#anyways looks like he's about to 'redeem' himself in the eyes of our cop heroes

[gillianthecat]

My best beloved, Reporter Im Gyu Soek, is back! 🥰

[katalina27ua]

THE BEGINNINGS

"Cannell agreed. "The story was told okay," he said, "but there was no relationship with anyone in the pilot sсript. There was a romantic skirmish with (Steelgrave's niece) and we considered trying to embellish on that. Then I said, "Why don't we write Sonny Steelgrave as the relationship? Frank looked at me and said, 'Butch and Sundance...'" И тут Бутч и Кид  В деле настоящей мужской дружбы без них никуда)) Upd. Тут в одном фике напомнили, что сцена из концовки "No one gets out of here alive" как-то уж больно явно намекает нам на концовку фильма про Бутча и Кида)) Ну, за исключением того, что Винни формально не умирает, а продолжает жить дальше.

THE BEGINNINGS Innovative. Intelligent. Unpredictable. These are words that come to mind when discussing WISEGUY and for good reason. The CBS series, in the midst of its third season at the time of this writing, is doing its bit to revolutionize the medium, transforming episodic television into something along the rather paradoxical lines of an anthology with continuing characters. The show's premise is simple. The execution of it is not. Ken Wahl portrays OCB(Organized Crime Bureau) agent Vincent Terranova, who's spent 18 months in prison to help create his cover as a "wiseguy." Upon his release, he begins a series of undercover investigations which have involved him with a variety of society's undesirables, ranging from the Mob to white supremacists, from international arms dealers to ruthless music industry power brokers. The difference between this show and every other cop series is that the characters deliver a visceral quality not usually found on the tube. Whether you're talking about Terranova, his field director Frank McPike or Lifeguard, the behind the scenes operator who has saved Vinnie on more than a couple of occasions, realism is the name of the game. In addition, the villains aren't dispatched after one or two episodes. In fact, there have been instances where it's taken nine installments of a WISEGUY saga--or arc, as it is referred to by the show's creative team--for a tale to be resolved. In addition, there isn't always a clear-cut separation between good and evil, and there have been moments when the audience could well have wondered which side of the fence Terranova would land on. "That's the whole point of the series," actor Ken Wahl once explained, "to show that everybody's not all good, not all bad. These things intertwine, and therein lies the conflict." "In the beginning," states co-executive producer Les Sheldon, "a lot of people thought we were doing a Mob show, but found out real quick that we weren't. The idea of the show is to kind of do it as an anthology, but string it together with this guy as he runs into these different types of human beings and peels away at them. The result is that we, through him, find out who they are and not just what they are. Because of that, he has some tremendous conflicts going on inside and--right, wrong, or indifferent--he gets to see them as human beings, not as statistics on an FBI file." In a way, Vinnie and his co-stars are often on equal footing, which is rather unusual for network television. "I knew as a writer that it would create a situation where (he) would be a counterpuncher, as opposed to carrying the action in a story," executive producer and co-creator Stephen J. Cannell told ROLLING STONE. "My idea was that we would reinvent the show every half year." Cannell had approached ABC with the series premise, but was rejected and then went to CBS who accepted the idea. He set upon the task of writing the pilot, but found that he was saddled with end of the season "burn out" and needed a co-writer. So he approached Frank Lupo, part of the creative team behind such series as HUNTER and HARDBALL.

