#canada cell phone numbers

[muradpk123]

When you are trying to express your thoughts in a readable format, you may be dealing with concepts that are new to you and you will probably

[confused-pyramid]

You're the Only One Who Knows to Slow it Down | s5

pairing: aaron hotchner x childhood bsf!reader

summary: Hotch and his childhood best friend working together at the BAU: a slow burn across the seasons.

word count: 16.2k

warnings: canon!typical violence, mentions of abuse, major character death, gun violence, drinking, specific episodes mentioned in this part are 5x01, 5x02, 5x06, 5x09, 5x10, and 5x21

a/n: This season was really hard to write at points (I think we all know which eps I'm talking about lol) but I'm looking forward to brighter days ahead:') Also we get some more tangible tension so yay! Title is from Look After You by The Fray

series masterlist

"We're not working a case," Derek states matter-of-factly when you arrive at the crime scene. You were woken up early the next morning after getting back from Canada, and on less than four hours of sleep, your brain is struggling to function.

"Why call us to a crime scene?" you ask, walking up to the front door of the house with the rest of the team.

He shrugs. "I was hoping you knew."

You look around, trying to find Aaron, but he's nowhere in sight. He had promised to put in the team request for a few days of leave, but you presume the call came in before he got a chance to do so.

The local police let you survey the scene, explaining that a Dr. Barton got a threatening letter that someone would be murdered everyday that he didn't give up his own son. Once you're done inspecting the body, you turn to JJ, lowering your voice. "Where's Hotch?"

"He's not answering his cell," she says, her lips thinning. "I assume it's on vibrate."

You nod. "I'll try him again."

You step away from the group and click his number in your speed dial, listening to the rings until it reaches his voicemail. It's unlike him to keep his phone on silent, but you know the previous night was tough on everyone. "Hey, it's me." You tell him the address you're heading to for the case, before turning towards the car and lowering your voice. "I know you're probably just asleep, but I don't know...I have that weird feeling again that you know I get...so please just call me back." You take a deep breath, hoping you're being overdramatic, and that you'll see him pull up in a few minutes. "See you soon."

When you get to Dr. Barton's house, he still hasn't called you back. You sit with the doctor, Prentiss, and Reid in his living room, going through his recent patient files, while Morgan, JJ, and Rossi head to the school to find his son.

"Something set this guy off," Emily explains as you start poring over the records. "Odds are it's in your files."

You manage to get through about a dozen before Dr. Barton stands up with a sigh. "My son is leaving school in five hours. There's no way we can get through all of these patients in time."

You check your phone again, mostly to see the time, but you also note that there aren't any new calls or messages. "He's right. We need more eyes on this. I can get Hotch and be back in a half hour."

"Keep us updated," Emily says, nodding at you. Concern flashes across her eyes for a millisecond, and you're sure it reflects the look in yours.

The drive to his apartment doesn't take long, and you stalk down the hall, all the way to the end, until you find his door. There's no answer the first time you knock, so you reach for the spare key he gave you, but before you can use it, you realize the door is already unlocked.

Your heart drops into your stomach and you pull your gun out, using it to push open the door carefully. "Aaron? Aaron, it's me."

When the door is ajar, the sight before you almost makes you drop your gun. There's a large bullet hole in the far wall, along with a patch of drying blood and bits of broken glass on the floor. His phone is on the ground as well, and his gun and holster are lying on his dining table.

You crouch down on your heels, trying to calm your breathing, as you take in your surroundings. You need to think logically about this, or you'll be no help at all.

A few things come to you as your mind clears.

His car is still outside.

No blood splatter around the bullet hole.

No drag marks.

You dig your hand around your back pocket and pull out your phone, dialing Garcia as fast as you can. "Overtime shift, Penelope speaking."

Her chipper voice usually calms you down, but right now you need to cut to the chase. "Garcia, it's me. Something's happened to Hotch. You need to get an APB out on him."

Her breath stutters. "What do you mean, something?"

"There's blood on the floor," you whisper, willing your voice not to crack as your throat thickens with tears. "There's also a bullet hole in the wall, probably a .44."

"I'll send the whole team," she says before you cut her off.

"No, don't call the team. They need to finish the case we were assigned. Just tell Emily, since she's expecting me back, but send every other agent in the vicinity."

"On it."

The line clicks off and you release your breath, before standing up again. While you wait for the crime scene techs, you poke around his things in the main area, trying to see if anything has been taken or moved. The only thing you notice before they arrive is that a page has been ripped from his address book.

"Agent L/N?" a voice calls from the doorway.

You lift your hand. "Yeah, in here."

They come inside and get to work immediately, so you step out, just in time for Garcia to call you back. "Y/N, I checked local hospitals for his name, and I didn't find anything at first, but then one of them told me something really strange."

"Garcia," you whisper through gritted teeth. You love her, but she needs to hurry up before you explode. "What was it?"

"Someone dropped off a John Doe at St. Sebastian hospital, and that someone's name was FBI Agent Derek Morgan."

Your vision turns black for a moment. He's back. Foyet's back.

You're rushing to your car before she has a chance to hang up.

***

He's still under anesthesia when you arrive at the hospital. He was stabbed nine times. That's what the nurse told you when you flashed your credentials and asked for any information she could give you.

Now, you're standing in his doorway, trying to build up the nerve to approach his sleeping form. Even with all of the bandages covering his arms and abdomen, he somehow looks peaceful. It's been so long since you've seen his brow unfurrowed, his forehead smooth, without the tension that invades his daily life.

After a few minutes, you take a step inside, then another, and suddenly you're right beside him, reaching out to clutch his hand over the bedsheet.

His skin is cold, and you wrap both hands around his to warm it up, if even by just a little. He's usually a furnace, generating his own heat even when it's freezing out, but whenever he gets hurt, his hands turn to ice.

After a minute, your phone buzzes in your pocket and you let him go to answer it. It's just Emily telling you that she's at the hospital with the rest of the team, and you walk out into the hall to talk to them.

Rossi is the first to reach you. He squeezes you into a hug before getting back to business. "You sure it was Foyet?"

"He had Morgan's credentials," you nod, rubbing a hand over the back of your neck. Derek glances at you then, and you press your lips together with a nod.

"Did they catch him on the security cam?"

"You could see him dropping Hotch off," you explain, trying to keep your voice steady, "but the camera's only on the entrance, so I have no idea what direction he went once he left the hospital."

Emily shakes her head. "It doesn't make sense for him to have brought Hotch to the E.R."

The nurse from earlier approaches you then, pulling your attention. "Agents, he's waking up."

You shuffle inside and take his hand again as everyone walks in.

His voice is soft when he opens his eyes. "Where am I?"

"In the hospital," Emily whispers, taking care to be mindful of her volume.

He shuts his eyes for a beat. "How did I get here?"

"Foyet drove you." Rossi doesn't frown often, but the lines of his face are clearer than ever. "Can you remember what happened?"

Hotch shakes his head, closing his eyes. "What did he take? The Reaper always takes something from his victims."

"There was an address page missing from your day planner," you whisper, finally finding your voice. "In the B's."

His eyes snap open and he tries to lift his head from the pillow, but he can only wince. "Where are my clothes?"

Emily hands him a plastic bag filled with his belongings, and he ruffles through them, until he finds his wallet. When he opens it, a photograph is stuffed inside, covered in blood spatter. Haley and Jack.

Your breath catches, and he seems to realize what it means at the same moment you do. "Haley's maiden name is Brooks. I always listed her in the B's in my personal information in case it fell into the wrong hands."

You squeeze his hand involuntarily, and he exhales sharply. "He knows where they live."

***

When the rest of the team rushes off to his old house, you stay with him at the hospital. You get a call soon from JJ that Haley and Jack are just fine, and you are finally able to breathe easy for the first time all day.

"They're okay," you tell him when you hang up the phone. "That was JJ. She said Haley was home and Jack's at a playdate, but Morgan is going to pick him up right now."

He nods slowly, his body relaxing into the bed. "Good. That's good."

"It is," you say, eyeing his movements. It's still enormously difficult to look at him like this, but you won't be able to move forward if you don't know the truth. "Aaron, what happened? What did he do?"

"I don't remember all of it," he says slowly, clearly taking his time with each word. There's no rush, and he knows it. Even if it takes him hours to get it all out, you'll still be here. "I remember him being there when I got home, after I dropped you off. He fired off a shot into the wall, and then I tried to tackle him, but..."

He trails off, and you squeeze his hand tighter, as though trying to tether him to the present moment. After a few shallow breaths, he continues. "I tried to tackle him, and I got him on the ground, but then he overpowered me." You can almost see it in your mind. The picture he's painting as he weaves over the details with startling clarity. "The first one hurt the most."

The first stab. Your eyes close for a beat, like you're trying to hide from his words. The first of nine.

"I don't remember much after that." You can tell he's leaving things out, but you also don't know if you'll be able to handle it if he does tell you everything.

"That's okay," you whisper as his eyes droop down. "You should rest."

He nods slowly as the exhaustion takes over and his grip loosens around your hand as he falls asleep.

You wait by his side for about a half hour, until you spot a familiar face (with a new haircut) dawdling in the hallway.

You stand up in a fervor. "Oh, thank god."

You rush over to Haley and pull her into a hug, which she returns just as forcefully. "JJ called us when she found you, but it's still really good to see your face."

"It's good to see you too," she says with an exhale before letting you go. You look down and see Jack standing next to her, his mouth downturned as his fingers twiddle at his sides. "Do you mind staying with him while I go talk to Aaron?"

You turn around and see that he's blinking his eyes open again. "Not at all." You take Jack's hand with a smile and lead him down the hall.

"I'm sorry if the big men scared you," you tell him once you find a few seats in the waiting area. "I know it was all very sudden."

To your surprise, his face breaks out into a big grin. "Uncle Derek let me turn on the siren!"

"Wow!" you smile, feeling warm laughter echo around your chest. "That sounds super fun."

He nods ecstatically, before leaning his head over to look back up the hall. "Can I see Daddy now?"

Your smile falls as fast as it appeared and you take his hand again, pressing his fingers between yours. "Soon, baby, soon."

***

He wakes up to the sound of faint talking. He can vaguely see you hugging someone, and he blinks a few times to clear his vision as you disappear down the hall.

"How do you feel?" Haley asks as she walks into his hospital room. She doesn't come further than the foot of the bed, but he's just glad to see her here, in one piece.

He clears his throat quietly. "I'm gonna be okay." She doesn't look convinced, but he doesn't want to focus on him right now. "Did they explain to you what's happening?"

She nods slowly, looking at him for another moment. "They said the Marshal's service is taking us straight from here and putting us into protective custody."

She looks upset, and it takes him back to the lowest moments of their relationship. "Haley, I'm sorry."

She looks down and the familiar urge to comfort her returns, even while lying in a hospital bed. "Do you know where they're gonna take us?"

"No, I don't." He tries to catch her eye but she won't look at him. "And that's the point. I can't know where you're going. If you have any contact with anyone, then he could track you."

She finally looks at him then, and her sadness is tinged with exasperation. "Jack has school. He has friends. I have a job now."

He doesn't know what else to say but: "I know. I'm sorry." He hopes he's conveying what he means, but it doesn't feel like enough. "We will catch him, and you'll come back, and I promise that I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you."

She nods minutely, and he takes the small comfort. "Are you sure that we're in danger?"

"Yes." There's little else he's been more sure of.

"And what about you?" she asks, her voice small. "Are you gonna be safe?"

He doesn't want to worry her, but he also doesn't want to lie. "He wants to see me suffer. Knowing that my son is out there and that I can't see him is better than killing me."

Her brow pinches and she pushes her short hair back from her forehead. "Jack wants to come in."

He tries to argue at first, not because he doesn't want to see him, but because it will only make it harder to let him go again, but eventually she convinces him to accede.

She leaves to go get him, and he leans back on the pillows, trying not to let himself sink inside.

~

Haley finds you in the waiting area, with Jack sitting on your lap, in the middle of a game of I Spy.

"Is he ready for him?" you whisper when you see her approach. She nods and you lift Jack off your lap and set him on his feet. "Off you go, buddy. Time to see Daddy."

"Yay!" he cheers before racing down the hall, you and Haley right behind him. She steers him into the correct room, and he jumps onto the bed before either of you can stop him.

There's a quiet chorus of 'be careful's before he grunts, "Don't worry. It's okay. The doctors made sure that I'm completely fine." He turns to the small boy with a smile you haven't seen in days. "Did Mommy tell you that you two are gonna take a trip?"

Jack nods once, moving his chin up and down dramatically. "Yeah."

"So I'm not gonna see you for a while."

Jack frowns. "Why?" The word sounds so small out of his mouth, and your heart cracks in your chest.

"Well, think about it like when Daddy goes away for work. Only this time you and Mommy get to go someplace."

Jack ponders this for a few seconds, before crawling up again and wrapping his arms around his dad's neck. "Are you okay?"

"I'm very proud of you." It's a father's answer. The kind of response that doesn't tell the truth, but hides the pain with love. "Every single day. I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay."

Haley says another goodbye and grabs Jack's hand before leading him out of the room. She gives you another hug, squeezing extra tight for the last second. "It's not his fault."

"Of course it isn't," you whisper, letting her pull back.

"No," she whispers, closing her eyes. "I mean, don't let him blame himself for this."

He's one of the most stoic people you know, but he can also be so transparent sometimes. "I won't. I'll be here."

"He needs you," she says with a sad smile. "He's always needed you, but he especially needs you now."

She doesn't let you respond before she's tugging Jack down the hall. You watch as she exits the side door of the wing, and only turn back when you can't see her anymore. She's one of your longest friends, and you won't be able to see her or her son for god knows how long.

When you step back into the room, you stand at the foot of his bed, trying to gauge what he needs from you, but then you see his expression. Tears prick the corners of his eyes and his mouth twists as you rush forward and grab his hand, squeezing it between yours with the grip of someone holding onto a life preserver.

"They'll be okay," you whisper, trying to keep your own tears back. "We'll get through this."

He nods, his eyes still shining. You move to sit in the chair beside him, but he tugs you back, pulling you closer. You understand the desperate look in his eyes, the need for connection and comfort from someone you care about that you've seen in yourself on so many occasions.

Slipping your shoes off, you tuck the sheet into his side and carefully climb onto the little hospital bed, taking care to avoid any of the wires and tubes. Once you're sure you're not pulling on anything, you curl up beside him and wrap yourself around his arm. His skin is warmer than it was earlier, and you take solace in the fact that he's going to be okay. Maybe not now, but he will be.

Your breaths synchronize with his and you listen to the beeping of the heart monitor as your own heart rate calms down. There's a feeling tugging at your spine, filling you up and threatening to spill over, but you shove it down, knowing it will be too much right now. You don't have the words to describe the emotions circulating through your brain, so you stick with what you know. "I love you." It's quiet, barely a whisper, but you know he can hear you. "Thank you for staying alive."

"You're welcome," he whispers back, his voice barely audible over the monitor. "I love you too."

***

You leave the hospital the next morning with a plan. He's still asleep when you wake up, so you get up carefully and thank the nurses one more time before heading out.

You make two stops on the way to his apartment, and this time, you use your spare key to unlock the front door. The crime scene crew cleaned the blood off the floor, and you told Rossi to get them to spackle the hole in the wall, for at least a temporary fix, but there's still an air about the place. It was just starting to feel like his home, and now it's soiled, once again.

You shut the door behind you and drop your bags to the ground, surveying the place one last time for any damage or mess you missed earlier. When everything seems fine, you get to work.

An hour later, you slump back against the wall and toss the packet of instructions to the ground. In front of you is a freshly installed security system, with a door proximity sensor and keypad for when he leaves the house in a hurry.

You can already hear the arguments coming, but you don't care anymore. You won't be able to sleep knowing he's in here, all alone, without anything to keep Foyet from coming back and finishing the job.

For someone who has as little of a technical background as you do, you're impressed with how quickly you were able to get the system running, and you test it a couple of times, turning it on and off and checking the doors, before you finally pull his door closed and lock it behind you.

***

The doctors don't release him until the end of the week, but once he's able to walk again, he calls you to get him from the hospital. By the time he signs his discharge papers and makes the phone call, you're already almost there, and as much as he hates putting you out on a weekend, he can't help the satisfaction that rumbles through him.

The drive to his apartment is mostly silent, with him just trying to stay still as you take the turns carefully, and drive five under the speed limit. When you arrive, you hold the bag of salves and ointments for him as you take his arm, helping him down the hall and to his front door.

He moves to grab his key, but you stop him with a forceful "Wait!"

"I can unlock my own door," he grumbles, but you just shake your head, taking the key from him and turning it slowly in the lock. The moment it swings open, a loud beeping fills the air, and you rush forward to type something into the keypad by his door. Wait...keypad? "When did tha-"

"Before you argue," you jump in, clearly anticipating his disgruntlement, "it's for me, okay."

He raises an eyebrow and you glare at him, but there's no effort behind it. "I mean, it's obviously for you, but still...it's for my peace of mind too."

