worry in that icy blue gaze of his, more than evident as he approached to hand her a glass of whiskey. Aurora purposely avoiding his gaze as she fell into conversation with Ada.

Thomas remained silent for the most part during the conversations between Aurora and the rest of his siblings. Taking in every detail about her life, no matter how small and insignificant she wrote it off to be. These parts of her life were new and exciting to him and he very much wanted to hear more about them, and in great detail...All of them.

“Do you ‘ave horses?” Ada inquired as she poured herself another cup of tea, trying to keep the small talk alive, while also trying to find out as much about Aurora as possible, without getting too terribly personal; not wanting to pry to far. 

“Aye, several.” Aurora nodded as she finished the last of her whiskey. “Most of ‘em stayed behind at our property back in America, but my best few made the journey with us.” She added with a soft smile.

“Wha’ kinda horses?” Arthur asked, curiously.

“Mostly event horses.” Aurora replied. “Dressage, showjumping, tha’ sorta thing. We ‘ave several race horses as well though, tha’ I raised for James back home in Louisville. Some of the best.” 

“Well, we would expect no less from ye.” Arthur teased, patting her shoulder on his way by to grab the whiskey decanter from its place beside the hearth. “Aside from Tom, ye always did ‘ave alot’a sense when it came to the horses.”

“Oh please…” Aurora blushed, her voice growing softer as she glanced away at the compliment. Trying to dismiss it as she added, “I was never tha’ good...Tommy was always the better horseman.”

“I beg to differ.” Thomas chimed in, only furthering the blush that tinted her cheeks crimson; making him grin. “Matter o’fact, I bet ye could still out race me any day.” 

Aurora was about to argue how that had always boiled down to luck, more than anything else, when a young stable lad came rushing in, clutching his cap nervously as he stood awkwardly in the doorway. Turning several shades of white as everyone in the room turned to look at him at the same time.

“Lemme guess,” Aurora piped up before anyone else could. Keeping her tone reassuring as she addressed the young man, having already made an educated guess as to what this was about. “Lady let herself out of her stall, didn’ she?” The young man nodded quickly in reply. 

“We’ve been try’na catch her, Mrs. Turner, r-really...b-but she keeps gettin’ away.” 

“It’s quite alrigh’.” Aurora chuckled as she stood up from her chair, motioning for him to lead the way to wherever that crazy beast of hers was currently running amuck. “Tha’ bloody horse is too smart for her own good sometimes.” They were almost to the front door when she noted that Thomas had joined them, giving him a small smile as they made their way outside. Aurora sighing as they watched two more of the stable hands chasing the Grey mare about the yard as she nickered loudly, tossing her head in what appeared to be amusement as she romped and bucked about.

“Oi!” Aurora shouted, her voice catching the mares attention immediately as Aurora stepped down into the gravel of the driveway, one hand propped on her hip, as she gave the horse a rather disapproving look. “Did ye leave all y’er manners back in America? Bloody fuckin’ horse.” Thomas let out a chuckle as he watched Aurora give a sharp whistle, the mare turning and prancing over to her owner proudly; swishing her tail and catching one of the stable hands in the face as she totted by. 

“I swear, y’er gonna be the bloody death me if ye don’ knock off this nonsense.” Aurora muttered as she clipped the lead that had just been brought to her onto Lady’s halter, before passing her off to the stable lad from earlier. 

“Smart horse ye’ve got.” Thomas stated with a hint of amusement to his tone as he came to stand beside Aurora; watching as the stable hands lead Lady back down to the stables. Aurora shook her head with a soft smile as she glanced up at him out of the corner of her eye. 

“Oh, she’s smart alrigh’...” Aurora gave a snort as she crossed her arms. “Bloody horse has cost me more in damages than anythin’ else, an’ she’s barely Four!” 

“Does she race?” Thomas asked out of curiosity as they started walking towards the barn. Aurora shook her head in answer.

“No. At least not tha’ I’ve tried. She was meant to be a Show Horse; a jumper, specifically. But the damn Nag’s got the attention span of a nat.” Aurora replied.

“Aye, no wonder she’s bored…” Thomas teased. A slight smirk tugging at the edges of his mouth as Aurora gave him a playful shove; trying to stave off a smirk of her own as she rolled her eyes. “Really though.” Thomas chuckled. “Ye should bring her out to the track sometime. Let’er run. See how she does? Never know, she might surprise ya.” 

“Maybe…” Aurora sighed. “Need’ta do somethin’ with her, ‘fore James decides to get rid of her.” Thomas frowned at Aurora’s answer, noting the slight change in her demeanor at the comment. So subtle he almost missed it, as it was gone in an instant as she covered it up with a smile and added, “He’s not exactly fond of wastin’ money on my hobbies.” 

“Well, if it ever comes to it, I’d be more than ‘appy to take her off y’er hands for ye.” Thomas offered as they entered into the stables, pausing to give Lady -- who was now tethered in the stable lane -- a scratch behind the ears; the Mare letting out a soft nicker as she leaned into the touch. Aurora gave him a soft smile at the offer.

“Aye, well, she seems to like ye well enough, so I’ll have’ta keep that in mind.” She replied, leaning up against one of the empty stalls as she watched Thomas inspect Lady closely; mentally noting things about the horses build, height, and temperament as he circled her slowly. Giving Lady another pat once he had finished, before walking over to join Aurora.

“She’s still growin’, but no doubt tha’ she’d take right to the track. Especially if she loves to run.” Thomas admitted truthfully as he lit a cigarette, taking a drag before offering it to Aurora, who accepted with a smile before taking a drag of her own, wincing as she was reminded of the cut on her bottom lip. 

“Helluva fall ye must’ve taken, eh?” Thomas frowned, shifting so that he was standing in front of Aurora now. Watching as she averted her gaze, exhaling a trail of smoke from the drag she had taken; cheeks tinting crimson out of embarrassment as she fidgeted with the cigarette between her fingertips. 

“Aye, well, I never was very graceful...” Aurora tried to brush off the question with a laugh, her cheeks turning a deeper shade of crimson as Thomas’ fingers gripped her chin lightly, tilting it up as he inspected the bruise on her cheek. His thumb ghosting along the curve of her lower lip gently, the sensation causing a shiver to run down her spine. 

“Hardly how I remember it…” Thomas stated with a frown, though his expression remained soft as his blue eyes glanced up from studying the split on her lip. Aurora swallowing almost audibly as she glanced up finally, green eyes meeting his. The still burning cigarette she held between her fingers falling briefly forgotten; their gazes saying more in that small window of silence, than words could ever begin to cover; Thomas about to speak, when Aurora startled at the chiming of the stables clock, noting that it was well past Five in the evening as she glanced over her shoulder with a frown. 

“It’s late...I should be gettin’ back.” Aurora said softly, clearing her throat nervously as she took a step back, ashing the cigarette between her finger before taking a final drag and passing it back to Thomas as she stepped around him to re-saddle Lady. Thomas giving a nod as he finished off the smoke, grinding out the last of it with the heel of his shoe before lending her a hand. Bridling the mare while Aurora finished doing up the cinch, before giving her a leg up and leading the pair out of the stables and up to the driveway. Checking thoroughly over the bridle, as well as the stirrup, to insure they had been properly fixed before letting her be on her way. 

“Thank you for havin’ me.” Aurora thanked him, her smile seeming a little too forced as she glanced down. “And do give y’er family my apologies for havin’ to cut my visit short...But, perhaps we can get together again soon.” 

“Of course.” Thomas gave her a nod as he stuffed his hands into his pockets, taking a step back as Aurora urged the horse forward, stopping a few feet away to look over her shoulder as Thomas called after her.

“Rora?” Aurora’s expression softened hearing him use the nickname that she had grown so fond of, when they were children. 

“Don’ be a stranger, eh? Y’er always more than welcome ‘ere.” Aurora’s smile grew a little as she gave him a nod, urging Lady forward again as they exited the driveway. Giving Thomas one final wave before taking off down the road at a Canter...Silently praying that James would not be home yet.

~

Aurora was thankful that James’ car was still absent from the driveway upon her arrival home. Heading straight into the stables where she untacked Lady and returned her to proper stall after giving her a quick grooming, followed by feeding her, as well as the rest of the horses before returning to the house where she started on dinner -- a meal of Mutton, fresh baked bread, and potatoes.  As well as unpacking the last half a dozen or so boxes that she had been working on earlier that day before Ada called.

It was well past Ten in the evening before James returned to their home; Drunk, as Aurora had suspected he would be. He barely spoke a word to her upon his return. Simply ordering her to bring his dinner up to the Study, and in a timely manner, along with a bottle of Irish Whiskey from the cellars. 

Aurora did as instructed, without question, just as she always did. Making sure the meal she had prepared hours before -- a meal that she herself hadn’t even touched -- was re-heated and fixed up to his standards, fetching the bottle of whiskey and a glass, before ascending the stairs to James’ study. Aurora paused briefly in front of the solid oak door that lie closed in front of her, swallowing around the thick, dry lump that had formed  in her throat, before raising her hand and giving three sturdy, sharp knocks -- More sturdy than her trembling hands felt, at least.

“Enter.” Was the only response she received, prompting her to carefully balance the serving tray as she reached down and turned the doorknob carefully, stepping inside. She placed his dinner carefully on the cleared area of his desk, specifically designated for his meals, beside him. The silence that hung between them thick, and very unsettling. It put Aurora on edge, but she managed to maintain her composure as she clasped her hands neatly in front of her. Not daring to move from the spot where she stood, until he had dismissed her from his presence. 

And as if he could sense the nervousness that rolled silently off of Aurora, as she stood silently, just behind his chair; James made a point to draw out the dismissal she so desperately waited for. Praying that if he chose to speak, that he would ask her about anything other than what she had done all day.

“Mutton, again?” James questioned her, not even bothering to look up from ledger laid out before him as he studied it closely. Making notes here and there. Aurora shifted uncomfortably as she cleared her throat, nodding even though James wasn’t looking at her to see it.

“Yes…” She answered softly. “I haven’ been able to do the shoppin’ yet, an’ it’s all we had left--” Aurora stopped abruptly as James raised his hand to silence her rambling before she could continue on anymore.

“Take the car tomorrow morning and do whatever needs to be done.” James stated flatly. “The shopping, see about hiring some help…” He continued, retrieving a key from his pocket and unlocking the second drawer to his right, where he pulled out another set of keys and stood. Slowly, he made his way over to the safe that sat in the corner. The safe that he’d had made special, just before their departure to England. Two turns of the key counter clockwise, one turn clockwise, followed by one full rotation, also clockwise. That released the heavy cast iron cover that shielded the dial of the safe.

Clockwise, 32...Clockwise, 18...Counter Clockwise, 53...Clockwise, 15...Click, and the safe was open.

Pulling out a stack of money he counted out more than enough than would be needed for the shopping and hiring of some staff to help around the property. Tucking the rest of the money safely back in the safe before closing it, spinning the dial, and replacing the heavy cast iron covering. Turning, James crossed the room to tower over Aurora. Her first instinct to avert her gaze to the floor, her heart skipping a beat as his calloused fingers came up to grip her chin, forcing her gaze up to meet his dark brown eyes. A frown gracing his thin lips, as he carefully traced a thumb over the mark on her left cheek; trailing it down across the split that adorned her lip before allowing his hand to fall away entirely.

“Use whatever money is left over to buy something nice for yourself...I have an important meeting tomorrow, I’m not sure what time I’ll be finished. Perhaps you should visit that friend of yours, what was her name? Ada! … Maybe inquire about some work. Leave me her number and I’ll ring you when I’m finished. Understood?” 

Aurora nodded as she took the money he held out for her to take. Tucking it safely inside the pocket of her apron before looking back up at her husband, carefully studying the hard to read expression he wore. 

“You’re dismissed.” He added. Turning back to his desk where he took his seat and returned to looking over the ledger. Leaving Aurora to make her way to the door, trying not to appear too eager to escape the study, when his voice caught her attention again. Aurora turning to acknowledge him as he spoke her name.

“And Aurora? You would do wise to stay away from that Thomas fellow. Am I clear?” 

Aurora’s heart nearly stopped beating entirely as she gave a nod, clearing her throat nervously as James straightened in his chair, arching an eyebrow sternly as he awaited her answer. One that came with a forced smile of sincerity, before she closed the door behind herself.

 “Of course, Love.”

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

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TAGLIST: @jacksonroth @livvtheangel @londoncharlotte88 @theworld-is-ahead @zazasblogxx @readsalot73 @ly--canthrope @harjumus @theskinofmyemotions @sympathyfortheblinderdevil @juuliaa-gooliaa @feyrearcheron44 @shikin83 @laketaj24 @echeveriiia

[sorenmarie87]

Don’t You Want Me?

Summary:  Mary manages to track you down, but only to get back something that belongs to her.  Secrets get revealed and John shows up.

Square Filled: Dom/Sub (Kink) 

Pairing(s)/Character(s): Ketch x Reader, Mary x Ketch, John x Mary, John x Reader

Word Count: 2,038

Warning(s): Dom/Sub.  Smut with plot.  Nudity.  Language.  Mary threatening the reader, again.  

A/N:  This was written for @spnkinkbingo.  I also need to thank @fictionalabyss and @coffee-obsessed-writer for being my betas on this one.   Also this was my first time writing Ketch, so if he’s off, I apologize.  

I do not own any of the pictures I used in my aesthetic. I also hate to say this but if you’re reading this fic - please be over 18.

Part 2 of The Boss’s Working Girl | SPN Kink Bingo

“Arthur, it’s lovely to see you again.”  You practically purr as you loosely wrap your arms around his shoulders.  “What’ll it be tonight, love, business or pleasure?”

“I don’t see why the two can’t mix.”  You hear him chuckle as you loosen his tie and he nips at the pulse point behind your ear.  “I’ve been dreaming of this night all week.”

“Well I wouldn't want Mr. Ketch to wait, now would I?” You winked at him as Arthur slowly starts unbuttoning his dress shirt.  You watch from the corner as he removed the rest of his clothes.

“Now this is hardly fair, I'm practically naked and you're in far too many clothes.” It’s a relief once your dress is in a soft pile of satin and lace by your feet.  “Absolutely stunning.”

“I bet you use that line on all the ladies.”

“Not as many as you would think.”  

Exactly how many women has this guy had sex with?  He’s handsome sure, but then he has to open his mouth.  I’m sure it’s the British accent that gets ‘em.  You can do this, Y/N.  it’s just a job.  

--

“I told you, she’s with a client a right now.  You can’t just barge in there!”  You hear someone arguing outside your door but that doesn’t distract you from what’s going on right now.  

“Who in the hell invited Mary Winchester here?”  You growled in anger as your room door was flung open.  “We’re sort of busy here, Mary.”

Ketch growls as he flips you onto your back and starts pounding into you as hard as he can.  You run your hand down his abs, caressing every inch possible before rubbing your clit quickly.

“I’m not here to see you.”  

“Do be patient, love.  I'm sure Mary will see her own way out.  Well, that is, unless she wants to join in on the fun?” Ketch peers over his shoulder with smug grin.  Mary is blocking the doorway with her arms crossed.  “Or maybe not.  I never took you as a voyeur, my dear.”

“I’m not here to watch you fuck some whore, Arthur.  I need to talk to you.”  If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve sworn there was a hint of fear in Mary’s voice.

--  

You roll out from underneath Ketch, and there is no shame when you feel his cum run down your legs.  “I’m going to freshen up and I hope that when I come back, she’s gone.  You still have an hour left, love, and I want to make sure you get the most bang for your buck.”  You wink at the two of them and grab your cell off of it’s charger.  Your bathroom door is left open a crack as you pull up your text app.  

>>  I’ll spare you the not so spicy details of having sex with Arthur Ketch but Mary barged in.  Arthur actually suggested we have a threesome.  No offense, but I almost threw up in my mouth.

<< I can never repay you for what you had to go through.  I will make it up to you, I promise.

>> I want to come home John.  I miss you and the boys.  

<< I know baby, I know.  They miss you too.  

>> Mary and Ketch are still talking but you’ll be here soon right?

<< Give me ten minutes, and I will be there with whistles and bells on.

>>  I prefer you in nothing but I’ll take what I can get ;)

<< Naughty girl.

>>  Only for you John. Please hurry.

--

It was obvious that Mary didn’t want to be here.  Not after she kicked you out, but what was she supposed to do?  She couldn’t outright tell you to stop sleeping with Ketch.  The affair had started sometime ago but John wasn’t interested in her sexually anymore.  

“For the record.”  Ketch’s voice startles Mary out of her thoughts as she toys with her hair nervously.  “My boss wanted me to sleep with her.  She has some information that’s very valuable to the British Men of Letters.”  He caresses Mary’s jaw and brings his lips closer to hers.  “Why else would I ever have sex with her?”

“To make me jealous.”  The first kiss barely brushes his lips before Mary straddles his lap and kisses him hard.  “She has no idea how to handle you.”  Her right hand finds Ketch’s soft cock and gently pumps it a couple of times.  

“Mary, please.”  

“What was that Mr. Ketch?”

“Forgive me, Mistress.”  Pleased, she grins as Ketch grows harder in her hand.  “Please, please let me touch you?”

“I don’t know if you should be allowed to after what you did.”  Mary hisses in his ear as she releases him from her hand.  Ketch was actually whining at the loss of contact.  

“Mistress, please…”  

--

The gears were turning in your head as you hopped into the shower  How do I pull this off?  Maybe in another life we could've been friends.  We did work well together.  Nah, we run in different circles, clearly.  She’s obviously not forgiving me anytime soon for sullying her precious sons.  You know what?  That’s fine.  

--

You finished brushing out your hair and turned off the bathroom light when you heard Mary speaking again.  “Arthur, put on your clothes.  We need to get out of here.”

“Now, now Mary.  You know very well that I can’t leave until I get something useful out of Y/N.”

“Are you, disobeying your mistress?”  

“My work will always come before my pleasure, you know that.”  

You smirked at his retort.  Oh Ketch, you dumb bastard.  You never disobey your mistress, even if she is gigantic bitch.  

“I believe Mr. Ketch has half an hour left, Mrs. Winchester.”  You watched as Mary attempted to straighten herself out as you entered the room again.  “I’d ask you to leave but I know you won’t.”

“Damn straight, I’m not leaving here without him.”  

“And what makes Mr. Ketch here so special?”  You ran your hand through his hair and watched as Ketch shifted towards your touch.  

“He’s mine.”  

“Really?”  You smirked as you ran your hands all over Ketch’s body.  Your fingertips traced around Ketch’s nipples and you pinched them hard.  “Because right now, he seems to be loving the attention I’m giving him.”

“Take your dirty hands off of him, right now!”  Mary yelled out.  

“Why on earth would I do that Mary?  I’m not your submissive and I sure as shit don’t take orders from you anymore.”

“You do realize with a couple of phone calls, I could shut this place down.”  Mary was clearly bluffing but it didn’t phase you at all.  “I put you here, and I can put you right back where I found you.”

“For a minute there, I was worried you were going to start quoting The Human League.”  You laughed but Mary wasn’t amused.  “Mary, trust me.  I don’t want your boy toy.”

“What do you want then?”

“Nothin’ that you can give me.” You remove yourself from Ketch when you heard your phone chime.  

>> Boss, John Winchester is waiting downstairs.  You want me to send him up?

<<  Yes, and Charlie?  You deserve a raise for dealing with my bullshit tonight.

>> Set me up with the new girl, and we’ll call it even, okay?

You hit send on the text to Charlie, just to immediately receive one from John.

>> Keep Mary talkin’

<< You got it boss ;)

“There’s something I’ve always been curious about Mary.  How did you find out I was sleeping with your boys?”

Mary scoffed as she unfolded her arms.  “It was Jo Harvelle and her mother.  They were concerned that the boys were spending way too much time with you and your girls.”

“Of fuckin’ course it was Jo.  She was just salty that I never hired her as one of my informants.”

“Your loss was my gain.”  Mary was gloating at this point and you rolled your eyes.  “She’s one hell of a bartender.  Also, I hate to be the one to tell you this but Dean and Sam will never be with you again.”

You honestly couldn't tell if Mary was telling the truth or not.  “I've made my peace with that fact Mary.  Now does John know about your little secret?”

“What I do in my free time is none of my husband's business.”

“Pretty sure it is but Mary, I hate to tell you this but John knows about your affair with Ketch.  He’s known about it for a while now.”

“How - how would he know?”  She was clearly nervous as she peered over at Ketch.  

“I’ll give you three guesses.”  Ketch tried stretching for his pants but you stopped him by kicking them out of his reach.  “but the first two don’t count.”

--

A few hours before Mary would confront you, you were summoned to John’s office.  You took a seat and when he offered you a drink, you declined.  “Am I in trouble?”

“No, not at all.”  John’s smile eased your nerves but there was something nagging at the back of your mind.   “I have a special job for you, if you’re willing to take it that is.”  

“I’ll do whatever you need, sir.”  

John chuckled as he pulled a flask out of his inner right pocket and took a swig.   “I know for certain that Mary is having an affair with someone.  I need you to find out who it is.  I would've asked one of the other girls but they aren't exactly loyal to me.”  

“You got it boss.”  

--

“It’s my word against yours, and honestly, who do you think John is going to believe?”

You grinned as you waved your cell phone in her face.  “Me.”

“How did you -”  You pointed to the security camera that flashed in the corner and pulled up the video on your phone.

“One of my girls set it up.  She was worried about my safety when I told her we would be doing business with the British Men of Letters.  Mick Davies was a lamb, and Toni, well I shouldn’t kiss and tell but she did things to me that would put you to shame Mary.  She owned me completely.” You shivered at the memory.  

“All this proves is that I was right to kick you out.”  Mary scoffed.  “Once a whore, always a whore.  Is there no one you’re loyal to?”

“You won’t like that answer, Mary.”  You crossed your arms across your naked chest as John quietly stepped into the room.  He winked at you as he held his pointer finger up to his lips.  

“The reason you don’t want to answer me is because it would mean for once in your life, you’d have to tell the truth.”  

You smirked.  “You’d know all about telling the truth, wouldn’t you?”  

“Shut up.”

“Fuck you, Mary.  You don’t get to come into my house, and tell me what to do anymore.  You lost that privilege when you pulled a gun on me and kicked me out.”

“I was protecting what was mine!”

“You took the boys away from me, so I decided to take something away from you.”  Mary’s hand twitched before she pulled a gun out of her thigh holster and aimed it at you.  “Mary, you're so predictable.”

“What makes you think I won’t do it this time?”

You moved over to the bed and with Ketch's blessing, you wrapped your arms around his waist.  

“You’d have shoot him to get to me, and I don’t think you want to do that.”  From the corner of your eye you watched as John stepped further into your room.  “You know, most people who cheat on their husband are better at hiding it than this.”  

You contained a laugh and tightened your grip on Ketch who was trying his hardest to get up once he spotted John.  “You just stay right where you are, you British piece of shit.  Y/N, darling, you’re looking better and better each time I see you.”

“Flatterer.”  He missed the faint blush that dusted your cheek because his focus was now on Mary.  “John, I wanted to ask, fucking this guy doesn’t change anything between us, does it?”

“Of course it doesn’t, darlin’.”

--

Forever Tags - @lovetusk @coffee-obsessed-writer@justballoonfishthings@mirajanefairytailmage@kazosa@wings-of-a-raven@docharleythegeekqueen@clockworkmorningglory@lefthologramdeer@ellen-reincarnated1967@holyfuckloueh@idreamofplaid@buckyscrystalqueen@ilovetaquitosmmmm@n3rdybird @super-fan-of-all-things@disneymarina@sandlee44@babykalika2001

[exactspyapp-blog]

How Can I Track My Husbands Phone Location ?

How Can I Track My Husbands Phone Location ?

How Can I Track My Husbands Phone Location ?

We are often faced with this question, how do I track my boy friend or how do I track my husband, users look for a spy app that they can install on their boy friends or husbands phone and keep a tab on their whereabouts. Although this is very common question a phone spy app is not the answer to the problem you are facing. Tracking an individual…

[halloweenvalentine1997]

A short story I made out of short stories I’ve written under other names.

When she died, I felt a series of perforations, hollows and bruises

about my skull. I saw her die behind static.

By the stone wall adjacent to the office supplies store, I

bewailed her, screaming,

burning myself later with the tip of a lit cigarette.

I put ash and poison on my wrist for the ones who died.

I wanted to pick a strawberry off the plant in my parents’ backyard

and once more taste its succulence. I wanted to impale my head with the

iron tip of a weathervane. Slice open my vibrant red aorta.

Seeing them all in a hole

through the light emitting

through the asylum blinds.

I myself am a corpse in a bed

in the forensics ward,

green moths on my blanket,

rotting silently in a pastel grave,

killed by medicine,

wasted by time.

If you come close enough to hear my thoughts

(like a chemically-enhanced ghost)

distort and clamor

amongst the traffic, the television,

the noise a death in a family brings,

I will let loose my hatred

like a ribbon from hair,

unraveling red Medusa strands.

I will draw more ribbons on your flesh

if you touch me,

bleed you into the wood,

hammer a nail into your heartline,

devour your fear like a shot of amphetamine

to my malevolent blood.

2013

Stacey

1.

Some of us are the river’s current, floating through life swiftly or slowly, as if in a trance of somnambulism. Some of us are a human shell at its edge, refusing to follow its pattern and be a part of it. Why follow them when you can live on the fringes of society, away from its stigmas and scrutinizing scorn?

2.

When Ellie married Samuel Barnes, the world was a rose-gold utopia. Three years later, at the age of twenty-nine, Ellie no longer felt that the chemistry they had once remained. On a windy September afternoon, when she returned to the red-brick bungalow she shared with Samuel on Hillsam Avenue, Ellie heard moans and sounds of sexual ecstasy emitting from their bedroom. Another woman was there. Ellie’s eyes instantly began to burn like hot coals in a campground grill. She examined her wedding portrait on the wall of the hallway as she moved in slow motion through it. They had been photographed in front of the church’s stained glass windows, a spectrum of color radiating behind the couple adorned in black and white.

She ran her fingers through her long brown hair, blinking through the lake of sorrow in her dark eyes, and suppressing a sob, pushed open the bedroom door at the end of the hall. Another dark-haired woman Ellie didn’t recognize was riding Samuel, and when she registered the door slamming open, she turned around wide-eyed with a cry of alarm, her brown nipples in full view.

“I knew it,” Ellie told Samuel bitterly. “I knew for at least a year that there was someone else!”

Samuel looked at his wife blankly and didn’t reply, his face almost smug.

“Who are you?” Ellie shrieked at the strange woman.

“Lila Stern,” the woman replied. “And clearly, Sam doesn’t love you anymore. He loves me. He has for the entire year you suspected something was going on. We would both like you to leave.”

“Don’t dictate what I will do in my own house, you fucking homewrecker!” Ellie shouted. Lila, remembering her nudity, covered herself with the indigo comforter.

“I agree with Lila,” Samuel said. “Just pack your things and go, Ellie. You’ve been a nagging, paranoid pain in my ass for too long. You’re in need of a psychiatrist, but you won’t pay heed to my advice. All you are lately is a cold fish who’s no fun. A fucking schoolmarm. Find an apartment somewhere. Leave.”

“Now,” Lila said.

Ellie slammed the door shut and bolted down the hall and into the kitchen. She opened the cutlery drawer and grabbed the sharpest knife she could find. Tested its point with the tip of her index finger. A small blood-drop formed in the small pad of flesh. Although Ellie’s tears rained down like heated glass, she felt no physical pain.

I won’t pack my things, she thought. I have a better idea.

She glanced at the neon green digital clock above the oven. It read 1:11 p.m. It was September 24th. As she placed the knife into the pocket of her navy blue peacoat, grabbed her smartphone, scrawled a quick note and left the house, Ellie knew what to do. No more morning to afternoon shifts as a psychiatric nurse at St. Mary Medical Center’s psych unit. No more wondering when Samuel would be home from his nightly excursions. As she walked towards the river, passing the other houses, the Texaco, the railroad tracks, the boarded-up, shutdown factories, memories flashed before her. She remembered her lonely childhood, her even more tumultuous adolescence where she slept with a crowbar in her pillowcase and read The Catcher in the Rye and To Kill a Mockingbird at the edge of the schoolyard grass away from everyone.

“I wish you’d never been born,” Ellie’s mother told her, swilling red wine from a tall, dark bottle.

“I second that,” her father said, puffing on a fat cigar. Once she made it to the river, Ellie collapsed like a house of cards to the white sand, and howled the loss of her love into the godless sky. She glanced from side to side to make sure no one was watching. She couldn’t be sure if someone was for all the foliage and bushes. But she didn’t care. She sat there for the longest time, her breathing a series of hyperventilation. Samuel’s face was all she could see, then Lila’s, the two of them like a rotating holographic image. She wanted her cremated ashes bequeathed to the river. She wanted no tomb in the town cemetery. No funeral. The note she wrote with these directions was in her left pocket of her coat. Such a heavy coat for the nice weather, but Ellie was always cold. Her body, feather-boned and catatonic, slumped over a large rock and she let the tears wet it like a water nymph mourning the loss of a handsome sailor on a receding boat.

Ellie turned on her cell phone and listened to Paula Cole’s “Where Have All The Cowboys Gone?” one last time. It sounded faint above the river’s churning. Just like the woman in the song, she too had an non-devoted, careless husband. She wept hardest at the chorus:

Where is my John Wayne?


Where is my prairie song?


Where is my happy ending?


Where have all the cowboys gone?

“To greener pastures,” Ellie said to herself. “To rose-gold utopias I’ll never see.“

3.

The clock on the wall of Mrs. Sykes’s math class ticked in time to my heartbeat. The hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach that I get when I crave marijuana was there, screaming like a lacuna asking to be filled. The time for more recalcitrance (in this case, truancy and drug use by the river) was near. While Mrs. Sykes droned on like a monotonous honeybee about the Pythagorean theorem, I got up from my desk and slung my backpack over my shoulders. Her gunmetal grey eyes followed me to the door with the poster of the Power Rangers on it, all teamed up together. Always use the buddy system, the poster said.

“Where are you going, Stacey?” Mrs. Sykes asked.

“Skipping class,” I told her. “And dropping out when I turn eighteen in February. This is non-negotiable. You can’t stop me.”

Before my teacher could retaliate, I flounced out of the room, leaving the scoffing and titters of my peers behind me. I left my textbooks in my locker to lessen the load in my backpack. I unzipped a small pocket and grinned at the verdant green pot in its glass pipe.