"Stephen and I had worked together for years," explained Lupo. "We created THE A-TEAM, RIPTIDE, and HUNTER together. After I did HUNTER, Stephen went off and did a couple of things on his own, and I did my thing even though I was working for his company. We were both great fans of police dramas, mysteries, that type of thing and he came to me one day with an idea about doing a show about an undercover cop. But he wanted to do it from the point of view from inside the Mob. I believe that Stephen originally had an offshoot of this idea where it would be a show about Mobsters which is something he'd always wanted to do. But there had been a number of shows that had tried that. The problem was always the morality of the hero. He wasn't sure if a show like that could be done on a week to week basis. Sure, you could go in on something like THE GODFATHER and could buy it for three hours and walk out, but he wasn't quite sure if every week we could maintain the morality of a hero who was totally on the wrong side." "Anyway," he adds, "Stephen originally came to me with the idea of a cop who infiltrates the Mob. I was buried in scripts and told him so, and he said that he had thought it was something we could have fun doing together, but he left. I remember driving home that night thinking about it and I started writing stuff in my head. Two days later I walked into his office and said, 'Do you still want to do that WISEGUY idea?' We realized that it was well into the development part of the season, but we went in, pitched it and they said okay. I think we pitched in early December and had to have the sсript done by Christmas. It was very fast, and we slammed it out very quickly, each of us writing half the pilot. We put the two halves together, and I think I was the first one to read it and I found that we had somehow missed the Vinnie/Sonnie relationship because we wrote it so quickly. Stephen came into my office and said, 'Well, how did we do?' And I just gave him the sсript to read and he recognized the same problem with it I had." Cannell agreed. "The story was told okay," he said, "but there was no relationship with anyone in the pilot sсript. There was a romantic skirmish with (Steelgrave's niece) and we considered trying to embellish on that. Then I said, "Why don't we write Sonny Steelgrave as the relationship? Frank looked at me and said, 'Butch and Sundance...'" Revisions were made. Lupo adds, "What we came up with was the idea of an undercover cop. We wanted to come up with a character he could truly admire on the other side of the fence. As the whole Sonny Steelgrave story started it was almost like a miniseries rather than the pilot for a TV show. We knew that in the pilot he would meet Steelgrave and that he would displace one of Sonny's lieutenants. We also knew he would move up to be his right hand man and, at that point we talked about the idea of doing a number of heavies each year in five or six episode arcs, so we had to come up with that concept. We did know that we were going to build up the relationship between Vinnie and Sonny so that by the time we hit the end, it wasn't going to just be an hour episode where someone pretends to be on someone's side, and at the end of the hour when he's busted, there's a tear in the eye of the cop, but he's saying, 'We got you, asshole.' Needless to say, this kind of thing raised a few eyebrows at CBS, and they said to us, 'Couldn't Vinnie really be faking Sonny Steelgrave out? He doesn't have to truly admire him,' We said, "you don't understand where we're coming from,' and their response was, 'It's going to be real clear that Vinnie's not going over, right?' We said, 'We're not sure. We will redeem him, but it has got to be enticing.' So it was that kind of reaction, but there wasn't a tremendous amount of resistance. All we really wanted was a relationship between Sonny and Vinnie and if we could get Vinnie through some of the dirt, he'd be able to see what made up the individual people. "When we were putting the pilot together," Lupo continued, "we couldn't figure out where to start. We had one draft which started in Quantico when Vinnie first entered the Academy, and we have one where he's in the middle of the scam that he's in prison for at the beginning of the pilot. I would say the first half hour of the show would have been the one that got him locked up, and that was kind of material we were testing, but in a pilot you have to give the network an idea of what the show will be like. Had we handed in these stories, it would say, 'Okay, this tells us that the series is coming, but not what the series would be.' By the time we were getting closer, working on the second story I mentioned, we felt it wasn't as far developed as the two hours that would eventually air. Then we said, 'You know, we've got to keep going; we short-cut the front end, with the intent of always being able to do a flashback one day; a flashback which reveals how he went to Quantico and then to prison." Second season Executive Story Editor John Schulian believes that the character relationships with the Steelgrave arc originally attracted public attention to the series. "It proved that (Executive Producer) David Burke was right in what he wanted to do with the show," he says. "He's really the guy who shaped this. He didn't want to make it a constant series of car crashes and gun fights. He subscribes to Stephen Boccho's theory of emotional violence being infinitely more powerful than overt, physical violence. When Sonny looks at Vinnie after he's found out he's a cop and says, 'I loved you, man,' and then electrocutes himself, it's a perfect example of this. That really is what the show is about." "I just love characters," Burke concurs, "and I thought the relationship between Vinnie and Sonny was one he would like to maintain as a friendship, but can't because he knows the true stripes of the man. That was enticing. I'm not a big fan of gunplay, and WISEGUY presents the opportunity to actually spend time with characters and develope them fully. I think one of our greatest strengths is that we are able to give actors material they can really enjoy and sink their teeth into. That, for me, is the essential strength of what we do, and we've been real fortunate with performers; people who aren't afraid to play big moments and to play dialogue that is not traditional television." Breaking with tradition has become the norm with WISEGUY.