You're rambling makes him crack a smile for the first time in days, and he nods slowly. "Okay."

Your mouth snaps shut and you look at him with a meek smile. "Okay."

You help him get settled on the couch, and he waits there as you scrounge up some food from the kitchen. He's not sure he has anything perishable, but you manage to put together a comforting bowl of pasta with jarred tomato sauce that makes him feel a little more at home.

As the evening turns to night, he catches himself glancing at his watch more often than not, and eventually you catch on too.

"Is it time?" you ask, your voice gentle.

After a breath, he nods, and you reach across the coffee table to grab his bag of supplies from the doctor. You lay the salve and extra gauze on the table, and wait for him to make the next move, a decision he accepts gratefully.

He's been injured before. He knows how painful it is to sanitize a wound, and especially one as deep and grotesque as his. He just needs a few moments to accept the fact that he's...scared.

"I can do it," he says once he's ready, before reaching for the salve. The simple motion makes him wince and you jump in right away, grabbing it for him and undoing the top.

"Let me," you whisper, your words somewhere between a statement and a question. "Please."

He can already feel his stitches pulling, just from the simple act of swiveling his body to face you, so he gives in with a quick nod.

He doesn't look at you as he undoes the buttons of his shirt. He's not embarrassed - you've never pitied him, even at his lowest moments - but he needs the semblance of privacy as he exposes his injuries to the open air.

The air feels cold as he pulls his undershirt over his head, and you get to work immediately, peeling back the old layer of gauze as slowly as you can. The sections directly over his wounds stick slightly, and he grits his teeth against the pain as you gently tug them free, making sure to avoid pulling his stitches.

"Do you want a break?" you ask once the gauze has been fully removed. He shakes his head, needing this to be over as soon as possible, but when he meets your eyes, he sees them welling up with tears.

He glances down at his bare torso, his eyes darting over the jagged scars ranging from his stomach to his collarbone. Your breath stutters as you take it in with him, and he looks at you. "He made sure we'd match."

He sees you rapidly blinking away the tears that rush forward, and he wants to comfort you somehow, but he doesn't know what to do. You help him lean back on the armrest, so you can apply the salve around each of his injuries, and as your fingers press into his skin, he can't help but be reminded of his childhood. The pressure of your hands as you wrapped him with bandages, the warmth of your breath when you leaned in to inspect your work.

It's usually a sad memory when he thinks back to his childhood, but with you, it was always good. He watches as you slowly tape the new layer of gauze around his abdomen, and even as tears slide down your cheeks, the way you look at him doesn't change.

"All done," you whisper after pressing on the final pieces of tape. "How do you feel?"

Anxious. Terrified. Lonely. Guilty. "Good. Thank you."

***

"Hey, it's Emily."

"What's up, Em?" you say, your phone pressed between your ear and shoulder as you hop around, trying to get your shoes on before work.

"How was your weekend?"

You pause. "Fine?" The question isn't out of the ordinary, you're just not sure why she called to ask you that when she's going to be seeing you in person in about twenty minutes. "How was yours?"

"Oh, you know." She sounds distracted, and you feel a smile pull at your lips as you realize she's avoiding something.

"Em...is there a reason you called? You know, given that we're both on our way to the same place."

She clears her throat, and you hear the indecision in her voice, even over the phone. "I know this is kind of a weird question, but would you mind if I picked up Hotch for work this morning. I left late last night, so JJ was able to brief me early, and I figured he could use a headstart."

You stop your movements, straightening up and lifting your hand to your cell. It's not at all what you were expecting her to say, but that's not all you're confused about. "Yeah, of course. You don't have to ask me first, though. We're all teammates."

She makes an little noise that you don't recognize. "Yeah...but you two are different."

You don't know what to say to that, so you just wait for her to keep going. Emily was never very good at uncomfortable silences, so after a few moments, she's back. "Anyway...I'll grab Hotch and see you in 30?"

You try to hide your grin, even though no one can see you. "Sounds like it."

"Bye."

The phone clicks off, and you tuck it back into your pocket, still smiling. You're already in a better mood than normal, because after 34 days of medical leave, Aaron comes back to work today.

You finish clasping your shoe and head out the door, more relaxed this time. With Emily picking up Aaron, you're not in a rush anymore. You take the drive at a leisurely pace, and when you arrive at the office, you run into Spencer by the front of the building.

"Wait up!" you call out, jogging over to him before he gets in the elevator. "Let me get that." You slide the strap of his book bag off his shoulder and sling it onto yours. He nods in thanks and tucks his crutch under his arm as he presses the button for your floor.

"I thought I'd be used to the crutches by now, but I keep tripping over everything." You scrunch your brow with amusement as he frowns down at his leg. "The doctors say it's healing well, though."

The elevator doors open and you step in front of him to get the door across the hall. "Does it hurt?"

He shrugs. "It really only hurts when I think about it, which is pretty much all the time."

The statement isn't exactly comical, but his deadpan tone makes you snort as you hold the door, and he smiles as he passes by you. You follow him to Garcia's lair, and she perks up upon seeing the both of you.

"My babies," she grins, pulling out a chair for Spencer. "Sit, sit."

You let out a laugh as you place his bag on the floor next to him. "I'm older than you."

"Who's counting?" she throws back, typing something furiously into her computer. She turns around a moment later, just in time to swat Spencer's hand away from the tin of cookies sitting on her table. "No, no, no."

"What?" he complains, gaping at her.

She swats him again, before pulling the tin away from him. "Get away, you. These are for Hotch."

"Butterscotch?" you ask, glancing down at the box. His preference for butterscotch cookies was something you used to tease him about when you were kids. Butterscotch Hotch.

Penelope nods and lifts the edge of the lid, implicitly offering you a cookie. When you take one, Spencer throws his hands up into the air. "Why does she get one? I get shot in the leg and I still don't get any cookies."

You laugh and break off half of your cookie, which he takes from you the moment it's in your palm. He stuffs the entire thing into his mouth, not bothering to swallow it before he pipes up again. "You know he's gonna hate the attention."

"It's cookies," Garcia pouts, "not cake."

Spencer shrugs. "He's probably gonna pretend like nothing happened, anyway."

"Well, it doesn't mean we have to."

You don't know how to weigh in to this discussion, mostly because you know more about how he's feeling than they do, but also because the idea of speculating on his recovery without him here feels like a betrayal.

"What do you think?"

You look up and realize that Spencer was directing this question to you. Swallowing down the last bit of your cookie, you cough once to clear your throat. "I think he's been through a lot, but sometimes coming back to work is the best way to take your mind off of things. Foyet was in his home. I don't think staring at the same walls that used to have bullet holes in them is exactly healthy either."

Spencer and Penelope both stare at you for a moment, before nodding and looking down. They remind you of two children who have just been reprimanded, and you smile to soften the sentiment. "I love you guys for caring about this, but we just have to trust that he's okay."

"Yeah," Penelope nods, reaching forward to squeeze your hand. "Are you okay? This can't have been easy for you, either."

"I'm fine," you say too quickly. "Nothing happened to me." It's not a lie, exactly. You weren't the one who was stabbed. Nine times. "I've just been keeping him company after work, and helping with some of his post-hospital care checklist."

"He's lucky to have you," Penelope says softly, to which Spencer nods.

"He was great too after I got shot," you add, feeling oddly defensive of your friendship. "He stayed with me for a long time when my dad was gone."

She smiles at you sadly, before holding the tin out for you. "Want another cookie?"

You let out a weak laugh as Spencer chuffs behind you, and you shake your head. "No thanks."

"Do you think he'll like them?" Her voice sounds earnest, and you nod, knowing what it's like to want so desperately to understand someone who's as closed off as he seems at times.

"Spence, Y/N, there you guys are."

You turn around to see JJ, her face lined with tension. "Are you ready for us?"

She nods. "Grab your go bag."

***

He's been erratic all day. When he snapped at Garcia earlier for missing the antipsychotics link, you wanted to throttle him, especially when you remembered the cookies she had waiting for him in her office.

The thought that maybe Spencer was right keeps flashing through your mind as you watch him get frustrated with everyone, including himself. When you all arrive at the Darrin Call's father's house, where he and a young boy he kidnapped are waiting, Aaron instructs Emily to speak with the lieutenant on scene to figure out what you're dealing with.

"The kid's in there," you hear him say, "We've got this. Tactical teams are covering the exits. Call needs a distraction. He's focused on the old man."

Emily glances back at the house as she ties her hair back. "For now. But we're gonna have to figure out the safest way to get that kid out."

"I've got a team in the back and one on the way. We're going to infiltrate."

"You do that and someone else dies."

The man just shrugs. "Either Call or a child murderer...flip a coin."

"It doesn't have to end like that." You can see how hard she's trying to make the lieutenant understand, but sometimes the locals just don't listen. "We get a confession out of Jarvis and he goes away, and Call gets his answers. No one else has to die."

There's movement behind you and you turn around at the last second as Aaron stalks past you and towards the house.

"Hotch," you call out, but he doesn't look back. "Aaron. Aaron!"

He's almost at the front door, and your feet start moving without you realizing it. You make it within a few feet of the front gate before two pairs of arms seize you from behind, halting your momentum.

"Let him go," Dave whispers as he and Derek release you. "We have to trust him."

"He's not thinking straight," you grit out, unable to tear your eyes away from the closed door as you step forward again. He wasn't wearing his vest, and you can't remember if you saw his gun in his holster. You close your eyes, wracking your brain. Think, goddamnit.

Derek grabs you again as you try to make a break for it, anticipating your movements before you even know what you're doing. "Rossi's right. We have to trust him. We can't help him if we rush inside now."

"We can't help him out here either!" Your voice sounds frenzied in your ears, but he doesn't loosen his grip, even as you try to shove him off of you.

"You know we're right." He looks at you sternly, and your resolve diminishes as reason starts to set in. "Going inside will only make it worse."

Emily comes up from behind you and takes your arm, leading you back to the street in front of the house. You back up, but you don't turn around, ready to rush in the moment anything changes.

"What's he doing?" she asks Derek, her voice quiet, like she doesn't want you to hear.

"Stalling," he says simply. "He's got nothing to lose."

Your breath catches and you lift your hand to your chest, clutching the top of your vest like it's a lifeline. You want to scream at them, scream that he has everything to lose. He has a son, and an ex-wife who loves him, and he has you.

"You got the shot?"

"Negative."

He suddenly appears in the front of the door, but you can tell he's angling his body to block the visual of the shot. What is he doing?

The door opens for a split second, and the little boy runs down the porch and into the arms of one of the SWAT members. It shuts as fast as it opened up, and you only manage to see his face for a moment before he disappears into the house again.

For a minute, there's only silence, until the air is pierced with the sound of three gunshots, one after the other. Your body visibly flinches and you throw yourself forward and over the gate, pulling out your gun at the last moment as you breach the front door.

When you storm into the living room, Aaron is putting cuffs on Darrin. The father is dead in his recliner at the center of the room.

"What happened?" Dave asks from behind you.

He purses his lips. "I couldn't stop him." It's then that he finally looks up at you, but all you can do is glare. You don't know if you've ever been angrier in your life, and definitely not at him.

His brow dips with a mix of confusion and remorse, but you just stuff your gun back in its holster, spin around, and stalk out of the house. The fresh air outside feels like a welcome respite from the emotions swirling around inside of you, and you turn your face to the sky as your brain fires off millions of questions at once.

When did he get so reckless?

Is this all because of Foyet? The need to feel like he's getting something done, with his family on lockdown?

He comes out of the house then, and you're practically shaking from the relief that he is okay, but the anger isn't fading. You can feel it flooding your veins with each breath you take.

He hands Call off and approaches you slowly, stopping in front of you with a look you don't recognize.

"This is the job," he says simply, his voice almost cold. "You know what you signed up for."

"I know what I signed up for?" Your face twists with disbelief and you look at him with contempt. "Fuck you, Hotch." His face drops slightly and it only feeds your fight. You know him better than anyone else in this world, and that also means you know exactly how far you can push him until he cracks.

"This is what we do." His voice is tight, and you see your anger reflected in his eyes. "You knew that when you joined the team."

Emily and Dave exit the house, and you can feel their eyes flickering over to you, but you can't bring yourself to care right now.

"No," you grit out, shaking your head. "You don't get to be angry with me. You don't get to say that to me."

He looks at you for a beat before his face falls and you see all the fight leave him. He sighs, his brow pinching. "You're right."

You can practically see the war going on inside his head. The battle between fear and action, where there are no winners.

You nod as you look down at the ground, and he reaches forward to take your hand. He squeezes it tightly, before lifting it to his chest. "Y/N." I love you, I'm sorry.

You nod. "I know." I'm sorry too.

***

You've been looking at the text JJ sent you for the better part of an hour. Something's going on. Strauss was in Hotch's office and it looked bad.

You're reminded of his suspension and the two long weeks you worked here without him, and you internally resolve that it won't be happening again if you have any say at all.

The next morning, you're one of the last people to arrive, and you walk into a conversation that Spencer is having with Emily at his desk.

"You're not gonna believe this," he says, turning to you and lifting his hands dramatically. "Some moron just posted a blog called 'What would Carl Sagan do?' and it's completely illogical."

"L/N, what did I miss?"

You spin around to see Derek strutting into the bullpen, his phone held up in his hand.

"What do you mean?" you ask with a frown.

He looks at you expectantly, and you start to feel like you're on the outside of something you should know. "All the emails from Hotch..."

You yank your phone from your pocket and refresh your email. "I don't have any new ones."

"Me neither," Reid chimes in from next to you.

Derek doesn't wait another moment before he's barreling past you and up the stairs to Aaron's office.

"What was that about?" Spencer asks, a confused look on his face.

"I don't know," you say honestly, "but I think we're gonna find out soon."

~

"You wanted to see me?"

He nods and you step into his office, shutting the door behind you. Ever since his private conversation with Derek this morning, you've been obnoxiously curious about what's been going on with the team, but you also know when not to overstep your boundaries.

"Take a seat." He beckons to the couch on the far wall, and he sits down across from you when you plop down. "We have to talk about something."

"If you say Strauss suspended you again-" He cuts you off with a lift of his hand. You look at him sheepishly and nod. "You were saying..."

"This is going to sound odd, but just hear me out." You're starting to get worried, but he doesn't look anxious, so that's a start. You nod, and he continues. "The bureau thinks that my ability to lead this team has been compromised. They've been questioning me since Foyet's attack, and they're not entirely wrong."

You want to refute this, but you've also been questioning some of his actions as of late. Nevertheless, that doesn't mean that you won't have his back if it comes down to it. "They can't fire you. The whole team will fight back if they even try."

He looks at you with something that resembles concern. Concern? "They won't fire me...because I'm stepping down."

"What?" you burst out, unable to help your volume. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm resigning as unit chief at the end of the week, but I'm not leaving this team."

You think you have an idea of where this is going, but his eyes are still tracking your movements, like they do when he's worried about how you'll react. You don't know how it could get much worse than this, but then you realize he hasn't told you who will be replacing him.

"I told Morgan to take my place until we catch Foyet."

There it is. You don't expect it to sting as much as it does. "Oh."

Your voice sounds small to your own ears, and you clear your throat to keep the emotion out. This isn't a personal decision, it's professional. If Strauss was telling you this now, it probably wouldn't faze you. So why does it hurt coming from him?

"Strauss wasn't happy with your decision to not take the New York position," he explains, his eyes finding yours. "You know I think you deserve more leadership roles. It was her that suggested Morgan for it, and I couldn't argue when she was already so unsure about letting me promote internally."

"I get it," you nod. Your tone a bit sharper than expected, even though you understand where the decision came from. Derek deserves this position too. "I do, I promise."

He raises his eyebrows with a check in, and after a moment, you finally nod. It's okay. We're good.

"I'll see you in the morning?"

You dip your chin. "Good night."

***

"I can't believe Hotch is stepping down."

Penelope, Emily, Spencer, and JJ are all unabashedly watching Derek as he briefs Strauss on the case he chose for today. You've been trying not to look, but every few minutes, something snags your attention.

"Morgan said it's business as usual," Emily adds, her brow furrowed as she watches them converse.

Penelope doesn't seem eased. "So we're just supposed to move forward without any discussion?"

Spencer shrugs. "After Foyet, I think we'd have to be ready for anything."

Derek finishes speaking with Strauss then, and you stand up as he asks Emily to call Rossi for the briefing. He looks official with his ironed button-down, and you can't help but wonder if he's trying to emulate Aaron.

You flash him a cheeky smile as he walks towards the conference room, but he just brushes past you. 

~

Derek steps into his new role effectively, and you even notice him provide extra feedback to everyone throughout the case. Hotch has a bit of a difficult time stepping down at first, but you know it comes from habit, not distrust.

When you're back at the office later that night, you look up to see that he is still in his office, furiously jotting something down, even though his responsibilities have been greatly diminished. You don't know why you expected the demotion to make him want to cut back a bit.

Derek is the only person still in the bullpen when you take a seat again. You finished up the last of your paperwork, so you start to pack up your stuff, but then your interaction from earlier crosses your mind again.