Jimmy Stirling is the one who introduced me to pot when I was a junior a year before. He was a senior, and one of Lewis and Clark High School’s few homeless students. His dad was a cantankerous drunk and gambler who threw him out. Jimmy spent time singing songs on the sidewalk for spare change, or sleeping at the homeless shelter for adolescents. For someone who was homeless, Jimmy frequently had a remarkably full tin can of bills and change. His singing voice was a rich alto tearing pleasantly through the downtown breeze. On October of last year, he found me crying under the highway after school let out. I recognized him from my creative writing class.

"What’s wrong, Stacey?” he asked.

“My brother’s locked in the loony bin. He’s possessed. He killed Alvin, my guinea pig. Everything is falling apart, and to top it all off, Liam broke up with me this morning.”

"Man, I’m sorry,” Jimmy said. “You every try marijuana? It might make you forget all that stuff.”

“I don’t have any money,” I said, knowing that anyone with marijuana downtown expected payment in return for it.

“That’s alright. I have some I’ll share for free. Let’s sit in my favorite place to do it.”

I followed him, listening to him sing as we walked the few blocks to an alleyway with a set of cement stairs against a condemned apartment, leading to a bolted door. He sang Skid Row’s “18 and Life” and Black Sabbath’s “Killing Yourself To Live.” We sat on the bottom step . He loaded the pot into a glass bowl and taught me how to light it, how to inhale the hit of smoke without exhaling it too soon. I caught the gist of it. Suddenly, within a few minutes, everything was funny. My mind was suddenly devoid of all negativity. I was giggly, light as a tumbleweed blown by a gale of fierce wind. I felt energetic, talkative, and happier that I’d been a long time. Shortly after my day with Jimmy, I learned he went to jail for getting caught with Ecstasy tablets in his lockers. He was also rumored to be selling cocaine and heroin downtown. He wasn’t allowed back at school. I never saw him again. The flashbacks vanished when I approached the river and saw her. She was a woman with long brown hair. She was wearing a peacoat, jeans and pair of black loafers. I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw what she was doing. The woman older than me by at least a decade, was holding a kitchen knife to the veins in her right wrist. She made no sound when she punctured them, her hand dangling over the water. I watched her bloodletting turn part of the emerald river red. It was spouting out like the slashed throat of a sacrificed farm animal. She turned and saw me when i stepped on a twig by accident and snapped it in two.

“Go away,” the woman told. “Believe me, you should be letting this happen.”

She took in my red ringlets, my sharp green eyes, my pink hoodie, my Converse sneakers. Then she went for her throat with her knife and slit it open with perfect finesse. There was a vibe coming off of this woman that insinuated I should just let her die. I could sense that her life had been miserable and mean. I sat on a rock out of sight of the dying woman and got high, thinking of her spirit rising, transcendental and free, into the sun and clouds. I thought of how the first settlers of the city I live in came here 10,000 to 30,000 years ago. Before there were cemeteries, they buried their dead in unmarked graves. I thought of all the skeletons that must be under the grass of the lawns and parks, the sidewalks, the urban streets. I thought of the days of religious fanaticism, and how had I been born then, I would have been buried in unconsecrated ground for my heathen ways. I didn’t believe in god, but I did believe in Satan.

2019

Stacey

I am not sure exactly when my family died. Before they died, I was a genuinely innocent soul whose conscience burned to a crisp. I couldn’t blame myself for it, but I didn’t know who to blame because the ones responsible for my family’s death never came out of their disguises, synthetic human skin and features made to look exactly like my family members would look if they were really there amongst you. I still hear them call to me over highway noise and wind, while I’m taking hits off a meth pipe or smoking a cigarette on an overpass with dead eyes and no ache. I’ve already ached so much. Without them I am a branch breaking off of a tree. It’s hard to explain what I mean by disguises; they look so much like my family but aren’t. They could look like anyone and they’re wearing synthetic skin designed to look like my mom and dad.

I am Stacey Galloway. I was born to a family that never loved me but that I tried to love fiercely. I may have turned into a drug-addled street kid but I still wanted them to love me, anyway. I remember when I first suspected them to be dead. I was sitting in my old apartment in the living room with a scream in my ears that sounded like my mother’s emanating from my laptop and whirling through the dusty air like a trap I would remained enveloped in. I heard a chainsaw start up and then the sound stopped. It was like an audio recording that just stayed there screaming and sawing in my computer speakers. The voices told me my parents were dead and replaced by “skin masks.”

I asked, “What is a skin mask?” “Synthetic skin made to look like your parents. Exactly like your parents. And your younger brother,” a man replied out of thin air. “Someone else is wearing skin that looks like them now. Every feature of your family has been replicated, special contact lenses have been made, someone with the same height as them is wearing skin masks.”

I couldn’t see him but maybe he could see me. I hoped not. What he was saying was too horrible to want to comprehend. It’s humanly possible to do this, with the aid of a lot of fake skin and ways of knowing how the victim worked, how they spoke, where they lived, whom they spoke to. I will never know that world and don’t want to. It’s insidious enough just to live in the city I live in, gone and waking up with ice in my chest in a house that is now unfamiliar and rearranged. All I want to do is get high to forget about it, and it’s worked after awhile.

I know the police will do nothing because I don’t know how to explain it without dying or not making sense. I never wanted this.

I never wanted to lose the only lifeline I had.

So after the voices came from my laptop and told me these things, I left my apartment, locked it and went to the stone wall by the office supplies store about a mile away. I sat there in the gravel and lit a cigarette, the parking lot blurring through my wet eyes. I didn’t know why I believed what I was hearing, but I was anorexic and schizophrenic, and didn’t know how to not believe something that seemed so real. Before all this, I heard voices talk to me in my room that really were there. No one was physically present around me, but their voices reverberated throughout my walls, my silent television, my closed laptop.

“We’re going to kill your family,” said the voices.

I didn’t believe them. I didn’t reply. I thought they were full of shit.

Now I know they’re not, because although the identity thieves of my family are never in prison, the handwriting of my parents has changed, and so have the cadence of their voices. They speak in European accents now when they think they’re alone and that I’m out of earshot. But I can hear them. It’s hard to understand what they’re saying. It’s plain English, but indecipherable at the same time.  My brother’s identity was never actually stolen. He is eighteen and currently going to college. I am twenty-three and never doing anything with my life again. I’m in the loony bin.

I stare through the green and blue in the slit in the blinds and think about the house I grew up in, a green bungalow in the middle of a golden field of grass, a porch swing, wind chimes and an attic window that never lit up. My father always told me our attic was full of asbestos and that it could cause mesothelioma to inhale it after years of exposure to it.

“But,” he said, “there is no asbestos in the rest of the house. You’re safe.”

In the backyard, my mother grew strawberries and tomatoes. There was a one-car garage and a deck, a wooden fence and a glass picnic table with chairs surrounding it. I remember days, years of smoking marijuana in my room and listening to music. Grey smoke filling the room with the scent of weed, filling my lungs with blackness and my heart with euphoria. I will do that later on, in another place, when this institution is tired of me and forces me out the door like I want.

When I went home after my tantrum by the stone wall, I noticed that my parents were still there, or they just appeared to be. I saw no blemishes, no redness, nothing but them with a synthetic look to their skin, it appeared to be fake. But there was my mother’s hair, my father’s hair, my father’s eyes, their faces. Over the next several years that I lived in the house with them, I noticed that while they copied the handwriting of my parents well, it was slightly altered. They could do their signatures perfectly, but their notes to me and their grocery lists were different looking than a note would be were it from my parents. I was distressed by the way my father’s eyes were either a dark blue or a light blue. They looked like two different sets of eyes. He tried to hit me three times, but never went any further than that. I could tell he was an angry man all of a sudden, and though he looked like my father, I knew he wasn’t. He was wearing a synthetic skin mask. It looked like my father, but it wasn’t. Its skin is fake. It wasn’t real. Same with my mother. Whoever these people were, I know I need to chop them up and leave their remains to dissolve in a landfill somewhere. I want to leave my brother, Steffan, out of it. I know there’s a way to make them expose themselves. Purchase a gun, aim through the summer air at the targets, themselves and tell them, “Take off your skin masks! You’re not my parents! You killed them.”

They wouldn’t be able to reply, and if they were somehow compelled to reply and tell me what they did with my parents, I would happily kill whoever is underneath that fake human surface and tell the cops that they were serial killers who spied on my parents for years and stole their identities. Something I never wanted to happen to them or to myself. I hardly ever talk to “my parents” anymore and Steffan stays the hell away as well. I know I have to have them buried but for now, I think I’ll drown myself in writing. I haven’t explained what is going on to the psych ward, which is going to let me out anyway soon. I know how to handle it myself after hearing one of the directors of the facility tell me, “Your family is skin masks.” The sick fuck laughed to himself and I knew I had to flee and get those people who thought they could ever replace my parents, who were unkind to me but were all I had. I hated everyone else or lost the ones who mattered. I’m going back into their house and I’m going to dig up my gun and aim it, loaded with silver bullets, at their brains. I know they’ll unmask. I’m not born yesterday. I know I should do this. I would never duplicate a mask made to look like real skin and identity of someone else, and wear it over myself as though I could become that person. I’d rather swallow a bottle of pills and go to sleep forever. Fall asleep in a meadow of bluebells and Vicodin.

Before here, I hung out under a train bridge where I always wanted to follow the mysterious Mathilde, a girl whose surname I didn’t know to this day, anywhere and everywhere. She came there to buy meth and was always hanging out with older men, smoking a meth pipe and blowing the smoke up into the lights under the train bridge on the cement walls, watching it float, a white demon mask, in the illumination. I joined her once. She asked me, “Why are you doing meth, Stacey?”

“Because I’m miserable without it. It makes me feel like I could walk for miles and it feels like it’s only seconds until you’re at your destination. I feel like I can die alone on the autumn breeze and die happy.”

“Don’t die, Stacey. You’re the last one of them that should be killed.”

“Some of these bitches really should die. Last night, someone threatened me with a lead pipe after I threatened his friend with a lit cigarette after that cunt tried to beat me up. The both of them should burn up in a chamber underground.”

Mathilde smiled. “How did you know I love that sort of thing?”

“Because I can see through you. I’ve seen you in fights under here, too. Try to keep a low radar. I know you haven’t initiated any of those fights, but try to see there are real dangers here in town and don’t let anyone know where you live. I heard you lost your ID recently and had to get it replaced. It was stolen. I’m only saying this because I care about you, Mathilde. I don’t think they’ve done anything with your ID except disposed of it, by now. I think we should stick together.”

“I don’t have any friends except you,” said Mathilde.

And a few days later, I was shoved away into the psych ward, the loony bin, the human menagerie. I felt like a psychiatric science experiment, doped up with meds and lost in the dull, utilitarian rec room, playing ping pong, watching an episode of Intervention in drug  therapy, browsing the bookshelves, learning different coping skills, watching the bus park and then leave through the glass cage of windows, learning about different behavioral therapies, making collages with magazine pictures, standing in line for more meds, staring at the ceiling light reflecting from their TV, craving drugs and wanting to cast off all purity. I couldn’t stand it here any longer. I still can’t. I’m crazier and know I won’t pay for what I’m about to do, considering how horrible what these people did to my parents is. I can’t let them live any longer and everyone is buying into their disguises except and another lady whose name I don’t know. Their old friends won’t speak to them. A lady who lives me nearby told me my mom isn’t herself anymore.

“She’s not Autumn,” the lady told me. Autumn is my mother’s name.

She said nothing about my dad, but all the voices ever reiterated to me was that my dad, Roger, was killed and that I would never know where or what had been done with him. I’ll forever remember that scream and chainsaw sound on my laptop, playing through the speakers out of dead silence. What was I supposed to do with that information. Say I heard it out of thin air? I’d sound psychotic to law enforcement, mental health services and anyone listening. I can’t just ramble about this to random drug addicts, either. I can’t tell them why I’m purchasing the gun, what its purpose is, or where I’m going to kill those thieves. I am haunted by days of sleeping and screaming and all I can do is bleed Ativan and never want to wake up. But still want to avenge my parents’ murder as well. I’m getting out soon. I will sleep under the stars for a night out on the deck, and wait until the daylight breaks to kill them when they emerge from behind their locked door and into the interior of the basement.

You’ll see. They have masks that are so fake-looking they betray themselves, they give themselves away. I can find a way to move on and I know I shouldn’t blame myself, because this destruction of the family foundation was never my doing. It was theirs, whomever is living in those disguises. I’ve told no one. I can’t allow myself to be labelled as psychotic or severely mentally ill, but I have been. I can hear the voices to this day, and four psychiatrists told me that schizophrenia is incurable. The voices can only be tapered down with medications. There is no cure alive for hearing voices, for visual and auditory hallucinations. I’ve seen things too. I’ve seen people that look ghostly and transparent appear by the river, or sitting on curbs, and they vanish into thin air just as quickly as they appeared. A cop by the river, a man in a grey hoodie on the street curb. I see black shadows above me, or white or golden flashbulbs emanating in the ceiling like there’s a camera taking my picture. The voices still talk through speakers, walls and televisions. Car radios. Computers. A speaker will transmit a voice faster than anything. All they’re telling me is that my family was bad and that they deserved it. I know most people wouldn’t agree with this or think this is okay. Nothing is okay. I will never feel like I’m wholly human again.

2016

Mathilde

1.

In the woods there whispered a secret I felt compelled to follow, just to discern its meaning. It could’ve been a blessing or a curse, and still I was brave enough to leave my repressive household for those screams that normally would frighten someone, but I’ve been reduced to a frozen-hearted Banshee on the floor of a seclusion room more than once. I remember the fog of those moments and feeling more broken than even the most dismantled women could get. Screaming because it was expected of me.  

I left home when I was eighteen, dropped straight out of high school, a nightmare I never hope to relive. Age eighteen was the last time I saw a psychiatric facility. My family and me lived in a Tudor mansion in the city’s most affluent neighborhood. It was my parents and my sister Sinead, who was always the opposite of me, the black sheep.

“Mathilde, no one is screaming in the woods,” she’d tell me when I first heard the shrill, ear-scorching girl’s shriek echo from the trees bordering the park.

I ignored her and ran knocking a stone statue over, and sought out the source of feminine distress.

“Hello? Are you alright?”

“No matter where you go, I’ll find you,” was the whisper that fervently replied from somewhere in the foliage. As though the angel or apparition (whatever she was) could read my mind. I was thirteen.

Pale and whey-skinned compared to my sister, who perpetually blushed and took better care with her pretty countenance. She snagged Dale Tierney before I could get to know him; naturally someone like him would gravitate towards an extroverted floozy like my sister Sinead. He greeted me politely but tersely upon visiting our house, as I was not the subject of his interest. My sister was seventeen, and a senior in high school, while I was in ninth grade, a razor-freak and antisocial, maladjusted misfit. Sinead pretended not to notice. My cuts bled on tiles to industrial rock music. No one could stop me.

*

“Mathilde-”

“Don’t speak, or I’ll excavate your heart from your chest and incinerate it while I smoke a coffin nail,” I replied. He was chasing Dale with a bat, and I remembered a brief feeling just like getting fucked with a knife. Some bat-wielding perverts had jumped me several years ago and shoved the handle in.

“Mathilde!”

“I’ll eat your heart before I burn it over the pyre,” I snapped.

In the abandoned grain elevator building made of cement, a place I pretended was a mental institution, I executed him. Lobotomized, Never anesthetized, because I wanted him to feel like hell. I always knew there was no inferno underground where bad people like myself and this man who is dying beneath a series of rope knots. I have bound him in a length of chain as well. Years ago, long after the screaming in the foliage to the cacophonous magpies had ceased, I heard a woman or young girl wail in agony above the ceiling. The attic I never went up in because it was asbestos-ridden, and I wondered how schizophrenic I had become.

I told my father (a man who once told me “try harder” while I pretended to asphyxiate myself with a shoelace adorning the knob of my bedroom door) that I heard a scream erupt from the attic.

“Well, your intake with mental health is tomorrow,” my dad replied. “We’ll get you on the right meds.”

I hoped and prayed there was no reality behind the scream.

The house was over 100 years old; it could’ve been a benevolent or malevolent apparition.

He’s dead.

I’ll splash him with acid and dissolve him into the floor.

I see Dale watching me from the doorway all of a sudden.

“I am Hell itself,” I tell him. He seems to know the guy I offed was scum.

We laugh.

*

I wake up from my zoning out on the couch at 3 a.m., content, knowing I had no part in it. None of it was my fault. Tori Amos’s To Venus and Back album has played on repeat all night. I could’ve retained my innocence if the city’s pathetic excuse for a population cut me a little slack, but now all I have time for is complete, indisputable indifference. And euphoria over everything, hedonistic amusement showing at all times. So happy I could die in outer space. I wouldn’t even care. I used to put methamphetamine mixed with angel dust, or PCP into my bloodstream and it was then that I discovered a drug that could take away the fear of death itself. A man said, “Get the fuck out of here or face my gun.” I saw no gun to speak of and felt numb with nothing but mania in my head under the freight train bridge. I moved myself as far away from him as I could go. I was full of amphetamines under the bridge. A place downtown full of drama and drugs. I saw a man hold a knife to the throat of a man in his late teens or early twenties. I told the older man with the knife, “Don’t cut him. Just don’t. I don’t want police under here. I’m not calling them. Just…don’t,” I told him lifelessly. This was before the gun threat with the possibly non-existent gun in one of his pockets. The man withdrew his silver blade and backed off the guy, who was the only one allowing me to use a meth pipe. I felt no affection for him considering I don’t know him to this day, but I wonder how I’m not afraid to waltz out into the insidious Spokane night. A hellhole in the central eastern part of Washington state. I never liked this city, famous for its underground whoredom and criminal activity since the early nineteenth century. I intend to haunt it just like the screaming ghosts.

But I won’t scream. I’ll just make them their own worst enemies. I don’t feel I will ever really die, even when my body does.

“I hate you and I love myself, you pathetic fucking city,” I whispered to the mirror. I would place them in an underground chamber. Baths of acid dissolving useless DNA. When people like me are crossed, the night can scream and sleep will reveal what Hell can be. I’ve dreamt of being in a kennel on a plane. Jail cells on a bus with cages lining the aisle that remind me of a jail on wheels. It deserts me by the side of a road aligning a river. Sometimes I dream of treading deep water and drifting along in its waves like a damned soul. I dream of people glaring at me in dark alleys, houses where there’s nothing to watch but a woman in a peach-colored dress entertaining some businessman, drinking something out of a wineglass while she does it. An abandoned asylum being haunted by myself and others. It’s like I’m haunting somewhere that is judging me as I judge it.

I made a carbon copy of him. A clone. I drifted away on dissociative hallucinogens to the sound of his voice in my ear. I don’t care that he’s not really here.

Whenever anyone badmouths him, I feel like they should meet the Windex I pretend to pour in their coffee.

I’ll do what I please for the rest of my life.

2.

Colored balloons and iridescent papier-mâché dotted the walls on the summer evening of my sister, Sinead’s, suicide. I staggered home to Stevie Nicks’s “Stand Back” blaring from her room above the stairwell on repeat, a bottle of Robitussin lingering in my bloodstream. I felt high as a kite. I stared into the rainbow vortex, the littered warps of tinsel on the floor, and remembered hours earlier an argument ricocheting off the walls between Dale Tierney and Sinead. I couldn’t understand them through their slurred drunkenness. I remember a wineglass breaking against his car as it was tossed aside by Sinead.

I had never known her to fall apart.

I would have never done this to him, but I chose to keep out of his way and never tell him how I felt. I was like winter without him, cold as silver and bracing as the winds of the east. I could sustain the fantasy of him more than the reality.

He was somewhere in the house, probably, drunk in the kitchen and avoiding the drama of prior hours.

When the song played one more time, I ascended the stairs and traipsed down the corridor to Sinead’s room.

Do not turn away, my friend

Like a willow I can bend

No man calls my name

No man came

So I walked on down away from you

Maybe your attention was more

Than you could do

One man did not call

He asked me for my love

And that was all

The lines from the song tore through the air and were like bells of 80s euphoria in my ears. I saw Sinead dead with a jagged red line across her throat, torn open from a self-inflicted wound. Blood spattered the mirror of her vanity table. I never thought she had the guts to even prick her finger. I watched her white face for a moment, its waxen marble idiocy, its vacant, grey-eyed death. In extremis, she looked more at peace than I’d ever been in life.

Dale was nowhere to be found on the property. A white sheet covered my sister’s face and they wheeled her to the morgue. I would soon adorn her grave with clematises and dahlias. I would miss her soliloquies on the balcony before he entered our lives. She was so melancholic sometimes, but nowhere near as much as I.

The day after her funeral procession, a blur of black hearses and silver cemeteries, mounds of dirt cascading over her coffin, I smoked angel dust and watched the rain fall outside as I blared heavy metal from the stereo. Tears only burned once and I allowed them to fall for two minutes. Nothing could bring her back, and when Dale rang the doorbell I only told him, “She’s gone,” and closed the door in his face. His double stood behind the closed door ready to embrace me and disappear with me into the bed.

“No one should be allowed to even reach me, touch me or talk to me,” I said. I told the silent thin air. I didn’t want a reply, and I awoke the following day to a touch on my shoulder. When I turned, I saw nothing. Not a person. Not even a trail of vapor. I’d deny anyone from knowing the monster that is me.

Something in me still laughs, despite the grief.

I can see her in dreams. I can see Dale in dreams.

I’d rather daydream on drugs and live in the ruins of my old house than deal with the heinous society around me.

Broken doorknobs and glass I can’t shatter. I swallow pills and wrap myself in blankets, dreaming of a boundless, lazy sea that carries me in its midst. When I reach land, it is steep and treacherous.

I awaken in my mirage’s arms. I am an endless realm of sadism when someone poses as a threat. I once pointed a silver crescent of a knife to the skin of one of his would-be attackers. I won’t ever let go of the image Dale embellished in my mind.

I am as dead as the man in the cement left in a puddle. I am as dead as Sinead, wallowing away in a hallucinogenic reality.

I find nothing damaging although my health is rotting like the grass in the heat waves. Rotting like the relics in every yard, made of metal and plastic. I hate everyone in the world and all I wanted was to end the city.

All I wanted was to end time.

To corrupt and corrode.

To slide right out of life older than anyone had ever been.

3.

I’m only twenty-five years old, and it took me that long to finally kill someone. It was in defense of Dale while we wandered for a couple minutes when I ran into him, discovering he also had an affinity for the abandoned grain elevator where I killed whatever his obtuse name was. I knew somehow he would grace my presence that day. The would-be attacker was quite the opposite of a graceful presence; he was a storm. A storm boiled in my blood, too, and instantaneously, I made the baseball bat fly out of his brandishing arm and struck him several times. Dale Tierney grinned as he watched me debase the humanity right out of the man’s veins. I left him there to rot by some old filing cabinets.

Months after all of that happened, I no longer cry tears or cling to a crucifix on my pillow in the shade. There is nothing more to make of myself; no one will expect anything of me for a long time. Maybe never. Isolative by both night and day, I crave no presence to sustain me through the day. My parents flit about the house and are mostly not in it.

Yesterday I met a girl in a white dress with glittery, crimson-bleeding eyes in the foyer. She bid me follow her to the mirror beneath a chandelier and told me my beauty would wane.  Then she vanished into the air like an exploding star. I didn’t care and I told her to hush and leave me be. I gazed into the mirror, not as dissatisfied as I used to be. Sinead was always prettier, but I no longer envied her for it. If anything, I missed her. I never knew, in my cough syrup-induced state, what Dale had told Sinead that pushed her over the edge enough to slit her throat. She took her own life right off the planet. I will forever imagine her ricocheting into the stars, an astral angel leaving her own body and becoming a new being in the form of a spirit. The girl with blood rivers in her eyes was nowhere near as beautiful as my sister.

Whenever I think of the glow of emergency vehicles outside the limits of the mansion, I pacify myself and push away the thought as fast as it came. I know there were no witnesses besides Dale and me. There was no one to see us all meet there, not knowing one another would gather there to explore the grain elevator. Barbed wire, rusted beer cans and rejected heroin needles littered the ground at the base of the cement building. It had been shut down since the 1970s, and not a soul usually stirred in or around it premises by the railroad tracks. There was nothing to do at the place besides fuck or get stoned. In this case, I killed someone and left him for dead in the place’s basement. The bat was disposed of. Everything wiped clean. No information regarding me can be salvaged because I am a lightning bolt full of speed running as fast as I can away from everyone.

4.

I am sitting by the 7-Eleven high on acid. Halos and wings bleed out of the sky and litter the parking lot in a debris of feathers and gilded circles. I cannot scream in my house, so I went downtown to swallow an LSD-laced sugar cube and careen in the opposite direction from rational thinking. There was nothing to do but melt away along with everything else around me. I wanted the patterns of the strip mall across the street to keep melting, the neon of the bar on Dante Avenue to keep illuminating the girl beneath its sign with the darkest eyeliner I’d ever seen. She kept moving from side to side erratically, as if she were high on speed. I just can’t sustain my lifeform without drugs. I become other selves. I talk to ghosts of humans, both living and dead. She is talking to the empty air that always has answers. Her cigarette smoke forms a crown. I get bored and walk down the street, the church on its corner alit with hallucinatory flames. I think I see Sinead staring at me beneath the wainscoting in someone’s house through their window. I hate everyone except her and Dale, but whatever he said to her caused her to slice her own throat open. I can’t trust him to not make me capsize. I can’t let my iron guard down when it comes to my walls.

Do not touch me, I command every living human.

There is a star I stare at to the south that shines its light upon my shoulder blades ripping open, my veins bluer than before in my wrists. I caress them. The most important love is self-love, I tell myself. That is how I will flourish.

2019

Mathilde

1.

They found the remains of the body that I left behind in a fit of post-traumatic rage. It was a puddle of lye and hydrochloric acid, and gone was the baseball bat-wielding storm of a man after he tried to assault my sister Sinead’s lover, Dale Tierney. A few years ago, my sister committed suicide over an incident with him in which the circumstances are still unknown to me. Since then, I’ve been laying on my bed with voices compressing my head, telling me they’ll sell me and kill me. I am too strong, too fortified with indifference to care. My parents are rarely at home and I’ll never tell them. My dad would just advocate for changing the medication combination I’m currently not taking.

My twenty-eighth birthday is just around the corner. A brand new gun I purchased from one of my meth dealers shines in my hand in the starlight, full of a fresh supply of bullets. My red-lipsticked smile could enchant the devil. On top of the hill where I stand are two high school enemies, Jamie Frances and Stormy Hale. The last place I saw them was under the freight train bridge. They were sharing a pot pipe. They called me an ugly dog. That time, I let it slide off like snow from a gabled roof. Now, I’ve got the two of them right where I want them and I’m still not bothered by their comment. Underneath of them the grass blades look like ebony knife blades and my hand is on my cheap but efficient gun. It’s a silencer so there won’t be much sound when I snuff their lives out. I know how reckless this is considering anyone could have seen me out their window at 2 a.m., but I’m willing to risk it anyway. Jamie and Stormy don’t see me watching from the top of the metal stairs.

2.

I approach with quiet steps across the hilltop. Their backs are turned. My hand grips the gun more firmly than a snake’s coiling hold on a victim. Closer. They turn around. Closer still. Jamie yelps like a mouse before the gun’s bullet catches her in the head, embedded in the wisps of her brown hair. She collapses like a darted, tranquilized animal to the grass. Next, I point the gun at blond, self-righteous Stormy. I see nothing. The fear in her face screams a novel’s length of words. I fire at her forehead and she, too, is done for. It’s my lucky night that they chose this hilltop to smoke weed. I was coming here to smoke meth. I embellish each bitch with another bullet hole and calmly leave them there, the swishing sound of the gunfire replaying in my mind.

The hill. The black grass blades. An abbatoir for two girls who crossed a thin line.

3.

I go home, hide the gun and decide I’m already too high to take another hit. I open an antiquated copy of The Scarlet Pimpernel and nearly read the whole thing, satisfied that the voices in the wall have been silenced. I’ll read the end tomorrow. Before I close my red-tinted eyes at 8 a.m., I think I see Sinead standing at the edge of my bed.

“Good job, Mathilde,” she tells me. “You snuffed those cunts out just like a hurricane takes out a wooden house in southern floods.”

I love her.

I miss her.

I almost cry, but my emotions are in a graveyard somewhere. My eyes are only ice instead of liquid tears. My heart isn’t broken. I know she’ll always be with me. I know that the mirage I made of Dale will always love and caress me, even when I’m no longer young and dangerous. He’s not really here but it’s like I can see him anyway.

4.

I imagine the bones of Stormy and Jamie decomposing under the cold earth. And if they are cremated, their ash is undisturbed in urns for centuries. I think of crimson bullet holes on the hilltop of a feminine warzone. It’s the last thing I see before I fall into a pleasant slumber.

2019

Stacey

They released me from the psych ward. I have a gun in my hand. I’m veering towards the bungalow with meth reeling in my veins, my hands on a fifteen dollar loaded gun. I purchased it from a man in a trench coat in an alleyway. I open the door.

“Where were you?” asks my non-mother. She looks and sounds like my mother, but she isn’t my mother.

“It’s late.”

“Take off your skin mask,” I tell her, withdrawing the gun and pointing it at her head. “Stand up and unmask! You’re not my mother! Take that damn thing off!”

She starts to hyperventilate, and stands up. She fumbles with the layers of skin parts that originated in some clandestine building. They come off and underneath is another pale woman. I don’t study her face but I don’t recognize it. The moment I realize I’m right and that this is a malevolent identity thief, I blow her brains to pieces. I shoot her full of three holes. I only wish this were a smoking gun. I steal away into dad’s TV room and he does the same thing. He’s just an ordinary guy underneath. These two strangers are people that have lived the lives of someone stepping into a stranger’s skin. Stealing their house, their job, their lives. I’ll never sleep again. Once they’re both dead, I call 9-1-1.

“I just killed my parents’ identity thieves. Come and pick up their remains,” I tell the operator once asked what my emergency is. I tell them my address and they wheel them away. They’re covered in white sheets.  A bunch of cops tell me, “You’re not going to pay for this. They were dangerous. They were unpredictable. They could have killed you, too. You haven’t assaulted us, and we thank you for that and understand how hard this is to talk about for you. So we’re going to just let you stay in the house for awhile. Keep the gun with you.”

They leave.

I’m considered a murderer in self-defense. I’m not even going back to the psych ward because I haven’t told them my history of hospitalization.

I scribble a murderous vignette in a composition notebook that night called “Cornfield Rot.”

It reads:

1.

“Some of us are wraiths gliding through your world, blissfully unaware of your cryptic eyes staring past us, of your mouths that eject inanities. All we’ve heard is noise for years.