[merikathryn-blog]

SOA: Sins of Our Father Part 1: The Meeting

Jackson Nicholas Teller stood at the gate of the cemetary. He knew at the end of this day, he would be headed to join his family and friends here. Jax had people he had to visit and things he had to say before he took his final ride. He had visited his best friend, Opie’s, grave.  He knew the sacrifices that he had his family had made for SAMCRO. He knew that Opie had sacrificed his own life to save Jax.  Looking at his life now, Jax felt that he had wasted the chance that Opie had given him. He stood at Opie’s grave and left the thing that meant more to Opie than his own life.  He left his SONS rings.  He said, “Brother, I wasted the chance you gave me to be a good father and a good man. You gave up everything for me, even your own life.  I will never forget our friendship.  We were more than friends.  We were more than members of SOA.  We were brothers.  Brother, I would give anything to trade places with you that day.  I should have died.  I am a bad man and a criminal.  Standing here looking at your grave, I realize I was a shitty friend and brother.  Please forgive me.”  Next, Jax stopped at Tara’s grave, fell to the ground and wept.  Once he was able to contain himself, he said, “Tara, you were always the love of my life.  You were the woman in my head and in my heart always.  You were an amazing woman and a caring mother to our boys.  I did not deserve you at 16, I did not deserve you when you returned and you did not deserve the death you received at the hands of Gemma.  I so regret that I could not protect you.  I so regret that I could not be a good husband, a good father, and a good man. You deserved that.  I promised you that I would protect our boys from the criminal life of SAMCRO.  This is the only way that I can make sure that Abel and Thomas do not follow in my footsteps.  I love you forever.  I leave you the symbol of our love.  I want it to be with you always.  I wanted to be with you…  You were taken from me.  I will never forgive myself for failing you as a husband and a father.  I will never forgive myself for not protecting you.  I am so sorry.” Jax visited his father’s grave last.  

Jax stood at the foot of his father’s grave and just stood there for a long while.  He lit a cigarette and slowly walked up to the headstone.  He was ashamed of the path his life had taken.  Jax stopped here to have a conversation with the only man whom he could identify.  “Dad,” he said, “I read what you wrote. I tried to follow your wishes, Dad. I really wish I could.  I think I have a plan to get the club out of the gun business and into more legitimate businesses.  You were right.  I could not stop myself from becoming the one thing that I tried so hard to get away from. I really tried. I became a bad man.  Once Tara died, I could not see anything beyond revenge and rage. I avenged you by killing Clay and I avenged Tara by killing Mom.  I am telling you this because I am rescuing my boys from this life.  They will never know a life being the crowned prince of SAMCRO.  I won’t allow it.  My boys will have an opportunity to have a life that is not filled with violence, rage, crime, and loss. I am the last person that they will lose.  Wendy has custody of the boys once I am gone.  Mom had a boyfriend named Nero.  He used to be a criminal before he made a life for himself outside of the streets.  Mom nearly poisoned him like she poisoned all of the other men in her life.  Thomas was the lucky one.  He was a child when he died.  Well, I told Nero that I wanted my boys to know that I was a bad man and that they never wanted to me like me.  Never.  I have made sure of that.  I love you, Dad.  I wish I could have become he man you wanted me to be. You were right.  A good man and a good father can’t saddle inside of the same man as a good outlaw.  My sons will never know this life of chaos.”