Latching your bag closed, you stand up and perch on the edge of Derek's desk. "Hey, boss, how's the responsibility feel?"

"Fine," he mutters, his tone snippier than you've ever heard it.

"A lot more paperwork than you were expecting, huh?"

He doesn't look at you, so you reach forward to tap the back of his hand. "Derek, come on, what's going on with you?"

You brace for him to snap at you again, but then he just sighs, setting his pen down. "You're not angry with me, right?"

"What?" You don't know where this is coming from, seeing as how he's been the one who's been avoiding you all day. "Why would I be mad at you?"

"Why?" he repeats, his face twisted with disbelief. "I basically stole this position out from under you."

You shake your head forcefully, putting your hand over his on the desk. "Not even close, hon. Anything on my end was bureau politics, but that's just one side of it. You deserve this just as much as I would have. You've even been at the BAU longer than I have."

He's silent for a moment, before he turns his hand under yours and clasps it gently. You give his hand a squeeze before bringing your other one up to his cheek. "You're doing a great job. You were an amazing leader out there today. Hotch picked you well."

Derek leans into your hand for a beat, before letting out another sigh. "Thanks."

"Seriously, Derek," you say with a smile. "This might have been one of his best professional decisions yet."

That makes him laugh, before shaking his head. "Nah, his best decision was bringing you to this team."

Your chest fills with warmth and you lean forward to pull him into a hug. His arms are strong as they wrap around you, and you settle into the hug, turning away from the office light upstairs and trying to ignore the fact that Aaron hasn't looked up from his desk since you started talking.

***

"Agent Hotchner, before you go, there's one final thing I'd like to share with you."

Karl Arnold, the Fox, has been taunting each of you throughout the whole day, and right when you finally thought you were done, he drew you right back in. You follow Hotch and Prentiss back into the interrogation room.

"So you think you found my admirer."

"No," Aaron says simply. "We found the killer."

Arnold grins. "With my help, of course."

"Your admirer is exactly like everyone who contacts you..." Emily sneers, "lost."

Arnold turns to her, and the look in his eyes makes your skin crawl. "My love, your guy is far from lost."

Hotch shakes his head, turning to the door. "We're done."

"So is he." All three of you spin back around, much to his amusement. "'Look at what I have done.' It's quite brilliant, you know?"

"We will find whoever sent you that."

"No, Agent Hotchner, I rather think he's already found you."

Aaron immediately starts flipping through the file on the table, shoving pictures and papers aside as he searches for something. Something about Arnold's tone sends your mind reeling and you grab the journal in front of you and start flipping through it as well.

"What's going on?" Emily asks, coming up behind you.

Arnold just laughs. "He's torturing him."

"Who?"

He ignores her. "It's great to see you squirm, Agent Hotchner."

You reach one of the bookmarked pages, and the symbol that greets you almost makes you drop the journal. "Aaron..."

His eyes snap to your hands as his skin turns white. "Foyet."

The three of you rush out of the interrogation room, accompanied by the disturbing sound of Arnold's laughter echoing behind you.

Just before the door shuts behind you, you hear his final words. "He knew you'd come."

***

The whole team spends days with only one goal in mind: find and capture Foyet. JJ works with you and Garcia to track prescription medications that he would be on given his self-inflicted injuries, and Spencer, Emily, and Aaron put together a geographic profile using the letters from the Fox and the proximity of nearby pharmacies. Derek's role as acting unit chief keeps him busy all on its own, but he manages to keep the team on track as he turns any new cases that come in to other teams.

When JJ returns from a local pharmacy with the discovery that many prescription meds have over-the-counter alternatives, the focus shifts. Garcia narrows down the list, and brings back a list of names that is way too long to feasibly question.

"153 names," you huff, leaning over her shoulder as she scrolls down the list.

Emily frowns. "Well, he's not gonna use his own name."

"What kind of aliases should we be looking for?"

You all consider this, before Derek chimes in. "He could have easily stolen someone's identity."

Hotch shuts that idea down immediately. "No, he's a narcissist in love with his own mythology. He'd use a name connected with the case."

"A victim, maybe," you guess, "or a cop?"

Garcia doesn't find anything on the initial search, but thankfully Spencer suggests another approach. "Guys, Foyet likes things to have meaning to him. The eye of providence, the addresses in blood he wrote on the bus that led us back to him. Maybe he's doing the same thing with the alias."

Emily frowns. "Like an anagram or something?"

Spencer walks over to the white board and writes out George Foyet, before fiddling around with the spellings of possible anagrams. You walk up behind him and follow his movements along the board. "You see something, Spence?"

He shakes his head. "Not yet."

"Spencer," you interrupt as the realization comes to you, "he named himself The Reaper."

He pauses for a beat, before switching over to scrawling out possible anagrams for The Reaper instead. After a moment, he's done. "Peter Rhea."

Penelope is already searching. "There's a Peter Rhea in Arlington."

Rossi nods, a satisfied look on his face. "We found him."

***

Garcia sends out the address of an apartment in his name, and you drive over with Hotch, who doesn't say a word the whole way over. You keep glancing at him, trying to be discreet, but the tension in his posture doesn't fade, even after the breakthrough.

The apartment ends up being empty, but when you all go inside, there's a laptop sitting on the center table. Emily dials Garcia the moment you realize that the files on it are being remotely deleted, and when she hacks in, she comes across a series of surveillance photos that make you gasp out loud. "Oh my god, isn't that-"

"That's the US Marshall protecting my family." His face looks frozen with stress as he dials Marshall Kassmeyer's number. When the call goes to voicemail, Aaron stalks out of the apartment and to the SUVs parked out front. He doesn't wait for you to get in, before he's already driving off.

"Where is he going?" Emily calls out as she exits the building behind you.

"Kassmeyer's house," you say, almost certain that you're correct. With the knowledge that his family is most likely in immediate danger, there is nothing anyone could do to stop him from trying to save them. "I'm gonna follow him."

"Here," Rossi says, tossing his car keys to you. You accept them gratefully and speed off down the road.

~

Kassmeyer is bleeding out when you get to his house. Aaron is already inside, trying to get him to explain what happened, and when he describes how Foyet taunted him and stabbed him, you resist the urge to take Aaron's hand.

"Sam," he says suddenly, leaning over him. "I need to understand. Does he know where Jack and Haley are?"

Your heart rate skyrockets as Kassmeyer mumbles another apology. If Foyet knows where they are, you don't know if any of you will be able to get there in time.

The paramedics rush in then, and they carry Sam out to the awaiting ambulance as he refuses sedation. Aaron runs out after them and throws himself into the back of the ambulance before you can catch up.

~

Without any new leads, there's nowhere for you to go, so you wait out front in your SUV as you wrack your brain for where Foyet would have told Haley and Jack to go. You don't know how long it takes until another agent calls you from the hospital with the news that Marshall Kassmeyer died in surgery.

The news hits you like a ton of bricks. One more body you can attribute to The Reaper. "Is Agent Hotchner there?"

The voice is tinny over the line. "He took one of the SUVs and left a few minutes ago."

"Where?" You can hear how frantic your voice sounds, but you don't care. "Where did he go?"

"I'm not sure," the agent says. "He sped away before anyone could ask."

You hang up the phone and turn the car on, before pulling onto the street and calling the team line. Garcia picks up on the first ring.

"Sam died in surgery," you explain as you turn at the end of the street. "Hotch is already gone, but I'm gonna go to the hospital now in case someone has more info."

"Okay, honey," she says, patching in the rest of the team. When they answer, she repeats your statement, before she gets cut off. "Guys, Hotch is calling Foyet."

"Patch us in," Derek instructs over the line, before going silent. You mute yourself as well, before turning back to the road.

"Agent Hotchner."

Foyet's voice makes you nauseous, and you can practically hear the grin behind his words.

"If you touch her..." Aaron doesn't even finish the threat, but you can feel the rage within it.

"Be gentle, like I was with you?"

Your eyes prick with tears as you remember the scars that are now a permanent fixture on his body. The matching scars. The idea of Haley ending up the same way, or Jack-

"What the hell took you so long?" Foyet complains, his tone playful. "I was beginning to think this phone was dead or something."

Aaron doesn't answer him, and the anger is almost palpable over the line.

"Why so quiet? You usually lash out when you're frustrated."

"I'm not frustrated," he finally responds. "You're more predictable than you think."

"Am I?"

He starts to recount the tale of Foyet's life, weaving in details that you didn't know from his childhood and the pain he was causing before he was even old enough to drive. You suppose this was what all of those late nights at the office were for. You hope they were worth it.

"That's the thing, George," he continues, his voice suddenly softer. It's like he's pleading with him. "This isn't a fairy tale. You don't have to write this story. Haven't you gotten what you wanted?"

There's silence for a few moments, and you can hear your heartbeat in your skull. Eventually Foyet comes back. "You know what I've been thinking? Haley looks pretty good with dark hair."

Your heart falls into your stomach. He has her. He already has her.

"She's lost some weight. Must be all the stress you caused her."

Just when you think that might be the worst of it, he continues. "Where's the little man? Oh. There he is. Does he like Captain America because of you?"

He has them both. You can barely see the road through the anger and fear that is coursing through your veins. Another phone rings and Foyet answers it, leaving his line with Hotch on as well. "Mrs. Hotchner. I'm here. Open the gate and I'll drive in."

You can't hear her reply, before Foyet returns to the call you're listening to. "Aaron? I really gotta go."

The call disconnects, and you can't breathe. Open the gate. The gate. What gate?

Think, think, goddamnit think.

The answer hits you like a truck. "His house. They're at his old house."

Emily whispers something that sounds like "shit" and you swerve across the lanes to make a u-turn. "I'm heading there now."

Assuming Aaron was already heading back after leaving the hospital, he would reach the house before any of you. You can only hope he'll be there in time.

Your knuckles have turned white from how hard you're gripping the steering wheel, and when Garcia patches you all in for another call from Foyet, the tears are already flowing down your cheeks.

"Aaron?"

It's Haley's voice. You gasp out loud from the relief that she's still alive.

"You're okay?" She sounds so scared, but at least she's alive. That's all you can focus on right now.

Aaron answers with a defeated sigh. "I'm fine."

"But...he said that..." The realization hits her, and she lets out a small sob. "Oh, Aaron."

"He can hear us, right?"

"Yes."

His voice is softer then, wet with tears. "I am so sorry. Haley, show him no weakness, no fear."

"I know." Of course she does. She was married to a profiler for years. She knows what all of this means, but she doesn't deserve any of it. "Sam told me all about him. Is he, uh..."

"No," he says gently. "Sam is fine."

Foyet's voice is like the hiss of a snake as it joins the call. "Aaron, Aaron, Aaron. Is that why your marriage broke up, because you're a liar?" His voice is too close to the phone. You want to scream for him to get away from her, but you're not supposed to be listening, and your car isn't moving fast enough.

"He's trying to scare you, Haley." His voice is trembling, and you can hear the tightness behind each of his words.

When Foyet mentions the deal, your stomach roils with nausea. You can picture the exact look on Aaron's face as he blames himself for this entire situation, even though it's happening to him, not because of him.

"Don't react."

Haley's voice is shaking too as she whispers, "What is he talking about?"

"Tell Jack I need him working the case."

"What?" She sounds confused, and that's when you remember the signal he told you about. The words that only Jack knows that are meant to keep him safe from situations exactly like this.

"Tell Jack I need him working the case," he repeats, his voice steadier. But all of it goes away the moment Haley hands her son the phone.

"Hi, Daddy."

"Hi, buddy." His voice cracks and you feel your heart crack with it. The tears are rushing down your cheeks now, and you wipe them out of your eyes with the back of your hand as you get closer to the house. But not close enough.

Aaron tells him to work the case again, and he gives Haley a hug before rushing out of the room.

"He's so cute. He's like a little junior G-Man." Foyet chuckles, before yelling out. "I'll be right up, Jackie boy!"

Aaron ignores him, and you feel his focus return. "Is he gone?"

"Yes." Haley's voice is strong, and you release a single sigh of relief as you press the gas pedal down as hard as you can.

Aaron's voice returns and you can hear the anguish as he speaks. "You're so strong, Haley. You're stronger than I ever was."

"You'll hurry, right?" The fear in her voice breaks your heart, and you want to assure her that you're all doing everything you can, but you're still a few streets away.

"I know you didn't sign on for this."

Neither did you.

She echoes your thoughts. "Neither did you."

His voice breaks into a sob. "I'm sorry for everything."

"Promise me that you will tell him how we met and how you used to make me laugh."

"Haley..."

"He needs to know that you weren't always so serious, Aaron." Her words sound so final, and you can't imagine what Foyet is pointing at her right now, but you can only hope that Aaron gets there before it's too late. "I want him to believe in love, because it is the most important thing. But you need to show him." She sounds almost resolute, and your body floods with hope for a split second. "Promise me."

His breathing is ragged as he whispers, "I promise."

Three gunshots ring out and the wheel jerks in your hand as a painful sob wrenches from your throat. No, no, no.

~

You race out of your car the moment you pull to a stop in front of the house. There's only one other SUV outside, and you don't give yourself a moment to think as you rush inside, lifting your gun at the last second.

The front foyer is empty, but then a jagged thumping fills the air and you dart around the corner to find Aaron beating Foyet to a pulp. You can tell from where you're standing that he's already dead, but that doesn't seem to matter to him.

"Aaron!" you yell, hoping to break his reverie. His hands are covered in blood as he pounds the man's face in, and he doesn't look up until you grab him from behind and yank his arms back. "Aaron, he's dead. He's dead."

He stops moving, and for one single second, everything is still. Then his body pitches forward and he breaks down as he sobs, his hands coming up like he's begging for the pain to go away.

You clutch him as tightly as you can, like if you hold him close enough, he won't fall apart. You can hear the voices of your teammates as they enter the house, but then his head lifts and he pulls himself up, dashing down the hall. You follow after him, rushing past Morgan and Rossi, and you realize where he's going in real time as he runs into his office and kneels down beside his desk.

Please, please, not him. Just not him. He opens the cabinet and you all share a gasp of relief as Jack's little face peeks out, his skin unmarred.

"I worked the case, Daddy. Just like you said."

Aaron reaches in and picks him up, before squeezing him tightly, his little face glancing around the room in confusion.

"You did a great job, buddy." He releases him after a few moments, before handing him off to JJ to go outside and away from the carnage littering the house. You press a kiss to his forehead before she lifts him up and walks out of the room.

Emily looks at you then, concern flashing in her eyes, but you just nod, and she follows JJ, pulling the door closed behind her.

You turn back around just in time to catch Aaron as he collapses to the floor. The weight sends you both to your knees, and he crushes you to him as you hold him as tightly as you can. His sobs mix in with your own, and you try not to let your body shake from the force of your crying, because you need to be strong for him.

He buries his face into your neck, his tears mixing with the blood on his face as it soaks your shirt and vest.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper into his hair. It doesn't feel like enough, but there's nothing else to say. "I'm so sorry."

~

Derek and Emily come back with the paramedics eventually to take him outside to check for injuries, and you're about to follow after them when something catches your eye. A pair of feet invade your periphery as you glance through a doorway down the hall. Oh god.

Your knees buckle and Derek catches you before you stumble forward into her room. You fall to your knees beside her, and you vaguely hear Emily whisper something behind you before there's just silence.

Her eyes are already closed, and if you really wanted to, you could try to pretend that she was just sleeping, but there's too much blood. You reach out to push her short hair back from her forehead, so that you can see her face one last time. One last time.

A sob rips out of you and you take her hand, pressing it to your lips. The scene is suddenly too much, and you close your eyes before letting out a shaky breath. You don't know what your life is going to look like without her presence. What Aaron's life with look like, or Jack's.

You squeeze her hand again before laying it on her stomach, and Emily comes forward then to help you up. Derek holds the door open as she leads you outside, and helps you tear your vest off the moment you hit the fresh afternoon air.

You bend over, hands on your knees, gulping back fresh air and trying not to throw up. Emily pats your back as you take in deep breaths, rubbing comforting circles that help to calm down your heart rate.

When you look up, you spot Aaron sitting on the edge of an ambulance. The medics are cleaning his cuts, and one of them is holding an ice pack to his head, when you walk over to survey the damage.

He doesn't look up when you approach, instead staring at his bloody hands with a look you can't discern. You can't imagine what he must be thinking right now, but if you know him at all, you know that sometimes you don't need to talk.

You reach down and take his hands, holding them in yours with a tight grip that forces him to look at you. Neither of you says anything, but it's okay, because there is nothing left to say. There will be soon, but not right now.

***

"We'll be back in a couple of hours," Jess tells you as she slings her purse over her shoulder.

You nod at her as you pick Jack off the ground and swing him up into your arms. "Take your time. We'll be hanging out here."

Aaron beckons for Jess to walk out in front of him before he dips his chin at you. "Thank you again."

"Of course," you smile, shaking your head. They're going to make the last arrangements for the funeral, and the absolute least you can do is watch Jack while they're away.