We’re used to it.”

2.

This is the paragraph I hear spoken aloud to me in a phantom whisper at 3 a.m., my alarm clock bathing my stoned self in a neon green glow. It’s a feminine voice, half-familiar and as faint as the illumination from the clock. My pillow is like a wreath of thorns. I eat pills, caffeine, switchblades and shards of broken teacups. There is a prevalence of apathy that spreads me in me, but what I lack is fear. What they say I lack is self-respect. I suck down another joint, draining the grass until it glows like the motel fire I will see in a few days. Lighting up the firmament with incandescent flames, fiery orange mingled with slate grey. I always wanted to rip open the sky like paper and end the world. When the Days Inn burned down from one of my lit cigarettes, I fled the scene as the firetrucks skyrocketed past me. Black flames filled the town with poison. The colors blurred through the water in my eyes. I hated everything around me since I could think, since I could speak.

Something explodes behinds me as I propel myself further away from the scene of my infantile crime. No more late-night TV, no more waking up to the same sailboat prints on the walls. No more panhandling at the hamburger restaurant next door to the Days Inn.   I’m as thin and intangible as a wisp of smoke floating through the adrenaline-suffused air. I’ll disappear into the fields and search for rotting bodies under the pines.

I imagine swallowing a handful of pills next to the concrete platform by the abandoned bowling alley, the one with the crimson anarchy sign spray-painted on it. I see a haze of red Victorian wallpaper and a knife aimed at many skulls. A flash of fire will light up in other places someday. I won’t kill myself while they recline in the brambled ruin and laugh.

3.

Sometimes I can hear the dead in the dirt beneath me say,  “I am under here.” I’ve heard them come from underneath the bus stops I wait at, the sidewalks, the swimming pool, the abandoned drive-in theater at the edge of town.

I can’t see them, but I can hear them with ears that hear nothing but bells, voices, or chaos. I can feel my pain get carried off with the breeze at such times. They give me the hope that death is an opening to a portal of the soul’s immortality.

4.

My makeup is burning off. I’m a limp, ragged doll in the corn maze getting eaten by ants. I got lost looking for the exit. I am rot given back to the earth.

2015

Janine

Amanda Warwick, age twenty-two, lay submerged in a halfway-house, painted yellow walls, dirt yard, a place to be jettisoned to. She had overdosed on methamphetamine in the heated, sunlit parking lot of multiple storage garages, her head in a hole in the cement next to an empty Halloween candy basket shaped like a Jack O Lantern. After the sharp inhalation of crystallized smoke found her brain, she was set off balance with the cathedral’s clamoring bells, the beauty of the wind’s white noise. She drenched herself in the calm black water of the lake, washing asunder the sins of Janine Crellin. Janine, with her green eyes and reddish-blond hair, a contrast to Amanda’s coarse black curls and hazel orbs, was in an infamous fixture in Amanda’s past. She had bled Amanda in the alleyway, bedazzled by the trails of blood flow, scarlet stars, mesmerizing to Janine. They were both sixteen and lived next door to each other. A red brick house with a picket fence (Janine’s) set beside a white house with green shutters (Amanda’s).

Janine was belligerent. Amanda was polite. They weren’t friends and Janine’s problem with her originated from a source unknown to her. In wild, vociferous rage, Janine left cigarette burns, several of them, that felt like surface tumors after they swelled with ash and pain.

What could I have done to you? Amanda thought.

Amanda was never wholly perceptive of what she was doing to Janine. If the evidence of Amanda’s taunts and provocations had been recorded, her remarks would have been proven to have been said aloud. On that day in the alleyway, Janine couldn’t refrain from assaulting Amanda because of Amanda stealing a plastic bag of marijuana. All they both wanted to do was get high. Janine withdrew a knife, the steel blade glinting, sawing gashes formed like lightning bolts. Gashes made while Janine sat on Amanda’s neck to choke and carve across her stomach, the spaces between her ribs where Janine slightly poked Amanda’s ligament, tearing it. When Amanda passed out from lack of oxygen, Janine began to carve some more. The thighs. The calves. A turning over of the deprecated body. More blood pools against the jutting bones of the shoulderblades.

What a passage to destitution, what a decline of descent into the laconic state of shades pulled down, the swallowing of Vicodin. Amanda was in for it. After the cutting and the burning done unto her flesh was concluded, Janine took off into the night where she was always most comfortable.

Amanda never would have been revived if not for a lone transient who discovered her with a faint pulse and numerous raw wounds, blood cold, veins a transparent blue beneath the skin on her crooked arm. He called an ambulance at a pay phone and Amanda was swept to the hospital, where she was diagnosed with a concussion, loss of blood, five broken ribs and amnesia. It took Amanda one week to recall Janine’s attack and even longer to recover her memory; her head had been hit so hard on concrete. She chose to press charges and Janine was confined to jail for eight months and later on to psychiatric care on and off for three more years. She was very troubled. Her anger seemed baseless. Amanda wondered, withdrawing from meth in her bed, if she had died that evening in rigor mortis in the snowfall, if some silver angel of death, one of grace and storms, would have absolved her of fear and taken her to another side. One separate from life where we all may go, anointed. Amanda wasn’t sacred anymore. She had survived but now she wanted to expire.  Amanda thought of Janine in a devious city, weapons hidden away, only to come out again for the dismemberment of corpses, dragged in burlap thorough a secluded forest, placed in a ditch by the railroad tracks under a pine tree, branches hanging low with needles. Amanda’s thoughts were decay, wasp stings, rotten fruit, sour wines, aspiring homicide. The residents of the group home generally ignored Amanda, but as of recently, they wanted her dismissed as a resident because of her conflict with them over trivial matters of ones full of more depth than would have been suspected.

Meanwhile, Janine was exactly where Amanda supposed, in the position of a merciless killer. She let the bodies sink into remote lakes with heavy stones tied to them, not a trace of her DNA left on their remains because she wore hair nets and was careful. She often got high and was free of institutionalization. No more secluded cages or millstones of grim prophecy. Amanda was only an attempted murder. When Janine left town at eighteen, she acquired a car to transport the bodies. In her new town, a population of nearly 30,000, she knew the civilians to target. She knew who they were.

Fanatics.

Chaos itself.

Dysfunctional child-abusers.

Every house with a shrine dedicated to only the pristine. Their gilded monuments.

So far, Janine had killed seven people.

Her victims:

1. Jay Motley, 36, convicted child rapist and wino

2. Alyssa Sparrow, 14, student, frequent bully

3. Martha Wilde, 45, child killer and teacher

4. Karen Wilder, 21, employee of Burger King

5. Kevin Fielding, 7, was terminally ill

6. Tess Moriarty, 22, bartender

7. Matthew White, 29, pawnshop owner

*

When Janine Crellin was four, she saw in her parents’ living room, a black halogen lamp with white flames flickering at the top. Either it had been left on too long, or her mother had set the fire herself, Janine decided.

“Look what you did,” said Mrs. Crellin, blaming the fire on her. She would grow up to relish those flames, pyromania impending. First, Janine burned her journals, then people.

In remote plains tied to wooden stakes with twine, gazed at by onlookers, the only ones who could hear the screams.

Amanda Warwick, in her reverie of Janine, planned to kill her. A new resident told her where she was living. Not far away.

“Here’s her address. I’ve smoked weed at Janine’s house. After what she did to you, Amanda, I would undo her.”

Seven people were dead so far and Janine still slept, tranquil at night. Never would she allow grief or guilt to disturb her. She had made to list of victims, having met them all, knowing their crimes. They had moved to the town for its quaintness and scenery as well as to carry on their traditions of immorality. Only one victim was innocent. Kevin Fielding, who was only seven years old with severe cancer. Just a needle in his vein put him to sleep and sent him, Janine supposed, to celestial firmaments.

How far could she get by being a killer? In the distance, Amanda tried to peer into the room of Janine and sacrifice her dead.

 

                               Amanda

I was born in the middle of nowhere in a Gothic castle with saints and gargoyles guarding the doorway. My father had painted blood coming from their eyes as they knelt in prayer, keeping watch over our mercenary riches. He was blond with brilliant green eyes. When I lived on the grounds of his castle, I had to be his farm slave doing yard work and keeping the flowers by the moat neat and alluring. He made me kill the animals I admired more than the humans. I will forever remember what he did to my eyes. A complicated surgery that lifted up my skin and transformed my eyes from squinty and listless to bulbous and beautiful. I was staring into an antiquated mirror surrounded by four girls prettier than  myself preparing me for eye surgery. My father grabbed me aggressively by the wrists, placed me on a cot and put me to sleep momentarily to perform plastic surgery. An eyelift, he called it. The girls giggled in their pinafores, playing dress up at girls from the nineteenth century. I will kill Janine. They looked just like her. I will kill her. We are sisters. We have the same father and I killed him when he came to my adopted parents’ house to kill me. Shot him point blank in the head. His ghost will never be able to speak to me from the dead. 

I am ready to kill this girl Janine who fucked me up when we were teenagers. People tell me to stop being so high school and grow up, but I’m not in high school or hanging out with high school kids. Just people that keep the mentality around too much and I’m bored of them. Where will I find her and how will I get past her gang of people that I know is protecting her, driving her around in cars to burn people and sink them into rivers. Nobody can find her but I know she’s the type to kill and I heard a woman discuss her and use the term “murder” and “rope.” I don’t know how to take a person down and a part of me tells me to stay away from her. But a part of her wants Janine to kill me again and send me on my way to a better place. The government wants to control my health and not allow me to smoke meth. It houses me in group homes that are unkind to me and compare my surgery to drivel compared to what their daughters with a lot of money paid to get. They got way better facelifts. I have weird eyes. Currently, I’m on the road looking for a way to find out what Janine’s doing, spy on her a little. She lives in a plain wooden house and I can see her in the window, staring out at me knowing it’s me; I am easily recognized by my eyes, even at a far distance. I’ve changed my mind. I want Janine to kill me. I can take a lot of pain. I know I won’t survive her and I can’t help but throw myself at the mercilessness of this sadistic girl.


 

*

Nobody saw Janine drag Amanda’s lifeless corpse up the three cement stairs and into her house to dispose of her with acid. She shot Amanda with a silencer the moment she saw her face loom large and moon-like at the window, open and paneless. The neighborhood Janine lived in was full of gang bangers and drug addicts that shot up and shot people driving by them at night in the street. I must be in the right place, Janine reassured herself. She planned to dispose of Amanda in a nearby landfill, to never be figured out.

2019

Mathilde

My old friend, Janine from summer camp, was just arrested. She told the news she assisted in the suicide of Amanda Warwick, a girl who Janine claimed wanted to kill her. A girl I once met under the train bridge, Stacey Galloway, is not being prosecuted for the murders of Brian Harlow and Jane Seymour, her parents’ identity thieves. It’s really sick shit. Brian and Jane wore skin masks that were completely like real human skin and the features of Stacey’s parents had been duplicated. She didn’t really know what to do about it for many years until she just went crazy. She told me about the recording from her laptop, and I didn’t know how to explain it. I had heard the voices, too. If you don’t want to hear voices, I recommend that you don’t do drugs. You will become a schizophrenic satellite. You’ll hear the world speak to you, and the people in public will say what you’ve heard your voices say when you think you’re alone at home. They can hear you breathe, they can hear you sing, talk, even think. I don’t know how to put Stacey at ease. I’m never really on edge anymore, but I can tell she is. I always wanted to make her my partner in crime. Even Janine would have done well, but I’m against her opinion that Kevin Fielding needed to die. He was just a kid, and I’m against killing kids. Apparently something leaked out and someone turned her in. She is now in prison forever.

I know the same thing won’t happen to me because I plan to stop after three killings. I wish I could free her and I wish I could ease Stacey’s pain. What’ s happened to her is horrible.

Like my old friends, June and Marcelle. Their group home has been shut down and I don’t know where they are, now. Both girls were beautiful and crazy. They had been raped by strange men who met them at the house of their legal guardians and they killed their guardians in self-defense. Marcelle didn’t pay for her crimes, but June had killed the neighbors as well as her guardian and got locked up in the criminal forensics ward for seven years. Just as I’m thinking of them, I decide to write. It’s about a girl who’s always being watched.

It runs on like this:

It was my sophomore year of college. I had just completed the first day and everything depressed me, especially the shadows of the maple leaves dancing on the wall in my dorm room.

“I’m going out for awhile,” said my roommate, Naomi Carver. I assumed she would be gone for a long while. My homely reflection stared back at me from the rectangular razorblade I held in my hand. I took in the zit on my chin, my black curls, my lackadaisical brown eyes. I turned the blade away from me and reflected the white, utilitarian walls covered in posters of new wave bands, the fake plastic red flowers in a vase on the nightstand, the Russian dolls next to it. The bottom of the blade was still covered in cocaine powder from a night Naomi spent partying at a friend’s apartment. My eyes stung. I moved in slow motion to the bathroom and ran water on my wrist in the sink. The key is not to think, I silently told myself. The key is to gash the vein and not fear what’s beyond. With the past, present and future forgotten, I made a vertical red line on my wrists, tearing into the blue creek of vein beneath my porcelain flesh. It brought forth a mild sting, like a bee’s. Blood spurted like a fountain into the sink, onto the mirror.

When I began to feel weak, I allowed myself to fall to the linoleum and wait for a bright light, a celestial set of golden gates. Before I faded out entirely, I felt a pair of arms pull me up and heard Naomi’s distorted shouting.

“Mildred!”

I blacked out, thinking it was only a hallucination when I saw a girl who looked like me staring at the scene from the entrance to the dorm room. I would see her later, in new circumstances. It turned out that Naomi forgot her phone, which is how she found me attempting to end my dismal life.

They sent me to a local hospital, where they staunched the bloodfloow and where I eventually came to. The first thing I remembered was how I used to be such a sweet little girl. I think the most soulless day I had was when I was in junior high and I burned Elena Miller with a lit cigarette, all the world curdling behind my eyes with anger.

“Where do you want it?” I asked Elena, wielding the cigarette like a knife against her arm. “Your skin, or your clothes?” I pointed the tip at the polyester of her blue blouse. At the finality of my outburst, I chose her pale wrist as the target. Elena gasped instead of screaming. I spent two weeks in juvenile detention, was expelled and transferred to another school. As I was recalling this savory memory, a psychiatrist came to evaluate me and she concluded I needed inpatient treatment in the psych ward on the upper level of the hospital. Once I was up there, I frequently threw thermonuclear fits in the blinding flourscence of the ceiling lights. The leather restraints they placed on my bed burned like fire. They were too tight. A whole week later, they sent me to a place of higher security, a building as old as the 1950s called Astria State Hospital. Located in Astria, Washington, a small country town full of orchards and horses.

Over the course of the next two weeks, I covered my bedroom window with collages and childish colored pencil drawings, once of which was a depiction of me rising above three pastel-colored buildings and into the sky. I wore a black dress and had no legs. Often, I stared up at the sky during cigarette breaks and felt like falling to one of the hollow black holes in outer space, but I was bound by the limitations of earth. My heart felt like hellfire.

“Mildred Swain should burn with fire,” said a patient with wild hair, pointing at me and taking a puff of his cigarette. I could only wonder how he knew my last name, let alone was he was saying this. I had been as friendly as possible since I was admitted into the hospital. As I lay in bed one night, a litany of insults came from both patients and staff passing by the door. They called me ugly, weak and deserving of death. I pulled the blanket over my head and refused to fight back. When I felt they were gone, I emerged from under the blanket, and saw her come in. The girl who looked exactly like me loomed, pale and spectral over my bed. She moved as though she were walking on water.

“Who are you?” I asked her.

“An extension of you,” she said. “You are doomed to be hated until you die. Humans are forever to be your plight. When you go home, they’ll talk about you on the sidewalk, in the park, in the classroom. All you can do is be strong and persevere.”

She went on talking until I fell asleep. When morning came, I felt groggy. The sunshine evaporated me. I felt like a puddle of snow melting beneath my blanket. Slowly, in the midst of the empty room, I willed myself to rise to the ceiling and become united with the camera I felt to be hidden in the light above. I watched myself from the top and there was my strange twin in the branches of the cherry tree outside my window, snapping my picture with a polaroid, the black eye of the lens like the eye of an observant spider.

2019

Stacey

In the dream, I am small enough to fit into a crawlspace. I cannot hide from my mother’s red wine in our barren living room that is as black as a power outage, as black as my rotten innocence. My mother picks me up and takes me to the car, says it’s time to go, I need help. She parks outside a stone clinic and leaves me inside. I cry out and am told to be silent by a stern receptionist. Two white coats hold me down and drag me to a white room with a thirty-something redhead in it. She has painted the word “borderline” on the wall next to an immaculate, gold-framed mirror. When we face it to see our reflections (mine child-like, hers much older), we are propelled from its shattering glass by a defiance of gravity. We coil up and writhe, possessed by demons. Satan lets us die together, which is a blessing compared to living in the hospital. I close my eyes one last time without seeing my mother. I only see the broken glass, the blood on the wall (bright as an ambulance light), the linoleum beneath my cheekbone. I am a dead husk of a human determined to haunt the city I was born in. Life grows black again. I don’t scream.

Marcelle

2012

Marcelle Trahern was raised by two cunts with Munchausen syndrome by proxy, a term derived from the original Munchausen syndrome itself. If one has Munchausen syndrome by proxy, it means a caregiver (in this case, the godmother of Marcelle), chooses to refrain from giving their charges the right health, supplements and nutrients to keep them alive. In fact, they make them worsen with sickness and degradation. Subtly, so the good doctor won’t notice they’re causing the illness for their charges. The first bitch had decided to poison her subtly instead. Marcelle’s godmother favored ipecac. In their small village, church was a mandatory service where all girls had to see the Lord Jesus Christ be praised or crucified on film. A montage of filmy sunlight and a golden cross shone from an array of manipulative Christian imagery, perceived on an overhead projector.

Marcelle went every Wednesday and Sunday in a grey stone building with elaborate brick arcs painted black outlining the stained glass windows. The broadcast room was like an insidious revelation opening up a nightmare to the eyes of sensitive Marcelle, without the abrasive steel to pry a pair of eyes open. Especially when the topic was eternal damnation or the crucifixion of Jesus. It was like a metaphorical film lobotomy. They just stayed peeled open, unable to shut or fall asleep for any reason. Nanny Cravat insisted she stay awake. She favored those antiquated neckbands.

The girls sat around her in stiff, ungraceful lines, backs upright or slouching depending on the girls’ preference to posture. Ms. Winifred Scarlet, who had been killing off children in her home for three years, took Marcelle in at eleven years old the year her mother died and Marcelle was never able to know the woman by heart in a way her memory could rely upon. Winifred was a registered foster mother and she was ailing. Marcelle killed her foster mother (and made the police and medical examiner rule the death as a suicide). She sang “Don’t Fear the Reaper” in her choir voice while spoon-feeding Winifred “sugar in a spoon bowl, so the medicine goes down.” She gagged on the Drano and no longer said the words Marcelle needed to hear: “You should be ashamed of yourself,” “You should be grateful,” “Why didn’t you try harder?” Winifred was involved in a canned television broadcast again for that last comment, a boring, banal comedy Winifred needed to have Marcelle watch with her before bed in 2011.

On March 24, a clear, shiny spring morning, Marcelle knew that she had no one to rely upon any better by the time the next foster mother came around to raise her. She was a distant harridan of a woman with a thin, pert mouth shut tight at church and open like a wrathful shrew to chastise Marcelle at home.

“See that window?” said Nanny Cravat, her second godmother: a malevolent, Puritan woman with brown hair in a frizz and vacant eyes.

“You’ll be lucky if God saves you when you fall out of it. It’s all shit. God’s for nothing. But I fear hell just as much as you do. All we can do is try to believe and see if God listens.“

In her dress made for church, the stiff lace a cascade of black and white. A knee-length skirt and pilgrim collar. Church uniform. The telepathy Marcelle heard: “devout truths”, “deep breaths,” “if you need to console yourself, use these coping skills.”

All the things Marcelle picked up on by reading minds that she could never express piled up in her head and she was crazy.

“Marcelle may be crazy,” said a soft-voiced man about to make an assumption based on what he saw in elaborate artwork in a journal: a drawing in Bic pen, of a realistic-looking Nanny Cravat swallowing a spoonful of something, reminding him of milk poisoning and a scary story his mom sometimes read to him at night in his portentous childhood. Marcelle’s self-portrait was accurate. She overheard the bell ringing in the distance beyond her thoughts of his voice by the cathedral  bells that rang with worship, clanging vehemently. When Marcelle got home after spring choir ended, she planned the Drano death. It was under the kitchen sink, meant to mingle with Nanny Cravat’s cup of milk.

“Nanny, I  hope you enjoy your milk,”

“Come, have a sit-down,” said Nanny to Marcelle. She set the glass of milk  in front of Nanny Cravat, who was wearing her red velvet blouse and white cravat.

“Put that milk on the table carefully. Don’t spill it.”

Time to die, Marcelle wished. Down the throat went that blue liquid permeating Nanny Cravat’s esophagus as she choked. The only number Marcelle knew to call wasn’t an option, and she had to make her own way in the world feeling like humans weren’t worth anything and we’re all just partially alien. Meretricious, cheap people.

Marcelle wanted to die in outer space. She left the raw death and agony of Nanny Cravat  slumped over on the table after she choked. Marcelle became the third eye, the third shrew, the ultimate survivor of destiny and doom.

June

2014

My lucidity died in the house I grew up in. I was raised in an arcane Hitchcock mansion with a cupola. There were no servants due to my guardian, Scarlett Freeland’s, illicit exploitation, and her fear of it being discovered. Therefore, she let everything collect dust. Her mansion was tall and monumental. It reminded me of a Halloween sticker decoration one puts on a windowpane. On our street, Cupola Avenue, named for the cupolas on each house, I suffered many seasons of violent turmoil at the hands of Scarlett. She owned a video camera that she balanced on top of a tripod and told me it was my “surveillance.”

On several occasions, at the age of thirteen, I was raped by a multitude of strange men that Scarlett invited inside. She would put 80’s hair metal on the stereo while they raped me and she sat in a red armchair, smoking numerous cigarettes. Sometimes, I wouldn’t get raped and instead it would be my deed, according to every person in the room, to kill a person in front of me. I’ve killed 37 people in Scarlett’s house, each one dissolved with acid in the cupola on film, and killed on film as well, before being doused with acid. Each time this event happened, it was recorded and burned onto a disc to be viewed on Scarlett’s TV.

There were only two other houses on Cupola Avenue: the Tarringtons’ house and the Miltons’ house. Clyde Tarrington lived in a two-story house painted white with black shutters. He lived there with his daughter, Blithe. On their front door was a poster of a symbol that held a cryptic enchantment for me: a cross with an hourglass in the center of it. It always reminded me of their time running out. I had wanted to kill Blithe for so many years. I felt her to be prettier than me with her lustrous black hair and piercing green eyes. She always loved to remind me of how I would have been killed by my twin sister, Adele, had she lived. In the womb, she was the alpha and I was the omega. On a rainy day when lightning split the sky into slices, Adele and me were playing dress-up with red velvet gowns and silver high heels. We were twelve. I convinced her into a “baptism,” holding her head underwater. Despite my carrying the title of the omega twin, my newfound strength prevailed and she soon ceased to breathe.

When Scarlett found out, she didn’t seem to care. Neither did the rest of the neighborhood; they were always killing people. We melted her body into the floor of the cupola with acid.

My name used to be Lillian Freeland, but once my twin was dead, I uncontrollably became someone named June. She came to me, like a doppelganger, looking exactly like me, but bearing no evil intentions.

“I am here, and I am not leaving you,” June told me. I regret killing Adele despite her greater knowledge of schoolwork. We were both homeschooled and Scarlett never told us what she did for a living. I learned later on that she worked for the federal government.

My liberation from Scarlett’s persistent and unyielding abuse came on the day of my eighteenth birthday, April 17. After she made me read Tennyson’s “The Lady of Shallot” to two men, who raped me when I was done, and when they had left, I waited for Scarlett to go upstairs and watch one of her movies. I sauntered to the garage and snatched an axe, the same one Scarlett used in satanic rituals when she was young. I made the predatory ascent up the stairs and into her bedroom. Then, as though she were a chopping block and as though her sanguine bloodflow was sacred, I swung the axe down upon her skull. Hard. She was watching The Caretakers, a black and white movie about women in group therapy. She fell to the side, writhing in pain. I went to the front of the chair and brought the axe down upon her back until her spinal cord was severed and her tenebrous heart gave out. I left her there and ran back downstairs, screaming the whole way.

Next, I opened Scarlett’s freezer and grabbed a carton of Marlboro 100’s, lit one, and burned the subtle swastikas hidden in the patterns of an Oriental rug. I gazed around me, took in the contents of the living room: the Kit-Kat clock shaped like a black cat with bulging eyes, the white topaz chandelier, the gutted hearth, the period furniture. I decided it was time to leave my home behind forever. I grabbed a pink backpack and shoved the carton of cigarettes inside, along with a drawer full of working Bic lighters. I threw in three shirts, six pairs of socks, six pairs of underwear, two pairs of pants, a journal, a pen, and a gun. I topped off the luggage with some rubber vampire teeth I endeavored to save for a malevolent purpose: murdering Blithe Tarrington.

I put my hand on the gun as I walked outside, holding it securely within the large pocket of my forest green trench coat. To my knowledge, the Miltons across the street were always killing people (Scarlett always said so.), but I didn’t know how they felt about Blithe. I didn’t care. I rang the doorbell, staring down the cross and hourglass on the door’s poster. Luckily, Blithe answered the door. I pulled out the gun, and her face became as stricken as one being lashed with a switch.

“Get inside,” I gnashed, pushing her onto the floor  and slamming the door behind me. “And don’t get up. Don’t even talk.”

She talked anyway. “Lillian, please don’t kill me. You don’t have to - “

“But I want to, and I can, and I will kill you and nothing will ever be able to resurrect you!”

“What’s going on with that Freeland bitch? Why is she in my house?” screamed Clyde, who had just descended the stairs. I shot him in the head, and he slumped over, instantaneously dead.

“You’ve been killing people in this house for years, and it’s time to go!” I vociferated over her harrowed wailing. “Now, put these in.” I unzipped my backpack and handed her the rubber vampire teeth.

She stared at me, wide-eyed with feral fear. She did nothing. She said nothing.

“Your mouth, dummy. Put them in your mouth.”

I handed her the teeth, and she took them from me and placed them over her own toothpaste commercial-white teeth.

“You look the very caricature of Halloween,” I said, laughing as I blew out her brains. The remains flew against the wall and painted an inkblot test of blood smears everywhere. I walked into Blithe’s bedroom after I was sure she was dead, and saw a purple canopied bed, a bookshelf filled with many classic and contemporary novels, among them: the Brontes, Oscar Wilde, Theodore Dreiser, Jane Austen, Anais Nin, D.H. Lawrence. I grabbed Nin’s House of Incest, Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray and Charlotte Bronte’s Villette, and left the house.

I didn’t make it very far. I was down the road not very far when I was arrested.  I always feared them coming for me. I fell onto the asphalt, scabbing my knees and not feeling it. I denied what was happening. I muttered to myself incoherently.

“We know you killed some people, Lillian.”

“My name is June,” was all that I said before my mind shut off and I suddenly woke up vegetative in a jail cell.

*

Eventually, I was labelled not guilty by reason of insanity. The police found Scarlett’s recordings and the recordings that the Miltons and the Tarringtons made of their own killings when I told them about the neighborhood, and what Scarlett had done to me. One day, I will get out of the forensics services ward, where the criminally insane are housed. I have spent many nights here, remembering the death and ravagings, my hair coiling like Medusa’s on the pillow of the restraint bed, the leather straps leaving black bruises on my wrists. Every night, I pray to God and Jesus and all the saints that ever were that I’ll be forgiven for my killings, and be accepted into a realm I can call heaven.

My lucidity will live again, resurged.

2017

June and Marcelle

Cathleen Carter

She led me to the house with the cupola

Where she stabbed me in the backyard

Blood flowed glowing red from my pale skin

Staining my white blouse

And my throat ached

I haunt the halls

And my voice resides within the walls

I’m a phantom floating through the inmates

Living in my killer’s group home

Eyes stare from the cupola

I don’t know who saw me die

I’m buried under a thorny bush

Bones hidden by woods and tiny baby teeth

She scattered

Covering my grave with evidence from her recent infanticides

She stabbed my baby

And cut me for giving birth

In her bed

My lover carved our initials in a tree

And we’ll always be in touch

I eat strawberries off a plate in his room

We hung a dreamcatcher to capture his nightmares

Of me being tortured by her ringed hands

Bag placed over my head

Cathleen Carter, the snuff film queen

(I have killed many)

Choking on film reel

Always having to be polite

In the morning light drinking tea

Deirdre, the killer, laced it with GHB

Putting me to sleep

Separated from my lover

Pillow soaked in warm tears

His tears and mine

We drink them in vials and kiss under stars

Soon he too will be a ghost

Swallowing pills on a blanket in the cemetery

Deirdre will find us and take our picture

Maybe she’ll capture my phantom on camera

*

With curiosity, Marcelle Trahern saw from the window Deirdre Carter and her niece, Cathleen, arguing. The infant was dead, that much Marcelle knew. Cathleen Carter had given birth to a baby girl now with stab wounds, lying in red and white rigor mortis in her crib with blood on the teddy bear, in the dolls’ hair and on the lampshade on the side table. Most of the inmates, as they were known due to the group home’s strict rules, were gone for the day at an event and June Freeland was downstairs Deirdre Carter quickly took over June’s life after leaving her post as nurse at the asylum where June was housed. June was incompetent to stand trial, declared insane and sent away for seven years. She had returned to Scarlett Freeland, her former guardian’s, mansion to live. It had been converted into a group home for women with trauma issues.

All thoughts of June vanished from Deirdre’s mind when the knife blade shone in the sun, an ominous metal glint that suddenly penetrated the naked pearl throat of Cathleen. She collapsed to the grass in the fenced-in backyard and as the earth was fresh from the rain, Deirdre found a shovel leaning against the toolshed and dug a fresh grave. Marcelle had never liked Cathleen much because she was always harping on the girls to follow the rules: don’t smoke dope, don’t invite boys over without permission, etc. She had gotten herself knocked up by Miles Sutherland, and Deirdre highly disapproved of him with his leather jacket and cigarettes. Marcelle only saw him once when he drove to pick up Cathleen for a date, his handsome face a silhouette in the dark window. Marcelle decided to keep quiet about the death. She watched Cathleen be tossed into the grave liked a broken doll. Deirdre had tied a plastic bag over her face and stabbed her in the chest. For ten minutes, Marcelle watched Deirdre extract Cathleen’s heart from her chest cavity, holding the dead, lifeless muscle in her palm, her calm blue eyes narrowed and focused on it like a witch in a black magic ritual. June suddenly appeared beside Marcelle.