Another man was at a tombstone not too far away.  Jax did not recognize him.  Honestly, Jax was so emotional that he really did not give a fuck who he was. He looked like he was having a conversation much like the one he was having with his dad.  The gentleman looked over at him and said, “The hardest conversations to have with my mom is knowing that this will be my last conversation.” Jax said, “I don’t give a shit what you are talking to your mom about. This is the last conversation I am having with my dad.  I am a wanted man because I am a bad man.  I deserve what is about to happen with me.”  The man said, “I am Danny Weir. I have been a police officer all of my life. Now, I have stage four brain cancer. I have days. I have made my peace with God about what is happening to me.  However, I have not made peace with the fact that my son who is only 10 has the same cancer I do.  There is a treatment that can cure his cancer but it costs $100,000.   I have been a good and decent cop and have never been on the take.  Now, my son is going to die because I did not do whatever it took to get the money he needs for his treatment.  You are complaining about being a bad man.  I am complaining about being a good one.”  Jax looked at this broken man.  He had the same sandy blond hair that Jax did.  Danny had the same blue eyes that he did.  Danny and Jax were the same height.  That is when it dawned on Jax.  He was going to die anyway.  He could try to help this man so that he could go out feeling like a good man. He told Danny where there was a large amount of cash that had been stashed at the docks.  It should be enough to pay for his kid’s cancer treatment.  Jax started to walk away.  Danny grabbed him by the arm and asked if he was dying.  Jax said, “Not by any disease man… I am going out like my dad did.  He ran into a semi on his bike.  That is it. That old blue Knucklehead over there.  I figure my boys don’t ever need to be exposed to me.  I am a worse cancer than what is eating up your body.”  Danny said, “What if you did not have to die to leave your children’s lives?  I could take the cash to my ex-wife and tell her and my kids my goodbyes because I was having to do some illegal shit to get the money.  I wanted her to be immune to it.  I was going to be dead soon.  I could take that final ride for you.  I work for the Department of Homeland Security.  I can change your fingerprints to mine.  I would be you and you would be me.  You can die today and I can make sure my son lives today and that no one has to die unnecessarily.”  Jax wallowed the thought around for a minute.  Jax Teller looked at him and asked, “Would Jax Teller die today?” Danny said, “Yes, and Danny Weir would be miraculously cured of his stage four brain cancer. My ex-wife moved here for Daniel’s treatments and filed for divorce several months ago. She will not be around for the ruse.  Danny Weir would move back to Tulsa, Oklahoma and be a DHS investigator.  The ultimate good guy knows the moves of the bad guys before they make them.  You would probably be better at this job than I am. My cousin David’s widow, Kari, will help you get set up.  She is the only person I have in the area that knows the real Danny Weir.  I will contact her and tell her to make sure you are successful in the job.  I need you to take me to the money now if this is a go.”  Jax did not trust this man.  Fuck’s sake, he was a good fucking cop.  However, he knows what it feels like to do anything for your kids.  He was fixing to kill himself for his boys. Jax and Danny shook hands and Jax took Danny to the money.