"Can we watch cartoons?" Jack asks the moment the front door shuts behind them.

"Soon, baby," you laugh lightly, before placing him on the ground and leading him to the kitchen. "We gotta make lunch first."

You throw together two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and bring them to the breakfast table, where Jack is obediently scribbling away at his coloring book. "Here you go, Jack-o-lantern."

He takes a massive bite before you can sit down, but over the next ten minutes, he only manages to finish about half of the sandwich. "I'm done."

"You sure?" you ask, scrunching your face into a playful frown. "I think you got at least a couple more bites in you."

He shakes his head forcefully, before dropping the sandwich onto his plate. You know he doesn't usually eat much, but he hasn't eaten since breakfast hours ago. "Come on, hon, at least another big bite."

"No!" he yells, pushing the plate away from him. Before you can stop him, he jumps off of his chair and races out of the kitchen, towards his bedroom.

You hear the door slam shut behind him, and you heave out a sigh before clearing away both of your plates and wiping down the counter. You don't fault him for anything, you just can't believe he has to go through something like this.

He's so young. Younger than you were when you lost your mom. There's some comfort in the fact that he likely won't remember this pain when he's older, but then comes the nausea. The sickening reminder that one day he'll forget about her. Haley, his mother, your best friend's wife, your friend.

You slowly make your way to his room, knocking on the door twice before calling out his name. When he doesn't answer, you twist the knob and gently open the door. "Jack?"

He doesn't say anything as you cross the room and sit on the floor in front of him. He's fiddling around with a set of colorful wooden blocks, and he only looks at you once you pick one up yourself. The edges have been worn smooth from being tossed around, and you run your fingers against them as you wait for him to speak.

"Did Mommy want to leave?"

You can practically hear your heart crack in two as the block falls from your hand. Tears spring to your eyes, but you blink them back, not wanting to scare him.

"No, baby, no," you say quickly, reaching forward to rub your thumb over his cheek. "She loved you more than anything in this world."

He still doesn't look convinced, so you rest your palms on his cheeks, trying to get him to look at you. "If it was her choice, she would have never left you."

After a moment, his lips jut out into a pout, but he nods once. "Is Daddy gonna leave too?"

The tears rush forward again. You want to tell him that Aaron would never leave him, that he may be gone most nights until after Jack is asleep, and sometimes even before he's up for breakfast, but he would never leave. But you also know that Haley didn't want to either, but sometimes the job takes more than you're willing to give. "He's not going to leave you. Not if he can help it."

That seems to calm him down for the time being, so you take his hand and lead him back to the living room. Once he's situated on the couch, you switch on his cartoons for him, turning the volume down low.

He settles into the cushion next to you, his arm resting on your thigh as he focuses on the screen in front of him, while your eyes wander down to the small tv stand. They land on a framed photo of Haley and Jess together, smiling at the camera as the sun shines down on their faces, and you lift your hand to your mouth to stifle the tears that rush forward.

When your eyes pan over to the photo of you and her, with Aaron and Jess right behind you, the tears stream down your cheeks, and you wipe them away quickly, trying to be quiet so as not to call away Jack's attention. But the cartoons are too quiet, and when a small sob escapes, Jack looks up, his brow furrowing with a look reminiscent of his father. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, baby," you nod, forcing a smile onto your face as you look down at him and press a kiss to his temple. "I just loved your mom very much."

***

The ground is still wet from the rain. It squelches beneath your feet as Jess clutches onto your arm, letting you lead her across the cemetery for the service.

You walk behind the pallbearers as they bring Haley to the top of the open grass and set her down carefully with a reverence that brings tears to your eyes again. You don't know if your eyes have been dry at any moment today, but the tears haven't spilled over yet. It's only a matter of time.

Aaron is ahead of everyone, looking down at the small sheet of paper in his hands, with Jack by his side. The young boy looks so small in his suit, and his eyes dart around the procession with a mix of confusion and sadness that pierces your chest.

When Aaron is ready to begin, Jessica lets go and walks up to stand on his other side, tears streaming silently down her cheeks. Your arm feels cold where she used to be, but it doesn't last long as another hand takes its place. You turn your head to see Spencer, one hand on his cane, and the other on your arm, as he holds you tightly to his side, his eyes brimming with tears as well. You don't expect that there's a dry eye in the crowd.

Aaron starts his speech with a quote, but the steadiness in his voice starts to waver the moment he says her name. "Haley was my best friend since we were in high school."

You remember how fiercely he loved her, even back then. The tenacity with which he pursued her when he realized that she was someone he wanted to spend his life with.

His voice continues as his eyes dip down. "We certainly had our struggles, but if there's one thing we agreed on unconditionally, it was our love and commitment to our son Jack." Your tears surface again, but you suck them back with a deep breath. "Haley's love for Jack was joyous and fierce. That fierceness is why she isn't here today."

Aaron looks up then, and his eyes land on the casket in front of him. "A mother's love is an unrivaled force of nature. And we can all learn much from the way Haley lived her life."

His hand flexes at his side, and you wish desperately that you were up there with him, holding his hand like he held yours when your mother died.

"I will make sure that Jack grows up knowing who his mother was and how she loved and protected him and how much I loved her."

His voice breaks and he reaches into his pocket for the scrap of paper he was looking at earlier. "I met Haley at the tryouts of our high school's production of 'The Pirates of Penzance'. I found our copy of the play and was looking through it the other night, and I came upon a passage that seemed appropriate for this moment."

The quote comes back to you as he recites it, and your mind flashes back to those adolescent afternoons when you would watch him make a fool of himself trying to impress Haley at play practice. You can't help yourself as the tears finally fall, and you feel Spencer squeeze your hand tightly, acting as the lifeline you so earnestly need.

When he finishes his speech, everyone comes forward to place white roses on her casket before it is lowered into the ground. You wait as the crowd slowly dissipates, as everyone heads to the repast, and you hold Jess's hand while Aaron picks Jack up, holding him tightly.

"Blow Mommy a kiss," he whispers, before leaning over to let Jack place a rose on the casket.

His brow furrows as he straightens again, and you watch as the familiar stoicism returns to his posture. He isn't pushing all of his emotions down, exactly. He's just tucking them away, so as to be there for his son, who needs a solid figure in his life, now more than ever.

And that's what he'll be.

***

The repast is bustling with people from all eras of Haley's life, and you sit with the team at a large table, staring at your plate of food. When Dave pulls Aaron outside to talk, you watch them leave, noting the stiffness in his shoulders as he's forced to leave Jack with Jess again. She has been nothing but grateful to see her nephew more often than usual, but nonetheless, he wears his guilt like a jagged scar across his face.

Penelope clutches your hand under the table and you give her a weak nod, unable to do more with all of the energy drained from you.

"It was a beautiful service," Emily says, her eyes big and soft as they look at you.

You nod again, before turning back to your full plate. You can't bear the thought of stomaching any food right now.

Then just when you think the day can't get any worse, Derek and JJ's phones chirp with a message at the same time. No. No.

"They can't be calling us in," Emily sighs, her lips thinning, "not tonight."

JJ shakes her head. "I'm on it." She returns from her phone call a minute later with a forlorn look. "There's no other team available."

Derek gets up with a sigh. "I'll get Rossi."

When he returns with Dave, leaving Aaron alone on the deck, you squeeze Penelope's hand before walking outside. The air is cold, and you wrap your shawl tighter around your shoulders as you approach him.

"It's okay," he says before you can open your mouth. "I'll see you when you get back."

Mind reader, you think for a split second.

He has already given you the blessing you assumed you needed when you came out here, but it still doesn't feel right. "I don't want to go."

"It's your job," he shrugs. Like it's that simple. "It's okay."

"Are you sure?" You won't be able to do your job with him here, but even less so if you're feeling guilty the whole time. "I can take time off."

"No," he says quietly, shaking his head. He looks out into the night air, and you take his hand, squeezing it between both of yours. "It'll be good for me to have some time with Jack."

You can understand that. You pull him into a hug, before dipping your chin into a nod and leaving him out there again.

***

His return to work hasn't been easy. When Strauss gave him the option to retire with full pension and benefits, it should have been an easy decision, but something was tugging at his gut, telling him that would be the wrong choice.

Now he's sitting in his office, and all of his recent life choices are swirling around him like a hurricane ready to close in. He misses Jack like he's missing a limb, and he feels terrible for how often he's been relying on Jess to take care of him, even though she readily offered her help.

His emotions are a tumbling mess, and he doesn't notice that his fingers have been tapping the edge of his desk until you enter his office.

"Coffee?" He looks up with a nod, accepting the steaming cup you hand him, before you flop down on the couch across from him. "What are you thinking about?"

He swallows back a scalding gulp that likely scorched his throat on the way down. He wants to push his emotions down and say something quippy that won't distract you for more than a few moments, but tonight he needs reassurance more than he's willing to admit. "Did I come back too early?"

He expects an immediate and bombastic denial, but you just sit there, stirring your black coffee as you tuck your legs under you. "I can't decide that for you."

It's a diplomatic answer, but he needs guidance, and he doesn't have anyone else to go to. Not that he would go to anyone else even if he did. "Do you think I'm jeopardizing the team by being here?"

This time, the answer is immediate. "Of course not. You've been doing your job effectively, and no one can say otherwise."

He pauses for a moment, ruminating over your words. He knows he's not asking the right questions. He's just delaying until he has to accept what he's feeling.

With a shaky breath, he sets his coffee down and looks at you. "Am I jeopardizing my family by being here?"

Your brows pinch. "Jack will be okay. He's young, and he'll miss you, but you're his hero, Aaron. He loves you because you keep him safe."

"But I'm never home." His voice sounds ragged to his own ears, and he's certain you can hear the pain clawing out of his throat. "How am I doing my job as a father if I'm never there?"

"Aaron," you whisper, drawing his eyes back to yours. "You're keeping him safe by catching the bad guys. He knows that. And that's what he needs." You fix him with a look that makes his back straighten. "Okay?"

After a moment, he nods. "Okay."

***

"Hi, Hales."

You sink down onto the bench in front of her headstone, before pulling the baggie of peach rings you brought from your pocket. They were the only candy you liked from your high school's vending machine, and the two of you would share them between classes during your senior year.

"I should've come sooner, but work's been really busy."

You've only visited her once since the funeral six months ago, and you wish you could've come by more, but sometimes being here is just too much. It's too stark of a reminder that she's never coming back.

You pop another peach ring in your mouth, before breaking into a grin. "Jack's growing up so fast. He's so resilient, it's amazing." He has already adjusted to living in his father's apartment full time, and he seems to like hanging out with you or Jess whenever he's stuck at work late. "I wish you could be here to see it all."

You wish for a lot of things these days. The loss seems to keep piling up, and you don't know what to do or how to feel most of the time, but time keeps passing. And with it, so does the grief.

"Aaron's starting to get better too." You don't know what you believe, but a part of you suspects she knows all of this already. "The transition back was hard on all of us, but he doesn't look as defeated all the time anymore." Your lip twitches. "He even smiles at my jokes sometimes."

You swear you hear her laughter over the rustling of the wind, but it's probably just in your head. "Anyway, I just wanted to come see you. Let you know how much we miss you."

You stand up, grabbing the bouquet from next to you, and walk over to the headstone. Without thinking, you reach into your bag of candy and drop a peach ring into the dirt. It feels juvenile, even as you're doing it, but you can't help yourself. She would find it funny. You know she would.

You tuck the rest into your pocket and walk across the grass to another row of stones. It's not a quick stroll, but it gives you enough time to take a few deep breaths before you face him again.

Jeff Adler. The letters jump out at you like flashing lights, and you blink a few times as the magnitude of your loss washes over you. So many lives, so much love and warmth gone from your life.

Bending down, you place the bouquet of carnations in front of his headstone, before kissing your fingertips and pressing them to his name.

***

"You've got to be kidding."

He just shrugs, but there's a small smile tugging at his lips. You make sure to keep your voice down as you toss your cards into the center pile and lean back against the bottom of his couch.

After putting Jack to bed, neither of you could think of anything quiet to do until Aaron pulled out a deck of cards from below the tv stand.

"I hate that you're so good at this," you grumble, watching as he deftly splits the deck and starts shuffling again. This being Go Fish.

"You're good, too," he concedes, flashing you an amused look that you don't share.

"Yeah, but you're better."

"As with most things."

You throw a card at him, but he dodges it easily. When he's finished shuffling, he deals out a card, before pausing. "We can play something else if you don't think you can beat me."

"Just deal the cards."

He lets out a low laugh and deals out another card, just as both of your cellphones chirp at the same time. You share a look before dropping the cards on the table. He stands first and gives you a hand up, which you accept.

"I'll call Jess," you whisper as he strides over to his bedroom to get his go-bag. You dial her quickly, and get the confirmation that she's coming over, before grabbing your own bag and heading out to his car.

***

"Sorry to ruin your night."

Everyone is in casual clothing when you walk into the briefing room with Aaron on your heels. JJ shoots you an apologetic look which quickly turns to surprise when Rossi walks in wearing a full tux.

"What, are you working on, wife number 4?" Derek laughs as he sets his bag down.

Dave just grumbles. "I see you people way too much."

"I hear that," you grin before taking your usual seat between Aaron and Spencer.

"Let's get started." JJ hands out the case files and clicks the screen on. "All right. Anchorage field office is asking us to investigate a series of murders in Franklin, Alaska. There's 3 people dead in less than a week."

You scan the file as fast as you can, but Spencer beats you to it. "For a town with a population of 1,476, that's fairly significant."

JJ nods. "It's their first murder investigation on record."

"Who are the victims?" Dave asks, his eyes darting back and forth between the file and the screen.

JJ looks down at her notes. "Uh, Jon Baker, a hunter. Dedaimia Swanson, a schoolteacher. Brenda Bright, the first mate on a fishing boat. There's a new victim every 2 days."

Everyone seems to be thinking the same thing, but Emily gives it a voice. "Any connections?"

"Unfortunately, in a town this small, everyone's connected."

When JJ finishes up the briefing, Aaron stands up and grabs his bag. "We'll fly out tonight. Everybody can sleep on the plane. Garcia, I need you with us."

She shoots him a confused look. "Sir?"

"I've tasked a satellite uplink and it's your job to keep us connected."

"Yes, sir."

"This town's already on the brink," he continues with a sigh, "and if this pattern continues, we've only got another day until the next murder. Let's finish this fast."

***

After barely getting any sleep on the plane ride over, and a long day in the cold, the team holes up in the lobby of a local inn, warming up around the fire.

"I'm gonna pull an all-nighter," Garcia announces when you stifle a yawn behind your fist. "I'll finish going through the town records. Should have background checks by sunrise."

"Good," Aaron nods, sitting up on the couch. "The rest of us should get some sleep, start fresh in the morning."

At his suggestion, the innkeeper steps out from behind her desk. "I've got four of the upstairs rooms available."

"Uh, 4?" Spencer squeaks, his eyes darting around the room.

"Come on," the sheriff sighs as he stands up, "that's the best we can do. Your team is double the size of my department." He glances at Aaron and they share a nod. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night."

The sheriff walks out of the inn and you lean back on the couch, turning your head to the side to look at Aaron. The question in your eyes is implicit. What's the plan?

"It looks like we'll have to double up," Emily answers for you, her lips stretching into a grin.

Derek speaks up immediately. "I'm not sleeping with Reid."

Penelope reaches over and grabs Derek's arm. "Dibs."

Emily and JJ stand together and head upstairs, and you glance at Aaron with a nod. "Let's find one of the double rooms before Emily snags it."

"Guess it's you and me, kid," Dave says to Spencer as you grab a key from the front desk and pick up your bag. The inn is so small that all of your rooms end up being in the same hallway. You leave the door open behind you as you step inside and toss your bag onto the nearest bed.

Aaron enters after you and locks the door, before wordlessly moving your bag to the other bed, away from the door. It takes you less than a second to realize why. His protective nature was always strong, but over the past year, it has kicked into overdrive, especially around you and Jack.

"Do you want first shower?" you ask as you unzip your bag and pull out a tee shirt and some sleep shorts.

"You take it," he says, shaking his head. The chilliness of the outside air hasn't left your bones, so you don't wait for him to change his mind before grabbing your toiletries and rushing into the bathroom.

While you're in the shower, Aaron takes his time fluffing out the comforter and pillows on his bed. The room itself isn't very spacious, but he doesn't mind sharing with you. The close quarters remind him of his youth when he would sneak into your room late at night to get away from his family. Just the sight of the lights through your bedroom window used to bring him peace. When he glances over at your side of the room, a tranquility washes over him, and he realizes that the feeling hasn't really gone away.

"Your turn," you say a little later when you emerge from the bathroom. Your skin is still slightly damp, and your cheeks are pink from the heat of the shower, and he has to tear his eyes away as he nods and steps around you.

The tiny mirror in the bathroom is still steamy when he shuts the door behind him and pulls off his shirt, and he lifts his hand to wipe it off, before pausing. His scars aren't something he likes to think about often, but after saving Jack, they took on a different image in his mind. He felt less like a victim.