“The bitch is finally dead,” Marcelle said, breaking her vow not to tell anyone. “What is she going to do with the heart?”

“I don’t know,” said June.

The girls, both in their twenties and too old for Cathleen’s trashy immaturity, watched with morbid fascination as Deirdre snapped a polaroid   (after turning off the video camera)

of Cathleen’s corpse before throwing dirt back over her and packing it in. She laid stones over it and from her pocket, she took something white and scattered it over the grave. When she went back inside the house, Marcelle and June left the cupola to inspect what Deirdre had spilled. Six tiny teeth in the front yard, taken from a toddler’s mouth. A previous killing. When the cops led Deirdre away after June called them, June put on a nun habit and took over the house.

They heard Cathleen’s whispers of love for Miles and reassurances that Deirdre was gone. They buried her baby in an infant cemetery labeled merely “Infant Cemetery” in iron above a fancy gate bearing an entrance to the graveyard. June called the cops by her own policy, knowing hiding a murder is wrong.

“Marcelle, she’s a psycho, bats-in-the-head bitch and she could have come after us, too. It’s better that she’s gone.”

“I guess so,” said Marcelle. her  mind on Nanny Cravat choking on her milk laced with Drano. Marcelle had fled the world of Christian broadcast rooms and the sex trade. Nanny Cravat had invited several men over to force themselves on her, and she was glad she couldn’t remember it in great detail. Dissociating was so divine. Girls wore meretricious makeup to school and church and their naked limbs stuck out from cheap, mall-bought

miniskirts. Marcelle would have given them all Drano in a cup, too, if she knew how not to get caught.

But she was far from their bratty voices now, with June Freeland, Anika White and Marilyn Sanders to keep her company. In the meantime, the house became less of a group home and June began paying the monthly bills with Deirdre’s leftover income found stashed in a safe in her room. Marijuana smoke soon filled the rooms and the girls giggled at the enhanced cartoons on the television, making funny faces at the ceiling. Then, Cathleen appeared in the mirror behind them in her prom finery, staring sternly with her stab wound, The blood withdrawing and disappearing into the gash. Anika screamed. When the others asked what was wrong, Anika revealed what she saw.

“You’re too high,” Marilyn said, running a hand through her rainbow hair. But Cathleen stood behind them, strawberry juice the color of blood on her mouth, back from Miles who contacted her spirit and she came when summoned and manifested herself in the flesh.

Cathleen

My baby is gone

In an infant coffin underground

I wear black to mourn her

And place flowers on her grave

Miles embraces me in the cemetery

Where we have sandwiches and milk

He marvels as the food disappears from the plate

And the milk drains from the thermos

He can see me fresh as daylight

A rose haloed in gold

I am fragile dust and fairy winds and gilded blond hair

They find him dead the next day

By the gravesite of his daughter

His lips blue from the pills

His hair plastered to his head

In the spring rain

His indolent heart gave out and from her prison, Dierdre laughed at the television giving news of Mile’s suicide and the note he’d left:

I’ve gone to be with Cathleen, who drew me into hear heart forever, and our daughter Melanie’s, too. Dierdre couldn’t kill my love, though she tried very hard.

I saw Deirdre from the corner where I stood, staring at ladies dressed in orange watch the television and play cards. Now that I’m dead, I can go anywhere I want to in the world. I’ve explored the moors of England and I’ve been to Alaska, the northern lights illuminating the night sky and I didn’t feel the cold nor the heat of Death Valley, California. I flew and touched the top of the Eiffel Tower.

“Anything can be done in death, it’s like magic is yours after you die,” I told Miles.

Down he went with me and they buried us side by side. We go into earth, then Summerland, then back again. When I haunt the group home, I conjour nightmares for the girls who tormented me, especially June Freeland who told me I looked dressed as gaudily as she had for one of the snuff films her guardian she murdered made her do. I know many murderers: the worst of them being June and Marcelle. I read the evidence of Marcelle’s Drano murders in her journal and her revelations of sex with strange men who came when called by Nanny Cravat, Marcelle’s godmother. But something told me not to be a hypocrite and tell on her. I never had a mother like these girls. She abandoned me on the doorstop of St. Xavier’s Orphanage and Dierdre, the nun (she was a devout Catholic before she moved on to work for the hospital) who knew her sister’s face and knowing I was her niece, took me in and after years of her impossible violence and nagging, I am finally set free and better off, even if by her hand.

The Ouija Board

“Miles committed suicide,” said Marilyn to Marcelle. “It’s on the news.”

“Oh,” said Marcelle. “I bet Cathleen’s ghost dragged him down with her. Anika keeps seeing her everywhere and is freaking out.”

Anika was fast asleep in her room, having taken a dose of Haldol to help the hallucinations.

“But you aren’t hallucinating,” Cathleen had insisted when she came to Anika late at night. Sometimes she wore a nun habit like June, who had taken to smearing on red lipstick and blaring Courtney Love from the stereo. Sometimes, she sang opera with a crucifix dangling around her neck, and quite good. The girls loved listening to her sing her songs of lovers who lost their loved ones like Miles and Greek tragedies where Persephone became trapped for six months in Hades with the Lord of the Underworld and six months on earth. Gods and monsters fighting their battles to the death. The Ouija board they used to summon Cathleen worked. Anika revealed the messages to them of their conversation she heard in her head. Anika directed the board marker’s movement in their hands.

“Cathleen, where are you?” Anika asked, finally facing her fear of the unknown.

“In Summerland, with Miles,” was the reply.

Anika spelled it on the board and all were shocked.

“I knew it was real, like heaven but better than clouds and angels playing harps, waiting at the gates to judge you,” Anika said. “In Summerland there is no judgment, or pain or violence. Just love, laughter and magic. I learned all about the theory of the afterlife in Summerland from a Wiccan book I found in the used bookstore downtown.”

“Are you sure it isn’t fake, Anika?” Asked June, who doubted the paranormal.

“I heard her voice, just the way it was when she was alive!” Anika stormed out of the room, offended by June’s remark. The Ouija board remained still. Out of all of the girls, Cathleen found Anika most vulnerable to her presence. Cathleen enjoyed scaring them a little. But she never spoke to June, who ascended the staircase with a boy from the nearby prep school, holding a candlelabra and smoking a Marlboro cigarette. Marilyn played 20 Questions with Anika in their room and listened to her account of what she read in Marcelle’s journal.

“I saw too,” said Cathleen. “She sent people to their death same as insane June. I wonder what sort of terrorism Dierdre endured at a young age.”

“Probably witnessed something violent, or had no parents like you. I didn’t,” said Marcelle, who stood behind them listening and hearing Cathleen’s voice just like Anika.

Deirdre

High on a precious hill stands my home for abandoned, unstable girls

I can’t return to it

I’m in prison garb in the women’s prison surrounded by barbed wire and a river runs past, saturated in pollutants spilled by the nearby plants and factories.

I used to be a nun, then a nurse, mercy-killing the elderly, smothering infants and pretending they died of SIDS (Sudden Infant Death Syndrome), immune to the wails of inconsolable parents informed by the doctor in the corridor.

I spent my early childhood in a ramshackle farmhouse in Louisiana, smothered by my mother and her hot back coffee thrown in my face. How her knives danced before my eyes. When my baby brother died when I was fourteen, they thought it was SIDS. I hated babies. My mother told me to kill it, it was a sickly, weak little boy and wouldn’t last the year. I fed him to a hungry feral cat and watched the skin ribbon over her bones from the cat’s carnivorous snacking. My mother, a widow always in grey with shadows under her eyes the color of her sweater, watched the baby’s decomposition.

I felt an affinity for June the most out of all the girls in my home. We had killed and had bad mothers who abused our bodies and sucked our souls out through crazy straws, leaving us bereft and insane. I couldn’t plead insanity the way June could, though.

I wish I were out of this stale air and away from these women, with their murderous stairs and rancid shouting, their fights that lead them to solitary. I won’t put a hand on these women. I won’t go to solitary.

June

I murdered this whole neighborhood besides Clinton and Mary Milton and their twin son and daughter. The parents went to prison for murder, and the kids live somewhere else now. The house is vacant.  I never enjoyed what Scarlett made me do. They housed me in an asylum, where I spent the majority of my time in restraints staring at the ceiling with vacant eyes and Medusa coils in my hair that snarled on the pillow.

I dreamt of black widows biting me and in my dreams, Deirdre, who worked there at the time as a psychiatric nurse, didn’t tend to my bites that reddened on my hand. When I wasn’t dreaming, Deirdre liked me. Now she’s in prison where she belongs. I no longer handle nitric acid or kill people or endure stiff baseball bats tearing open my cunt.

Scarlett watched my defiling from behind the camera, recording the rapes in the dark room. I was smothered in her cellar and remembered it, screaming, spitting out the pills, refusing to take them. Deirdre heard my whole story, decided to move into the old Freeland estate and take over as group home director. I moved out of my trailer to stay there. Weird I should live here after killing someone here. I used to hallucinate Blithe, who I shot and killed, but I don’t see her lately. I dismiss Anika despite my own experience. Sometimes, the ghost of Cathleen gets old as a topic and I think all should  remember the living and forget the dead that can’t reach us, gone to nether realms.

But what if she was there? What if she can reach us?

I’ll never know. One day I’ll be a ghost myself. I have faith that there is something prettier to see than this insidious earth after our bodies run out of time and our souls transcend.

There must be something better than what I had, what Marcelle had, what Cathleen had, what all of us had.

I think I just heard a voice. Is it the still, small voice of God, or is it a spirit coming from some divine region, holy or unholy?

I am a combined angel and demon. I want to drink absinthe and sleep with that voice.

Mathilde

2019

I stood in the calm, obsidian woods and gained my frail balance against a ramshackle cabin. Wolves dashed out of the shadows, ignoring me and veering towards a carcass in a wildflower-bordered clearing. I was pretty certain it was human. Then I saw a ski-masked perpetrator, blood channeling from his disguise. He offered me a bouquet of purple irises in his scathed left hand. In the shunning woods, feeling like the ghost of someone gone, I tore my lavender dress on a nail in the cabin’s wood. I declined the masked monster’s offer. Suddenly, I was pulled inside by someone behind the front door. I cried out, closed my eyes and could hear the door shut and bolt. Once the lightbulb on the ceiling flickered on, I saw my rescuer’s face like a sanctified revelation. The kindest pair of dark eyes I had ever seen. My speech failed me but his did not.

He told me, “Nothing will kill your equilibrium while I’m here. You no longer have to claw at wooden walls are cry into a pillowcase. Notice that soon the sun will come up and figuratively, I’ll give you a pair of rose-colored glasses to view the world through. A better world than this.”

“I-“ I began.

“I love you,” he said.

Of course, he was handsome and I coveted him highly.  He pressed his perfect mouth on mine and carried me to bed. After the sex and the sun-glow, he told me he’d be my dreamcatcher, and if not the destroyer of my enemies, the bane of them. The unidentified mask never showed up again. We soon left the cabin to live in a castle. He taught me to love instead of maim, to be tender instead of destructive. I learned to give myself away to a man created by the sparks of imagination itself.

*

I ease myself out of bed after this dream and take another hit of glass. Something to make the world glitter with white ice and a way to make the hell inside freeze over. I see him blur on every bridge, every riverbed, every highway. There is no hallucination more powerful than him. Nothing will perforate me and make me stop haunting this city. Nothing will make me bleed out onto the sidewalk because I am too fast for the blade, the bullet. The smoke flows through the open room and hits the sun. I wake to sirens piercing the quiet. I’m the cause of them but I know their glow won’t alight on me and swallow me up.

[babblingblondegenius]

Future Ficlet: All You Need is Love...and Coffee

Wow, tonight’s episode was brutal.  Between the painful Olicity separation in present time and the lack of Olicity in the dark future of the flash-forwards, we aren’t seeing any of the happy right now.  There seems to be no hope. Our heroes’ sacrifices were all in vain.  Basically, everything sucks.

As kismet would have it, a couple of weeks ago, I shared a fun little head canon with @allimariexf and @hope-for-olicity and they both encouraged me to ‘write the thing.’  I’ve had a terrible case of writer’s block for quite some time (meaning I have a gazillion story ideas and a ton of WIPs that are unfinished).  I expected this one to end up dormant in my drafts as well.  But after tonight’s episode, I felt the need to finish it because we (and Olicity, of course) deserve a little hope and happy.  Set two years in the future, the premise of this little fluffy ficlet is that Felicity needs an assistant but she has particular criteria ;)  

This should have been the easy part.  

After months of enticing investors, obtaining the proper licenses and permits, all the legal mumbo jumbo, and locating the perfect office space, hiring an executive assistant is going to be the breaking point where she finally loses her sanity.  

Which completely defeats the purpose of trying to find someone to help her in the first place.

She has been doing fine on her own, thriving actually, since she decided it was time to recommence building a tech company from the ground up, sans Curtis this time.   This venture, for better or worse, will be all hers.  Her vision.  Her name. Her legacy.

Despite her initial apprehension at that thought, she has a clarity and confidence in her mission and goals that has propelled her forward at a pace she couldn’t have imagined.  So far, choosing which of her many prototypes she wanted to launch first has been her biggest challenge.

Until now.  

She had narrowed down the stack of over 100 applications to the eight most qualified for the position, and began the interview process at 7:00 this morning.  

The first one had been punctual, neat, and lacking any sort of personality whatsoever.  

The second one arrived twenty minutes late and then interrupted Felicity mid-interview to take a non-emergency personal call on her cell phone.

The third one tapped her super long artificial nails on the edge of Felicity’s desk the entire time and included ‘loud typer’ when asked how her current co-workers would describe her.

The fourth one was a chaotic whirlwind who overshared details of his personal life on every single question.

Maybe he just had too much caffeine in his system. Or maybe she doesn’t have enough.

Coffee.  She needs coffee.  Her next interviewee isn’t scheduled to come in for another hour, so she takes the reprieve to just lay her head down on her desk for a moment in order to gather up the energy she needs to make the trek down the block for her caffeine fix.

“One vanilla soy latte, extra sugar, extra cinnamon, extra whip cream.”  

Oh yes.  That’s exactly what she wants.  Why she is thinking it in Oliver’s voice, she doesn’t know.  Her coffee daydream is so vivid, she can even smell the soothing notes of vanilla with hints of sweet cinnamon spice wafting through the air. Mmmmmmmm.

“Felicity….honey, are you okay?”  Oliver’s voice again.  She slowly lifts her head and sees her husband standing on the other side of her desk, holding a large cup emblazoned with the logo of her favorite java joint and her name scrawled across it in black marker.

“I am now,” she practically purrs as he hands over her treasured treat.  After taking a deep inhale and a long swallow, she blissfully smiles at him.  “It’s perfect.  You’re perfect.”  Suddenly jumping up out of her chair, she shares the revelation brought on by the jolt of caffeine in her system. “Oh!  I have a great idea!  You should apply to be my EA.”  

Oliver chuffs out a laugh.  “Because I brought you coffee?  Your standards must be pretty low.”  

“Worried you couldn’t cut it, Mr. Queen?” she asks, arching an eyebrow in challenge.

“I think my time served as Mayor proves otherwise,” he retorts with an air of gravitas but mimics her gesture, silently letting her know that he enjoys her teasing him and is willing to play along.  

She shakes her head.  “Nope, not helpful.  You couldn’t even get me a break on my taxes when you were the mayor.  What are your current qualifications?”

He ponders the inquiry for a moment before responding proudly, “I’m the head chef at Chez Queen.”

She rolls her eyes at Oliver’s corny moniker for their kitchen but gives him an encouraging smile.  “Oh yeah, I’ve eaten there a few times.  The food is magnificent.  But do you have any business experience?”

His expression goes from proud to smug.  “As a matter of fact, I do.  I was formerly the CEO of Queen Consolidated.”

She takes another swig of coffee and checks an incoming text on her cell phone before reminding him, “I happen to have first-hand knowledge you wouldn’t have made it a week without your super smart and highly efficient EA.”   

“That’s true,” he concedes with a grin, “though on the downside, she only brought me coffee one time.  One”, he repeats, taking her coffee and phone and setting them off to the side. Placing his palms flat on the edge of her desk, he leans in closer, a visible twinkle in his vivid blue eyes.   “I think she actually broke our coffeemaker.  Violently,” he teases in a conspiratorial whisper.

Mirroring her husband, she leans in over the desk until their noses are almost touching.  “A little violence doesn’t scare you, does it, Mr. Queen?”  She allows her gaze to run down the length of his torso, visibly appreciating the definition of his biceps that his jacket cannot conceal. “You look like you could handle yourself just fine.”

“I like to stay in shape.”  He feigns modesty but she knows her husband and can recognize that look in his eyes. “Some cardio, free weights, martial arts, salmon ladder…”

“That’s so hot” she blurts out, temporarily slipping out of character as her brain produces an amazing visual of sweaty and shirtless Oliver making his way up the salmon ladder.  Will there ever be a day when that doesn’t turn her on?  Probably not, and judging from the self-satisfied smirk on his face, he mentioned it on purpose just to get that very reaction out of her.   Determined to get back on track, she rephrases, “I mean, that sounds interesting.”  She decides a change of topic would be helpful to give her an advantage in their little game.  “Computer skills?”

She immediately regrets that question when Oliver gives her a feral smile that makes her weak in the knees.  Lowering his voice to the same octave he uses when he is dressed in green leather, he divulges, “I’ve hacked a federal prison network.”

Guh, game over.  In all her years with Oliver, that is the sexiest thing he has ever said. She quickly makes her way around the desk and invades his personal space. “Seems like you’re a man of many talents,” she coos appreciatively, latching onto his arm and nuzzling her face into the sleeve of his jacket to breathe in the scent that is uniquely Oliver.

“My wife taught me a thing or two,” he boasts, turning so they are face-to-face and he can wrap his arms around her.  

Her hands instinctively move from his arm to his chest, resting over his heart.  “She must be an amazing woman.”

Oliver nods in agreement, his nose nuzzling hers. “She is.  She’s the best.”

“I know you’re just saying that to get husband points and its working,” she acknowledges affectionately, her hand caressing the stubble on his jaw.   He tilts his head into her palm like a contented cat and she takes the opportunity to kiss him like she wanted to since she saw him in front of her desk, whether it was five minutes ago with coffee or nine years ago with a bullet-ridden laptop.  

Oliver moans and deepens the kiss, the fervent strokes of his tongue making her long for more.  “Okay, you’re hired,” she pants, breaking the kiss when her need for air temporarily overcomes her need for Oliver.  “Smoak Tech is a start-up so your health care package consists of me patching you up if you are injured and I’m sure we can work out some type of compensation for your time and skills,” provocatively shifting her body against his and feeling his obvious interest through his jeans and her skirt.  Two soft kisses and one firm rotation of his hips later, she is internally debating the sturdiness of her desk and whether they have time for her to show him exactly what she means by ‘compensation’ before her next appointment shows up.

“That’s a very tempting offer, Ms. Smoak” he murmurs into her hair as his hand travels down her back and immediately finds its usual place on the curve of her shapely ass, pulling her impossibly closer, “but I’m afraid my current employer really needs me right now and I just can’t bear to leave her,” his free hand gesturing to the stroller where their daughter slumbers peacefully.

Felicity sighs, pure happiness filling her heart and clearing her mind as she rests her head on her husband’s chest to gaze lovingly at the chubby-cheeked, perfect amalgamation of her and Oliver they brought into the world just four short months ago.   “Sounds like she has you wrapped around her little finger.”  

Oliver rests his chin on the top of her head and she can hear the love and contentment in his voice when he whispers in her hair, “From the very first moment I met her.  She takes after her mother that way.”

A/N:  Thank you for reading!  I hope this helped to soothe the sting of all the angst.  Queen family feels FTW.  William was not in this fic because at that time of day, he should be in school and also I didn’t want to traumatize him any further with Olicity’s blatant flirty flirt.  The poor kid has seen enough already lol.  

Huge thanks and virtual hugs to @allimariexf and @hope-for-olicity for all the fun conversations and being all around wonderful :)

Oliver’s ‘current employer’ ;)

[sassywritergurl]

Fantasy Llanview Scripts 1-5

                         One Life To Live Fantasy Fiction

                                       By Kaydee Barnett

 (We open in Allison's hideout. She has just put down her narration manuscript and turns scornfully on a struggling Victor, who's making futile attempts to scream through his gag.)

  Allison: “You really should stop struggling, Victor. No one's going to come                        looking for a dead guy.”

 (Victor glares at her as he struggles against his ropes. He mumbles something again, and Allison impatiently pulls the gag down.)

 Allison: “Didn't your mother ever tell you not to try and talk with your mouth                   full? Oh, I forgot....your mother was Irene Manning. Enough said.”

 Victor: “You're one to talk! Let me go, you twisted bitch!”

         (Allison's eyes widen and she gasps, as if offended).

 Allison: “You take that back! You need to learn how to respect a lady!”

 Victor: (still struggling, through clenched teeth) “As soon as I run into one, I will!”

 Allison: “Well...you might think twice about that one since your life is in my                     hands, Victor Lord, Jr. Gosh, that name alone makes me want to barf!”

 Victor:  “I don't think it's the name. I'd barf if I had to look at that face in the

           mirror every day, too! Let me go, or I swear I'll kill you!”

         (Allison reaches in a drawer and pulls out a kitchen knife. She waves it         close to Victor's face, and Victor is startled for a minute. She gets a crazed

       look in her eyes).

 Allison: “Oh, really, Victor? That would be a really neat trick! The Mannings are    

           psychos, not magicians! But you're really starting to tick me off, and I

           might just lose my grip on this thing and have an accident. Pipe down!

           I need to figure out my next move.”

(Fade out with the camera showing Victor continue to struggle while Allison wields the knife. Flash over to Blair and Todd, struggling to get dressed as John McBain and the Llanview PD flood their bedroom to arrest Todd. Blair is devastated).

 Blair: “What are you doing, John?”

 John:  “I'm sorry, Blair, but we have to arrest Todd for Victor's murder.”

 (Blair shoots a quick panicked and confused glance at Todd, then back to John)

 Blair: “John, you know that's not true! Tomas confessed! You saw the video!”

 John: “He was coerced into making that confession while being held captive by              people that Todd hired to keep him there. Isn't that right, Manning?”

 Blair: (choked and panicked) “Todd? Please tell him that he made a mistake! Tell  him, Todd! PLEASE! Tell him he's only doing this because he hates you!”

 Todd: “I...Blair...please..come to the station with me and let me tell you my side    of things.”

 (Blair almost faints, but she manages to keep her ground. Her voice cracks).        

 Blair: “What side of things could you have, Todd? Oh, my God!”

 Todd: “Blair, please..lis..”

 Blair:”...NO, TODD! I'M DONE listening to you spin more lies!”

 Todd: “Dammit, Blair! This is NOT the same! After eight years, can't I have ONE

        chance to EXPLAIN things?”

 John: “You had plenty of chances, Manning. And you're gonna get a whole lot              more down at the station. Take him, guys.”

 Todd: “Oh, you go to hell, McBain! You're the failure in all of this!”

                       (John scoffs in disbelief)

 John: “Oh, really? Oh, I can't wait to hear this. Get him out of here.”

 (The officers drag him away still calling for Blair in the distance. John stays behind).

 John: “Are you okay?”

 Blair: “No offense, John, but I don't want to talk to anyone right now, and I

       certainly don't want to discuss any 'Todd' issues with you.”

 John: “I understand. No offense taken. But I'm your friend, Blair. I'm here for

       you.”

 Blair: (scornfully) “You're my friend, huh? What kind of a friend comes barging

       into their friend's bedroom with a bunch of men cops bearing handcuffs?

       A 'friend' would have had a bit more regard than that! Your hatred for         Todd was far deeper than any regard for our friendship, John!”

 John: “Blair, I was just doing my job...”

 Blair: “...Oh, bull, John! You could have KNOCKED on the bedroom door and         informed me that you were here on official business. You had such a smug  look on your face, I almost thought I was looking at my dog holding on to         his bone. You were gunning for Todd, John. Congratulations! You'd better        

       hurry before someone steals your brownie points, Lieutenant!”

       (John hesitates for a minute, then turns to leave. Blair turns away and         sobs loudly. John watches her from the door, and begins to go over to         comfort her, then decides against it and leaves.)

             (Fade to John McBain's apartment. Tėa impatiently awaits a call from          John, but Tomas remains cool and deep in thought. Tėa seems annoyed     with Tomas' calmness).

  Tėa: (picking up and setting down her cell phone several times) “What the hell  is taking John so long to call me with some news? It's not like La Broulet

       is located somewhere in the Mediterranean somewhere! It's just across         town for pete's sake!” (She picks up her phone again and slams it down).

       “Dammit!”

 Tomas: “Calm down, parrìta. McBain is gonna call.” (He moves to hug her).

 Tèa: “WHEN? I want that bastard Todd to pay for killing my husband.”

       (Tomas goes silent, and appears to have a suspicious look in his eyes. Téa         catches a glimpse of the look, and she calls him on it.)

 Téa: “You know, you seem awfully calm for someone who is about to witness      the arrest of his kidnapper. Especially one who is also responsible for       causing a split between you and Blair and forcing you at gunpoint to       confess to a murder HE committed! Fess up, Tomas! Is there something       you're not telling me?”

         (Tomas takes a very quick pause.)

 Tomas: “Paríta, I'm just as ticked off about Todd's deception as you are. But I'm      staying calm for you. I'll have plenty of time to go crazy on him later.              You need to stay calm for the baby.”

       (Téa clearly isn't buying his explanation, but she remains silent.)

  Téa:  “You're right, Tomas. I do have to think about..the baby.” (She pauses, but         stares at her brother for a few significant moments.) “I just wish John         would...”

         (Her cell phone rings. She scrambles to retrieve it , checks the number,      and quickly answers it.)

 Téa: “John! What's going on? Did you get that bastard?”

         (She smiles at John, nodding her head to confirm Todd's arrest.)

  Téa: “That's great news, John. See you soon.” (Hangs up her phone). “Come      on. They got him.” (Tomas proceeds a bit too slowly for her taste.) “WHAT       the HELL is up with you, Tomas?”

 Tomas: “Téa, come on. You have some important things to do.”

 Téa: “I've waited this long for an arrest. I can wait a few minutes to talk to my         brother. I know when something's wrong, hermano. You seem a little off.         Spill.”

       (Tomas remains silent as the camera fades over to Victor and Allison).

         (Allison's cell phone rings. In her super-charged, neurotic way, she races    to her purse to get it, still wielding the kitchen knife.)

Allison: (answering the call) “Hello? What the hell is taking you so long? Well did      they get Todd Manning or not?” (She spots a glance in Victor's                     direction.) “Yeah, he's still here, doing a belly dance in ropes.” (She rolls       her eyes and turns her back on Victor.) “When am I going to get my                 reward? I have been playing your games way too long, and I did all of                the dirty work for you. I made everyone think that Victor Lord, Jr. was              dead and I got his brother to take the fall! None of you could have done                 this without my brilliance. So WHEN do I get my reward?”

           (Victor struggles, and the camera zooms in to the rope that binds his left    wrist. Viewers see the rope begin to loosen a bit. Victor quickly works on      it, keeping his eyes on Allison. She doesn't notice him. Victor works more         quickly to undo the rope. He stops only a split second before Allison               catches him.)

 Allison: (looking at Victor, talking to her caller) “Well, you can tell Mommie             Dearest and company that I'll spill the beans if she doesn't keep her              promise soon. It's not nice to break a promise. That's something The                Messenger would never have tolerated. I know The Messenger is dead!                 Do you think I'm crazy? Just be sure that you deliver on your end, or               Victor Lord, Jr. goes free and so does his brother, with all of your                       secrets.”

          (She snaps her phone shut, and rolls her eyes at Victor.)

 Allison: “Oh, don't look so hopeful, Victor! I was bluffing. You won't be getting                  out of here any time soon. Why do you want to go back to all of that

           psycho drama at Saint Victoria's anyway? You never know who you'll                   get next. Between Niki, Tommy, Jean, and Tess, Bess and Wes, one                   could go crazy just trying to keep track of everyone.”

 Victor: “I'm going crazy just trying to look at you! Besides, if we're comparing                psycho dramas, Viki's psycho drama is Paradise by comparison. Now, let      me go so I can get my dose of R & R.”

             (Allison goes over to the bed and waves the knife under Victor's nose.)

 Allison: “Oh, you're a wise guy. Well, for a smarty pants, you're really quite                    dumb..arguing with the person who has your life in their hands.”

     (Victor quickly sits up and yokes her from behind with his free hand while he          

   shakes off the ropes from the other wrist.)

 Victor: (hissing through clenched teeth into her ear.) “You're absolutely right                 about that!”

                 (Fade over to the precinct. Todd and John are at odds during the                        questioning session in John's office. Todd has lawyered up.)

 John: “You know, Manning, your refusal to cooperate isn't helping you look any             less guilty.”

 Todd: “And cooperating with you hasn't seemed to help you idiots actually solve    a crime in this town yet. This entire fiasco is all your fault, you know.”

 John: (scoffing chuckle) “Oh, really? It's my fault, huh? I forced you to hold a                man captive and make you lie about committing a murder. Of your own              twin to boot! You're a real piece of work, Manning.”

 Todd: “At least I am a piece of work. That's something that seems to be a           foreign concept in this little pub club you call a police station. Tell me          something, McBain. What exactly is the scientific reason that explains this    department's consistent inefficiencies? No, inefficencies is too kind a           description. How the hell do you guys keep missing the clues over and                over and..(snickers)..OVER again? I keep trying to find a case of empty               donut boxes to blame...but, ah...nope, it's just plain stupidity.”

 John: “You're an expert on stupidity, Manning. YOU'RE the one sitting in                       handcuffs because you missed the boat over and over and over again. I             am just dying to hear what you have to say that exonerates you from                 this one.”

         (Todd stares John right in the eye with an inexplicably confident silence      that         seems to rattle John.)

 Todd: (laughing derisively) “You really are stupid, huh? I'm disappointed in you,         McBain. I came to you because you appeared to be the ONLY smart one. I         guess I was wrong. I will bring all things to light on my own, because you  all couldn't find a monkey in a banana stand. When I do, I expect a full  apology from all of you.”

(John lets out another snicker, but he's clearly disturbed by the implication Todd is making. John's gut is telling him there's more to investigate. He gets up from his desk and  holds his door open.)