Danny got into his car.  He thought to himself, “What the fuck am I doing?  I am working with a hardened criminal.  I am working with the same type of man that I have spent my whole life chasing to put away.” He now understood how people could make a deal with the devil. He now understood why Lucifer fell from Heaven and why Adam and Eve took the bite of the forbidden fruit.  He did what he had to do to save the life of his child. His son had the same type of cancer he did.  If the doctors didn’t go after the cancer aggressively, his son would be in the same damn place he was in in just a few years.  He did not want his son to feel the same unbearable pain that he felt. His body hurt all over.  He sometimes lost control of his muscles and reflexes and shook like he was having a seizure.  He would lose control of his bodily functions.  He did not feel like much of a man or much of a husband when he could not stop shaking and shit his pants.  He had to do this to redeem himself in his family’s eyes.  He knew that his ex-wife, Diane, thought of him as a fucking failure.  He had not been able to perform sexual acts with her in the months before she left. Her tone and touch with him had grown hard and cold that she could not even talk civilly to him in front of his son. He was going to make things right with his ex-wife and his kids. His final act would be to die so that his son could live.  He would also give this desperate man who was also willing to die to protect his children from becoming like him a chance to have a life free from the criminality that he was born into.  He would give this man, Jackson Teller, a chance to live the life of a good man. His life was always along the straight and narrow.  Danny had always wondered what the rush of adrenaline felt like when performing criminal acts.  He would now know what it is like to be on the other end of a high speed chase.  He would get the rush of collecting dirty money. He would get to do good with the proceeds of very bad actions.  He would get to die a hero for his son, a desperate man, and his sons, too.  

Jax took Danny to the storage locker that Charles Barosky used to keep his skim money from his operations.  Jax pried the lock off of the locker.  Danny asked, “Won’t the dirty cop notice the lock has been pried off of his locker?” Jax answered, “Nope, I don’t think so.  I killed that motherfucker earlier today.” Danny hesitantly said, “Okay?” He all of a sudden realized that he was really dealing with a man who had done very bad things. Danny had always known his path.  His grandfather was a local sheriff and a Baptist preacher.  His father was a police officer, a Vietnam Veteran with a Purple Heart, and died in the line of duty.  He knew he was going to be a police officer from the time he was five years old.  He remembered the sense of pride he received when he rode in his dad’s police car and wore his hat.  Most importantly he remembered the sense of respect he and his father received when he was seen out in the community.  He then wondered about Jax.  He wondered what it was like growing up the son of a motorcycle criminal. He wondered if he felt pride riding around on his dad’s bike.  He wondered if he knew that he was going to be an outlaw biker, just like his dad. He then came to the stark realization that Jax was killing himself so that his kids would only know him as a bad man and they would never follow in his footsteps.  Danny and Jax were not that much different after all.  They were both cookie cutter images of their fathers. A sense of extreme sadness filled Danny’s heart for Jax.  Danny was glad that his final act would be an act of redemption, self-sacrifice, and second chances.  He and Jax agreed on a spot to meet.  Danny thought it was a very weird spot but he said okay.  Jax wondered if Danny would show up at all.  Jax thought, “Oh well, whether Danny shows up or not, Jax Teller will be dead tonight.”  Jax had not taken time to think about things.  He told himself he would do that while he waited for Danny to arrive.