He rubs his hand against the mirror to wipe off some of the condensation, and his reflection looks tense as it stares back at him. Back in the room, your presence felt warm and comfortable, but in here, with the steam fogging up the glass, and the scent of your perfume lingering in the air, something else roils in his gut.

It's a not-so-unfamiliar feeling that used to be commonplace when he was younger. It hadn't reared its head in years, but lately, it's been so much harder to push it down. When he sees how much his son loves you, how much he looks forward to finding you in his apartment when he gets back from a late meeting. It's been...hard.

He turns on the shower and steps in, letting the hot water wash away the notions tickling the edge of his brain. When he walks back into the room, you are tucked into your bed, the covers up to your chin.

"You look like a burrito," he notes with a small laugh.

You shrug, though it's barely visible from under the comforter. "I find this is the best way to keep out the Arctic chill that seems to have invaded our lodgings."

"Fair enough."

He slides into his own bed and clicks the switch on the wall to turn the lights off. He tries to sleep for a few minutes, but even though he's exhausted, it won't come.

It's dark enough that he can't see his fingers in front of his face, but the uneven sounds of your breathing let him know that you're still awake.

"You should really sleep," he whispers into the darkness.

"You first," you say after a moment, before your voice lowers. "How are you doing? How are you holding up, I mean."

"How are you doing?" he asks, knowing he's being unfair.

You don't let it slide this time. "You're deflecting."

"I know."

There's a pause before he finally concedes. "I think I'm okay. The normalcy is coming back, and Jack is doing a lot better, which helps immensely."

"Me too," you say after a beat.

He wants to let the subject go and try to sleep, but the words are pulling at his throat. "I miss her all the time."

"Me too," you repeat. You huff out a husky laugh, but there's no humor behind it. "God, me too."

There's a tinge of bitterness in your voice that he recognizes in himself, but it's not something he knows if he can explain. He remembers how a small part of you blamed Jeff after his death, but that's nothing like what he's feeling. He blames himself for everything but the act itself, knowing that if he had just gotten there quicker, or taken the deal, or taken the transfer-

His breath catches and he hears you rustle under your covers. He imagines you turning to face him, and as his eyes slowly adjust he sees that he was right.

"Do you remember that time in high school," he says suddenly, not entirely sure where he's going with this, "when I got detention."

"I'm gonna need you to be more specific."

He laughs, in spite of himself, and turns over to face you as well. You're so far away, but he can just barely make out your face from across the room. "When you broke me out."

Your laughter is sudden and it echoes around the small room as the memory hits you. "I do remember that. I told them your grandfather was in the hospital so that they would let you out. God, Mrs. Parker was so upset when she went to get you."

"I think my favorite part of the story was that both of my grandfathers died before I could walk."

You chuckle, your voice softer now. "I know."

His chest warms at the memory of the two of you running out to your car and driving to get a scoop of chocolate at your favorite ice cream shop. Even afterwards, you had driven around town for hours, without a complaint, and he hadn't mentioned the time once. It was so soon after his dad's death, and he hated going home for so many reasons. Sean hated him, and his mother was sad all of the time, and it was like you just knew.

"You were good at reading me," he whispers, almost to himself.

"Were good?" you ask with mock offense.

He snorts. "Fine, are good at reading me."

"That's more like it."

***

You drop your empty glass back on the table, feeling the burn of the liquor as you swallow it down. It's your second drink of the night, and while you usually don't indulge in more than one, you welcome the chance to let loose.

Everyone else seems to be in the same mindset, because JJ, Emily, and Penelope are in various states of drunkenness around the booth, and the men are either nursing a drink or driving.

"Let's dance," JJ shrieks, lifting her head off of Will's shoulder and pushing herself up from the booth.

"Hell yeah," Emily grins, pulling you and Penelope up with her.

JJ tries to corral the guys to join, but they all stay firmly seated. Dave and Will look content as they sip their whiskey, and Spencer doesn't budge, citing his leg hurting (a lie). After a bit of targeted shoving, Derek chuckles and gets up for one dance, following Penelope and JJ onto the dance floor.

"Aaaaaron," you slur, tugging his arm. He doesn't move even an inch, but the corner of his lip twitches when you don't give up.

"You used to dance in college," you point out with a frown.

Emily hoots as she saunters over to the floor. "This I need to see."

Aaron just shakes his head with a smile, and you eventually oblige, joining the ladies (and Derek) for a few dances. The dark atmosphere of the club has you feeling looser than you have in a long time, and after the next song, you join Dave over at the bar to get another drink.

You down half of it before you leave the counter, and by this point, JJ has coaxed Will out of his seat, while Spencer rushes off to find the bathroom. The tiredness hits you as soon as you finish the drink, and when you spot Aaron by himself at the booth, you glide back to keep him company.

He doesn't notice you at first as you walk over to him, and you can't help but register that he looks good in his undone button-down. You take another step forward and a thin glint of metal around his neck becomes visible. A jolt of heat shoots down your body and you set your glass down on a nearby table without looking as you approach him.

When you reach the edge of the bench, someone walking by bumps into you and you stumble forward. Aaron grabs onto you as you fall forward, and you end up crushed in his arms, your face just inches from his. Your thoughts cut out and you don't make a sound, your breaths coming out in quick spurts.

Neither one of you moves as you look at each other, so so close, so much closer than you've ever been, than you've ever gotten to be. The faintest impression of a thought - the thought - crosses the deepest edges of your mind as you lean in infinitesimally. He doesn't notice, and you barely register it either, but you can't help but notice how easy it would be to just close the gap and kiss him.

Kiss him?

Your brain short-circuits and you just barely manage to keep your eyes from widening. You have no idea where that came from, but then again, if you are honest with yourself, it has always been there, buried deep down beneath years of friendship and history.

The question invades your brain again, and this time, you're unable to stop it. What would it be like to kiss him?

You can't keep your breath from catching, and he pulls back immediately, tugging you to the side and depositing you on the booth beside him.

Your mouth falls open as you try to meet his eye. "Aaron-"

His head turns and he stands up, his eyes dark under the soft lighting. "I'm sorry."

Before you can get another word out, he's gone.

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[6lostgirl6]

Heyo! Love your recent post on the marquis de gramont. Could you do a one shot where the reader manages to escape yandere marquis and manages to hide in another country for a few months before the marquis confronts them in a motel they were hiding in

No Escape

Pairing: Yandere!Vincent De Gramont x Fem!Reader

TW: General Yandere Behavior, Toxic Relationship, Mentions of Stockholm Syndrome, Mentions of Imprisonment, Mentions of Codependency, Controlling Vincent, Panic Attack, Cursing, Arguing, Forced Kissing (At first), Happy Ending. Reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Word Count: 1.5k

It took you months to earn his trust, which he scarcely showcased to anyone. The months you pretended you were finally falling in love with him, with lovely words and tender affections that gradually lowered his guard with each passing day.

There were privileges that came with trust, which you soaked up like a sponge. He eventually permitted you to roam around the mansion without him or a bodyguard, which led to him permitting you to spend time outside within the gates. Finally, you were allowed to sleep in your room without someone monitoring your door during the night.

However, you ultimately reached a breaking point when you recognized one day that those affectionate words and acts had transformed into something more…sincere. You'd lay awake in your room, your mind racing at the prospect of succumbing to Stockholm Syndrome.

Your altered phone, gifted by Vincent, lay in pieces on the bedroom floor when you made your escape. You crept out under the beauty of the moonlight, and your efforts during the day allowed you to memorize Vincent's men's routine patrols. You wore only the clothing on your back and a little satchel containing your monthly allowance, which Vincent would give you as a reward for your good behavior. The hardest thing was climbing over the fence, but you made it out with only minor cuts. Despite the joy of finally experiencing independence, you couldn't shake the sadness in your heart. You couldn't help but think you were doing something wrong.

'It isn't love; it isn't love.' Throughout your entire voyage to Canada, you would repeat those words in your head like a broken record. When the landlord handed you the keys to your flat, you couldn't help but feel awful. When you received your new cell phone a week later, you resisted the urge to call him.

You missed him terribly and despised yourself for it.

A month has gone by, and you weren't any better off than you were a few weeks before. You did, however, have a job interview coming up in the next month, and you were pleased that you were making progress toward regaining independence. You even purchased a new cell phone for amusement purposes.

Vincent had certain expectations for you as his lover while you were imprisoned. He wanted you to be entirely reliant on him, letting him make decisions for you and requiring his permission to do everything or walk outdoors. He promised to take care of you, to make you want for nothing, and to give you the wedding of your dreams. However, beneath the surface, you became less and less of yourself.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, you couldn't help but wonder if you would have been happier at ho-Vincent's mansion. Your eyes threatened to shed tears as you glanced at the screen of your phone.

Vincent's number was illuminated in the darkness of your room, casting a chilling glow across your face. The call button begged you to merely press it in order to make amends.

You tapped the button and placed the phone to your ear with a nervous exhale. As the phone continued to ring, your eyes were wide and stared into space. As you waited for him to pick up, your heart was racing in your chest, and you nervously chewed your nail.

'He'll be mad...'

The thought occurred to you, and you immediately regretted making the phone call. You were aware that Vincent had a temper, and while he never took it out on you, you weren't immune to his stern lectures when you got in trouble, or how he destroyed his possessions in front of you. Even his patience with you can waver, and you weren't planning on finding out.

When the person on the other end of the line picked up the phone, you hurriedly hung up, unable to handle the sound of his voice. You tried taking a few deep breaths, but your heart refused to stop pounding rapidly as you stared down at the phone.

Within the first five seconds, your phone rang, and you felt your heart was about to stop. When Vincent's number came across your screen again, you screamed and threw the cellphone against the wall. Your phone was scattered in pieces on the carpet, similar to the altered phone you left at the mansion. You prayed to whatever higher power that the call wasn't long enough for Vincent to track it down.

"Fuck!" You exclaimed, rising from your bed and walking about your room, your hands grasping the sides of your head, attempting to stabilize yourself. "Fuck, fuck!"

You couldn't sleep that night.

You were strolling to your apartment, finally entering the elevator with a spring in your step. A month had gone by with no occurrences, and your concern was fading, with your confidence progressively taking its place.

The job interview went well, and you were hired at the local supermarket in the little town where you resided. It was extremely discreet, and you preferred it that way. Anything too extravagant would have drawn Vincent's attention, which was the last thing you needed.

When the doors reopened, you proceeded to head towards your apartment door, fishing out your keys from your satchel. Sorting through your keys, you unlocked the door and walked into the dark apartment, shutting the door behind you. You walked over to the wall, flicking on the lights.

The next thing you heard caused a chill to run down your spine.

"Did you enjoy your interview, chérie?" A familiar voice spoke, prompting you to press your back against the wall in panic.

Vincent stood in front of the window, his back to you, watching the beauty beyond the glass. His hands were in his pants pockets, and his posture was rigid.

"V-Vincent I-" You stuttered but came to a pause when Vincent turned to face you.

His brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed, and his big lips formed a stiff line. He was clearly furious with you, but he tried to remain calm.

"Do you have any idea how worried I was?" He demanded, taking a few steps closer to you. His stature was imposing, towering well over six feet tall, and you hoped he'd keep his distance.

You could only stay silent; your eyes were locked on him.

"Do you?" He asked once more, his tone becoming darker.

"I-I'm sorry, Vincent, I just-" Your mind was blank, unable to generate a suitable explanation. Your heart was attempting to burst from your chest, and your breathing was growing shaky.

How can you explain your mixed feelings to your kidnapper?

Vincent's patience was clearly wearing thin as he strode towards you, seizing your upper arms and dragging you close. He disregarded your terrified yelps as you struggled to keep your distance. However, because you were close to the wall, Vincent quickly trapped you against it. Your faces were barely a few inches apart, and you struggled to keep the warmth from flowing into your cheeks.

"How could you do something like this? I thought we were happy together and that you finally accepted our love! Why would you run away and scare me to death?!" He yelled, shaking your body somewhat as he spoke. "Do you understand what you put me through?!"

Suddenly, there was a fire that was ignited in your heart that you'd never felt before. All those months poured through you and you didn't think before you opened your mouth.

"What I put you through, what about me?! You kidnapped me and kept me inside your stupid mansion like I was some doll to do your bidding! How dare you stand there and act like you didn't hurt me first!"

Before he could reply, you continued, "But, I fucking love you! Even after everything, I still fell for you, and I hate myself for it! So, I ran! I ran away from you-"

You were cut short as Vincent yanked you into a kiss, his body crushing you against the wall. As you struggled, his arm curled around your waist, and the other gripped your hair to prevent you from pulling away.

However, the longer the kiss persisted, the less you struggled and ultimately succumbed to your predicament. He's kissed you several times before in the past, but this kiss was different. It was the first kiss where you two were finally on the same page.

You returned his kiss, your arms wrapping around his waist. He growled slightly into the kiss, drawing away slightly and planting a gentle kiss on your brow. You leaned against his chest, tears welling up in your eyes as you understood what had transpired.

Vincent brought his lips to your ear, his fingers twirling in your hair as he murmured darkly, "You will never do this again, do you hear me?"

His words sent shivers down your spine, full of ownership, and you knew your independence was gone. You softly agreed, allowing him to bring you closer to him in an embrace that was everything but sweet.

"You'll never escape me; I'll always find you." He murmured again, planting a firm kiss against your temple. "Always, chérie."

Spam Liking W/O Reblogging = Blocked

Taglist: Comment to be added!!

@prettywhenibleed @britany1997 @bookworm-with-coffee @leiasolo77 @rottent33th @slaasherslut @bloodywickedvamp @daddy-issues-99 @kirishimasfiance @cynic-spirit

[ladykailitha]

Sweet Home Indiana

You guys are getting an absolute feast this week. Two chapters on regular posting days, the twenty snippets you got on WIP Wednesday, this, and of course more Across a Crowded Room tomorrow.

Enjoy!

Based off a post I saw on here (and didn't save for some reason) about the legal tangles gay people had to go through when gay marriage was federally legalized because a lot of them married different people in different states because their marriage in California wasn't legal in the other states and just never bother to get a divorce.

And my brain let's Steddify this shit Sweet Home Alabama style!

So here we go:

Eddie and Steve got married in Boston when Massachusetts made gay marriage legal. But they broke up when Eddie went to California with his band.

Cue Eddie going around and having a couple of really short marriages in different states. Tommy in New York for three months when the band was in New York recording an album. Billy in Hawaii for two weeks while Eddie was there on vacation.

Neither of them really mattered or were serious. Because they were only legal in the state they were performed in so Eddie didn't think anything about it.

Fast forward to a decade later, gay marriage is legalized across the country. Corroded Coffin has broken up and Eddie has a job as a tattoo artist.

Eddie goes to get a marriage license in Seattle where he's been living for the past five years. And is denied on the account he's a polygamist. He's still married to three different men in three different states.

Fuck.

His fiancee Chrissy is a legal assistant at a law firm so she has her bosses draw up annulments for Eddie's three marriages and has them sent out to all three of Eddie's exes.

Including Steve.

When Steve gets his papers, he's pissed. He hunts down Eddie's number and calls. Tells him that he can do the proper thing and tell him to his face he wants a divorce. None of this annulment bullshit like their relationship didn't matter. But until then he can fuck off.

Now Eddie's frantic. Because the reason why he and Chrissy were getting married in the first place is that her student visa ended in May and her work visa has been delayed three times. They have to get married otherwise she'll be deported. And no just a little across the border to Canada either, she's from Barbados.

He tells her the truth about Steve and how they were actually married for almost two years before Eddie left. They had been living in their home town of Hawkins where their marriage wasn't legal any way, but meant something to them.

Chrissy is upset he didn't tell her this sooner, because yeah, that's whole other kettle of fish. So she has her bosses draft a divorce decree and words it a whole lot nicer than the legalese of the annulment.

Eddie packs his bags heads to back to Hawkins and back to Steve. He has one week to convince Steve to sign the divorce papers.

He gets into to town and finds that Steve is the proud owner of the best bakery in town. And the best selling item is the chunky mint brownies Steve made just for Eddie when they first got together. Eddie gets a little sentimental about it, and Steve stubbornly refuses to sign the papers.

They go back and forth for a few days. They tumble into bed and Eddie wakes up, he finds Steve gone and the papers signed.

Only now that Steve has signed them, he doesn't want that anymore. So he breaks down crying and sobbing. He calls Chrissy and now Chrissy is as distraught as he is.

After they hang up Chrissy calls the bakery and Robin answers. Chrissy really needs to speak to Steve.

Robin tells her Steve can't come to the phone because he is covered in flour and can't because he'll get it messy. Chrissy asks if she calls his cell phone if Robin could hold it up to his ear, because she really needs to talk to him. But Robin refuses to budge. She banned Steve from having a cell phone around their giant stand mixer because he has lost three of them to the beast.

Robin offers to pass long the message, though. And Chrissy has to be content with that. She explains who she is and why Eddie needed the divorce. She tells Robin about Eddie's breakdown that morning and how he really didn't want to divorce Steve.