  John: “Guys, excuse us for a minute, will you?” (The officers scramble about as they leave the office. John closes the door after the last officer leaves. He turns back to Todd.) “Okay, Manning. You are clearly hinting that there's another part to this case. So let's hear it.”

 Todd: “There's not another part to this case, Johnny Boy, there are only the                   same parts of this case that were never used and overlooked, even            though it's the entire case.”

 John: “I am humoring you for the sake of hearing what you have to say, but I              already regret that decision. Stop with the games and say what you want   to say, Manning.”

         (Todd pauses. He contemplates whether he should tell John anything         else.)

 Todd: “You know what? I think I'll wait until my lawyer gets here.”

 Téa: “Well, I guess we'll be waiting awhile, since you're going have to find  yourself a new one.”

         (The camera fades as both men jump around, startled to face Téa and         Tomas at the door.)

         (Flash back to Victor. He has managed to free his other hand, but he and         Allison still struggle. Victor has the better advantage, but Allison is putting  up a good fight. They are in an arm-wrestle for the knife.)

 Allison: (screaming and struggling) “You will never make it out of here alive,                   Victor! Even if you get out of here, they won't let you live to expose                   them!”They own you, Victor!”

  Victor: “I'll worry about THEM later. All that matters is putting you down like the    dog that you are!”

         (They continue to struggle as the camera fades and reopens back at          the precinct. Téa walks over and slaps Todd hard across the face.)

 Téa: “You lying, treacherous bastard! You hid this lie for weeks while you played  on the sympathy of everyone around you! You couldn't be honest for once      in your reptilian life! You took my HUSBAND away from me and his unborn    child because you couldn't accept that he was a better Todd than you!”

 Todd: (scoffs) “How can he be better at something he never was? And I don't

       expect you to have anything different to say, Delgado. You never believe         anything but the worst of me...

 Téa: (overlapping with Todd)...”WHAT?! I'm the one who believed your lies  when..

 Tomas: Parríta, you stop it! You can't stress yourself. Manning is in custody            now. Let McBain do his job.”

 Todd: “Yeah, you'd like nothing better, right, TOE-mas? All of this would just tie              up real nicely for you.”

         (Téa quickly glances at her brother and notices the quick startled reaction   to Todd's words, then notices how he covered it up.)

 Tomas: “Oh, yeah that's right, Manning. Create a diversion to deflect the                        spotlight from you. That's your M-O. Play in the dark, then deflect the                light.”

 Todd:  “And YOU play in the dark and make nice with your victims in the light,               don't you, Delgado? Only you don't check to see if you're being watched.”

         (Todd clicks his tongue in a “tsk, tsk” fashion. He leans forward,                        lowering his voice to a condescending whisper.)

 Todd:“Well, I.....was watching.”

         (John, Tomas and Téa remain silent. Téa shoots a quick glance in Tomas'         direction, but doesn't give away that she is suspicious. John tries to remain neutral, although he's wondering. Todd sits smugly in the midst.)

 Téa: “If you have something to say to help us get to the bottom of this mess, then spit it out, Todd. Save yourself and point out the guilty parties.”

         (Todd realizes that they all want to know what he has to say, and he gets         cocky. He decides to make them wait.)

 Todd: “I'll speak to my lawyer first.”

         (The camera fades with Todd smirking. Flash over to Victor and Allison. Victor won the fight and has turned the tables on Allison. She is now the one tied to the bed and struggling. Victor struggles to get the circulation back in his legs as he traipses through the room looking for the cell phone that Allison used earlier. Allison is struggling and letting out muffled screams through her gag.)

 Victor: “Would you stop mumbling and shut the hell up?”

 (Allison glares at him, mumbling louder in defiance. Victor is furious, and looks around the room. He spots a small bottle of medicine and a syringe on the desk. He races over to read the label.)

 Victor: “Ketamine?! You've been drugging me with Keta---you wacky BITCH!                   You've been shooting me up with a horse tranquilizer?! What the hell?”

         (He grabs the syringe and fills it with a small dosage, then heads over to the bed. Allison muffled screams get more frantic, her eyes widen in horror, and she struggles more viciously. Victor plunges the syringe into her arm and she passes out. He gets off the bed and tosses the syringe into a wastebasket.)

  Victor: “Crazy bitch.”

         (He grabs Allison's cell phone, and heads out the door.)

         (Flash back to the police station. Todd has been placed in a cell, not   knowing that Blair is upstairs talking to the Delgados and John. He is      crouched in a corner on his bunk, and viewers begin to get a glimpse of  why Todd is so smug. Pieces of several different visions in his head begin       to play out onscreen. Memories of Irene Manning in the “Center”       hypnotizing him and Victor, combined with flashes of Agent Baker, Tomas,        Marty Saybrooke and Patrick Thornhart all dance around in his head  without forming a complete picture.)

         (Fade back to John's office. John is suspicious of Tomas, but he doesn't         voice his suspicions in front of the women.)

 Blair: (voice broken) “Oh, Téa....(fiddles with her fingers, puts her hand up to     her hand up to her forehead , exasperated)...”I'm so, so sorry...I...I         just...oh, I don't know what the hell I can say! Todd lied to all of us for      weeks! He knew he killed Victor the whole time! And oh, Tomas! He held        you captive! Are you ok?”

 Tomas: (nonchalantly) ”I'm fine, honey.” (Blair moves to hug him. He hugs her                tightly, as if he'll lose her.)

 Blair: “I'm so furious with that bastard! He made me believe he was supporting  

        me through a rough period that HE CREATED! Oh, my god! He forced you   to confess to a crime he KNEW he had committed!”

        (Tomas nods in half-hearted agreement, something that both John and       Téa notice at once. They exchange curious glances over the couple's        shoulders. John secretly nods at Téa, as if to say...”I'm on it”. Téa    responds with a nod of her own, and calls for Blair.)

 Téa: “Blair, can I steal you for a minute? I need your help in the restroom. This         baby is as mischievous as Victor, and I' feeling a bit dizzy.”    

 Blair: “Oh, honey. With all of the stress you've been going through, dizziness seems like  a mild side effect. Come on.”

         (The ladies leave the office, and Tomas tries to lighten the mood.)

 Tomas: “What's she gonna do? Help her powder her nose?” (Chuckles                           nervously).  

 John: (smiles insincerely) “Yeah, I won't even begin to a guess on that!” (The                men share a short laugh). “So, what's your take on Manning's claims?”

 Tomas: “It sounds like typical Manning crap, John. What take should I have on                it?”

 John: “Delgado, you seem a bit edgy. What's going on?”

 Tomas: “I was held captive by a psycho that wanted to get rid of the                     competition for a woman's heart for weeks. Why wouldn't I be edgy?”

John: “Yeah, you're right. That would make a guy edgy. I need to take your                   statement about your abduction.”

 Tomas: “I'm detecting a tone, McBain. Am I a suspect in some crime?”

         (Flash over to Téa and Blair. Blair is confused when Téa quickly pushes her into the restroom and checks under the stalls.)

 Blair: “Téa, what the hell are you doing? Why are you bending in your                          condition?”

 Téa: “I had to make sure that no one was here.”

 Blair: “Why?”

 Téa: “Well if ya'd shut up for a second, I'll explain. Something's going on with     this case, and every bone in my body is telling me that Tomas is deep in   whatever that 'something' is. I'm telling you this, because I want us to get

       to the bottom of this before you get involved with my brother again. He's  

       hiding something, Blair. He's acting the same way he did when he took my         father's car out to pick up Sandra Velasquez in the eleventh grade and         forgot to fill up the gas tank to cover his tracks. He let my papi scratch his         head for days trying to find out where the leak in the gas tank was coming         from.”

 Blair: “Well, maybe he's just....”

 Téa: “No, no, NO, Blair! Stop doing that. For once, stop searching for an excuse.

       Tomas is my brother and I love him very much...but I will not stand back    and support any wrongdoings...especially if it could hurt a good friend.”

         (Blair smiles through her tears, and Téa hugs her. She sobs on Téa's  shoulder. Téa comforts her with words similar to those a mother

       uses on a baby.)

 Blair: “How could this be happening again? How could Todd have held on to this   secret for so long and tricked everyone? How could he trick me                   into...into..”

 Téa:  “.....loving him again? You have always loved Todd, so it didn't take any                tricks to make that happen, amiga. And I need you to tell you something            else. I don't think Victor's murder is as black-and-white as it once was.”

                       (Blair  moves away from Téa, and stares at her in confusion)

 Blair: “Why not?” (She gets a little hopeful). “Has something new come up?”

                 (Téa gives her a half-sad smile.)

 Téa: “No, not new with regards to evidence, but....”

                 (She pauses and drifts off in thought, annoying Blair.)

 Blair: “But what, Téa? What the HELL is going on?”

                 (Téa shakes her her to snap herself out of her daze.)

 Téa: “Huh?...Oh, right. Blair, every bit of evidence about Victor's murder pointed  in Todd's direction. All of Todd's strange behavior...I mean, strange for   Todd, made it even more plausible that he was the murderer. But...he was      making these statements and insinuating that there is more to this case         than we know, and he's implying that Tomas is somehow involved.”

 Blair: “Oh, come on, Téa! Todd's lying! He always lies! And he hates Tomas!                  He'll say anything to stick it to your brother and save his own ass!”

 Téa: “Blair, you know that I want Victor's killer brought to justice more than         anything in the world. And more than anything, I had hated pretending to  

       be civil to Todd while sitting on the knowledge that John had a strong case         against Todd for the murder.”

 Blair: “Then what's changed?”

 Téa: “Blair, there's something about the confidence in Todd when he was    making his insinuations. And then he implied that Tomas is involved, and       my brother didn't deny it with any real conviction. And he was already        acting strange before we got to the precinct to see Todd. Blair, there's      something weird going on, and Tomas is involved.”

 Blair: “Téa, what did Tomas actually do to make you so suspicious?”

 Téa: “The first thing that stood out is the very calm way he acted when he  returned and we were waiting to hear news from John about Todd's       arrest. Then, he was hesitant to go to the precinct when John DID call us        with the news.”

Blair: “That doesn't mean anything, Téa. Maybe he was tired or....”

 Téa: “NO, Blair! You're doing it again! Listen, no one on this earth but the two     of US know the ins and outs of the Manning men, and I'm telling you that      this isn't the usual Todd schemes. Neither is there any logical explanation        for Tomas' hesitance after all that has happened to him, Blair. He was held         captive for weeks, supposedly by Todd for the sake of getting you to  himself, forced to confess..TO YOU..to a murder that TODD committed,       and when he gets rescued, he's not jumping out of his seat to watch Todd        fry?”

                 (Blair is silent).

 Téa: “I'm just asking you not to make any decisions until we get to the bottom    of this, amiga. We have to see how this plays out. Will you please do     that? I need the godmother of this baby to be in one sound piece. Its  mother is already a wreck, and its father is not here. PLEASE, Blair. Both  of these men are powerful smooth talkers. I know that they both love you   sincerely, but they both have something brewing in the dark. Let's both      operate with all our tools in place for a change. We have to break this  cycle of madness.” (Blair nods in agreement.) “Good, then let's get back      before they catch on that something's going on.”

                 (They leave to return to the men. Upstairs, Blair decides to take a                      minute to herself in the hallway while she directs Téa to go back to                    John. Téa understands, and agrees to do so.)

 Téa: “Blair, listen. I want you to go and talk to Todd. Reserve any judgments         about either of these men until you hear what he has to say. He TRUSTS    you, and I'm sure he'll be truthful with you. As angry as I am with him, I   need to be fair. I want Victor's REAL killer to be revealed, and if it does    indeed turn out to be Todd, then so be it. But, after seeing what I saw in

       Tomas, my mind started to get a new grasp on my common senses. Find    out what you can, and meet me at my house in two hours.”

 Blair: “Ok. I think I have to get John's permission to see him, so I'll be right                  behind you, ok?” (Téa nods and heads inside.)

                 (The camera zooms in on Blair leaning against the precinct wall,                        sighing in despair, then fades.)

                 (Fade over to Victor, who's tired and weak, yet fighting his way                  through thickets of woods trying to find his way home. He finally                       finds a clearing, and it appears to be the inside area of a highway                      guard rail. He looks relieved, hearing the noise of passing cars in the          distance. He suddenly finds the strength to quicken his pace, and he          climbs up a hill to get to the highway. He reaches a sign that reads:                   “LLANVIEW 6 MI”.)

               (Flash back to Allison...She is awakened by Agent Baker, who has                      injected her with an antidote and released her from her gag and                        binds. She's a bit groggy at first, but when she comes to her senses,          she seems horrified at the sight of her guest.)

 Baker: “Well, Ms. Perkins, it seems our prisoner has outplayed you.”

 Allison: “It wasn't my fault! He was too strong and he overpowered me!”

 Baker: “Tell me something that's NOT obvious, Ms. Perkins. Tell me what he                   knows. I need to know how to proceed with cleaning up your mess.”

 Allison: “He doesn't know anything. He was only determined to get back home.  

           He drugged me before he asked any information. I didn't tell him                       anything, I swear!” (Baker smirks diabolically.)

 Baker: “Oh, that's not entirely true, now is it?”

            (He holds up a mini tape recorder and presses the 'play' button.)

 Allison: (from a recording on the tape) “You will never make it out of here alive,     Victor! Even if you get out of here, they won't let you live to expose              them! They own you, Victor!”

   Baker: “You told him enough. Obviously, the programming procedure didn't                    take. I have to track him down and see if the same malfunction                         occurred with his twin. We can't have our plans unraveling.”

 Allison: “What should I do?”

Baker: “Not a thing. You've got enough to account for already.”

         (Allison's widen in terrified understanding. Baker smirks.)

 Baker: “I have an edge on Tomas Delgado that makes him the perfect fallback               servant.” (He snaps his fingers and two large uniformed men appear.)

         “Take Ms. Perkins to the center, gentlemen. I have to tend to our other                 unfinished business.”

(Allison struggles and screams, “Let me try again!”as the men carry her away.)

 Baker: (dials a number from his cell phone.) “We need to talk. Meet me at the                park by the playground. What? I don't care what's going on! This is                   critical! Ms. Perkins may have compromised our mission. You have one               hour.”

 (He angrily snaps his cell phone shut and races out the door.)

 (Flash back to Blair. John has granted her permission to visit Todd. She is walking down the hall to the cell, trying to practice keeping her cool when she sees him. She is worried that she'll slip and rip into him, but when she gets there, she finds him crouched in a corner, holding his head in his hands and rocking back and forth. He's screaming, “Leave me alone! Get out of my head!” repeatedly. Blair knows it's not a trick, and she panics as she calls out to the guards.)

 Blair: “TODD! What's happening? GUARDS! Let me in there!”

 Guard #1: “Miss, we can't let you in there....”

 Blair: “I don't care about your rules! Open the door and let me in there! He   needs help! You know what? Just go get John McBain!

(She turns back to the cell) “TODD!” (She turns back to the guards, who                hasn't moved.) “GO GET JOHN MCBAIN NOW!”

 (The guards scramble to get John and Blair tries to calm Todd down. Tomas, Téa and John come racing into the prison. John rushes to open the cell and Blair races over to Todd. Téa and Tomas stand outside the cell, and Blair kneels down to tend to Todd. He's still delirious, not recognizing who she is at first as he flails his arms to push her away.)

 Todd: (in a panicked, desperate voice) “Get out of my head! Get away from me!

Get out of my head!”

 Blair: “Todd...please look at me. It's Blair. Who are you talking to?”

 Todd: “You killed him. YOU GET OUT OF MY HEAD! You get away from me. You killed him!”

 (He looks at Blair and slowly begins to recognize her and connect with his current surroundings. He seems to relax, and looks at her, a relieved smile spreading across his face. He continues to mutter the same words, a little less psychotically this time, and he closes his eyes to adapt to reality.)

 (Flash back to the highway. Victor is walking tiredly and cautiously along the guardrail. He tries to remain out of sight, checking over his shoulder every so often, unaware that the driver of a vehicle has spotted him until the car slows down for him. He is very skeptical and walks away faster, careful not to look in the driver's direction.)

 Male Driver: (in a volume only loud enough for Victor) “Mr. Victor! Please don't

be afraid. I am trying to save your life! Hurry and get in. I'll explain

on the way to family. They're almost here! Please!”

 (Victor finally faces the voice that sounds like help. He's almost ecstatic when he realizes that the driver is Louie. He quickly jumps in the car and Louie speeds away.)

 Victor: “Not that I'm not grateful, but what's your story?”

 Louie: “I'm not really educated on the details of this situation, but a few months

back, your brother showed up on my docks claiming that YOU had robbed him of his life. I believed him after having spent time listening to his account of his problems with the wacky people that Irene Manning lady put him through. He had asked me to hold the gun that he had taken from the Mayor's safe. The gun had never been fired, and that made me believe him even more. Then the story about the two of you hit the papers, and I was glad that I met him. A few weeks after that, you were murdered, or so everyone thought, and Todd was tested for gunpowder and came up clean. Everything just got real crazy after that.”

 Victor: “Well, I can clear up a couple of things for you. Anything that starts with

'Irene Manning' IS crazy, for starters. Secondly, I ain't no ghost, so I wasn't murdered. And my crazy mother IS dead, but she's programmed a whole army of human robots to continue on in her madness, which keeps the bitch alive.”

 Louie: “Mr. Victor, there's a whole big mess going on. Your brother came to me weeks later with the gun again. Dunno if it was the same gun, but he looked real strange and offered to pay me a lot of money to hide it again. This time, he seemed to be hiding somethin', even implied that he was, but there was somethin' else that I can't explain goin' on with him.”

 Victor: “What do you mean?”

 Louie: “He seemed to be hidin' somethin', but he seemed like he wasn't sure of himself, or even that he was sure that he WAS hidin' somethin'. It was almost like he was being told to do what he was doin', ya know? Like he wasn't actin' of his own accord. I can't explain it. I know I must sound crazy.”

 Victor: “Nah, man. It ain't crazy by Irene's standards at all. My bastard twin is under a mind control program. We both are. She  had pre-orchestrated the entire 'murder scene' before my brother offed her on the docks. Her goons were already rigged to carry out her orders, whether she lived or not, but especially if she didn't. Can you tell me what's going on with my (puts up the “quotes” symbol with his fingers) 'murder case'?”

 Louie: “Your brother is in jail for killin' ya, your wife is a basket case, and that Tomas fella had confessed on tape first...

 Victor: “....Tomas? He's one on the hit list..”

 Louie: “But they said your brother kidnapped him and made him confess to get to that Blair woman.”

 Victor: (agitated) “What?!” Oh, hell! The truth of this entire situation has been

twisted to match our She-Devil mother's lunacy. And Delgado is smack in the middle of it. I may not like my brother, but I won't let him go down to Irene's tricks, and I certainly won't take him away from his family for years for something he didn't do..especially to ME.”

 Louie: “Maybe you don't hate him like you think you do. You two are the victims

of a madwoman's evil, and you both have to join forces to clean up her mess and save this town. You both might wanna try something new to break that evil cycle.”

 Victor: “I appreciate the ride, man, but kill the Partridge Family talk, will ya?”

 (Louie laughs, much to Victor's annoyance).

 Victor: “What the HELL is so damned funny?”

 Louie: “How very much alike the two of you are to be such enemies. But I'll just do what I came to do when I picked ya up off the road. I suggest you go to that McBain person first to start clearing up the mess. Everyone's over at the police station since they picked up Todd an hour ago.”

 Victor: “Is Delgado part of 'everyone'?”

 Louie:”Yessir!”

 Victor: “That reminds me. I have to make a call.”

 (He pulls out the cell phone he took from Allison and dials a number. The phone rings twice.)

 Tomas: (from Victor's end of the phone) “Allison? This is NOT a good time right now! I'm at the LPD station with my sister since Manning was arrested.”

 Victor: “Were you playing the loving, supportive brother as you pretended to help her mourn her dead husband, Delgado?”

 Tomas: “Listen, you don't have any idea what's going on....”

 Victor: “I DON'T GIVE A DAMN! You hear me, Delgado? Be afraid. Be very afraid! This time, you won't be able to hide your wounds. But the first thing you will do is make up an excuse, a REALLY good excuse to get the HELL AWAY from my wife and brother. GET AWAY FROM THEM! And be real sure that I will know if you didn't....(He sings a verse of “Every Move You Make” by The Police).

 Victor: (singing) “I'll be watching you....every move you make, every vow you break, every step you take....” (Hangs up.)

 (The camera fades as the car passes a sign that reads: “Welcome to the City of Llanview”.)

 (Flash over to Llanfair..Viki is distraught and overwhelmed with a mix of rage, hurt and disappointment while looking at the newscast of Todd's arrest on the television. Dani, Jack and Natalie are with her.)

 Viki: “I can not BELIEVE that Todd has been arrested for murdering our brother!” (She rises to pace the floor, and her relatives all look on, waiting for their cue to help her if she needs them to.)

 Jack: “I CAN! I told all of you that Scarface killed our father!”

 Viki: “Jack, will you please go upstairs and check on your little brother, please?”

 Jack: “Why? Aunt Viki, I want to see....”

 Natalie and Dani: “JACK!”

 Natalie: “Go check on Sam, now!”

 (Natalie scowls to prove she's serious. Jack rolls his eyes and storms off defiantly. Dani groans and shakes her head.)

 Dani: “Grrrr! He's IMPOSSIBLE!”

 Natalie: “He's just being a bratty teen. Are you okay, honey? This has to be hard on you, too.”

 Dani: “I'm mostly worried about my mom right now, but...I don't believe that Todd did it. I don't know him very well, but something is very weird about this.”

 Natalie: “Yeah, it is strange, but John wouldn't have arrested him if he didn't believe that there was enough evidence to do so.”

 Dani: “Cousin Natalie, I know that Lieutenant McBain is a fair officer, but evidence or not, I don't believe Todd would kill my dad..I mean, my uncle after waiting so long to come back to his family.”

 Natalie: “Well, so far he's just been arrested. They still have to question him and all that. Hey, why don't you call YOUR mom, while I go check on mine.”

 Dani: “Good idea. Oh, and I have to call Starr, too. I don't want her to hear about this on the news. I think I left my purse in the kitchen.”

 (She races to the kitchen. Natalie pulls out her own cell phone and dials John's number. His voicemail picks up.)

 Natalie: “John, it's me. Give me a call when you can and let me know what's going on with Todd's arrest? I love you. ”

 (The door opens as she hangs up. Enter Clint and Jessica.)

 Clint:”Hi, sweetheart.” (He kisses her forehead). “Where's your mother? I just heard the news.”

 Natalie: “She's in there.” (Clint joins Viki.)

 Jessica: (kisses her sister) “Yeah, I just heard, too. Do you believe he did it?”

 Natalie: “I don't want to speculate, but he WAS arrested, and this is Uncle Todd we're talking about.”

 Jessica: “Yeah, I know, but this is too crazy, even for Todd, Natalie.”

 Natalie: “Well, there must be some real evidence stacked against him, because John wouldn't act unless there was.”

 Jessica: “I'm sure he did, but none of this makes any sense. Evidence has been known to be wrong.”

 Natalie: “Well, I hope so, but the odds are not favorable, Jess. I mean, Todd has a history of crimes the size of Texas. He was acting funny since his return from the dead, and how do you explain Tomas Delgado?”

 Jessica: “Natalie, you sound like you've already tried and convicted him. No one knows what kind of evidence has been collected yet, and Mom is already freaking out, so let's just deal with the news at hand first.”

 Natalie: “Well, I tried calling John to get some details, but his voicemail picked up.”

 Jessica: “I'm sure he is busy trying to get the details himself.”

 (Flash back Viki and Clint. Viki is crying, not knowing what to make of what's going on. Clint is consoling her.)

 Viki: “Oh, Clint! How could this be HAPPENING? I just find out that I now have two brothers, my former best friend wasn't dead after all, and then I lose one brother, only to now discover that my other brother is being arrested for the crime? How could Todd have lied to me and all of us who love him for so long? More importantly, why would he risk losing the family that he was forced to give up for eight years when he JUST got them back?”

 Clint: “Shh, shh...Viki, honey. Hold on for a minute. It's no secret that I am not a fan of your siblings, honey. But this is too crazy, even for Todd, and even for Todd in an impulsive moment. All we know is that the police felt they have enough evidence to make an arrest.”

 Viki: “What kind of evidence could they have, Clint?”

 Clint: “That's the million-dolllar question, sweetheart, but that's why I want you to try and calm down until we get to the bottom of this. Just know that I will be with you every step of the way, Victoria.”

 Viki: “Thank you, Clint. I'm gonna hold you to that.”

 (Fade over to Agent Baker. He is furious that he's lost Victor, but realizes that Victor must still be on the road just before Llanview based on the time that has lapsed since his escape from Allison's hideout. He calls out to his driver.)

 Baker: “Step on it! And stay on this path. The ketamine is still with him, so he wouldn't be able to move too quickly. If he's hiding, we'll be able to detect any strange movements out here. You won't get far, Victor. You won't get far at all.”

 (He laughs diabolically, as the camera zooms in on him.)

 (Flash back to the precinct. Todd is calmer, but he's still not making any progress in shedding his delirium. Téa keeps her distance, and she is really beginning to doubt the validity of the evidence against Todd for Victor's murder.

John has decided to allow Blair some time alone with Todd, but instructs his officers to stand guard at the outer exit. He gestures for Téa to give Blair some privacy, and as Téa turns to leave, she is surprised to see that her brother is gone. John realizes it, too, and they both rush outside.)

 Téa: “John, did you notice when Tomás left?”

 John: “No, but I saw that he got a phone call earlier, and he seemed edgy. A few minutes later, he got another call, but then I was distracted by Manning. He must have slipped out during the confusion.”

 Téa: “I realize that. I guess the question is,why did he need a distraction to slip away and take a phone call?”

 (Back inside the cell, Blair has taken a seat on the cell floor next to Todd. Todd is sweaty, but his breathing has regulated. He is now aware of his surroundings.)

 Blair: “Todd? Are you okay?”

 Todd: (chuckles sarcastically) “Depends on who you're asking. I certainly can't answer that question.”

 Blair: “Well maybe I should ask you what just happened here.”

 (Todd pauses. He doesn't know where to start.)

 Todd: “There are many complicated things going on all at once. I don't know how to make sense of it.”

 Blair: “Okay....let's start with something simple. What were you screaming about just now? Do you remember anything?”

 Todd: “I remember everything, but it was a whole bunch of pieces. They were like movie clips from different movies that were thrown together.”

 Blair: “Okay, then tell me what you remember from those clips.”

 Todd: “My mother holding me captive in her mad scientist lab, chanting commands in my ear. I couldn't make out everything, but...”

(Téa clears her throat to get their attention.)

 Téa: “Um..Blair? I recommended to McBain that Todd be moved to St. Ann's for evaluation.”

 Blair: “To St. Ann's? What wou...”

 Téa: “...Because it would better for Todd to talk there.”

 (She makes direct eye contact with Blair to get her hint across. Blair catches on.)

 Blair: “You know what, Todd? Téa's right. You may be able to think more clearly without the stress of prison personnel.”

 (Todd seems sincerely relieved. Téa turns to let McBain know that Todd is ready for transport).

 (Flash to Tomas. He has met with Baker in the playground. Baker is furious because he hasn't gotten to Victor.)

 Tomas: “What the hell am I doing here, Baker?”

 Baker: “You don't get to ask any questions here, Mr. Delgado. You belong to us. You just do as you're told.”

 Tomas: “I don't belong to anybody, Baker. What do you want?”

 Baker: “Victor Lord, Jr. has escaped from Ms. Perkins. Unfortunately, I underestimated how far he would get based on the amount of time had elapsed since his escape. My guess is that he's operating on emotion and is heading straight to your sister, Delgado. I need you to get rid of him.”

 Tomas: “Are you out of your mind? You want me to kill my sister's husband, after all that she's gone through...no, all that she's GOING through, thinking he's dead?”

 Baker: (laughs loudly and sarcastically) “OH, WOW! You almost sounded sincere! Or are you telling me that you feel bad for your sister's pain when you helped stage her husband's death in the first place? That's rich, Mr. Delgado!”

Tomas: “I recall that I really didn't have much of a choice in the matter.”

 Baker: (laughing harder) “Oh, are we practicing our alibi already? You can spin your involvement any which way you'd like, Delgado. You may not have pulled that trigger, but you were certainly willing to join the game of 'Keep Away' with your sister's husband. What will your sister think when she finds out that you wanted her to be away from her husband so badly that you helped us keep him locked away after he was shot and presumed dead?”

 Tomas: “I certainly enough to atone for with what I've done, but you made sure that I CAN'T leave now, haven't you?”

 Baker: “Oh come on, Delgado. All you have to do is follow orders, and everything will be fine. I am not a monster.”

 Tomas: “I'm sure the rest of the world wouldn't agree.”

 Baker: “After what you've done, I think we're cut from the same cloth.”

 Tomas: “NEVER! I wouldn't threaten the life of a child. That is something Irene Manning would do. You're certainly her finest creation.”

 Baker: “Oh, I guess robbing a child of its father and a sister of her husband is not right up Irene's alley, hm? That's exactly why she recruited you eight years ago. We're cut from the same cloth, Mr. Delgado. And now, you're simply being instructed to do a job that highlights your best talents, and finish what you helped to start. Get rid of Victor Lord, Jr., or else.”

 Tomas: “Or else what, Baker? Hm? You'll expose my secrets?”

 Baker: “Tisk, tisk, Tomas. I don't indulge in such childish games. No, I have a much more reliable ace in the hole to ensure your cooperation. Or did you forget?”

 Tomas: “No, I didn't forget.”

 Baker: “Then let's put the games aside and stay focused. Things have gotten quite critical, Mr. Delgado, and we can't afford any more loose ends. Just in case you need a little encouragement to help keep you focused, then by all means , feel free to take a peek in the bushes behind you.”

(Tomas stares at Baker for a good while, then slowly heads in the direction of the cluster of bushes. He walks cautiously, keeping sight of Baker with frequent glances back. After a few more steps forward, he trips over a pile of leaves. A good amount of leaves blow away in the wind, and he sees the dead body of Allison Perkins covered in blood.)

 (Flash back to the precinct. John is in his office with the door closed. He picks up the phone and makes a call.)

 John: “Yeah, it's McBain. You got eyes on Tomas Delgado? Oh, really? Keep following him and don't let him out of your sight. Check back with me often.”

 (He hangs up, and drums his fingers on his desk in deep thought.)

 John: “What are you and Agent Baker up to, Tomas?” (His phone rings again.)