Jax just stood there for what seemed like hours but, in reality, was probably only a few minutes.  The writing on the rock cliff just looked at him like daggers held to his throat. The rocks just said, “J.T. 11-13-93 with the Anarchy symbol.”  He stood there looking at the rocks.  He didn’t know if Danny would show up or not.  The reality is that he didn’t care. Jax believed that giving Danny the money was the right thing to do.  If the story Danny told him was bullshit, then it was bullshit.  The money would do more good in the hands of a living man than in an evidence box in some cop shop where it could be taken or lost.  He was good with his decision. He said, “Dad, you and I are too much alike.  We are both bad men trying to be good men.  We both failed.  This angel of mercy or a temptation of the devil showed up earlier. He looked a lot like me.  He offered me the chance to save and change my life.  I don’t know if either are possible.  I agreed to his offer.  I am standing here talking to you at the agreed upon meeting place. If he shows up, then I will try to become him.  He will take my place in dying and I will take his place as a fucking cop.  Can you imagine it, Dad?  Me a god damned mother fucking cop?  This is some crazy shit.  I want to be a good man.  I think deep down I fooled myself and believed that I was a good man doing bad things for a good end.  I hope I have done that.  Now it is time for Jax Teller to end.  He begins to put on his helmet and sees a very nondescriptive sedan pull up behind him. It was Danny.  The man actually showed up to die in his place.  Jax was dumbfounded.  He did not know whether to hug this man or punch him in his dumb ass face. Jax looked at him and asked, “Why are you willing to do this for me?”  Danny looked at him and said, “I’ll be dead before the end of the week anyway. I might as well make it mean something.” Danny started coughing and blood ran from his mouth.  Danny yelled at Jax, “I am here, Damn it! We have to trade clothes and vehicles right now. I heard a police officer was headed this way on the radio in my car.  We have to do this now.  RIGHT FUCKING NOW!”  Jax was so stunned that he immediately took off his kutt and his helmet.  He handed them to Danny.  Danny handed him a letter.  It was addressed to Kari, his cousin’s widow.  He told Jax there was $5,000 in the glove box and handed him the keys to the car.  Jax grabbed Danny and hugged him.  He told Danny that he could never imagine someone doing something so selfless for someone like him.  Danny got on the motorcycle and got it started.  Jax got in the car and started driving away.  He looked at the address on the letter to Kari.  The address was in Tulsa, Oklahoma.  Jax put the address in the GPS system in the car and listened to the police radio.  It was only a few minutes into his trip he heard that the suspect, Jackson Teller, had been spotted on his motorcycle by a highway patrol officer.  Jax had fired shots at the officer and sped away on the motorcycle.  He heard the entire chase over the radio.  He heard that Jax had ran his motorcycle into a semi and that the body was so mangled that it was unrecognizable.  He heard the police declare over the radio that the suspect, Jackson Nicholas Teller, was dead at the scene.  Jax Teller was dead and Danny Weir was headed toward Tulsa in a plain Jane sedan.  Danny Weir was a straight arrow cop who worked for the Department of Homeland Security. He did not know what the fuck he was going to do.  He drove until he reached his destination in Tulsa, Oklahoma.  

[transcendencenyu]

terrie//the guardian of her galaxy

The trip started out like any other: with kicking, screaming, crying--and that was just from Bucky. Two overly-crowded flights later, we were finally in Rio, and the place was overwhelmed with tourists and competitors swarming the streets and raiding all of the decent food trucks. Okay, there were like three, but they were all very busy and completely out of kibe balls. Street food vendors aside, the atmosphere was energetic, lively, and ready to kick some foreigner ass. We had never felt more united and yet divided in our lives, invigorated by the sensation of being in Rio to represent America and sharing that pure, innocent joy with other first-timers! But then the ones who had done this before would remind us that it wasn’t all fun and games--hell, Clint made sure to remind us by disappearing instantly. Training, practicing, getting ready: that man did it all. He dedicated himself those few days to his training and worked harder than I had in months with my studies. The man was a powerhouse, and definitely everyone’s hero. Sure, the man hated me and caused me constant misery, but we were here for him, and for once, we were just able to relax.

Everyone was here, or everyone I cared about, and Rio was no doubt the place to get my seduction on with Stephen. We’d had some good nights, some great nights, and I knew we just needed the right circumstance to bring our relationship to the next level. I would get that man to say he loved me. I mean, I definitely couldn’t be the one to say it first, and I don’t think I was even ready to, but wouldn’t it be something to finally hear someone say it to me, to actually have someone care like that? This summer in Rio was going to be a breeding ground for romance and passion, and I certainly didn’t waste any time getting into it.