Robin and her get to talking about their best friends, missed connections and themselves.

While the girls are talking Eddie is having another freak out because he put the envelope containing the divorce papers in the mail box but realized he forgot to sign them himself. He needs to get them back so he can sign them, but he's afraid of getting arrested for tampering a federal post box trying to get the papers back.

He's near hysterics when Nancy finds him. She's in town visiting her family. And she helps him get the papers back by talking to the post office and they open the box and he gets them back.

She takes him to lunch to calm his clearly frazzled nerves. He tells her everything. And she tells him that while Eddie was in New York, Steve had gone to see him and when he saw how much bigger and better the big city was, Steve decided if he was going to win Eddie back, he had to make something of himself. And thus began the bakery. He almost had enough to fly to Seattle and woo Eddie. But then this happened.

Now Eddie is really stricken. He wants Steve so bad, but Chrissy is out of options.

Nancy gives his arm a squeeze and Eddie heads back to the hotel he'd been staying at.

He finally looks at his phone and sees a lot of messages and texts from Chrissy begging him not mail the divorce papers yet, she has a plan. Cue Eddie having a final breakdown in his hotel room, sobbing and wrung out.

There is a knock on his door and Eddie is confused the only person who knew his hotel and room number was Chrissy and she's in Seattle. But he gets up to answer and suddenly has an armful of Steve Harrington. Who is also a sobbing wreck.

After both of them calm down, Steve tells him he only signed the papers because he wanted Eddie to be happy. And if that meant being divorced from him, he'd do it.

But Eddie's isn't happy. He's sad and hurt and lonely. Steve is too.

They fall asleep in each other's arms, placing their trust in their best friends.

The next morning they are woken up by Robin and surprise surprise, Chrissy.

They explained that since gay marriage is legal everywhere now, Robin is going to marry Chrissy. And she'll swap places with Eddie. She'll go back to Seattle with Chrissy and Eddie can stay here with Steve.

It's perfect.

They get a marriage license and walked down the courthouse where Eddie and Steve are their witnesses. While the judge is talking, Steve pulls out Eddie's old ring. The one he returned to Steve when he moved out to be with his band.

He slips it back on Eddie's ring finger where it belongs. They kiss at the same time Chrissy and Robin do.

A couple years later Chrissy becomes a lawyer and her and Robin move back to Hawkins where Eddie has opened his own tattoo parlor, right next to Steve's bakery.

And they all live happily ever after.

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[unhonestlymirror]

I am horrified by how often I see people writing, "Well, we shouldn't take Holocaust into account when talking about Israel-Palestine war." Of course we SHOULD, and that's why:

"October 7 is getting rewritten and certain social media users are an active of the campaign to erase the atrocities.

I was barely awake on October 7th when news of the atrocities that were committed by Hamas began to trinkle in, horror by horror. With sleep still in my eyes, I had hoped it was a nightmare I could erase by burying my face in pillows and returning to slumber, but alas, reality was insistent. Hamas had butchered over 1,200 people, amongst them infants, pregnant women, the handicapped, and the elderly. Even dogs were not spared.

But Hamas didn’t just murder them in cold blood, they had tortured, raped, desecrated their bodies, and took hostages. Their depravity was limitless. And they were so proud of their crimes that they used GoPro cameras to record them, later releasing the sickening spectacles to the public as a form of psychological terror. Add to that the live streams, cell phone recordings, and CCTV camera footage, and you’ll probably have the most documented massacre in history—with a reported 60,000 video clips collected.

I’ve seen some of these videos, including those not circulating quite so widely in public. They will haunt me for the rest of my life—and that falls far short than the 47 minute “film” shown to select journalists and diplomats worldwide, a number of whom broke down and/or fell ill during the screening.

But as shocking as all of this deranged butchery was — which was entirely the intention — what stunned me in the aftermath is the world’s reaction.

Putting aside disputes of land and politics, it was jarring to hear such a blatant reframing of narrative. It started with calling Hamas the “resistance” and justifying the unjustifiable. A number of BLM chapters had put out “heroic” images of Hamas terrorists descending on parachutes. I half-expected them to release action figures of Hamas fighters too. Maybe they did?

And then came the "BUTs." Sure, some folks condemned Hamas, but it was always followed by a "BUT," justifying the unjustifiable. I've been asked, ad nauseam, "What would you do in their situation?" Well, my response remains steadfast: not commit random acts of murder, torture, and kidnapping. Call me old-fashioned. (For the record I’ve called many colorful words for my stance, but oddly that was never one of them).

It was a wake-up call for many, especially those of us in the global Jewish community. Overnight, the illusion of safety shattered, much like the dreams of anyone who's binge-watched a horror series alone at night. But now we were all collectively trapped in that nightmare, and couldn’t wake up no matter how hard with pitched.

The history of the Holocaust is taught in many schools around the world. “Never forget” and “never again” are sentiments that are echoed within that curriculum. Yet, while some might scoff at the persistent advocacy for Holocaust education, insisting that it’s hitting them over the head, a nationwide survey in 2020 reveals that the under-40 crowd seems to have missed the memo. Shockingly, one in ten respondents haven’t even heard of the word “Holocaust,” let alone being aware that as many as 6 million Jews perished in it.

Further, nearly a quarter of those questioned said they believed the Holocaust was a myth, had been exaggerated or that they weren’t sure. Meanwhile in Canada, one in five young people (under 34) either hasn't heard of the Holocaust or isn't sure what it is. And in Britain, one in twenty adults flat-out deny that it ever took place. Ah, the privilege of blissful ignorance.

Most who underestimate the number of Jews killed in Holocaust have neutral or warm feelings toward Jews.

But it's not just ignorance; there's an entire industry that has been propped up and dedicated to Holocaust denial, complete with books, “movies,” and groups. To make matters worse, alarmingly, fewer Holocaust survivors are around to share their firsthand accounts and counteract the flames of denialism.

Nearly half of the 1000 people surveyed had stated that they’ve seen Holocaust denial or distortion posts on social media or elsewhere online.

I’ve always thought that denials of genocide—such as the Holocaust —were something that happened over time, with history slipping away and being re-written.

However, I never expected to be observing this in real time.

While initially the so-called “resistance” was celebrated by a subset of society, this soon turned into full-fledged denials of Hamas’ actions on Oct 7. Despite overwhelming evidence in the form of videos captured and shared by Hamas themselves and shared on Telegram channels and elsewhere, I would read and hear people claiming that they had only targeted Israeli military. Absurd claims emerged using supposedly ‘leaked’ footage where an Israeli helicopter shoots at Nova music festival goers. That video was viewed over 30 million times on X alone. The video, which was actually originally shared by the IDF on Oct 9, was showing their attacks on specific Gazan targets—certainly NOT indiscriminate bombings of music festival attendees in Israel. (Here’s a great thread that details how this piece of disinformation spread and geolocation information that further confirms that the claim is fake).

I’ve heard countless denials of the rapes of women (and men), despite overwhelming evidence in the form of physical evidence, forensics, and a number of witness testimonies. Women’s rights groups, meanwhile, remained silent—thus offering a vacuum for denialists to fill. Proponents of “me too” also stayed silent. Worse, the University of Alberta Sexual Assault Centre’s director signed an open letter calling Hamas perpetrating “sexual violence” an “unverified accusation.” It took UN Women nearly two months to issue a lukewarm condemnation of the brutal attacks. “We are alarmed by the numerous accounts of gender-based atrocities and sexual violence during those attacks,” they wrote, following a letter writing campaign urging them to speak up. Better late than never though, right?

The roughly 40 dead babies claim was debunked as a lie. At least that’s what people on social media now declare as fact, citing a Haaretz investigation.

“Haaretz investigation EXPOSES all the ISRAELI LIES from October 7th just like I predicated (sic),” reads the post of one particularly large disinformation account.

These claims persisted despite Haaretz directly addressing that post and calling it “blatant lies” and insisting that it “absolutely no basis in Haaretz’s reporting.”

The denials continued regardless of the fact that a group of 200 forensic pathologists from all over the world had confirmed that babies were indeed murdered and that some babies were found decapitated, though it was unclear whether this was done before or after death. First responders also corroborated that they witnessed beheaded infants. Regardless of decapitation, these were babies, murdered.

The forensic pathologists also confirmed that humans were executed, bound and burned alive. Israeli police have over 1,000 statements related to the attack.

When some of the hostages were released, Hamas supporters claimed that the hostages enjoyed being held by them, that they hardly wanted to leave. That this was like a pleasant vacation for them, that’s all. Like sipping piña coladas by the beach. In fact, they would state that they were more concerned about their safety in Israeli hands. They even concocted stories of love affairs between a hostage who was shot in the leg and a Hamas captor. A sick and twisted take on reality where up is down, cats are dogs, and denial is truth. They dismissed the reality that many of these hostages watched their loved ones get murdered in front of them, and still had relatives being held in captivity. The hostages were also administered Clonazepam by Hamas, a mood-enhancing tranquilizing drug, before handing them over to the Red Cross, so that they would appear “happy.”

Meanwhile, the Yale Daily News published a correction of an opinion column stating that the “allegations had not been substantiated.”

The denials go on and on, and I can’t help but feel like I’m watching a version of Holocaust denial, except this time it’s happening in real time—not years after the fact. And this time, it has a Wi-Fi connection and a social media account.

The conditions for this were ripe. Moral relativism is why just several weeks ago, Gen Z embraced Bin Laden's 'Letter to America.' It has been building up for years across college campuses, a breeding ground for ideologies that support violent means to achieve political gains.

The perceived power dynamics play a role here too. In the eyes of many, the Israelis are seen as a superpower whereas the Palestinians, and by extension Hamas, are seen as underdogs. In their view, the underdog is always right because it is the victim, and the “power” is the oppressor. So how can the oppressor be a victim?

Israelis, despite the majority of the population being Mizrahi Jews, as well as 20% Arabs (who were also victims on Oct 7), have been framed as “white colonizers,” vs the Palestinians who are seen as “POC” in the context of this conflict. Never mind that Jews, including Ashkenazi Jews, can be traced back to the land through DNA, archaeological evidence, and historical documents.

An overall distrust for media is another factor, which has resulted in individuals taking the word of random influencer accounts as gospel over traditional media outlets. According to Gallup polls, Americans’ trust in media is near a record low. Only 34% of US adults have a “great deal” or “fair amount” of confidence as of 2022. This is a major hindrance to our sensemaking abilities.

And then, of course, there’s cognitive dissonance. When a group identifies so closely with the perpetrator and they commit heinous acts, confronting that fact happens to be uncomfortable. So, in an attempt to reduce that discomfort, they rationalize or deny the evidence. This means that they accept only evidence that supports their existing beliefs, while placing unreasonable demands on the other side.

But none of these factors would have gained as much traction if it weren’t for something that didn’t exist during the Holocaust: social media. This is the engine that helps drives this real-time historical revisionism and denialism. According to 2021 data from Pew Research, over 70% of Americans get their news via social platforms. A Reuters Institute report from 2023 found that 30% of respondents use social media as the main way to get their news.

We have a society that consumes sound-bites of information, both truth and lies (as well as lies based on grains of truth).

Social media algorithms—combined with human nature—tend to amplify outrageous untruths, which spread widely. Corrections, never make it as far as the original lie. They are just a faint hum.

Throughout the Israeli-Gaza war, we’ve seen AI generated images and bots used to paint a specific narrative—for evocative, emotional effect. But technologically sophisticatication isn’t a prerequisite for painting false narratives. Many “influencers” have taken to using existing images or videos and attaching misleading headlines to them—including sharing content that captures events in Syria while presenting it as taking place in Gaza. These networks of influencers have large reach, and can turn even the most blatant lie into a revisionist truth.

Researchers for Freedom House, a non-profit human right advocacy group, found that generally at least 47 governments have used commentators to manipulate online discussions in their favor, either via humans or bots. They’ve also recruited influencers to help spread false and misleading content, and have created fake websites that mimic actual media publications. Then there’s always Russia’s propaganda arm RT, and various other publications like Al Jazeera and Quds who have direct ties to Hamas and/or other Islamic regimes.

All of this has contributed to narrative confusion, and the erasure of unspeakable acts of brutality, and the denial of the facts of October 7, right before our very eyes.

If we cannot even share a common reality, how can have any hope of resolving anything?

“Never again” is happening now."

[nolanfa-fanart]

Funny batfam gen (non-romantic) recs

last rec list was not exactly happy fics, so to offset it, have funny ones:

Gen fic recs for @genuaryficrecs! Fandom: DC, batfam. Focus: Humour (most some also tear your heart out or engage in subtle character building, but you'll laugh while you cry) Humour is very widespread in fic (…in some fandoms at least), ranging from humour woven in the writing style itself, to situational absurd (crack), to making the reader laugh about absolutely horrifying shit (while still acknowledging how awful it is; which is something I feel I've only ever read in fic), to absolutely unhinged character reactions (to more I don't have in mind right now), so here, a small homage to that.

The Lone Ranger Never Had to Deal with Bruce Wayne, by @theskeptileptic (https://archiveofourown.org/works/51476074) Chapters 6/6, 25.522 words G, No Archive Warnings Apply

Main Characters: Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne

Type of gen relationship: uh. Concerned Adult to Kid? Parental-ish? Or just neighbours, depending on who you ask.

Official summary: Tim is an independent, clever, and super mature eleven-year-old. Unfortunately, his dopey neighbor, Bruce, can’t seem to understand that. When he decides to disappear on a “solo camping trip” and run away to Canada, he figures it’s the perfect plan that will make everybody happy. He didn’t expect the Waynes would tag along with him and ruin everything. A six-chaptered tale filled with identity shenanigans, s’mores, soon-to-be-brothers, and a kid who is in desperate need of a new family.

Why I love it: This is. Hilarious. The perfect mix of very competent Tim and him still very much being an 11-years-old. Himbo Bruce Wayne who just so happens to totally accidentally run into Tim several times to innocently inquire about his parents' whereabouts. The horrifying fact of what Tim is actually doing and how he thinks, in his very logical way (and the horrifying fact that his parents agree with him).

Excerpts: from: thenanny8725@aol.com to: bwayne@we.com Mr. Wayne, Timothy told me you stopped by earlier today. I am sorry I didn’t get to talk with you. My thyroid was acting up and I was sleeping. Timothy is a good kid. I can make sure he’s safe skateboarding so there is no need to worry. Have a good day! Sincerely, The Nanny

from: bwayne@we.com to: thenanny8725@aol.com The Nanny, Thank you for your email last week. Timothy is most definitely a good kid. One of the best. I saw him at the Army Supply Store this afternoon and he mentioned you would be taking him to Cheesequake State Park to meet a friend this weekend? My boys and I are heading that way, so why don’t we save you a trip. We’ll make sure Timothy is taken care of. If you need anything at all, for any reason, please call me at this number: 9088780078. This is my cell phone and I answer it at all hours, no matter what. Nothing is too small or too much of a bother to pick up for. Anything that you need, Timothy’s Nanny, please call. Sincerely, Bruce Wayne - “Anyway, I was on my way to the course, and I realized your father and I haven’t gotten a chance to really ‘hang’, as you kids say, and I had a late tee time, so I thought I’d invite him along.” Mr. Wayne’s teeth were bright and Tim wondered if he used some sort of diamond paste on them. He looked around Tim’s shoulder, as if he wanted to see inside the mansion better. Tim hadn’t turned on any of the lights on account of his shitty night, so the early fall haze that Bristol was so well known for didn’t do much for his visibility. “I’m sorry, sir, you just missed him.” A pause. “Well, that’s ok, son. Why don’t you get your mom and I’ll give her a message? I’m sure you’ve got things to do.” He looked at Tim vapidly, smile still firmly in place. “I’m afraid she’s not here right now either. Shopping.” Tim gritted his teeth and went to close the door. Mr. Wayne’s huge ham hands (why were they so large?) stopped it before it slammed. He chuckled and Tim winced. “Your nanny, then.” Tim wasn’t sure, but thought the question sounded more strained than Mr. Wayne’s usual flavor of airheadedness. “She’s sleeping.” “At eleven in the morning?” “She has a thyroid problem. I’ll let them all know you stopped by.” Tim pushed the door closed but Mr. Wayne had somehow entered his foyer while he was speaking. “I’ll write them a note. They can call me when they get back.” He inched closer towards Tim, who sidestepped him before he could ruffle his hair.

--

Ain't No Compass, Ain't No Map, by @ebjameston (https://archiveofourown.org/works/38048365) Chapters: 9/9, 51.863 words T, No Archive Warnings Apply

Main Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake

Type of gen relationship: siblings and friends

Official summary: CPS Agent, pointing at Tim Drake: We need to take him with us Red Hood: He's fine where he is CPS: He's a minor Hood: Timbo, you a minor? Tim: Can't prove it CPS: I mean, I can. There are records – Tim, who has just finishing hacking CPS to remove his own file: Oh really, tell me more about these records +++ A CPS agent gets sent to investigate a tip that Tim Drake has been abandoned by his parents and is living with the Red Hood. The CPS agent leaves with no Tim Drake, a date with Red Hood's lieutenant, and an intern who's promising to fix the IT systems at his office. It's a weird day for Theo.