 John: “Yeah. What? Where? And where's Delgado? Ok, wait until they're gone and call for a bus and the M.E. Thanks. Keep me posted.”

 (He hangs up again.)

 John: “This is getting more exciting by the minute. What is going on, Delgado? And what did old Victor Lord, Jr. do that would make you involve yourself so badly?”

 (His phone rings again.)

 John: “McBain.”

 Natalie: “Hi, John, it's me.”

 John: “Hey, yourself. How's Liam?”

 Natalie: “He's sleeping like a baby. How's his daddy holding up with all this?”

 John: “I'll let you know when the crazy dust settles.”

 Natalie: “What do you mean? What's going on?”

 John: “It's a really complicated mess right now, and I'll tell you about it at home.”

 Natalie: “Well, is there anything you can tell me that I can tell my mom? She's freaking out right now because there are no details following the announcement of my uncle's arrest.”

 John: “You can tell her this much, and you must tell her this in private. The evidence against Todd is no longer as cut and dried as it was when we arrested him.”

 Natalie: “Wait. What do you mean? You think he's innocent?”

 John: “I didn't say that, but I can say that some new factors has come up and it's making the evidence we did have look incomplete.”

 Natalie: “John, I know that tone. What aren't you telling me?”

 John: “I'm not telling you what I can't legally tell you right now. As soon as I'm clear, you'll be the first to know. Just let Viki know to hang in there and don't get too furious with Manning just yet.”

 Natalie: (sighs) “Well, at least that will help soften the blow somewhat.”

 John: “That's what I'm aiming for. I gotta go, Nat. I love you. Kiss Liam for me.”

 Natalie: “Will do. I love you, too.”

 (Natalie hangs up and heads upstairs to tend to Liam, who has just started crying.)

 (Flash over to Jack. He's spewing his Scarface rants to Sam.)

 Jack: “I knew that Scarface killed our dad! He was lying to us all of this time, and everyone told me that I was wrong! I Knew it!”

 Sam: “I don't think he did that to my dad, Jack. He's a superhero, and they are the good guys.”

 Jack: “Oh yeah, Einstein? If he's such a superhero, then why did the police arrest him, huh?

 Sam: “The police make mistakes all the time. They didn't arrest you for stealing my airplanes and breaking them into pieces. I like Todd, and I don't think he sent my daddy to Heaven. I think the police don't know where the bad guys are. But I'm a deputy, and I am going to help find them. Lieutenant McBain said I can.”

 John: “You're so dumb. Kids can't be a deputy. McBain only told you that to make you feel important. And how can you like Scarface when he shot our father?

 Jessica: “Jack Manning! What is WRONG with you? Sam, come here, sweetie.”

 (Sam scurries over to Jessica.)

 Jessica: “Why don't you go see if Cousin Bree wants to play a video game, hm?”

 Sam: “Alright! Thanks, Cousin Jessica!” (He runs to the door, then stops to face Jack.) “Why do you hate your own dad so much? I don't care what you say. He didn't hurt my daddy!” (He races off.)

 Jessica: “I can't believe you would inflict such pain on your little brother like that! Both of our mothers, and Téa, who's PREGNANT, by the way, are going through enough hell without your bratty little hate rants in the mix. DO you understand me? And that little boy has to keep re-living the loss of his daddy every time some new suspect comes up, or some news reporter replays the murder. WE are supposed to protect him from all of that hate and trauma. He especially would like to feel safe with his older brother, ya think?”

 Jack: “He's not my brother if he likes Scarface.”

 Jessica: “His name is TODD, and he's your FATHER. You are going to get that straight one way or another, especially in this house around my mom and the children here. And while you're busy playing judge and jury, don't forget to look in the mirror and reacquaint yourself with your grisly infractions. Maybe you'll find yourself a little more hesitant to point fingers at others. You can play the Spawn of the Devil if you want, you just won't do it around here, you got it?”

 Jack: “You're not my mother, so...”

 Natalie: “....I think my sister asked if you were clear on what she said. That's all we are interested in hearing you say. SO...you got it?”

 Jack: “I GOT it.”

 (The sisters smile at each other and turn to leave. Outside in the hall, they hi-five each other and head downstairs. They find Viki and Clint on the couch, Viki is crying on Clint's chest.)

 Natalie: “Jess, hold on a second.”

 Jessica: “What's up?”

 Natalie: “I wanted to say that you were right about my attitude about Uncle Todd. I should have been a lot more objective about this. Look, I need to talk to you, but I don't want to talk here because we have our little hothead upstairs and he's itching for some free time to cause more mischief. Mom is in no shape to keep him from torturing his little brother, so as soon as he goes home, we'll talk ok?”

 Jessica: (chuckling) “I know what you mean. Okay, then, it's a date. Speaking of Sam, let me go look in on them. I'll be right back. Ryder is due to wake up from his nap anyway.”

 Natalie: “Good idea. See ya later.”

 (Jessica goes back upstairs and Natalie stares at her parents through the opening in the door. Flash over to the precinct. Nora has arrived and is upset with John for transferring Todd. Téa remained behind, but she has gone into the hall to call Dani.)

 John: (tiredly) “How can I help you, Nora?”

 Nora: “You can start by telling me why Todd Manning isn't locked up in a cell?”

 John: “He had a psychotic breakdown and, as per procedure, we sent him to St. Ann's for evaluation.”

 Nora: “A psychotic breakdown? Really, Lieutenant? Isn't that the exact same trick used by Starr Manning not so long ago to help her father escape not so long ago?”

 John: “That was the very first thought that crossed my mind, Nora. But regardless of that incident, I have to follow procedure when a prisoner goes ill. Of course, given the history of the incidents Manning has pulled off, I took extra precautions just in case. I actually believe this incident is legitimate.”

 Nora: “Then maybe you've come down with a case of amnesia, 'legitimate' and 'Todd Manning' have never been a harmonious union.”

 Téa: “And a statement like that made from the District Attorney might constitute grounds for bias against my client, Nora.”

 (Both John and Nora turn to face her.)

 Nora: (scoffs) “Did I hear you correctly? Did you just say 'your client'?”

 Téa: “I did indeed.”

 Nora: “Your client, meaning Todd Manning? The man arrested for your husband's MURDER. THAT Todd Manning?”

 Téa: “Yes, the one and the same.”

 Nora: “You're serious.” (Téa looks at her tiredly and sternly.) “Oh, come on! YOU”RE implying bias on my part without touching on the blatant conflict of interest on yours?”

 Téa: “Well, let me examine your theory, Counselor. You might be seeing things from a more objective standpoint, and maybe I AM involved with a conflict of interest. So let me go over the facts of this case.”

 (She mockingly pauses as if in deep thought.)

 Téa: “Everyone is entitled to a defense, and I am Mr. Manning's defense attorney of record. In light of the new situation, it's certainly a conflict of interest for me to remain in that role. However, I cannot legally vacate that role until I personally make the request to the courts and have the representation be officially changed on the record. Since there is no night court in session until Monday morning, I am legally bound to remain as his attorney until then. If I am acting outside of the law, then by all means, Nora, please point that out and I will correct my actions immediately.”

 (Nora remains silent.)

 Nora: (in a soft tone) “I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to imply improper conduct on your part. I stand by what I said about not believing Todd's 'psychosis' to be legitimate. There isn't a legitimate bone in Todd Manning's body.”

 (Téa is outright annoyed with Nora's statement.)

 Téa: “Nora, there was not an ounce of deception on Todd's part this time. I have every reason to despise the man, but even I believe that Lieutenant McBain did exactly what the situation required. He took extensive precautionary measures to circumvent any possible repeat performance tricks that Todd MAY have up his sleeve, but I sincerely doubt that he has any.”

 (Nora studies her colleague's face and is suspicious and confused.)

 Nora: “Téa, what's going on here? Are you going soft on Todd? Or are you sitting on new information that you haven't disclosed yet?”

 (Téa and John both remain silent as Nora looks from one to the other for an answer.)

 Nora: “Oh-ho-ho-ho-ho! Now I KNOW that something's going on. I know BOTH of those looks! What aren't you telling me?”

 (They remain silent as the camera zooms out.)

  (Flash to St. Ann's. Todd's intake process has been completed, and Blair has been allowed to sit in Todd's room. He is completely calm now, and Blair is ready to continue with her questions.)

 Todd: “Thank you for being here, Blair.”

 Blair: “Well, where did you expect me to be after finding you on the floor screaming like that? I wasn't coming to see you to play nice.”

 Todd: “I know that, but thank you anyway.”

 Blair: “We're alone now...at least until the doctors come in here to question you. So tell me why you were picked out as Victor's murderer, Todd?”

 Todd: “I don't know”

 Blair: “Oh, that's BULL, Todd! You knew you killed your brother and you do what you always do..you LIE!”

 Todd: “No, I didn't. Not this time.”

 Blair: “Yes you did. You forced Tomas to confess to something you knew you did and you lied about it. That's what you DO, Todd! You lie! You always LIE....”

 Todd: “I DIDN”T, DAMMIT!” (His scream startles Blair into silence, and he softens his tone.) “Not this time. The only thing that I AM guilty of is getting that snake Tomas out of the way so I could have one night with you to prove how much I truly love you and make you remember that you loved me, too. Trust me, Blair. Tomas didn't need too much coercion.”

 Blair: “What does that MEAN? What is going on? Why did you go through all of that play-acting when you first came back to town, trying to prove your innocence, when you knew that you would eventually get arrested anyway? I know you scheme, Todd, but at least you're usually smart about it! This was sloppy for you, Todd. You need to give me some answers. How could you just....” (Her voice trails off in exasperation.)

  Todd: (softly) ”Are you done?” (Blair shoots a murderous look in his direction.)

 Blair: “That depends on what you say next. If I detect one ounce of deception..I will walk out of here and let you fry, Todd.”

 Todd: “With Delgado sitting by your side at the execution? I'm sure he'll love that.”

 Blair: “TOMAS didn't lie to me, Todd. YOU did! You made me believe that you were going to be at my side to help me through the hell I was going through about Tomas when YOU'RE the one who took him away! HE never lied about loving me!”

 Todd: “NEITHER DID I! And I got news for you, Blair, Tomas DID lie. He lied all the way around to you. Except about loving you, what guy wouldn't? But of all the crimes I've committed, Tomas has matched them and took over the race to first place! So you can go spitting your 'Saint Tomas' drivel all you want! It won't make him one!”

 Blair: “THEN TELL ME WHAT I NEED TO KNOW! You don't have much time here before the police come back here to put you back in jail, Todd. Start talking, so we can decide if you'll have an ally or an enemy when they get here!”

 (A long silence hangs between them. Todd softens and looks in her eyes, ready to quit stalling.)

 Todd: “You're right, Blair. I promise you, no more secrets. Please sit down.”

 (Blair complies.)

 Blair: (in a warning voice) “Ooookayy, Todd. No secrets.”

 Todd: (in a very serious tone) “Blair, I swear on my children lives, that I will be truthful.”

 Blair: “Todd, don't you...”

 Todd: “...I wouldn't ever use the children if I didn't mean what I said. No matter what else I've done, PLEASE don't say I ever did THAT!”

 Blair: (with remorse) “Sorry, Todd. Of course you never did that. Just please start talking.”

 Todd: “I want to start by telling you that I NEVER lied to you. When I came back, my hands and conscience were clean. My only agenda was to regain my life and make the people who did this to me pay.”

 Blair: (in a matter-of-fact  tone) “Like Victor?”

Todd: “Yes, in the beginning, Victor was on the hit list, but when I found out he was my BROTHER, the mission took a different course.”

 Blair: “Oh, bull, Todd! I was the one trying to stop you from running off to kill him the night you took Dorian's gun, remember?”

 Todd: “And you were also there when I tested clean for gunshot residue and came back to tell you that you got through to me. I still hated him, but that was because my own son hated me and called him “Dad”. And I felt that I had to unfairly fight for a life that was stolen from me. But I realized that I had to fight through that rage because killing that bastard would only put me on the crap list with my family. I decided to spare his miserable life and fight him in the board room instead. So, I DID NOT shoot him.”

 Blair: “Then why is there evidence against you that got you arrested for Victor's murder? And why did you go to such lengths to have Tomas held hostage and confess to Victor's murder?”

 (Todd scoffs sarcastically).

 Todd: “Oh, jeez, Blair! The answer to your first question is...This is the LLANVIEW PD we're talking about! They never get things right. And as for Tomas, he was just for fun.”

 Blair: “TODD!”

 Todd: “Okay, fine. I love you, Blair, and I never liked Toe-mas. I certainly didn't want him to be an obstacle, but more importantly, I wasn't going to let another dangerous psycho be my kids' STEPFATHER! EWW!”

 Blair: “Dangerous psycho? What do you mean?”

 Todd: “I'll get to that later, I promise. First, I need to clear this 'evidence' nonsense up.”

 Blair: “It's not NONSENSE, Todd! You're in jail. And so far, I haven't heard anything that tells me why you shouldn't be!”

 Todd: “When I left your house that night with the gun, I zeroed in on Victor's house. I was going to eliminate that bastard and make it easy on myself. I had no idea that I would have to deal with your voice in my head serving as a diversion the whole way, or that I would run into that kid..what's his name, Shane?”

 Blair: “Shane Morasco.”

 Todd: “Yeah, Shane Morasco. Well, I didn't foresee that he would be there. So, I  turned to leave, and then I felt a big pain in the back of my head, and the next thing I remember, I woke up near the docks. ”

 Blair: “The DOCKS? What were you doing there? No, scratch that question. You said you felt a big pain in the back of your head, and then you remembered waking up near the docks. Do you think someone hit you?”

 Todd: “I don't know, Blair.”

 Blair: “Well you need to try and remember, Todd. When you woke up, did you hear or see anything that can help you put this together?”

 (Todd pauses and closes his eyes to try to think.)

 Todd: “I had the gun in my hand, but I KNOW I didn't shoot Victor. So I brought the gun back to Louie and asked him to hide it again, while I tried to remember. I KNOW I didn't shoot Victor. I had given up on the idea after seeing Shane. I'm CERTAIN of that! But I wasn't going to tell anybody that and risk going to jail until I got to the bottom of things, so I kept it to myself and enjoyed whatever time with my old life I could get. Then I started getting visions of Irene, telling me that I shot Victor, and I started to panic and question myself. I didn't believe the visions, because I KNOW I did NOT shoot Victor. But Irene kept visiting me, and then I wasn't sure of myself. John tested me, and there was no evidence of me shooting Victor, but Irene kept telling me I did. Then Tomas started getting cocky about you, and I couldn't deal with THAT on top of everything else. I started trying to find a way to get him out of the way.”

 (He pauses. He appears to have thought of something.)

 Blair: “Did you remember something?”

 Todd: “Um...I remember that the men I hired to take Delgado approached ME with an offer to get rid of him...like they KNEW what he and I had discussed in private. And Tomas was very cool about being taken into captivity. I mean, he preached to me a little about the truth coming out in the end, but....he didn't seem to be too concerned about being locked away and being forced to confess. He didn't seem to be worried about it at all.”

 (Blair pauses to take in all of the information. She snaps out of her daze as she remembers something.)

 Blair: “Todd, you said that after you saw Shane at Victor's that night, you felt a pain in your head and then you were near the docks. Do you think someone hit you?”

 Todd: “I don't know. I don't remember what happened after seeing that Morasco kid.”

 Blair: “Well, you better start remembering SOMETHING, Todd. Téa bought you a short vacation from prison. Now, try and think back to that night.”

 (Todd closes his eyes to concentrate. The camera flashes to the images of the docks in his mind, and we hear overlapping male voices in a distance. He gasps, putting Blair on alert.)

 Blair: “What is it, Todd?”

 Todd: “I can hear voices.”

 Blair: “That's good. Do you remember anything about what they're saying?”

 (Todd concentrates harder. The voices are becoming a little clearer. We hear Victor and Baker in the distance.)

 Victor: (in the distance, weakly) “What the hell are you doing, Baker?”

 Baker: (in the distance) “Oh, settle down, Victor. You knew this was coming. Your mother warned you not to cross her!”

 Victor: “My bitch mother is dead! Let me go!”

 Baker: “She's dead, but our loyalty isn't. She was a shrewd woman who covered all her bases, Mr. Lord. Careful, now, you've been shot. You'll live, but too much movement cause too much damage before we get you back to The Center to fix you up.”

 Victor: “No, thanks. I'd rather die than use your medics. I don't trust you.”

 Baker: “Then maybe you'll trust him.” (footsteps in the distance.)

 Victor: “YOU?! YOU'RE in on this, Delgado? YOU shot me! I remember now.”

 Tomas: “No, Baker pulled the trigger, but I was there that night.”

 (Sounds of scuffling and grunts echo in the distance.)

 Victor: “I'm gonna kill you, and then I'm gonna let your sister know what you did! She'll hate your ass forever!”

 Tomas: “No, Victor. You'll never get the chance to ruin my sister's life again. Now she'll be able to move on with her life.”

(Todd opens his eyes, and Blair is anxious to be filled in.)

 Blair: “Todd, what is it?”

 Todd: “Baker shot Victor. And Tomas was there.......(He frowns in confusion.)...If what I'm remembering is accurate, then Victor is alive!”

  Blair: “WHAT?!”

 (The camera zooms in on Blair's shocked expression, then fades to black.)

 (Flash back to the precinct, Téa and John are trying to figure out how much to tell Nora.)

 Nora: “Well? Is someone going to fill me in?”

 John: “What do you want to know, Counselor?”

 Nora: “Don't be coy, Lieutenant. What are you and Téa hiding, and what does it have to do with Todd Manning?”

 (Another pause follows, and Téa gives John a permissive nod.)

 John: “We have reason to believe that the evidence against Todd Manning is no longer as concrete as it was when the arrest was made.”

 Nora: “Oookayyy...why not?”

 John: “For starters, new leads have emerged since the return of Tomas Delgado that leaves some questions unanswered.”

 Nora: “What kind of questions?”

 John: “Well, some of the questions are about little things..like why he got two mysterious phone calls during Manning's breakdown and waited until things got chaotic to make a clean break from the station.”

 Nora: “That sounds like a long stretch to connect Tomas to Victor's murder. Nothing about that is making my Spidey-sense tingle, John.”

  Téa: “There's more that started this suspicion before we even got here. While Tomas and I were awaiting news from John about whether or not he'd gotten to arrest Todd, Tomas was very calm....TOO calm! And when Blair and I made reference to the fact that Todd was finally going to pay for killing Victor AND holding him hostage, he reacted like a person that was about to do something WRONG, Nora. He was hesitant, like he wanted to say something.. but then he didn't. When I called him out on it, he diverted my attention with some lame explanation that he was staying calm for MY sake.”

 Nora: “Well, maybe he was! I'm still not getting any tingly feelings about your brother as a suspect, Counselor.”

 Téa: “Well, try to scratch that never-ending itch you have for Todd Manning just long enough to see the WHOLE picture here, Nora. I want the TRUTH about my husband's murder to be addressed! If Todd IS really Victor's murderer without a shadow of a doubt, I'll be the first one in line to flip the switch. But I will NOT, no I CAN not let any personal hatred for the man cloud justice for Victor.”

 Nora: “And I'm feeling a little insulted with the continuous implications that I'm doing just that, Téa! It's no secret that I despise Todd Manning, but I am the District Attorney, for pete's sake! I have to follow the evidence.”

 (John's fax beeps to inform them that an incoming transmission is in progress.)

 Téa: “Which is now sketchy and coincidental at best!”

 Nora: “Then SHOW me! Give me SOMETHING to look for in what you all have deemed is the RIGHT direction. Make me tingle!”

 John: “Will this qualify?”

 (The women turn to face John. He's waving a few sheets of paper from the fax in the air.)

 John: “Delgado's cell phone records. He's been making continuous calls to two specific numbers. One number registered to Agent Baker, the other to Allison Perkins. He received a call from each of those numbers at the exact times his phone rang here. He bolted out of here after the last call—from Allison's number—came through, it  was during Manning's yelling match, and he was terrified. He bolted out of here while we were dealing with Manning.”

 Nora: “I'm getting fuzzy, Lieutenant. What else you got?”

 John: “I had a couple of officers tail Delgado. He just met with Baker in the park, Allison Perkins's body was found dead in the bushes a few feet away from the playground. Baker walked Delgado to the location.”

 Nora: “NOW I'm tingling!”

 (John and Téa breathe a sigh of relief as the camera zooms in and fades to black.)

 (Flash over to a place somewhere in close proximity to the precinct. Louie had instructed Victor to duck down under the back seats and cover himself with the blankets. Louie's homeless bag serves as an extra disguise. Louie steps out of the car and pretends to fiddle with a rear window problem as he talks softly to Victor through the window.)

 Louie: “I am gonna go on inside and talk to that McBain. I will find out what's going on.”

 Victor: “You don't talk to anyone but McBain, and in private, you got it?”

 Louie: “I ain't survived this long because I was careless. I don't trust nobody else, either.”

 Victor: “Can you see anything?”

 Louie: (trying to see inside without getting caught) “I can see the Commissioner's wife and the lieutenant...there's someone else, a woman, but I can't make out who she is from here.”

 (Louie continues to strain to make out who's inside.)

 Victor: (in a fierce whispery tone.)“It doesn't matter who that other lady is. You need to get to McBain and find out what's going on with my brother. Are you LISTENING to me?”

 Louie: “Yes, Mr. Victor..but....”

 Victor: (still whispering) “But what, old man? Spit it out!”

 Louie: “I can see the other lady now. Uh..Mr. Victor....the other lady is your wife.....and, well...”

 Victor: (impatiently) “What?”

 Louie: “Um.. put that blanket on you and come see for yourself.”

 (Victor scrambles out from under the clutter and emerges wrapped under the blanket. Louie points to the window and Victor's eyes settle on his wife. His eyes widen in shock.)

 Victor: “Am I seeing that right? Téa's PREGNANT?”

 (The camera zooms out.)

 (Flash back to Llanfair...Dani  is filling Starr in on the phone) the police

 Starr: “Dani, I don't care what police are saying, Dani. Our dad did not kill Uncle Victor. He can get really crazy, I know, but he wouldn't have risked losing the family that was stolen from him for eight years by going BACK to jail. And he wouldn't take Sam's father away from him. He loves Sam, and Sam loves him, too. The only thing he did was ask me to help him break out of jail because our crazy grandmother told him she was going to kill his family, and Uncle Victor was one of the people who's life he SAVED by doing that! Llanview hates our dad, Dani. They'll jump at the chance to put him away. I'm going to jump on the next plane out to be by Dad's side.”

 Dani: “No, Starr. You'll mess up your opportunity out there in California. Just wait a little longer to see if this goes any further. If it gets more serious than this, I'll call you.”

 Starr: “Dani, I'm coming. Nobody will be there to really believe in him. Our mothers will start to doubt him if any evidence starts to sound convincing, and he needs someone unconditional by his side.”

 Dani: “Well, if it helps....I don't believe he did it, either.”

 Starr: “It does help...trust me. I'll call you back with the flight arrangements. Don't tell our mothers I'm coming just yet.”

 Dani: “Okay. I'll talk to you soon.”

 (They hang up. The doorbell rings and Dani answers the door. Nate and Matthew walk in and Dani rushes to hug Nate tightly.)

 Nate: “Hey, hey, hey, there! You okay, Dani?”

 Dani: “I'm soooo glad you're here. Hi, Matthew! How's Des and the baby?”

 Matthew: “They're both okay. Vivian just got them to the hospital to check them both out and do some tests. I came over as soon as I heard. Where's Uncle Clint?”

 Dani: “He's in there with Aunt Viki and Cousin Natalie. Where's Mr. Buchanan?”

 Matthew: “He went to the hospital with Roxy and Nigel and the Evans family. I'm going to meet them there after I see Uncle Clint and Aunt Viki.”

 Dani: “Aunt Viki is going to need all of the support she can get. Go in and see her.”

 (Matthew hugs Dani and goes inside.)

 Nate: “You look like you could use some support yourself.” (He reaches out to hug her. She clings to him tightly.)

 Dani: “You must be psychic. My brat brother went totally psycho on Sam, Aunt Viki is a bundle of nerves, Aunt Blair is a mess, and my mom just called me sounding like she's going to collapse. I wanted to go to the police station, but she ordered me to stay away because she said things were a little crazy over there. Starr is coming home, but she doesn't want me to tell anyone yet.”

 Nate: “So...what's your take on the situation? Do you think Mr. Manning did it?”

 Dani: “Not at all. I don't care what the police are saying. I don't think so at all. None of it makes any sense. I don't know my real dad that much, but I just know he didn't do this. Whoever it was is trying really hard to make it look like he did.”

 Nate: “Who would want to get your dad out of the way by framing him for your uncle's murder?”

 Dani: “I don't know, Nate..But whoever it is must have a lot at stake to try so hard to keep it quiet. And whatever that is, both of my dads must be the keys to exposing them, so they need to get rid of them.”

 Nate: “We have to think. Who do they both have in common?”

Dani: “The first person I can think of is my grandmother, but she's dead. There's Mom and Blair, but neither of them would want to kill Uncle Victor....”

 (Dani's voice trails off, confusing Nate.)

 Nate: “What is it, Dani?”

 Dani: “I sooooo don't wanna even go there, but....”

 Nate: “What?”

 Dani: “There is one other person who is connected to all of us, and has some shady history as well....my Uncle Tomas. He hates both of the brothers and he has personal beefs with both of them.”

 Nate: “But you said that the person would have something to hide that would make it necessary to get rid of the brothers. Do you think he has something to hide?”

 (Dani shrugs her shoulders as the camera fades to black.)

 (Flash back to Victor and Louie...Victor is overridden with different emotions after seeing his pregnant wife from the station window.)

 Victor: “I'm going to be a father! I...WOW! She's...I'm going to be a father, Louie!” (He laughs hysterically, and Louie chuckles with him.)

 Louie: “Congratulations, Mr. Victor.”

 Victor: (still laughing) “I hope I have a girl. Having had Dani and Starr was..WOO! I can't believe....” (His laughing abruptly stops.) “That son of a BITCH! He would do this to me, to his unborn niece or nephew..to his SISTER! OOOOOH, are they gonna PAY for this!”

 Louie: “Now, Mr. Victor, I know this is a tough situation, but you need to turn all

of that anger into a really good plan to get your life back.”

 (Victor pauses and stares at Louie as if he were burned.)

 Louie: (frowning) “Sum'n I said, Mr. Victor?”

 Victor: (snaps out of his daze) “You're damned right it was something you said! And I don't like you very much for it. You just made me understand what my brother was going through. Now I want to make Baker and Delgado pay for me, my family AND that idiot! Nice going, old man!”

 (Louie laughs, and Victor shoots a furious look in his direction.)

 Victor: “Ha, ha ha! Very damned funny. Look, I have a plan. Step One, anyway. Pay attention, and get this right.”

 (The camera zooms in and fades out.)

 (Flash back inside the station. Nora has left and Téa has gone to the restroom. John's cell phone rings.)

 John: “McBain. Yeah, where are you? I'll be there in fifteen minutes.”

 (He hangs up and dials a number.)

 John: “Téa? Yeah, I have to step out for a few minutes. Feel free to wait in the office until I get back. Ok, I'll see you when I return.”

 (He goes out into the main area of the station.)

 John: (to desk officer) “ I have to step out for a few minutes. Téa Delgado is in the restroom. Send her into my office to wait for me till I get back.”

 Desk Officer: “Okay, Lieutenant.”

 (John walks outside  to a hidden area a good distance away from the station.)

 John: (quietly, as he looks around) “Okay, I'm here. Come on out.”

 (There's a soft bristling of the hedges behind him. Louie emerges wearing an oversized hooded jacket, but he doesn't fully come out of the bushes.)

 Louie: (talking softly) Lieutenant, please don't turn around. I need to remain unseen for my own protection.”

 John: “Okay, Louie. What's going on?”

 Todd: “Mr. Todd didn't kill his brother. Mr. Victor was shot by some very bad people who worked for that Irene lady. That Delgado man is involved with them,  too. I saw when they took Mr. Victor away. And Mr. Victor is alive.”

 John: “Louie, what are you talking about? Victor Lord, Jr. was buried weeks ago.”

 Louie: “No, sir. He had a memorial service, not a funeral with a burial. He's alive, sir.”

 John: “Do you have any proof of this?”

 Louie: “Yessir, I do. I have it right here. I can't bring it out there, you have to meet me over at the employees' parking lot, by the dumpster, in five minutes. I can show you the proof there.”

 John: “Okay, Louie. I'll go around through the north exit and meet you there.”

 (The camera follows Louie back to where Victor has resumed his hiding spot in Louie's car. Louie stands against the driver side door and pretends to talk himself.)

 Louie: “All taken care of.”

 Victor: (whispering) “Good job.”

 (John arrives, and quickly slips into the shadows. He follows Louie's lead and slips into the front passenger seat after seeing Louie get inside the driver's seat.)

 John: “Alright, Louie, whatcha got for me?”

 Victor: “He's got me.”

 (Fade out.)

 (Flash back to St. Ann's. Blair is shocked by what Todd has revealed about Victor possibly being alive.)

 Blair: “Todd, that's impossible! We buried him.”

 Todd: “Did anyone verify a body in that coffin?”

 (Blair opens her mouth to say something, then stops).

Todd: “You know what? Even if there was a body in that coffin, my wack job of a mother would have found a way to steal it and hypnotize it back to life. That crazy bitch. More importantly, you need to know that Delgado is involved with Baker and was involved with Victor's shooting.”

 Blair: (strongly defensive) “That's A LIE, Todd! You would say anything to get him out of my life!”

 Todd: “True, but you'd say anything to keep him there because it's better than entertaining the possibility that I'm telling the truth...and, I AM telling the truth! I swear on my children.”

 (Blair cringes at the oath, but remains silent.)

 Todd: (sympathetically) “Look, Blair. I don't play fair when I want something, I admit that. But this is not a lie. Delgado is dangerous. It's becoming clear why he offered to take my place in Irene's shooting. It's why he felt 'indebted' to me. This wasn't about what happened to me eight years ago. He was trying to off my bastard twin because he wanted neither 'Todd' in Téa's life. Victor was struggling for dear life in my memory, and Tomas was calmly telling him that he would never get the chance to tell her anything about his involvement. As a matter of fact, those men who offered to 'help' me led me to Baker! THAT'S why Delgado was so calm when the men took him away! He was never really a captive in the first place.”

 Blair: (putting her fingers up to her temples) “Oh, my God! This is too much to process all at once.”

 Todd: “Well can you at least try to process that I'm being truthful?”

 Blair: “How can I? You lied for months about shooting your brother.”