When Steve or Bucky had Paisley occupied, I slipped away for a few hours to walk along the beachside, Stephen beside me to complain about how hot it was, how the women and men were scantily dressed, how dressing scantily was barely actually doing anything for their body temperature, and how wearing more clothing would actually protect their skin from harmful UV rays--the usual. Of course, Rio was too much of a melting pot for us Northerners, and Stephen would have to wear shorts (oh the humanity), but the man too concerned with his appearance refused to buy them with me or let me buy them (“Wouldn’t the lobster cargo shorts look amazing on you?” No, no they would not, he said, as my ability to buy anything for him was revoked indefinitely). I recruited as much help as I could, and it quickly became my obsession to get every single one of our friends to subtly recommend shorter pant wear. Natasha said she liked his legs, Bucky sported only the best snowman shorts in the middle of summer and strutted around like a warrior mid combat--we called him winter soldier for a reason--and he taught Stephen the true redeeming qualities of such diverse and fashionable trousers, and Clint just said, “Dude, you look weird in pants. It’s like a hundred degrees. That’s just not right.” While Stephen was not having any of it, I could see he was slowly cracking, and it brought me great joy to be the one breaking him.

When I wasn’t fighting Stephen over his leg fiasco, I was fighting Paisley. Of course, Peter came to Rio, and of course he was more than willing to spend his precious fucking time with his latest boo. I spent so much time scowling that Steve said my face had permanently melted into resting bitch face and stayed like that for days (okay, he didn’t say “bitch”, because he was too pure, but he meant it). Bucky said my face had cracked beneath the unforgiving sun, like old, dried mud, and I tried to send him the nastiest of glares despite him claiming my expression never changed. I’d nearly mastered tonal expression with Paisley, knowing she heard everything, and I would tell her I was excited Peter was into her (so excited), trying to play the supportive role of any best friend to a T. Well, I said “trying”. The problem was, any time I’d come back from spending time with Stephen, Paisley would be gone, because she wanted to spend time with Peter, and this took away from my time with her, and then he wouldn’t even have the balls to face me, but would rather just drop her off, make a fucking face at me, then peace out. As if his very presence wasn’t insulting enough, he genuinely excited Paisley, made her happy and comfortable, made her forget how dangerous it is to trust men, and that was something I could never forgive him for. I worked my ass off trying to protect her since the day I failed her, I kept my eyes on her, kept the boys at bay to watch her, woke up at night to make sure she was safe in her room, and I could tell my protectiveness was starting to get out of hand the more Peter showed up. He was the antithesis of safe, with his stupid jacket, his stupid car, his stupid charm and humor. He was nothing, and Paisley was just too blind to see that.

“Maybe we should give her a tracker,” is exactly what any normal person would have said in my situation, as I did, late one night after her previous date with him. She had apparently had such a good night that the fun was going to continue--at a dinner party, with all of her closest friends--and of course he would be there! That was fine, because she was happy, and it would surely be a great fucking fantastic night.

The boys stared for a while. Actually, it was a slow, dramatic turn, as if they’d clearly heard someone break in, and they weren’t quite sure if they should run and hide or face the intruder head on, and their eyes met one another before they ever reached mine. Their body language said it all in an instant, something like, “she’s finally lost it.. I’ll hold her down; you call the cops.”

Steve, naturally, was the bravest one and first to speak, and he spoke carefully, calmly, hoping he’d simply misunderstood: “What do you mean?”

“It’s the 21st century, almost everyone is tracking someone anyway. Why not just.. You know, track her phone? See where she is? Where he’s taking her? Get alerts any time she leaves this place? She’s blind; it’s not like it’d be hard to hide.” I tried to be rather nonchalant about invading one’s privacy, and I wasn’t exactly in the wrong. It wasn’t like I was suggesting surveillance cameras to track her every movement, or bugging her phone to hear every word that creep was whispering seductively to her. I just wanted to be able to sleep at night knowing she was okay.

Since Steve had already gone, it was Bucky’s turn to try something. He seemed a little more sympathetic, being a bit of an extremist himself, and he leaned forward to me, bending down enough so that our eyes were level. “Terrie..” He tried not to break eye contact, but he could dissect me in a second and see what was really going on. “You can’t take this away from her. She can make her own decisions. Besides, this is a good thing, isn’t it? She’s moving on. You should too.”