Why I love it: This is probably the first (non-crossover) DC fic I read, and to date still one of my favorites. It's. Listen. It's from the point of view of a Child Protective Services agent. Who, given his whole deal is to Protect Children, has Opinions about the Robins. And interacts - unknowingly - with them when they're grown (identity porn! Banter!). And he likes them! And they like him! But they have… differing opinions. And I absolutely love it. So. Many. Feels. And humour. It's 80% jokes and 70% feels and 50% social commentary about the canon and 20% plot and 40% fluff and 30% angst and some parts are all of that at once.

Excerpt: “Nightwing, wait, serious question,” Theo says. “About when you were baby Robin.” Max’s fingers tense up a bit on Theo’s elbow, and some of the earlier tension creeps back into Nightwing’s frame. “Yes?” “Did the Batmobile have a car seat?” “Did the what have a what ,” Nightwing says. “I’ve seen your stats from when you were just getting started,” Theo says. “You weren’t anywhere close to 4-foot-9. You would’ve needed a booster seat for at least the first two years you were Robin, so.” “So, did the Batmobile have a carseat,” Nightwing repeats faintly. Theo gets out his phone to take notes. “Yes. That is what I am asking.” “Buddy,” Hood says. “Most of the Batmobiles don’t even have seatbelts.” “How would you even know that?” Bernard asks.

--

IRIS Log #1548, by @deadchannelradio (https://archiveofourown.org/works/51647209) Chapters: 1/1, 8531 Words T, No Archive Warnings Apply

Main Characters: whole batfam

Type of gen relationship: familial

Official summary: A Disclaimer From Your Friendly Neighborhood Oracle: The following is a transcript of Patrol Communications Audio written by state of the art transcription technology, IRIS (Interpretation of Recorded Intelligence Software). IRIS was created to provide easily searchable records, automatically, and eliminate the need to transcribe each patrol audio log manually. That being said, IRIS is still experimental, and may not always be entirely accurate. - (01:25) Red Hood: (Mild static) (Out of breath, slurred) You motherfuckers. Put some fuckin- (01:25) Batman: (Shaking) Red Hood- (01:25) Red Hood: Shut up. Put some fucking respect. On my name. Start fucking copying me. I just got thrown fucking. Um. 40 feet. Into a fucking uh. What's it. Ditch. I'm still fucking conscious. (01:25) Batman: Red Hood, do not move, we're en route- (01:25) Red Hood: What'll I win if I stand up. (01:25) Batman: (Loud) Do not stand up.

Why I love it: The format (transcription of comms) is fun. Also it's. Just. Really funny? The… energy of it? I mean just read the excerpts honestly.

Excerpt: (01:34) Nightwing: Don’t get mad, Red. He’s got a concussion. (01:34) Red Hood: (Agreeably) I am all bonked up. (Laughter: Nightwing) Hey. Cass. Cassie. Is my leg fucked. The right one. (01:34) Blackbat: It. (Pause, 3 seconds) (Reading) I am not your medical provider and can’t diagnose injuries or illness. Please ask your doctor when you are under their care. (01:34) Red Hood: Oh. Um, okay. Can you tell me as buddies? Not as my doctor. (Laughter: Spoiler, Red Robin) Just as buddies. (01:35) Blackbat: …Super busted. Bad. As buddies. (01:35) Batman: Blackbat. We are not medical- (01:35) Red Hood: She said as buddies. It’s fine. (01:35) Spoiler: (Laughing) The as buddies legal loophole.

--

Bang, bang, by Ididloveyou_once (@ididloveyou) (https://archiveofourown.org/works/30246978) Chapters: 1/1, 5.563 words T, Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings (an accidental gunshot wound played for laughs)

Main Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd

Type of gen relationship: very much Siblings

Official summary: ‘You shot me!’ Jason gasped, stunned, ‘Holy shit, you actually shot me.’ Tim’s eyes widened and he froze. They stared at each other for a second, dumbstruck and then- ‘Don’t tell Bruce.’Or: The family enjoy a normal movie night. Except Jason has a gunshot wound and Tim’s the only one who knows and oh- that’s because Tim’s the one who shot him and they really, really need to find a way to leave before anyone finds out.

Why I love it: Hmmm okay so maybe I really like a good Jason & Tim relationship. But objectively. This is great. Peak siblings relationships. The threat of Getting In Trouble forcing an emergency alliance between two mutually annoyed siblings who scramble to hide something? Peak comedy.

Excerpt: ‘Okay, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that either,’ he pinched the bridge of his nose, ‘I just mean. Don’t worry about me being in pain. I’m fine. And don’t worry about looking like an asshole. You shot me, you already look like an asshole. But that’s fine because now we’re even.’ Jason sighed at the kid’s sour expression. So his words of reassurance needed some work, sue him.

--

Into the Brighter Night, by @shoalsea (https://archiveofourown.org/works/20935463) Chapters: 12/12, 162,894 words G, No Archive Warnings Apply

Main Characters: Tim Drake, whole batfam, Young Justice team

Type of gen relationship: familial and friends

Official summary: When an unknown enemy threatens Robin, Gotham's vigilantes come together to keep him safe. Unfortunately, they're protecting the wrong Robin. Or: Tim Drake plans his own rescue. Things get complicated.

Why I love it: Oooooh not just batfam this time. Tim is way too competent, and the Young Justice have his back (and a lot of resentment towards the batfam). Hyperactive Young Justice energy, Very Good Characterization, miscommunication (as in Bruce -the whole batfam really- is trying but they're super bad at clearly expressing feelings). And the tone of it? The writing? Hilarious and rips your heart out. This is super interesting interconnected character dynamics (with the batfam and Tim's team that's so many more different relationships than usual) and a deep look at canon events, all of it wrapped in hilarious dialogue. One of my fave Tim-centric fics, and I've read some very good ones.

Excerpt: [Impulse on a long distance call with the batfam - minus Tim] Jay makes a disbelieving sound. “You’re telling me that Red Robin—Mr. Responsibility himself—helped you hide and maintain a secret spaceship for years? Seriously?” “Uh, yeah? Duh?” “No offense,” Duke says, “but that doesn’t really sound like the guy we know.” Bruce sighs. Stephanie huffs out a laugh. Impulse just looks unimpressed. “Are we talking about the same person? Robin numero tres, currently Red? The same guy who once hid an extra Batmobile in the batarang budget and shipped it to California in secret? The same guy who founded Young Justice, an unauthorized vigilante group of teens that started out with no adult supervision? And lied to the Justice League and the government to keep Secret safe?” “Secret?” Duke says at the same time Jay sputters out, “He stole a whole Batmobile?” “More like embezzled,” Impulse says. “But yeah, dude, it’s Rob. I know he gives off the straight-and-narrow vibe, like, 90% of the time he’s interacting with the public or authority figures, but that’s mostly because it’s way, waaaay easier to get away with stuff if you don't ‘openly project an air of defiance.’” “Oh my god,” Stephanie says. “He’s given you that speech too?” “He’s given us multiple versions of that speech,” Impulse says. Stephanie’s turned away from the screen now and is explaining to Duke, “Red Robin is kind of the definition of ‘I do what I want,’ but most of the time what he wants to do is at least nominally reasonable or responsible, so no one cares.” “And when somebody does care,” Impulse says, “you just gotta be sneaky and smart. Comply until their backs are turned, you know? I mean, even with the Titans we—what?” he pauses, spinning his chair, clearly distracted by something off-screen. “No, I’m just talking to the Bats. I think there’s a whole flock of them.” Conner Kent wanders into view, towelling off his hair and wearing what looks like some kind of maintenance jumper. “‘Sup,” he says to the camera, leaning in. “Superman’s not there, is he?” “Nope,” Impulse says. “Thank god. Where’s Rob?” “Batnap.” Conner puts his hands on his hips. “Dude. Weren’t you supposed to wake him up?” Impulse spins in his chair again. “Wonder Girl said not to.” “What, and he agreed?” “No. He might have been unconscious at the time. Which, technically, means Wonder Girl is in charge.” Conner groans. “He’s gonna kill you.” Turning to the camera, he adds, “Look, sorry about this, I’ll go get him.” “Heynowaitaminute,” Impulse says. “Listen. I’m the captain, you gotta at least hear me out!” Conner rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t move. “Everything is still going according to plan, okay? Rob did in fact say that we should one hundred percent wake him up as soon as we could get a call through. True. But Wonder Girl said to let him sleep. And he definitely needs it.” “Yeah, but, again, he’s gonna be pissed if—” “Listen. I have thought this through.” When Conner just looks skeptical, he adds, “I have! I worked it out logically. See, if we wake up Rob, Wondy’s gonna be pissed off. At us. Right now. If we don’t wake him up, he’s gonna be pissed off later and he’s gonna be mad at her, not us. Therefore, we should do what Wonder Girl says.”

--

Beef Consommé, by @vamillepudding (https://archiveofourown.org/works/42348438) Chapters: 2/2; 14.230 words T, Chose Not To Use Warnings

Main Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson

Type of gen relationship: siblings

Official summary: Parenting is Bruce's thing, and Jason isn't planning on messing with that. But when Bruce fails to spot the countless red flags about Tim's home life, it falls to Jason to step up. Of course it does. Because he's literally the only one in his family who knows how to be responsible, and if Dick disagrees, he can suck it.

Why I love it: I have a weakness for the "Dick and Jason team up and adopt Tim" trope. Also, I love Jason's voice in it. (and this fic is very funny but I feel like I'm repeating myself)

Excerpts: “Pizza?” Tim repeats, sounding hopeful. Jason is on the verge of telling him to go screw himself, but then he starts wondering how long Tim has been in his apartment and whether he ate dinner before he came here. Probably not. Did he eat lunch? Should Jason ask? What would Dick do? “Fine,” he says eventually. “But I’m picking the toppings, and you can’t have dessert.” There’s a beat. “I didn’t want dessert,” Tim says, voice taking on a bewildered edge. “What are you talking about?” - It’s Wednesday evening and Jason is getting pizza. Dick’s waiting back in Jason’s apartment, because growing up with Bruce has him used to getting waited on hand and foot, and apparently he thinks Jason is his own personal servant or something. It’s oppression, is what it is. “It’s not oppression,” Dick yells after him just before Jason closes the door, “it’s called losing a coin toss, asshole!”

--

Birds on Jaybird Street, by @cynassa (https://archiveofourown.org/works/39115587) Chapters: 4/4, 14.717 words T, No Archive Warnings Apply

Main Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake

Type of gen relationship: Siblings

Official summary: Jason is both annoyed and weirdly flattered when the replacement turns up to ask him for help. He mentally rearranges his calendar so he can be free Wednesday evening and says, “No, fuck off, I have very important business going on.” Tim eyes his 72” TV playing Japanese wrestling more judgmentally than it really deserves. “Important crime things,” Jason emphasizes. “Make Wingdick do it.” Jason doesn't think much of it when Tim needs his help, or Damian moves in, or even when Dick turns up looking beat all to hell. But at some point he realizes that he might be the best option his brothers have to recover from the cycle of violence that Batman has set up, and all he can think is that things were much easier when he was the villain.

Why I love it: In which Dick and Jason decide to adopt Tim and Damian (Jason's kind of an asshole, but a caring one). Kind of the same reason as the previous one: love that trope, love the tone, very funny.

Excerpt: Jason lies, "Sure, I'll take it up with Bruce " "Sure you will, " Tim scoffs. Jason changes his mind, and decides he will take it up with Bruce. "I don't have the time to keep being your nanny," he announces and then says, disapprovingly, "you skateboard, why don't you have knee and elbow pads?" "I'm Robin," Tim snaps, like he didn't put pants on the costume like a little wuss.

[starshine-hockey-girl]

Cold As Ice - The Interview

Here my fic for the May AU event for the HRPF fandom. As usual I am late getting it done. Apparently, I am physically incapable of writing a short blurb.

This a mafia AU. @pattiemac1 and I have created this AU together over the last two/three years. We add to it then take things away constantly. She graciously allowed me to insert my characters of Lex and Teddy (from Journey to the Emerald City) into the world.

This is a little glimpse into the world of a Sidney Crosby led mafia family and Teddy/Lex became a part of it. I don't think it needs much warning other than language and some implied violence. As usual fluff abounds between my two little cupcakes.

I will put a link at the bottom for anyone interested about Teddy/Lex in their world.

Word count - 7.1K words

@hrpffandomeventblog @cellythefloshie @fallinallincurls @penstxgal1968

SUMMER 2021 - DALLAS, TEXAS

Jamie “Lex” Oleksiak yawned as drove down the expressway toward home. It had been a rough night at the club. Three guys had called off and so he was forced to work at the front door. Between the oppressive heat and steady wave of SMU sorority girls shooting their shot with him, he was more than ready to get home. He mentally pictured the refrigerator and recalled at least two bottles of cold beer that he would be drinking soon. 

His cell phone rang and he glanced at the notification on his console screen. “Of course Seggy would call at 3 AM,” he thought to himself. He answered the call at the last moment. “Hey Seggy,” he said, “What’s up?”

Tyler Seguin held his cell phone to his ear and unbuttoned his shirt. “You are a tough guy to track down, Big Rig,” the brunette laughed, “I had to call three different guys to get your number. It’s like you dropped off the face of the planet.You still in Dallas?” 

“Yeah, still in here in Big D,” he muttered, feeling stung by the word still. It was not his plan to still be in Dallas. No, he had planned to return to Toronto with this tail tucked between his legs years ago. But life got in the way and his career began in security. He had almost saved enough to make the move back with a little dignity when he was struck by a thunderbolt. A thunderbolt named Theodora “Teddy” Baxter. 

Ironically, they met the last time that he had been forced to work the front door at the club. The moment she looked up with those bright blue eyes and megawatt smile as she handed over her ID, he was hooked. For reasons still unknown to him, she had agreed later that night to go on date with him. They had been inseparable ever since and any plans to move back to Toronto went out the window. His heart was firmly planted in Dallas. Well, anywhere she was. 

“What’s keeping you there?” Seggy questioned, “I thought you would have moved onto greener pastures by now. I know I did.” 

“It’s complicated,” Lex answered vaguely.

Seggy got quiet for  a moment and debated whether to push the issue. Big Rig was not known to be an open book and he needed him to have an open mind. “I got ya. Life’s like that sometimes,” he commented casually, “Listen, you still doing security work? That’s the word on the street.”

“Depends on who is asking,” Lex answered coolly. Other than his parents, he had not admitted to any of his Toronto friends that his professional hockey career had been a bust. 

“It’s me asking - it’s me,” Seggy answered. He had picked up on the tone in Big Rig’s voice. They shared in a desire to not let word of their career failure reach Canada. They had that much in common. 

“And why are you asking?” Lex asked warily. 

“Because I have a lead on a job and I think that you would be a good fit.” he said bluntly. Tyler tried to mask the desperation in his voice. 

The last guy that was brought into the crew turned out to be an utter disaster. Claude Giroux had been recommended to the crew by Flower and didn’t take long to discover that he wasn’t going to last long. His gruff demeanor ruffled the sensitive egos of the rag tag crew. The last straw was when he openly defied The Boss. It was so bad that HE delivered the permanent pink slip to the back of Giroux’s head himself. 

“Tell me more,” Lex asked. 

Tyler explained that the job would be head of security for the CEO for Maritime Industries. When Lex didn't respond immediately, Tyler read from his phone. “Planning and implementing comprehensive security strategies, controlling the security operations budget, monitoring expenses,” he rattled on.

“Seggy, are you reading that off your phone?” Lex interrupted.

“Ummmm, no” Seggy stammered.

“Don't bullshit me. What's the job?” Lex asked.

“It’s a crew in Pittsburgh- mainly strip clubs and a few night clubs,” Seggy sighed, “and a few extracurricular activities.” Tyler tried to downplay the extent of the organization until he got a sense of how comfortable Lex would be with the ethically gray area. 

“Seggy…..we are not 21 any more,” Lex asserted, “I’m too old to go back to that petty ass shit.” 

“Big Rig, would you believe me if I told you that Sid is planning on going legit?” Tyler pleaded, “We really need a guy like you.” 

“Sid?” Lex questioned, “Like Sid Crosby? That guy runs all of Pennsylvania and half of NYC. Holy shit - Seggy how did you end up on that crew.”

“Long story, but let’s just say that my hockey skills finally paid off,” Tyler smiled, “Seriously, he is going legit soon. The pay is good and there are bennys.” 

“How good is the pay?” Lex quizzed.

“Let’s just say that my family isn’t questioning my “hockey” career anymore,” he replied. 

“Shit - that good?” Lex muttered as he pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building. He looked up and saw the light on his living room. Teddy was waiting for him. Teddy who had never gotten so much as a parking ticket, much less arrested. “No,” he thought to himself, “I can’t bring her into that life.” He sighed, “Sorry, Seggy. I can’t.”