 Todd: “When I told you I didn't do it, I was sure of it...and until those memories  of Irene, I didn't know I WAS lying, and now that I am getting my memory back, I KNOW I was telling the truth all along. No matter what else I've done, I told the truth about this.”

 (The camera fades out with Blair struggling to believe him.)

 (Flash back to Llanfair. The children have gone to bed, and Natalie prepares to give Viki John's message.)

 Natalie: “Jess, please do me a favor?”

 Jessica: “What is it, Natalie?”

 Natalie: “I need to talk to Mom and Dad about what John said. I promise to fill you in on everything  afterwards. But I need you to guard Jack, and make sure he doesn't pull a fast one and start eavesdropping. The last time he did that, he set up Uncle Todd for Uncle Victor's shooting. We don't need any obstacles in the investigation this time around.”

 Jessica: “Ah, gotcha. I'm on it.”

 (Jess runs upstairs and Natalie takes a deep breath before going inside to her parents. Viki has calmed down, and Clint has taken Matthew out into the yard.)

 Natalie: “Mom?”

 Viki: “Oh, hi sweetheart....are you okay? You look like you have something on your mind.”

 Natalie: “Well, yeah, I do. You.”

 Viki: “Oh, darling, don't fret. I'll be fine. I am just trying to wrap my head around Todd being arrested. I feel like a deer in headlights. I am battling what I know about my brother, the good, the bad and the ugly, and I can't come to a decision about whether or not I should trust him again.”

 Natalie: “Mom, you know you can't turn your back on your family. It's just not who you are. You always believe that the worst of people can change. Look at what you did with me, Aunt Tina and even Dad. But, maybe what I came to tell you can help you come to a decision more easily.”

 Viki: “What is it, darling?”

 Natalie: “John asked me to tell you this in private, and I have taken all precautionary measures to ensure that our little troublemaker is on lockdown until I do.”

 (Viki chuckles.)

 Viki: “Ah, I take it you're referring to Jack. Well, honey, he's suffering, too.”

 Natalie: “You see? That's what I mean about you. Okay, John told me to tell you not to be angry at Uncle Todd just yet. He wasn't able to say any more than that, but he said that the evidence they originally had is not so cut and dried anymore. He can't say more without jeopardizing himself and the investigation, but he wanted to give you some peace.”

 Viki: “Of course, he can't. Oh, thank God for that little bit of hope.”

 (She hugs Natalie as the camera flashes over to Jessica. She's just put Ryder back into his crib and she pretends not to see Jack trying to creep downstairs. Jack grins smugly, and quickly scurries past her to the top of the staircase.)

 Jessica: “Freeze, Mata Hari!”

 Natalie: (From the bottom of the steps) “That's okay, Jess. The coast is clear.”

 (The camera fades as Jack scowls once he spots both of his cousins and Viki on either end of the steps with their arms folded across their chest.)

 (Flash to the hospital...Destiny, Nigel and Roxy are watching the news. Baby Drew is in Destiny's arms.)

 Roxy: “This is the best case of 'siblet rivalring' out there, eh, Nige?”

 Nigel: (with a sickened expression on his face) “Er...uh..y-yes, Miss Roxy.”

 Destiny: “I don't buy it. I don't know Dani's real father, but none of this makes any sense. Who would blow their chances at getting back a family they've lost for eight years by going to jail for murder as soon as they got them back?”

 Roxy: “Oh, Des, you are so new. Todd Manning is as mean as a rattlesnake. He would off anyone that got in his way in the spit of an eye.”

 (Nigel cringes.)

 Destiny: “I know how the other Mr. Manning was, but even with their meanness, they both love their family. Starr grew up with the real Mr. Manning, and she confirmed that. Poor Dani, she must be going through a real hard time with all of this daddy drama.”

 Nigel: “Yes, poor girl. She has been told the wrong story about her identity twice before. I do hope she is okay.”

 (Flash back to Llanfair...Dani and Nate have gone out into the garden to talk more privately.)

 Nate: “Do you think your uncle is involved, Dani?”

 Danielle: “I don't know, Nate. I don't really know him, but he's the only logical piece in this puzzle, and he always seems to have some secret going on. He DID work for my psycho grandmother's organization, whatever that is, and he was involved with my real dad going missing in the first place eight years ago.”

 Nate: “What is you gut telling you?”

 Dani: “Something I don't want to accept because it would devastate my mom and my Aunt Blair.”

 Nate: “Do you want to do some private investigating?”

 Dani: “I don't...My mother can't take anymore. She's barely had time to grieve.”

 Nate: “Okay, Dani. If you change your mind, I'm in.”

 Dani: “I know...(she hugs him)...Thanks.”

 (The camera fades back to Louie's car. John is shocked.)

 Victor: “Well, are you ready to hear the details, or are you going to let the flies into that open cave your open mouth is making.”

 John: “Now I KNOW you're really alive. You're still a wise ass. Talk to me, Victor. Your brother's been charged with your murder, and he started having some sort of breakdown with paranoid delusions.”

 Victor: “As much as I'd like to roll over him with a tractor, he didn't kill me. He wasn't involved at all.”

 John: “Who was?”

Victor: “Baker, Allison Perkins, and that scum of the earth brother-in-law of mine.”

 John: “Tell me about what happened to you.”

 Victor: “Listen McBooger, I want to see my wife and my brother. I can't expose myself to the rest of the world just yet, but I owe it to my wife to remove her stress for our baby, and to free my brother from the hypnosis-injected visions our mother put in his head about shooting me. I may want to annihilate the bastard, but on my terms. Irene has ruined us both enough, and I want Baker eliminated. Tomas will die a slow, tormenting, living death. I want him to live while he's dead.”

 John: “I've had enough Manning arrests for one year, Vic. Don't need to see you occupying a cell, too. Keep your mouth shut about anything other than what happened to you.”

 Victor: (pausing, then apologetically) “Sorry, man. Really. I'm just...I am FURIOUS!”

 John: “I get it, man. Look, I am furious for you, and I don't like people messing with my investigations giving me false leads. I'll arrange for you to see your wife first. Let me prepare her slowly, because she's about to drop from all of the mental anguish she's been through since you..um 'died'. Louie, where can you go where you and Vic will remain unseen?”

 Victor: “Meet us at the church. In the back of the priests' quarters is a chapel that isn't being used anymore. It looks like the it's part of the landscaping of the church, but there's an entrance door built into the base of the water fountain no one knows about. You can slip in without being seen, and anyone watching wouldn't be suspicious. People kneel there to make a wish and throw coins in.”

 John: “How do I get in touch with you?”

 Louie: “Tell Mrs. Victor to make a wish when she gets there. We'll hear you from the grate in the fountain base and come out for you.”

 John: “Okay. I'd never thought I'd hear myself say this, but I'm glad you're alive, Vic.”

 Victor: “Hmph, I never thought I'd ever find myself wanting to HEAR you say it. Thanks, man.”

 (They shake hands and John heads back inside. After a good look around, the car leaves.)

 (Flash to Irene's Center...Baker and Tomas are strategizing.)

 Baker: “Where could Mr. Lord be, Tomas? Based on the amount of Ketamine he was given, he couldn't have walked that far.”

 Tomas: “Baker, it's possible that he's hiding in the woods or he's hitched a ride.”

 Baker: “He couldn't have hitched a ride, because my men have been watching the roads on camera since the moment he escaped. Not one vehicle stopped, even for a flat tire.”

 Tomas: “Then we need to search the flatlands, Baker. He's probably passed out from the drug.”

 Baker: “You seem a bit rattled, Mr. Delgado. Is there something you want to share?”

 Tomas: “I don't want to be here. Does that explain things?”

 Baker: “Participation remorse? Should I worry about you?”

 Tomas: “Not at all. I just don't like the insurance policy you have to ensure my participation. Never liked my hand being forced. That's why I left in the first place.”

 Baker: “And you went soft once you left. Irene was disappointed.”

 Tomas: (sarcastically) “My heart bleeds. Do you want me to out a search for Victor?”

 Baker: “Yes.”

 Tomas: “And if I find him?”

 Baker “First do no harm....unless you have to.”

 (Tomas nods in acknowledgment and heads out the door. Outside of the building, he pulls out his cell phone and dials a number.)

 Tomas: (to other party) “Hey! It's me. No, no, there's no problem. I'm just making my usual check-in call, that's all. (chuckles) Yeah, okay. I'll check in with you later, or tomorrow. Okay, take care. Yeah, me, too. Bye.”

 (He hangs up the phone and lets out a deep sigh.)

 Tomas: “Victor, where are you?”

 (The camera fades to the house of Nora and Bo. Bo is replacing a soiled bandage as Nora walks through the door.)

 Nora: “Hey! Are you alright?”

 Bo: “I'm fine, Red.” (He winces as the tape pulls his skin.) “I'm just following the doc's orders. The bullet wound is almost healed.”

 Nora: “Yeah? Well your facial expression looks like someone's taking a bite out of you.”

 Bo: “Yours looks like someone took a few slugs at YOU. What happened?”

 (Nora flings her briefcase on the couch and flops down in the available space next to it. She lets out a long sigh.)

 Bo “Uh-oh! THAT sounds big. Spill.”

 Nora: “I'm not sure what I can talk about with you, since you're no longer the police commissioner.”

 Bo: So tell me what you can as my wife.”

 Nora: “Ha! And have Kathleen Finn try to bury you even more as payback for being turned down? I think not. My goodness, baby, you must have been one hot stud back in the day to have some lady gunning for revenge a decade later.”

 Bo: (laughing) “Scout's Honor, Red, I did nothing to lead her on.”

 Nora: “Yes, you did. You walked into a room and gave her the chance to get a look at you. You're just irresistible, you hot hunk.”

 (They kiss, and she rests her head on his shoulder.)

 Bo: “Hey, hey. Ok, Red. Enough of the comic relief. Tell me what's going on, sweetheart.”

 Nora: “The most I can say is that I raced into John McBain's office, ready to officialize what I thought was a heap of indisputable evidence against Todd Manning for his brother's murder. But, somewhere in the time period between he made the arrest and I arrived at the station, the evidence had become questionable..both in John's eyes and Téa Delgado's. As a matter-of-fact, Téa was insinuating that I wasn't being objective because the suspect is Todd Manning. Can you believe that?”

 (Bo is silent, and Nora raises her head to look at him.)

 Nora: “Do you agree with them, Bo?”

 Bo: “Red, I....”

 Nora: “.....Oh my God, you DO!” (She steps away from him.)

 Bo: (winces as he moves to follow her) “Red, let me say this to you, and please listen to me, okay?”

 Nora: “I can't believe you would have ANYTHING to say, Bo!”

 Bo: “Red, Red! Please just listen, okay?”

 (Nora sits down defiantly.)

 Nora: “Okay, lay it on me.”

 Bo: “Red, you are the most justice-seeking person I know. You have a heart that is a deep as the Amazon River, and there's nothing you wouldn't do for those you love, and those that can't fight for themselves. AND you're a shark to boot!”

 Nora: “I sense a 'but' clause in there, Buchanan.”

 Bo: “But you just might be a bit biased with regards to Todd Manning. And honey, you have GOOD reason to be. Listen, I experienced a lot of that myself as the Commissioner of Police. Our titles don't eradicate our humanity, honey. He looks good for this crime, and the minute we get some evidence to help that image along, it's hard to sit back and wait for everything to be indisputable. I know. It doesn't take away from who you are, Red, nor does it minimize the awesome job you did in putting away the monsters that you have locked up. But you have to concede some things to human weakness sometimes.”

 Nora: “YOU have experienced Manning bias?”

 Bo: “How COULDN'T I? He's hurt my wife, my niece, Viki, and countless other beloved people in my life. Being the Commissioner only forces my hand in balancing those feelings, not eradicating them. We're not robots, Red. Plenty of times I've had to hand the reigns over to McBain to keep things objective.”

 (Nora looks at Bo thoughtfully, and a pauses lengthily.)

 Nora: “Téa thinks I should recuse myself from prosecuting this case. Bo, gie me your honest opinion, and please don't water it down. Do you think I should?”

 Bo: “Well...honey, I would if I were in that position. Not because you aren't capable of separating your personal gripes against Manning from your ethics, but because if the evidence DOES turn out to be indisputable, then there would be NOTHING that Manning could use to find a loophole and appeal a conviction. You have way too many loose connections to the perp in this case. If he did carry out this injustice against his brother, he should be locked up unquestionably. The fiery district attorney I know would want that no matter what.”

 Nora: “You keep saying 'if' Todd did it. Do you have doubts?”

 Bo: “I can't say either way, but I CAN say that it stands to reason that if Victor's WIFE, AND John McBain collectively doubt the evidence, then we owe it to the taxpayers and the victims to take as much time as we need to get to the bottom of things.”

 (A brief silence hangs in the air.)

 Nora: “You play dirty, Stud. No wonder Finn is gunning for you so hard!”

 Bo: “Well, she can come at me with both barrels blazing, because I only have eyes for a certain redhead, and she'll never get this.”

 (Nora giggles as Bo kneels before and starts to kiss her on the neck. The camera fades to black.)

[realwomanleader-blog]

Tell me I can’t - I dare you

Even though I work for a TV network, it still took 4 pitches before I got accepted to start a show.

Need I remind you - I have no support network, driver’s license, or access to public transportation. I have to conceptualize, shoot, produce, and edit this entirely on my own, with exceedingly minimal resources.

...oh, and I run marketing for 3 media companies, and support 76 authors in various stages of publication. We’re a startup to boot - no I don’t get paid very well.

I welcome these challenges, because this, ALL OF THIS, is directly on the path of who I envision myself to be.

I wouldn’t change it for anything.

I’ll blaze this trail clear and wide for anyone who’s ever been told they can’t, or it’s dumb -- or it’s the dream or some “friend.” You are BORN PRICELESS and you can do exactly as you dream.

Only you can ever know yourself best.

You can be the only person who believes in you, and succeed.

“Don’t believe me? Just WATCH.”

Formula Won is all about “weird ways that work, better.” I’ll interview disruptors, put myself in awkward situations, and show off useful life and business hacks. Surfing in New Hampshire in April was my first Random Acts of Randomness bit - just one of many new things you can laugh with me trying out in a quest to be my best self.

With the concept figured out, that still left... everything else.

I count my blessings that my ex-husband is an audio engineer, and I’m insatiably curious.

During our 9-year marriage I picked up all kinds of highly useful audio know-how like when to use condenser and dynamic mics, what phantom power is and why it matters, what frequency response is and why it matters, how and when to equalize, what not to use and how to mix, and many, many tricks of the trade.

I picked up a Zoom H2n field recorder and used it pretty extensively while we were together - enough to know mics are never set-and-forget. It’s always best to have headphones with you to test the output in various settings, and regularly babysit that levels monitor.

I also count my blessings that I’m currently living with a photographer. He’s not too keen on video, but his know-how on cameras, lenses, lighting, and composition - not to mention his sense of artistry - have been HUGE as I acquired some of my last bits of equipment and started experimenting with them.

Another tremendous blessing - working for a traditional publisher has its perks. I have direct access to an indie film producer because we published his memoirs - actually, I detail-edited his memoirs, and coached him through launch to bestseller. He’s seen some of my first videos and said “everything about that is experimental” - something I take as a high compliment. Having someone like that to offer feedback is something I am MASSIVELY grateful for.

Bloom Where You’re Planted

Do I have the very best equipment? Nope. But do I have sufficient equipment to get started?

YUP.

And I’m willing to bet you do too, in whatever you endeavor.

I was fortunate enough in recent years to have a bit of money once or twice, and I used that to get myself an iPad Pro 12.9″ and iPhone X. A former co-worker bent that iPad Pro over her knee (not very thoroughly - she’s a skinny little twig) and my employer replaced it. So I now have 2 iPad Pros.

That’s 3 camera angles, but not very portable.

Weird Ways Tip: smartphones have decent cameras, and you can enhance those moderate capabilities with inexpensive clip-on lenses.

I dug into my cell phone junkyard and found nothing but 720p cameras, or worse. But I know this old man in town - I used to serve him at a previous job, and he was exceedingly regular. He became a family friend, frequently watching my son for me after school.

These days I go over to his place once a week to chat over coffee. He doesn’t usually have many new stories, but he’s always enlivened by telling them. Last week, he replaced his phone and couldn’t get it set up for the awful signal strength. I let him borrow my phone to get it done, and he remarked what a waste it was to buy it.

So rather than go to waste, I offered what cash I had in my pocket for it - one highly portable 1080p camera angle acquired.

Then he went digging through his phone graveyard, and just dropped the lot in my lap on my next visit.

Now, I have a total of 5 highly portable camera angles: 2 1080p camera phones besides my iPhone X (which also does 4K), and 2 720p cameras (one camera phone, and my old Canon AS4000).

I also went on eBay and found myself a gently used Zhiyun Smooth 4, and bought the FILMiC Pro app. For $100 additional investment I’ve got myself seriously high-quality capabilities. For about $50 more, I’ve got a total of 5 highly portable camera angles and clip-on lenses to make them almost pro.

Weird Ways Tip: it’s often MUCH better to break the box. Need a camera gear bag? Don’t get something that screams “steal me!” with a price tag to match - diaper bags also come in waterproof flavors, with tons of pockets, cozy shoulder straps and back padding, USB pass-throughs, side tripod holders, hands-free hangers (aka stroller straps), and stylish color-matched knee pad (aka changing pad)... WITHOUT the big price tag or high profile.

My favorite gear acquisition by far was only $20. It’s a diaper bag, in backpack form. And it holds ALL my gear, very very neatly. The front-most outside pocket even perfectly fits my bullet journal. Even when it’s fully packed, the pocket behind that front-most is roomy enough to keep a few snacks, too.

Now armed with 2 lapel mics (I only bought one - Nicama sends a second one when you leave an Amazon review), plenty of tripods, clip-on lenses, an object-tracking gimbal, high-quality field recorder, and diaper bag...

All that’s left is practice.

Follow my journey here on Tumblr, LinkedIn, and Instagram.

[lilacmoon83]

Dreaming Out Loud

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Dreaming Out Loud

Chapter 48: Smoke and Mirrors

The first thing Belle noticed upon waking was the smell of soot and when she opened her bleary eyes, she found her surroundings to be shrouded in darkness. And she was not alone. She heard voices, male from the sound of them and she lifted her head. Around her were walls made of rock and she looked down to find herself in some kind of mining cart. The mines...that's where she was. Then the memories all came crashing back to her. The portly man in the red cap had come after her and despite fighting her way to escape, he had put something over her mouth. The smell of the substance on the cloth had rendered her unconscious. But her mind still swirled with questions as to why. She had never seen this man before and had no idea why he might want to kidnap her.

Most in this town knew Rumple well enough to know that doing something like this to someone he cared about was as good as a death sentence, never mind that she would never approve of killing under any circumstance. But when she heard her name, things started to become horrifyingly clearer. Especially when she realized her wrists were handcuffed to the inside of the cart

"Belle…" Moe uttered, as he noticed she had awakened.

"Father...what's going on?" she demanded to know.

"Relax Belle...I promise you'll understand soon enough. This is for the best," he said. She looked at him with confusion written on her face.

"For the best? What does that mean?" she asked again in a demanding tone.

"That monster will ruin you. You will be better off forgetting him again...you were going to leave him behind before and it would have been the best thing for you," Moe explained. She stared at him in disbelief.

"You don't get to decide what is best for me! This is wrong, father! Let me go!" she pleaded.

"I'm sorry Belle," he apologized, but she didn't believe he meant it.

Cora looked around Regina's home with an impressed air about her.

"A lovely home...you've done well for yourself, dear," Cora mentioned and Regina found herself resisting the urge to preen under her mother's scarce compliments.

"Thank you, Mother. It is this world's version of a castle," she replied.

"Yes...now our real work begins. Persephone and her precious daughter must pay," Cora added. Regina frowned.

"How long have you know that Snow is Persephone's daughter?" Regina asked with scrutiny.

"For many years now...I'm actually the one that told Leopold that his fair little retch wasn't actually his," Cora responded. Regina's eyes widened.

"Leopold knew?" she exclaimed, as she clenched her teeth.

"Of course dear. I wanted him to know exactly who the daughter he doted upon really was and where she came from. I wanted him to realize that the pride he had in thinking she was his little girl was untrue; that his heir was illegitimate. My only regret is not being able to tell Queen Eva the same," Cora responded.

Regina was stunned. Were she and Snow the only ones that didn't know about her true heritage? For she knew if her mother and Leopold knew that Rumpelstiltskin certainly knew, probably from the time Snow was born, knowing the imp. It didn't matter though. It didn't change the fact that Snow still needed to pay. She and her perfect little family had taken Henry away from her and turned him against her. And that would not stand. But it had to be done carefully.

"Mother...we must be cautious on how we deal with the Charmings. Not only is Persephone powerful, but Henry will hate me forever if I kill his family," she mentioned.

"I've been waiting a long time to deal with the woman that cursed us with that wretched girl,"

Cora cooed.

"And Emma and her parents. We can't just kill them," Regina reminded..

"Yes, we can," Cora stated. Regina's face fell.

"Don't worry, dear. Henry will be made to understand that what we're doing is for his own good," she added. A cold chill slithered down Regina's spine at those words. Her mother had killed Daniel for her own good. She had accepted Leopold's proposal for her own good and put her on the Throne for her own good. And somewhere, deep inside Regina, the need to protect Henry from her mother bloomed. But turning against her would spell only her own doom and the need to still make Snow and her perfect little family pay was still very present. There was a war inside her, a war she had not felt since before she had descended down the path from young Queen Regina to the Evil Queen. She clenched her fists and her anger at Snow threatened to boil over. It was so much easier to hate her step-daughter and blame everything on her. Yes, if Snow was gone, then her problems would be solved. But deep down, she knew that wasn't true.

Maleficent had warned her about casting the curse and the emptiness it would leave inside her. And it had...it was an emptiness that not even Henry had completely filled. She thought he had, but that was when the curse was keeping everything and everyone in order. But now...it was all gone and again, because of true love's kiss. She was sure other villains were somewhere laughing at her being defeated now twice by something such as a kiss.

With Persephone protecting the Charmings though and David's weird pseudo friendship with Gold, there was no way she could take all of them on without her Mother's help. Could her Mother really be the lesser of two evils?

"Mother, we must handle Snow's demise delicately. It's very important. Her husband has developed somewhat of an unlikely friendship with Rumpelstiltskin," she informed. Cora seemed to ponder this for a moment.

"Perhaps, but I have something he wants and I assure you that he won't bat an eye at tossing his friendship with some pauper turned prince when he sees what I have," Cora promised. Regina swallowed thickly.

"Then what do you plan to do to Snow?" she asked. Cora smirked.

"Let's just say that I happen to know that the plant I used to have in Eva's court is somewhere here in Storybrooke and I believe it's about time that she come back to work for me. She failed to help me undermine Snow White when she was a girl, but this time, she'll help us see to a very tragic demise for her," Cora stated in a pleased tone.

Red led them through town, tracking Belle's scent from the article of clothing provided. David's phone buzzed insistently again and he finally answered it.

"What is it, Leroy?" he asked.

"It's the Queen...she's gone," he reported. Snow watched her husband's expression go from concern for the task ahead of them to hard edged and rigid.

"Check the cameras," he ordered.

"Yeah...those are gone," he reported. David clenched his teeth.

"Dammit...we'll be there as soon as we can," he responded, as he hung up.

"Regina is gone," he growled, as he balled his fist.

"What?!" Emma cried.

"The cameras are gone too…" he added.

"Gone?" Snow asked.

"Like magic," he answered bitterly.

"I'll go to the station and assess the situation while you all keep looking for Belle. Obviously, Regina found a way through my magic and I'll need to see the cell to determine how," Persephone said. Snow nodded, as her mother squeezed her hand and then disappeared in a puff of lavender smoke.

"You should have let me take care of her from the beginning and this wouldn't be a problem," Gold growled.

"This isn't the time to play the blame game...and killing her is still wrong," Emma countered, as they stopped near the Game of Thorns flower shop.

"Red?" Snow asked.

"The scent...it's muddled now. It's the flowers…" she said, as she struggled to keep the scent. David looked to Gold and saw he was seething with barely contained rage. He stepped into the shop and found it empty.

"You think he's behind this?" David asked.

"Oh, I know he is, dearie. Suspend your thinking that a father would never abduct his own child. Sir Maurice is not you," Gold replied.

"What the hell does he get out of kidnapping his own daughter?" Emma wondered.

"To keep her from me," Gold responded, like it was obvious.

"Yeah...but keeping someone under lock and key isn't as easy as it sounds. He knows we were gonna check his shop and his home. If I had to guess, they're not there either. So where would he keep her?" Emma reasoned. Just as she said that, Snow noticed something on the ground and knelt down.

"What is it?" David asked.

"I think it's part of a footprint. Whoever's shoe it was is really dirty," she mentioned, as they looked at the substance on her fingers.

"That's soot...I know where he took her," David said, as they hurried off after him.

Persephone rushed into the station, where Leroy and Happy were in the process of locking Keith up.

"Well...hello doll face," he leered. She glared at him.

"Call me doll face again and I assure you it's the last thing you'll ever be able to say," she snapped, as she waved a hand over the lock on the other cell where Regina had been.

"What are you doing?" Happy asked curiously.

"Trying to figure out what magic was used. The spell I used isn't easily nullified," she explained.

"Ain't it obvious, sister? Regina got out and then blasted the cameras," Leroy retorted.

"No...she didn't. All magic leaves a signature and this is not Regina's," Persephone replied.

"Then who would have freed her?" Happy asked. Persephone swallowed thickly. Thankfully, she knew it wasn't Hades. She'd know his mark anywhere, but the sinking feeling in her didn't disappear. She didn't know her signature, but instinctively she knew it had to be Cora. She was the only one that would have the magic to free Regina. She almost felt faint at that. They had expected her to eventually find a way to this land, but they had not expected it to be so soon.

"I have to go," she said, as she disappeared and then reappeared in front of Regina's house.

"Cora...I know you're here…" she called. But there was no answer.

"So...that's how you want to play it? Lurking from the shadows...fine by me. Just know that if either of you hurt my family or think of employing anyone else to do so...I won't hesitate to turn you to mulch!" she called with vehemence. She let her warning carry for a few beats, before she disappeared again.

Cora peeked through the curtain with a smug smirk. The Goddess was unnerved by her presence in town, which made staying concealed for now all the more fun. Like a game of cat and mouse, with her as the cat of course. As matriarchs of their respective families, Cora could already feel the coming stand off between her and the Queen of the Underworld. And she relished it. She couldn't wait to cause Snow White to lose yet another mother and give her everything she so justly deserved. Of course, that meant making the Princess truly suffer by taking away what she loved most. Her Prince Charming and lovely daughter. And then, only when Snow White was finally nothing more than a broken shell of a girl at her feet, would she grant her the release of death by allowing Regina to finally crush her heart.

"Let the games begin," Cora said quietly to herself.

"Father...you have to let me go! This is wrong!" Belle pleaded.

"I know it seems that way now, Belle. But I promise this is for your own good," Moe reasoned.

"You don't get to decide that! You cannot continue to try to force me to live the way you want me to. Why can't you understand that?" Belle exclaimed.

"Belle…" he started to say again.

"No! This is my life and if you do this, then you are the true monster!" she interrupted.

"Belle...that beast is the monster! I don't know what he has done to you, but this will fix it," Moe said. Her brows furrowed in confusion, as she watched him put a hand on the lever that controlled the mining car.

"Father...what are you doing?" she asked fearfully.

"Sending you over the town line. At least as Lacey, you can be free of that beast. Even if you leave and I never see you again, at least I know that monster won't be ruining you," he replied. Her mouth dropped open in shock, as he admitted he'd rather never see her again than allow her to be happy as herself.

"Please don't do this...I have friends! I don't want to leave them again!" she pleaded.

"This is for the best, darling," Moe said tearfully, as Emma and David rushed in with Snow and Gold behind him. Moe hit the lever and the car started speeding away, as Belle screamed. Emma drew her gun and pointed it at Moe, making him move away. David stopped the mining car and ran down the tunnel. The car screeched to a halt, barely a few feet before the line and a frantic Belle looked up.

"Belle?" he asked. She breathed in relief and nodded.

"Still Belle," she confirmed, as he unlocked the cuffs and lifted her out of the car. When they returned, she saw Emma had cuffed her father and she ran to Rumple, as he enveloped her in a hug. Snow sighed in relief, as she felt David's arms encircle her waist and she leaned back against him, relishing it, as he pressed a kiss to her hair. She turned in his arms and he cuddled her against his chest, folding her into his arms.

Dark magic swirled in Gold's palm, as he threatened to virtually vaporize Moe for what he had done.

"Rumple...no," Belle pleaded.

"He needs to pay, Belle. How can you defend him after what he almost did to you?" he growled.

"I'm not...but I don't want you to kill him," she countered.

"No...he has to pay," Rumple argued. But she put a hand on his forearm.

"And he will...because I never want to see him or have anything to do with him. Ever again," she said firmly.

"Belle…" he started to plead, but she put her hand up.

"No...just stop," she said, cutting him off.

"Belle...I'm your father," he reminded.

"No...you're not. Father's do not do what you just tried to do," she hissed. Emma nodded.

"She's right…" Emma agreed.

"And you think you know so much about father's, Miss Swan? Or mother's for that matter?" Moe questioned, glancing at Snow and Charming. Emma smirked and gave him a smug glower.

"Oh yeah...I know about having parents, in a way no one ever expected. And my parents...they'd never even think of doing to me the things you've done to your daughter. They're real parents, who love and support me, no matter what. If I thought you weren't a lost cause, I'd say you could learn a whole hell of a lot about parenting from them. But...I don't think you're worth their time," she replied. The looks on Snow and Charming's faces at that clearly stated they were both surprised and touched by their daughter's staunch defense of them.

There had been times over the years in the dreamscape that they had truly felt like horrible parents. There were even times in Emma's anger that she had told them such. And though, they knew she hadn't meant those words at the time, it was never lost on them that in many ways, she could have been right. So to hear her so passionately defend them nearly brought them both to tears. It's not something they would expect from her, so perhaps that was exactly why she believed they deserved such. Emma may have saved them all, but Snow and Charming were determined that there would not be any more challenges or battles that she would face alone.

Moe could only glare at her though and Emma never really expected to get through to him. She had a feeling he was just one of those people that would never change and this instance, perhaps Belle would be better off without him in her life. It wasn't for her to say, but she certainly wouldn't blame the brunette if she truly did cut him out of her life.

"Let's go...you can have your phone call at the station, because I'm booking you for conspiracy to commit kidnapping. And if I manage to get to the rat you hired to do the job before Gold, he's going to jail too," she informed, as she marched him out of the mines and back toward town.