The cracked mask of a wreck I was crumbled back into place as I stared past both of them toward her room. “You don’t move on from something like that. Ever.” I had hoped the boys would understand, knowing they played a part in this. All of us let it happen, all of us were responsible, and yet it was just me carrying that responsibility and burden.

“She can move on from anything, and will,” Steve said. “She’s stronger than you give her credit for. But right now, she really needs her friend, and pushing her away isn’t going to help her situation.”

“I’m not pushing her away. I’m pushing him away,” I said defensively, looking back to glare at Steve--something I rarely did--and the way he saw the anger and hatred in my face did something to him that I couldn’t begin to describe. It was chilling, like the look he’d given the bully he stood up to for me (yeah, I remembered), and he couldn’t bear to look at me after that, instead standing and looking to Bucky to resolve my issues.

“I know you’ll make the right decision,” Steve said, making it hard to determine if he was speaking to me or Bucky, his eyes trained on him, but his hand giving a small wave in my direction before he himself retired for the night.

Bucky was still worried, having known more about the situation than Steve, and he’d spoken to me about it once before. With Steve gone, he looked to me again, leaning forward, eyes focused, eyebrows tensed, narrowed in on my face, the way he did when he thought for a solution to save the universe, or at least save his friends. “Alright, out with it. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

I’d learned quickly there was nothing to say to Bucky that could throw him off, not even a really good lie, when he was this centered on one moment. He cared so much about me, and I had appreciated it greatly, although I failed often to show it, and he knew more about me than Paisley did since the incident. “Yeah, it doesn’t look like nothing.”

It was hard to speak, feeling the humid air like a thick blanket wrapping itself around my body, my neck and back pulsing from the hot flashes I occasionally experienced. Each moment I thought of Peter, my head began pounding harder and harder, my body became more damp, and my blood pressure would raise. Bucky was patient, watching my silent screams from within, but he’d been patient with me for months now, and he was beginning to grow restless like the rest of us. “It wasn’t him, you know.”

“I don’t care if it wasn’t,” I shot back quickly. A quick glance in the direction of Paisley’s room, and I remembered to keep my voice lowered. She’d never say anything if she heard one of our arguments, but I knew she was sharp, perceptive, and would catch just about anything she was awake for. “It was someone, and we still don’t know who, and the police gave up the search, and I’m sick and tired of pretending it never happened. It fucking happened, Bucky.”

“Okay, okay. Look, no one is pretending it didn’t happen, okay? We’re just.. Trying to move past it. Start over.”

“I swear to God, if one more person says something about moving on, I’m going to shoot myself, and then I’m going to shoot them.” I was perched on the couch, balancing on the tips of my feet, squatted yet ready to pounce, and I’d only recently started doing this when our conversations would get heated like this, both amusing and worrying Bucky.

He put his hands out, trying to calm me, while also trying not to laugh at me. “Okay, well, shouldn’t you shoot them before you shoot yourself?”

Another glance, another crack in my foundation. “Alright, fine,” Bucky said. “I get it, really, and I know you said you wanted to deal with this alone, but I really think you need to talk to someone, you know? Someone who could help you cope--”

“I am not depressed.”

“I didn’t say you were. I just think.. It was a traumatic experience for all of us, Terrie..”

Just as quickly as he said the words, I could feel hot, thick tears pool in my eyes, the kind that left them stinging for hours, and I looked away to keep Bucky from noticing. “I wasn’t the one who was raped, Buck. Paisley was. She should be the one who needs therapy.”

Without any other option, he rubbed the back of his neck and stood, a bit more defeated than before. “Yeah,” he whispered, and he left it at that, retreating for the night.

Alone again, I glanced over at Paisley’s room, feeling the tears finally let go, and I curled up on the couch to cry and stay awake as long as I could, guarding her like heroes do.