Snow and Charming followed behind Belle and Gold with their arms around each other's waists. They couldn't help but exchange looks filled with so much love and emotion that anyone noticing probably would have felt like they should avert their eyes, for the looks passing between them seemed so intimate.

Unfortunately, when they reached the station, they found a nearly frantic Persephone waiting for them.

"What's wrong?" Snow asked in concern.

"Besides Regina being gone," David added.

"Because I don't think Regina was the one that freed herself," Persephone responded.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I thought you said she couldn't get through your magic?" Emma questioned, as they took Moe into the station and locked him up.

"She can't, which is why I don't think she did," Persephone responded, as she watched Gold hobble over to the cell that had once held her and examine the lock. They shared a knowing look.

"Then who did?" Emma asked.

"Cora…" Gold hissed and Snow felt dread knot in her stomach.

"She's here?" she squeaked, as she felt Charming's arms encircle her waist again.

"I'm afraid so, snowdrop. I knew she'd come...I was just hoping for more time," Persephone replied.

"So...if she's here and hasn't shown herself yet, what's her ploy?" David asked.

"She is patient...she'll lurk in the shadows and bide her time until she's ready to make her move. What that move will be...is uncertain," Gold responded.

"He's right, which means none of us should move about the town alone, no exceptions," she warned, as she looked to Gold.

"And you…" she started to say.

"She's going to come to you wanting to make a deal," Persephone warned.

"And she has nothing I want," Gold retorted.

"Really? So when she offers you the globe that will allow you to pinpoint Baelfire's location, you won't sell us out?" she challenged. He went silent and Belle looked at him in disbelief.

"Rumple!" she scolded.

"How can you expect me to turn down an object that will allow me to find my son?" he questioned.

"Because the price is too high!" Belle exclaimed.

"Or maybe you don't turn it down," David said, earning incredulous looks from all the women in the room.

"Do you think you could play double agent?" he asked, cluing them in on a plan of sorts.

"You want to double cross Cora? That's gutsy, even for you, dearie," he warned.

"What other choice do we have? She's going to come to you and probably evade the rest of us until she's ready to strike. Let's not let her get the drop on us," he suggested.

"I think the question is what is she going to want from you in exchange for that globe?" Snow asked.

"Probably a truce. A promise that I won't kill her on sight," Rumple responded. Emma's brow furrowed.

"What did she do to you?" the blonde asked.

"Never mind...making deals with Cora is almost as bad as making deals with Hades. However...without that globe, I might as well kiss the possibility of finding my son goodbye," he replied bitterly.

"Cora may say she wants a truce, but you and I both know she only wants that for one reason," Persephone countered. He nodded evenly.

"The dagger," he agreed.

"The dagger?" David asked.

"Quite simply, should Cora find my dagger and use it to kill me, then she becomes the Dark One. And I don't think I have to tell any of you what that would mean for all concerned," he responded. There was dead silence, as they let that sink in.

"What do we do?" Emma asked, breaking the silence.

"When she comes to you...let her convince you into a truce and get the globe. Let her think she's in control and then we track her. Once she thinks she has you at a truce, that's when she'll search for it," Persephone reasoned. Gold nodded.

"It sounds like it's our best bet, even if there's a lot of room for things to go wrong," David mentioned, not missing the troubled look on his wife's face. Emma checked the time and started for the exit.

"I gotta get Henry. He'll be getting off the bus any minute," she mentioned. The others followed, with Gold and Belle returning to the shop and Persephone letting her daughter and husband have a few moments alone.

"Snow…" he started to say.

"Cora is evil…" she blurted out.

"I know," he responded.

"No Charming...you don't know what she's like! She used my dead mother to manipulate me into telling Regina's secret. Then she killed Daniel in front of Regina," she reminded, as he put his hands on her arms.

"She won't stop until she takes away everything I love...everything her own daughter loves. That means Henry, Emma, my mother…" she lamented, as she trailed off and tears filled her eyes.

"You…" she finally managed to choke out, as he folded her into his arms and kissed her hair.

"I know you're scared...I am too. I'm terrified of losing you and our family. I don't even want to think about my life without you..I lived that when I thought we couldn't be together back in our land," he confessed. A tear slipped down her cheek and he brushed it away.

"I know...so did I," she recalled.

"Without you...I felt dead inside," he continued.

"I took a potion to forget you...it was the worst mistake ever," she reminded. He smiled gently and caressed her cheek.

"I understand why you did...I was in misery without you, but that's why I'm going to fight with everything I have for you...for Emma and Henry. Because I refuse to ever be separated from you again," he said passionately. She swallowed.

"And I'll fight for you...even if it means ending Cora myself," she realized darkly, before her green eyes flicked up to him again. She could see his worry, but he brushed it off.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," he replied.

"But if it does, I will do it...I will do anything for you," she promised. He hugged her close at that.

"And I you," he confessed, as he slowly led her out, tucked closely to his side.

They joined their daughter and Snow's mother at the bus stop to greet their grandson. He dipped his head down to capture her lips in a tender kiss, just as the bus pulled up and deposited Henry. With that, the five of them headed home to the loft.

Regina parked her car on the curb. A simple glamor spell had disguised her easy recognizable car as something less conspicuous and they watched Emma arrive at the bus stop with Persephone.

"These carriages are strange," Cora commented.

"They take some getting used to, but I've found they are a preferable way to travel when magic isn't an option," Regina said idly, just as they spotted Snow and Charming join the other two women at the bus stop, arms around each other.

"Ugh...are they always this nauseating?" Cora complained.

"Yes...as a matter of fact, they are. True love…" Regina said, hissing the last part with contempt.

"Love is weakness, darling. True love will be Snow White's undoing," Cora stated.

"Believe me, I've tried to get rid of her Charming multiple times, but that love always seems to save them," Regina warned. Cora smirked.

"Yes...Snow White seems quite willing to do whatever is necessary for him. It will be interesting to see how far she really will go," the former Queen of Hearts cooed. Regina gave her mother an odd look in response, but Cora didn't elaborate.

"It's time to find the person I asked you about earlier," she added. Regina nodded curtly and started the car, all while casting a longing look at Henry's retreating form.

"Don't worry sweetheart, you'll get him back and then everyone that has crossed you will pay dearly," Cora promised. Regina resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably and then slowly drove off for their intended destination...

[fallenidol-453]

The clinking of silverware against dishes and the background purring of a cat resting in a cat tree were the only sounds at the dinner table. Danielle could barely look up from her food to look at one of the two men who had taken her away from her apartment two days earlier. It was hardly a kidnapping – they had rescued her from her ex-boyfriend. Who was also a vampire. And from this stranger had told her, her ex had been breaking… laws about vampiric code of conduct. Whatever that had been.

Her head swam. She felt like any minute now, she’d close her eyes and wake back up in the apartment. She’d probably be dizzy from blood loss and a different part of her body throbbing with pain from wherever Zach had bitten her.

The smell of her mostly untouched dinner anchored Danielle to the present. She had known within the first few bites that she didn’t care for the taste of this homemade (and over-spiced, in her opinion) vegetarian chili, but she made herself taken a huge spoonful and eat it. It had been hours since her last meal, and she’d be doing more harm than good by not eating.

Danielle swallowed. Wiped her mouth. Dared to look at the man sitting across from her.

“Your name is Stefan, right?” she asked quietly.

“It’s actually Ash. Stef’s the one who kicked in the door that night.” he replied kindly.

Danielle wrung her hands together. “What’s going to happen to me? What’s this code of conduct Zach was breaking?”

“Which question do you want answered first?” Ash responded.

Danielle looked away and distracted herself with another bite of food. She wanted both questions answered right now, but they were two lanes of topic. Trying to meld them together into one discussion would be like teaching a hungry grizzly bear to moonwalk. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, only opening them when she’d fully exhaled.

“What’s going to happen to me?”

Ash looked thoughtful for a few minutes, quietly scrapping his bowl to get the last pieces of food from his bowl.

“Stefan and I don’t intend to hold you here forever. If you have family or friends, we can drop you off at their houses if they’re willing to take you in,” he finally explained. “If they’re not willing to take you in for any kind of reason, then we can recommend a special shelter that houses women abused by their supernatural spouses or partners, and they can give you resources to help. Stefan and I only took you here to our house because we felt that we had to get you out of that apartment immediately, and our place was closest. This isn’t the first time we’ve had to shelter people in our special rooms.”

Special rooms? He must mean the set of rooms magically hidden in their living room wall.

“I… I do have family in another state, but I’m worried about Zach trying to find me,” Danielle admitted. Her mouth quivered, and Ash got up from his seat to retrieve a nearby box of tissues. “I… I tried to run before, to a friend’s house, but he tracked me down before I could reach it.”

“Danielle, this I can say for certain: Stefan is not going to let Zach escape. He’s going to face the Vampire King for judgement, who hates violators of the code of conduct just as bad as Stefan does,” Ash explained vehemently. “Even if he’s found innocent of his charges, which is highly unlikely given Stefan’s eyewitness testimony, the king will not release Zach under any circumstances.”

The words gave her… some comfort. If her ex was being held by the man who kicked their apartment door in and yelled at him for two hours, there was very little chance of escape. But this gave way to a new doubt, and she covered her most recent bite mark with her free hand.

“He has to feed. Eventually.” She hated saying this, she didn’t want to sound like she was concerned for him, but it had to be said. “He was—always hungry.”

Ash nodded slowly. “What happened after he fed from you? I’m going to assume he didn’t apologize for taking blood from you.”

“He took my blood by force,” she blurted out. She closed her eyes, trembling in her chair. She heard Ash’s sharp intake of breath and steeled herself for the eventual verbal dressing down.

But it didn’t come.

“Danielle, taking blood by force is one of the grievous offenses a vampire can commit. It’s on the same level as rape,” Ash muttered darkly. She cracked her eyes open and saw his body shake with barely smothered anger. “Before I talk to Stefan, can you tell me what happened after Zach stole your blood to feed himself?”

Danielle opened her eyes more fully and grabbed a tissue to wipe away the tears falling down her face. “He—he got sick. Really sick. He’d vomit in the bathroom for a while.”

“That means your blood type was incompatible with his,” Ash explained. “Stefan says it’s like eating spoiled food, only the symptoms happen in a matter of minutes instead of hours.”

Stefan, Stefan, Stefan! His name was being thrown around quite a bit. He was the one who kicked the apartment door in, but that’s the only thing Danielle knew.

“Just who is Stefan? You talk about him, but I don’t see him anywhere. I haven’t seen him since he… well, kicked in the door,” she protested. She blew her nose and crumpled up the tissue. “I want to know more about this code of conduct too.”

Ash stood up from his chair. “Let me put these away first.” Before Danielle could say anything else, he began gathering up their dirty dishes from the table. She pushed her cold dinner away gratefully, and Ash grabbed it as he walked toward the connected kitchen. Behind her chair, she heard the clanging of dishes being stacked on a counter and silverware being set down somewhere in the sink. She looked at the giant cat tree situated to her right. The sleeping cat she’d heard purring earlier was awake and looking at her inquisitively, but it remained curled up inside the tree.

Within a few minutes, Ash returned and resumed his seat across from her.

“About Stefan… he’s the oldest son of the Vampire King. Adopted son, sorry. He’s also my husband, and I’m his primary source of blood,” he explained promptly. “He’s currently in his father’s realm keeping an eye on Zach, but I can get in touch with him fairly easily.”

“How? Is the cell phone reception down there that great?”

The comment made Ash snort with laughter, but he shook his head.

“We, ah, have a completed bloodbond. We can talk to each other mind-to-mind, among other things,” he said. “What you and Zach had was an incomplete bond. If he dies while in custody, you won’t die as well. If Stefan dies…”

He let the words trail off deliberately. Danielle caught on after a minute of thinking – if Stefan died, Ash would die.

“But!” he continued. “If I die, it only inconveniences Stefan. He’ll have to start looking for another willing blood source or die from lack of blood.”

Silence fell between them. Danielle tapped a blunt fingernail against the polished wood table, Ash had mentioned being a willing blood source. And in his comments earlier, he had said Zach taking blood from her had been like rape, and that he hadn’t apologize to her for it. And this code of conduct Ash kept bringing up…

“Um...” She blurted out a few minutes later.

“Yes?”

“The code you keep throwing out. Does it apply to all vampires?”

“All vampires. Even Stefan is bound by it.”

“It’s… it’s basically your code of laws, right? Kind of like how everyone has rights and such?” Danielle inquired. She mentally kicked herself for not paying more attention in her government class.

“It’s… like a set of laws, like you implied,” Ash replied patiently. “It outlines how vampires are supposed to treat the people they feed from, whether they be temporary sources of blood or permanent partners like myself. Every person turned into a vampire is schooled in them before they can even select someone to feed from.”

Danielle shot him a look of incredulity. “Then that means… Zach…”

“Wasn’t made aware of the laws,” Ash finished for her. “I’m starting to think he was turned illegally, which means Stefan, his siblings, and father have a huge problem on their hands. You just… do not turn someone without reason. It has to fall within another code that’s only known to other vampires.”

“Are you allowed to explain the conduct code?” she asked quietly. Ash nodded. “What was Zach… supposed to do?”

Ash took a deep breath. “If you and he had shared a compatible blood time, then he was required to thank you and apologize for taking your blood even after you had consented giving it to him. He could have thanked you in a myriad of ways: buying you something – maybe something expensive – that you either wanted or he thought you might want based on your interests; maybe he could have cooked you a meal. Or, well, sex could count too, provided it took place after you’d recovered from the blood loss.”

His face flushed with embarrassment. Danielle nodded slowly, and he continued:

“Zach would have been obligated to take care of you until you either passed away or you two agreed to end your relationship. If you and Zach had gotten along particularly well, or even had gotten married, he could have asked you to become his bloodbond. He’d bite you again and give you some of his immortality, plus the ability to talk telepathically with him.” Ash took a deep breath. Unsurprisingly, given how fast he’d just talked. “Now, since you two had an incompatible blood type, he would have been required to still apologize to you, and then he was supposed to let you go. This is assuming you accepted being with him willingly – if he had kidnapped you—”

Danielle shook her head furiously. “He didn’t kidnap me. We were already dating. He went out one night and… didn’t return home the same. I thought he’d been stabbed at first, there was so much blood on his shirt… but he brushed me off and didn’t want me to take him to the hospital or call the cops.” She inhaled shakily and tried to calm herself down, but the words kept coming and she couldn’t stop talking quickly. “After that… he demanded I give him blood. I did—willingly—at first, but it hurt. He puked afterward, and I didn’t want to give him anymore, but he forced me too after that. I wouldn’t be surprised if our neighbors overheard our fights.”

“One of those neighbors was one of Stefan’s… well, informants,” Ash said. “They usually report to someone who’s a bit lower on the vampire hierarchy, but that vampire was out of town, so Stefan was the next best choice to contact. How long ago was Zach turned?”

Danielle closed her eyes and put her head in her hands. It felt like years had passed. It had been winter. Zach had gone out without her. Sometime—

“Sometime after New Year’s Day. I didn’t want to go to a New Year’s party, so he went alone. I know he’d been drinking, and he didn’t come out of our room until after sunset the next day, demanding blood. I mean he was a bit of a jerk before, but this change really brought out the worst in him.”

Four months ago. Had it really been that long?

Ash offered no response to her statement. He sat in his chair, clearly ruminating over what she’d just said. She looked away, even though he wasn’t looking at her.

“So… if Zach had just… treated me nicely and did the things he was supposed to do according to this code of conduct, none of this would have happened?” she reluctantly asked a few minutes later.

Ash nodded solemnly. “We would have never known he’d been illegally turned if he acted decently toward you. You didn’t deserve this, Danielle.”

His words made her feel small, and she hunched over in her seat to avoid his gaze.

“Can… can I call my mom?” she asked suddenly. Ash got up from his chair again and walked into the living room. He returned and gave her a wireless house phone. “Will this work in the. Uh. Rooms?”

“The rooms in the living room? It will.” Ash replied. “Take as long as you need to talk. We can continue our discussion when you’re ready.”

Danielle grabbed the phone like it was a lifeline and nodded. She stood up from her chair and followed Ash back into the living room. As he opened the secret door in the wall, she was already shakily punching in what she hoped was her mom’s house phone…

&&

Ash kicked the shirt and pants he had stripped off in the relative direction of the clothes hamper and crawled into bed. It was just late enough at night that he was too scared to look at the clock on the nightstand by Stefan’s side of the bed. The glowing green digital numbers would mock him.

The bedroom door creaked open, and he felt the familiar dip of the mattress as the cat leapt up on the bed to join him. As he maneuvered into a sitting position against the headboard, he felt the cat walk over and settle between his blanket-covered legs.

“Good girl, Iris…” Ash mumbled. He reached over to pet her head, and then he resettled against the headboard. He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing, and reached out with his mind…

He felt Stefan’s own mind meld with his seamlessly a minute later. He steadied his breathing and relaxed. The presence of his husband’s mind was the closest contact he was going to get with Stefan for however long it took to settle this dilemma.

If Ash bothered to open his inner eye, he would see only blackness. The realm of the Vampire King—and Queen—was a land of eternal darkness, for they could not abide the touch of light unlike their adopted offspring. Stefan, and his siblings, and any other vampire who was legally turned could find their way through this twisting, labyrinthine realm easily. Ash and other bloodbonds could not unless their vampire partners helped them.

How’s the woman doing? Stefan inquired.

She’s... healing. I hope. We talked over dinner and she gave me information about the events leading up to us rescuing her. Ash paused and took a deep breath. Based on her testimony, I strongly believe Zach was turned into a vampire illegally.

I believe you. I quizzed the little asshole on the code and he didn’t understand what I was asking. Stefan stated. He sounded just as tired as Ash. He hasn’t been able to remember the events of his attack, and that’s when he’s lucid enough to answer my questions. A brief pause. He’s weakened from blood loss. Did he complete the bond with the woman?

Her name is Danielle. Ash corrected him. He felt a small flash of contrition from Stefan as a way of apology. From what she told me after I explained the ins and outs of vampire and bloodbond relations, they hadn’t. He got sick after feeding from her.

Great. Ash felt his husband’s sarcasm through their link and could almost hear his gruff voice. Well, shit. I’m going to have to stay an extra day or two to make sure he stays alive until dad gives his judgement.

Take as long as you need. Danielle and I still need to discuss her options of what happens next. I gave her one of our house phones a few hours ago; I think she’s talking to her mother. A warning pulse of pain made him pause for a few minutes. Talking mind to mind for too long and at too far of a distance always gave him a headache. You should introduce yourself to her before we leave though. I mentioned you a lot tonight and she wants to see the man behind the name.

Silence. Ash could feel himself starting to fall asleep, felt the link start to wither away, but he willed himself to stay awake despite the incoming headache. A mental nudge from Stefan helped.

Do you mind keeping her for another two days, tops? I do plan on introducing myself, but I don’t want her to be intimidated. Ash felt another pulse of pain, likely coming from Stefan. I really… didn’t make a great first impression by kicking her door down and acting violently around her toward her ex.

You didn’t. Ash confirmed. There was no malice in his voice. But I’ll keep her here until you return.

Thank you. Gratitude and thankfulness emitted through their link. Ash let it surround him like a cocoon.

He contemplated ending the conversation then and there. Any longer and he might develop a migraine. But he remembered it was the middle of the month, a fact Stefan may not be aware of down in his foster father’s realm. Time didn’t flow any differently down there, but with the ever-present darkness it was hard to tell how many days or nights had passed. Ash took a deep breath and willed himself to keeping the connection open.

It’s almost time for you to feed. He reminded Stefan. How long do you think you’ll be okay until the hunger becomes unbearable?

Stefan didn’t answer for a few minutes. Ash could feel him suffering from a headache as well, though it wasn’t as intense as his.

Maybe a month, if I can hold out. A long pause. But I know if I get to that point and then feed from you, it’ll take you a long time to recover… Another long pause. Recover from blood loss. I don’t want you missing work.

Are you—The headache he was experiencing had come full force. Are you… going to take that long?

Probably not. I’ll know later. Thanks for the information on Zach.

I’ll contact you tomorrow night. You’re welcome. Ash felt a pulse of pain strong enough to make him almost sever the mental link. I love you.

Love you too. Go. To. Bed.

Stefan’s mental voice brokered zero arguments, and Ash let the mental link wither away without further complaint. He held his head in his hands for a few minutes, breathing heavily at the onslaught of pain. He maneuvered his body so he was laying down, dislodging Iris in the process. She mewled in protest and dug her claws in his thigh, but Ash was out like a light the moment his head touched the pillow and didn’t register the pain.

He hoped he didn’t wake up to Iris sitting on his face.

[dontshootmespence]

Let Me Do This

A/N: A piece from my own brain. I’m not gonna really give this a description because I don’t want to spoil the ending. All I’ll say is that there is a friend”ship” that I don’t feel gets enough attention, and my brain went the angsty route, so prepare thyself.

Warnings: Mentions of suicide and death.

Buzzing vibrated in his pocket against his leg. “Sorry, Mom,” he said, staring at the phone. “Duty calls.”

He stood up and took in a deep breath of the flowers he’d brought, setting them in front of the oblong stone with his mother’s name written on it. It had been a year since she passed, but he was still struggling. Emily and JJ had suggested going to the cemetery to sit and talk with her on occasion claiming it might help. He was skeptical at first, but he tried it once, and then again, then another time, and then he was coming nearly every day he wasn’t at work. He missed her - more than he ever thought he would. 

Since he worked at the Bureau, he didn’t have enough time to see her as often as he would’ve liked, and after her diagnosis it was even worse. Deep down, he knew his mother wanted him exactly where he was - she’d been so proud of him - but that didn’t alleviate all of the guilt. Little of it in fact.

“We have another case, Mom. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“What do we have?” Spencer asked the moment he stepped into the bullpen. 

Emily shook her head. “Nothing good.”

As they stepped into the room together, Emily asked for Garcia to start the briefing. Garcia was even more on edge than she normally was, and if it wasn’t something in her personal life, then this case was even worse than Spencer had imagined. “We found a mother, Margaret, and daughter, Abigail, last name Harraway, locked in a building off the highway on the way out of DC. The mother died from a heart attack and the daughter from cyanide poisoning.”

“Cyanide?” JJ asked. “Who uses cyanide beside those committing mass suicides and vengeful spouses trying to get rid of their significant other?”

Garcia clapped her hand up to her mouth, trying not to vomit as she placed the recording in the middle of the table. The obviously distorted voice on the other hand sent chills down the spines of everyone in attendance.

Wanna make a lasting impact? Scarring someone’s brain does far more than a knife. And the scar is much more permanent. Didn’t exactly go as planned unfortunately. Mother died of a heart attack. But next time, I’ll pick a better couple to work with.

Matt sucked in his lips and rapped on the table trying to keep himself together. “So he locked the two in a building, gave them enough cyanide to kill one and what? Made them choose?”

Tara had come into contact with a number of psychopaths whose lack of empathy astounded her, but this was something else all together. He watched from the sidelines like a voyeur as a daughter took a cyanide pill, presumable to save her mother’s life. “Whoever this is likely claimed that whoever lived would be allowed to leave. They just had to choose amongst themselves.”

Rossi felt the acid rise in his throat. “So Abigail swallowed the cyanide so her mother would live?”

Garcia had already pulled information on the family. “Abigail lived at home. She had a difficult time maintaining a job and her mother helped her a lot. Margaret lost her husband in a car crash years ago and was recently engaged to a new man. It would make sense that Abigail wanted to give her mother a chance at happiness again?” The fact that she was able to do any kind of profiling at all made her queasy, and the silence from her friends confirmed she was on the right track. 

“All right,” Emily said, turning on boss-mode again. “We need to get ahead of this. Let’s get to work.”

They hadn’t gotten ahead of him. For nearly a week, they had been two steps behind. Another two people, couple Ava Lockner and David Euling, had been taken and hidden away. After 10 hours of captivity, Ava emerged, ran to the nearest person she could find and was taken to the hospital. David had swallowed a pill to save the woman he loved, and during her first 12 hours in the hospital, she tried to commit suicide twice. She was distraught, numb - hollow.

But finally they found the unsub and narrowed down where he might be located. “He has a home, owns two vacant lots, and recently purchased a small warehouse for the start of a business,” Garcia said. 

“Okay,” Emily said. “Matt, you and JJ take the warehouse. Rossi, Tara and Luke, you take his home and the abandoned lot closer to the Bureau, and Spencer and I will take the other lot.”

“Does it make sense to even check out the lots?” Garcia wondered.

Spencer shrugged. “Given the nature of this unsub it’s more than likely that he has a bunker or bomb shelter of some kind on one or both of the vacant lots.”

“Okay, I guess that makes sense. Stay safe, my babies.”

Nearly every location they sought out came up empty, and within a couple of hours, Rossi, Luke, Tara, Matt and JJ returned to the Bureau with nothing to show for their outing except a location the unsub wasn’t located. “Spence and Emily aren’t back yet?” JJ asked.

“Nope,” Garcia replied. “And I haven’t heard from them either.”

After another hour and numerous phone calls that went unanswered, they all knew something was wrong. They had to go to the other vacant lot.

“Emily, we’ve been here for 4 hours. What the hell are we going to do?”

Shortly after they’d arrived at the lot, Spencer was shot in the neck with a tranquilizer dart. Before Emily could even turn around and aim her gun, no less find the unsub, she’d been downed as well. Both had woken up a short time later and deduced that they’d been placed in a bomb shelter. “What we’re not doing is giving this asshole what he wants!”

This team had come to far; she scoured the area for anyway to unlock themselves from their confines without any luck. Again, Emily listened to the tape: 

I don’t know which of you agents are down here, but same rules apply. I will let one of you leave when the other takes the poison. Who lives? Who dies?

“Why are you listening to it over and over again?” Spencer bellowed. “There is nothing on this recording! We don’t even know if we’re in the lot where we stopped. There was a forest behind it. We could be in there. We literally have no idea. And we have no cell service.”

He was right. They had nothing to go on. All they could hope for was that the team would find them in time. Although she’d continue looking for a way to escape. They’d been left one glass of water - presumably to swallow the pill. But they had nothing else, meaning that if the team didn’t find them within about four days, they were both dead.

“We’ve been scouring the area for days!” Garcia screamed when the rest of team came back to recruit more Bureau members. “It’s been three days!”

Matt did his best to comfort a shaking Penelope. “We have no idea what kind of food and water they’ve been left. It could just be a battle of wills.”

Penelope knew that wasn’t possible; the other two crime scenes had not turned up food or water save for one glass, but she allowed herself to breathe in Matt’s embrace for a moment before they got back to work.

“No, Emily.”

“But I’m older.”

“What kind of logic is that?” Spencer asked, his mouth heavy as he spoke. They’d only had a few sips of water each and it had been at least three days. They weren’t going to last much longer. “You’re not taking the pill. The team is going to find us.” After this long, he wasn’t quite sure, but he wasn’t about to let Emily give her life for him; she’d already done too much, put too much of herself on the line for his sake. “I won’t allow you to do that for me. You’ve sacrificed enough for me.”

Emily was so tired; she was having trouble keeping her eyes open. But she reached over and grabbed Spencer’s hand. “I would make every decision again. Spence, you’re one of my best friends.” Her eyes began to water as she spoke. She knew she needed to keep her fluids, but she couldn’t help herself, her voice shaking as she continued. “I love you. And I regret no decision I’ve made in regards to you. You’re like the brother I never had and wished I did.”

“I love you, too, Emily. If I had a sister, I think she’d be a lot like you.” Spencer squeezed her hand and looked toward the glass. The unsub had stood by his promise with the previous couple. If he took the poison, Emily would be free to go. “But you’ve done enough for me. Mexico, prison, Barnes. You put everything on the line for me when you could’ve easily thrown me under the bus. I won’t let you do this too.” It hurt to speak. His muscles felt like they were being weighed down by cement. They didn’t have much longer. 

When he looked over this time, Emily was asleep; she was alive, her chest rising and falling slowly, but she wasn’t going to last long. He’d made his decision a day ago. Silently, he slunk over toward the desk and picked up the pill, turning it over a few times in his hand. He wasn’t scared. He actually felt calm; this was what he was supposed to do. 

As he swallowed the pill, Emily opened her eyes, and shot to attention. “No! Spence! Throw it up, now! I am your boss! This is an order!” She screamed so loudly her voice broke. She clenched her teeth so hard she could’ve sworn they’d broken. The tears streamed down her face as she stared at him in horror. “Why did you do that?”

“Because he’s going to let you go as soon as I die. Emily after everything you’ve done for me. Let me do this for you. Let me give you a chance to live.”

“Spence, you have so much to live for. The team is coming. Please, don’t do this.” Her head fell into his lap. Her friend. Her baby brother. “Please, it’s not too late. You can throw it up.”

A sleepy smile painted its way across Spencer’s face, his hand now resting on Emily’s head, doing his best to comfort her. “I’m not afraid of dying. You’ve already done it once. It’s my turn.”

A painful, sobbing laugh wrenched its way up Emily’s throat. “How can you not be afraid? I was petrified.”

“Because I’m doing this for you. Knowing you’ll live makes it all okay. And...” It was getting more and more difficult to speak. Cyanide could be a very ugly or a fairly painless death, thankfully, it seemed to be the later. He could feel his heart rate slowing.

“Spencer! Spencer, stay with me! And what? Keep talking.” She watched Spencer take a deep breath, barely able to talk now, and she screamed in agony. “Someone help us! Please! Spence, stay with me,” she whispered. “And what?”

“And if religion is actually true and not just a figment of our imaginations, I’ll get to see my mom again. She’s waiting for me, Emily. I have to go. I love you. Tell everyone I love them and I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no, no, no.” Emily sat up and opened Spencer’s mouth attempting to make him throw up in a desperate attempt to save his life, but he couldn’t move. 

She beat her hand against the wall as Spencer slumped into her, barely breathing. All she could hear were the sounds of her own sobs and the slow, dull thumping inside Spencer’s chest.

A slight buzzing caught Emily’s attention. The camera watching them eyed them both, and a metallic thud resounded throughout the bunker. “Spence, it’s open. We can get out of here. Spencer...”

With her head to his chest, she listened. Nothing. “No, no, Spencer, we’re saved. Please wake up!”

Freedom was within arm’s reach, but she couldn’t leave him - not here.

The area of the forest they’d been taken to still hadn’t been searched - too large and too cumbersome to do in so few days. “What was that?” JJ asked, her ears picking up a sound she hadn’t heard before. From deep within the forest, a resounding scream thudded against the trees.

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