“Why?” Tyler whined. Sid wasn’t too happy that he was having to handle the day to day security operations and you know what they say, that shit ran down hill to Tyler. He needed to get someone to replace Giroux. He needed that someone right now. 

“Sorry, Segs - I gotta girl now. I don’t want to mess it up,” Lex said softly. 

“You’re turning down this dream job over a girl? Are you crazy?” Tyler scoffed.

“Yeah, I am crazy,” Lex sighed, “I just can’t risk losing her.” 

“I gotta meet this girl,” Tyler pushed before he decided that a softer touch was required, “I get it. Not really, but I get it. Why don’t you take a night and think about it. I can hold off Sid for that long.”

“I doubt I will change my mind, Seggy,” Lex countered, “She is the real deal.”

Lex hung up the phone and walked up to his apartment. He set his things down as he walked past the cramped kitchen. It was really just a glorified studio, but Teddy had done her best to make it homey. She had even started a new series on her YouTube channel - DIY Dollar Tree home decor. 

As if by unknown force, Teddy began to rouse when she felt Lex’s presence in the room. She had fallen asleep with her laptop open while editing videos. “Lex?” she yawned as she stirred, “Is it that time?” 

He walked over to her and moved her laptop to the table before scooping her into his lap. “Yeah,” he kissed her cheek as she curled her body into his chest. “How was work?” he questioned. 

Since the “Great Escape”, Teddy had taken two jobs to replace the income from her father’s real estate firm. Even with that, the duo struggled to make ends meet.  She had grown up with every luxury known to man and gave it all up two months ago to be with him after her father had issued the ultimatum. She had to pick between her family and her love. She made the choice in an instant and never looked back. Now she was waitressing at the best steakhouse in town at night and nannying for Stars goalie Ben Bishop during the day. She operated on fumes but never once complained. 

“Work was good. I had a private party so the tip was great, even the company was horrible,” she smiled. Lex furrowed his brow while she continued  “Paige came in and was well, you know, Paige,” she sighed, “Thank God for automatic gratuity. She might have stiffed me otherwise.” Lex studied her face and could see her desperately trying to keep the facade up but he could see the pain behind her eyes. Paige had been her childhood best friend but had turned her back on Teddy when she chose him after her family’s ultimatum. 

“Foz,” he said gently as he caressed her face. She smiled at the nickname he had given on their first date. It had started out as “Fozzy Wozzy Bear had red hair”, but had shortened over time to just Foz.

She shook her head to protest and shake the negative thoughts that were beginning to swirl in her brain. “No, Lex - it’s fine,” she lied, “She’s not important and I am glad that I could see her true colors finally.” She had seen the true colors of most of her childhood friends as one by one they dropped her. “It’s funny,” she thought to herself, “None of them had anything to say as they ignored the obvious signs that Chaz was beating me. But let me fall in love with a good, decent man who works hard and all of a sudden they are all concerned about my well-being.” The bitterness rose up inside of her. 

Her mind raced for a distraction. “I have a surprise for you!’ she jumped up and his eyes followed her. She came back with a to-go bag from the restaurant. He pulled out the box and opened it. Inside was a huge tomahawk steak with all the trimmings. He looked up to see her beaming smile, “They said it was overcooked because they wanted it super rare, but it’s cooked just like you like it, so I snagged it.” 

She moved to the side of him as he ate off of his lap. They enjoyed the moment in quiet contentment as Lex’s mind raced. “How long?” he asked himself, “How long can I ask her to make these sacrifices? How long before she runs back to the easy life. The life I can’t give her.”

His thoughts were interrupted with her voice, “Spill it, Jamieson.” She only used his full name when she was completely serious. 

“An old friend called with a job offer,” he started. Her face lit up immediately. “But it’s in Pittsburgh,” he interjected, expecting her face to drop. It did not. “And it’s not necessarily completely above board.” Again, he expected her expression to change, but it was bright and hopeful. “I told them no,” he said finally. “Why?” she questioned.

“I can’t leave you,” he answered. 

“Then take me,” she replied as if it was the obvious answer. 

“You would go? You would go to Pittsburgh? But Dallas is your home,” he said in disbelief.

“My home is with you, Love,” she kissed his cheek.

“And it doesn't bother you that there may be some shady shit?” he prodded.

“There is shady shit going on everywhere, even the corporate world. There is a reason my father has a security detail. You don’t become a billionaire without doing some shady shit and making a few enemies along the way. What's the difference? The real question is would you take the job if I weren’t a factor?”

“I would at least go have the conversation,” he answered,

“Then go have the conversation,” she kissed his cheek.

Lex picked up the phone and dialed Seguin. He only spoke three words when Tyler answered, “Set it up.” Then he hung and focused on Teddy, “Tell me about Paige. What did she do this time? Do I need to go pay her a visit”  He tickled her sides and nipped at her neck. “I can be your enforcer, Foz. Just say the word.” 

TWO DAYS LATER 

“Foz” Lex asked as she adjusted his tie on the private plane Crosby had sent for them, “Where did you find this suit? I am not buying the Goodwill story.” The odds have her randomly finding a tailored suit that fit his almost six eight frame was slim to none.

“I acquired it. That's all you need to know,” she grinned. 

Lex opened the suit jacket and saw the label with the words “Custom made for RTB”. He looked up at her in surprise. “Is this your dad's suit? Did you steal a suit from your dad?” Their height was about the only thing he had in common with the stubborn, prideful man. 

“Steal is such a harsh word,” she answered as she brushed imaginary lint off of his chest. He looked at her with one eyebrow raised,”it's an old suit. It was languishing in the back of his closet. I am pretty sure he wore it to my confirmation. We are giving it new life.”

“You stole it, Foz,” he teased.

“Well, think of me as modern day Robin Hood,” she teased as she pulled on his tie to kiss him, “And you can be me Maid Marian.”

His eyebrows furrowed in sign of disapproval. “What? You would look good as Maid Marian,” she protested before continuing, “I simply tested the supposedly top notch security system at my parent's house. I was doing them a service actually. They should be thanking me that I only took a suit as payment. It could have been worse.”

“Put it back once we get home,” he chided. 

“Fine, but Lex, I don’t think you are going to be up for the level of shady shit working for Sid Crosby is going to require if you can’t accept one re-acquisitioned suit from my father,” she playfully pouted. 

“I am the only criminal in this relationship. You are the virtuous one with the heart of gold, got it?” he said. He cracked a smile, but the message was clear - leave the shady shit to him. 

“Got it,” as she adjusted his tie, “Now let’s go knock him dead.”

Maritime Manor - Sidney Crosby Compound - Fox Chapel, Pennsylvania

Lex stood at the large picture window for a moment. He examined what he could see of the extensive  grounds. The lawn was well manicured with each of the smaller cottages on the compound sharing a large common area. Just beyond the cottages was a wooded area that extended to what looked like a river or creek bed. He mentally checked for sight lines and frowned at the results.

He turned around and examined the large office that had been created from two small guest rooms. At the far end, a large conference table sat covered with stacks of money. From what he could quickly estimate, it was easily $20K in stacks with a pile left to be sorted. He walked closer to the table. The pile was probably another 50K left to be sorted from collected protection money from the weekend. 

Outside the office, he heard the jovial sounds of the crew chirping each other. Suddenly they got quiet. He turned to face the door. The chatter had turned seriously and he heard the sound of the front door open. He then heard the sound of Sid’s distinct Nova Scotian accent, “Who is she?”

Then he heard the accented voice of Andre Burakovsky, “She’s with the big guy. He’s waiting for you in the office.” Lex’s body tensed up and he faced the door. 

Seggy piped in, “You left him in the office? Alone?”

“That’s not good?” the Swede questioned Seggy as they walked past him. Sid’s silence sent the resounding message that it was indeed, no good. Lex heard footsteps that approached the door. He resumed his position by the picture window, but turned when Sid and Seggy walked in the room. 

Sid did a quick visual assessment as he walked in. His lips pursed when he saw the stacks of money in the open. When his eyes landed on the gun left out in the open, he shook his head, “Burky, Burky, Burky.��

After a quick one shoulder hug and pat on the back, Tyler moved to make the introductions. “Sid, this is Jamie Oleksiak aka Big Rig,” he began, “We go back a long way. Big Rig, this is Sid Crosby. He runs this crew.”

“I am sure that he knows who I am, Seggy,” Sid interjected as he shook hands with Lex, “You can leave us alone now.” Tyler’s head went back and forth as the two stood in an extended handshake. 

“Sure, Sid,” Tyler said through the tension that radiated off of the two men sizing each other up. “I’m just going to go head over to the clubs and deal with that bouncer issue.” 

Lex noted the hand strength in the shorter man as Tyler left. He also noted the slight flair in his nostrils and tense jaw. On the surface, Sid appeared calm and neutral.  He crossed in front of Lex to walk to his desk. He made a quick turn while pulling out his gun. He was met by a gun pointed between his temple as Lex quickly removed his gun from his hand. Time stood still as the two men stared each other down. The beating of each other’s heart pounded in their ears. It was then that Sid noticed the gun pointed at his head was one of his own. His eyes shifted and he saw the hidden gun safe ajar. 

Sid said neutrally, “So what’s your plan of action here, Big Rig?”

“Well, I would say my plan of action is to find out if you are as big of an idiot as your crew,” Lex said equally as cool, “Also I would say that we are in the process of sizing each other up. I think I have the upper hand literally and figuratively.” 

“I think that you have proven your point,” Sid took a step back without breaking eye contact, “You have found some vulnerabilities that need to be addressed. Care to sit down and discuss the job now like professionals?”  Lex nodded and Sid carefully walked behind his desk. 

“Hands on the desk,” Lex ordered as he kept the gun pointed at Sid. 

“Come on, Big Rig,” Sid smiled, “I said like professionals. Besides, do you think I am going to kill you with your girl sitting in the next room?” 

Lex’s eyes squinted slightly but his expression did not change. He shrugged and said, “It’s a possibility, but that’s assuming that you get me before I get you, which is not going to happen.” 

“Fair enough,” Sid conceded, “You got the job by the way if you want it. Want to hear the details?” Lex nodded his head yes. Impressed with Sid’s direct approach. “Then put the damn gun down,” Sid instructed. Lex lowered his weapon, but kept the gun in his hand. “First, tell me the other vulnerabilities you saw.”

“I don’t work for free,” Lex replied, “Tell me about the job and compensation. I will discuss it with Teddy. Then I will give you a breakdown of your slip-shod security.” 

Sid sat back and smiled, “You don’t bullshit. I like that.”

“I find that it makes life simpler,” Lex responded. 

“Alright, here is a breakdown of the job. You are head of security for all business locations as well as the compound. You have complete discretion in terms of staffing and resources that you need. My only non-negotiables are Seggy and Burky. They may need some fine tuning, but I trust them,” Sid explained, “Compensation includes salary, housing and benefits.” 

“What’s the salary?” Lex quizzed.

“Name your price,” Sid answered without hesitation. Lex balked and Sid continued, “Look, I have a good gut instinct about you. You have already proven that you will stand your ground and you are not a yes man. That’s what I need.”

“I gotta talk it over with my lady,” Lex answered slowly, “Tell me about the crew.”

Outside in the great room, Teddy’s legs bounced up and down on the gray leather sofa as she  played with the bracelet on her wrist. She moved her fingers from stone to stone. Burky watched from the side of the room and ran his fingers through his hair before bringing his thumb to his mouth. He slowly chewed his fingernail while contemplating his next move. He knew had screwed up letting the Big Bird or whatever his name was into the office. He had been distracted by the red head when she entered the room wearing a navy blue sheath dress that hugged her curves. Women had always been his weakness.

Sid would come down hard on his stupidity if he didnt come with a plan to make up for it. “What were you thinking, dumbass?” he chastised himself. Suddenly he saw a glint that caught his eye. He focused on the origin of it and smiled widely. He knew what he needed to do. 

“Excuse me” he asked brightly and exaggerated his Swedish accent slightly,  “What did you say your name was?

Teddy looked over at him warily, “Teddy.” She wasn’t in the mood to make small talk. She was a bundle of nerves as the reality of the situation sank in. This could be her future - a future outside of Texas. It was a move that would hammer the final nail in the coffin of her relationship with her parents.

“Ahhh, Teddy is a man's name, correct?” he questioned “Your parents wanted a boy and not a girl?”

“Wow,” she said as her eyebrow raised slightly, “You get right to the point…..”

“Andre,” he grinned, “They call me Burky.” He studied her body language as he decided on his approach. “You look thirsty. We can go get a drink in the kitchen.” he said sweetly.

She studied his face for a moment. He seemed friendly enough, much friendlier than she thought a part of Sid Crosby’s crew should be. It couldn’t hurt to make conversation and learn a little bit more about the job from his perspective, she told herself. 

“Do you have coffee?” she smiled back, “I would love some.” She willingly followed along as he led them  into the spacious kitchen. They made small talk as they made their coffees. They reached over each other as they put their cream and sweeteners in their mugs. He spoke of his move from Sweden to the states to pursue a hockey career. Like Lex and Seggy, his professional career had been a bust. In his case, multiple injuries stymied his playing time and eventually earned him the label of “fragile”. Teddy remained tight lipped when Burky pressed her information about Lex and his history.

It was only after they returned to the living room that Teddy felt like something was off. She dismissed the feeling as she looked at the closed door. “So Sid?” Teddy asked casually, “He's a good boss?”

Burky's head popped up, “Oh, he's great. He took me in off the street.” 

Suddenly, Teddy realized what was wrong. Her right wrist was bare. The wrist that normally held  a diamond tennis bracelet. It had been a sweet sixteen gift from her dead sister, Frankie. She looked down in the chair to see if it had slipped off there. It was nowhere to be seen. She distinctly remembered touching it earlier. She retraced her steps mentally and then kicked herself figuratively.

“So Andy?” she asked pointedly.

“Andre,” he corrected.

“Andre,” she smiled, “What do you do for Sid? I assume that you have some sort of specific role.”

Burky blinked slowly, unsure where the conversation was leading. He didn't want to bring any attention to his skill set. “Oh, I do all kinds of things.” he answered casually.

“Things like stealing bracelets from house guests?” Teddy leveled her gaze at the Swede.

“Bracelet?” he smiled, “What bracelet?”

“The one you took,” she answered calmly. 

“I didn't take a bracelet,” he replied in the same manner.

“We're going this route?” Teddy got up and walked toward him with a sense of purpose, “Give me the bracelet- no harm, no foul.”

“There is no harm, no foul because I don't have the bracelet. I don’t know what you are talking about,” he stood his ground.”

“Come on Burky, this could get really ugly or you can simply hand it back to me,” Teddy attempted to speak as sweetly as possible. When he didn’t respond, she felt the anger rise up in her. “Look, you have three seconds before I scream,” her voice rose slightly, “What do you think HE is going to do when he hears it? Do you think he is going to stop to ask you questions? If you are lucky, I will be able to explain the situation before he assumes something far worse. No, when I tell him that you took the bracelet, he will just turn you upside down and shake you down. Have you ever been shaken down by a Big Rig?  I would just give it back to me and save yourself the pain, but you do you booboo”.

In the office, Sid was mid-story when Lex held up his hand. Sid stopped talking and they listened.

“Let's be reasonable,” Burky cajoled.

She stepped closer and yelled, “Give it back.”

“or you will tell your giant, badass big bird of a boyfriend,” he scoffed, “For the last time, I didn’t take your damn….”

He was interrupted as Teddy grabbed his hand and twisted his arm behind his back. Then she pushed her foot to the back of his knee, bringing him down to his knees. “Give it back to me,” she screamed as she twisted his arm tighter. 

“Foz, everything okay out there,” Lex called  as he rose to his feet. 

“Yeah sure,” Teddy answered breezily as she pressed harder.

Burky heard the movement and assessed the situation. “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” he thought to himself as the pain began to shoot up his arm. He began to realize that his initial plan of stealing the bracelet to get back in Sid’s good graces had not been thought through to completion. One, he thought she wouldn’t notice, or at least until they left. Two, he forgot about the big guy. Three, it was a stupid ass plan altogether. 

“Alright, alright, alright,” he whined, “You have to get off of me.” She stood up slowly and adjusted her dress. Burky placed his forehead on the floor and took a deep breath in an effort to compose himself. Then he jumped up and smiled brightly. “Congratulations, Teddy,” he said with false bravado. He reached into his pocket and withdrew the five carat tennis bracelet. He placed it into his palm and presented it to her with great flourish. 

It was that moment that the door opened and duo walked into the room. 

“What’s going on?” Lex asked bruskly. 

Teddy tilted her head, “What do you mean?”

“We heard a ruckus,” Sid answered. 

Teddy and Burky exchanged a look. Teddy studied his face. His eyes implored her silently. She considered his misdeed. He tried to pull a fast one on her and failed. It was unlikely he would try it again. She tried to summon anger but he bat his puppy dog eyes at her and she smiled.

“A ruckus?” Burky repeated, “I didn’t hear a ruckus. Did you hear a ruckus, Teddy?”

“No, I didn’t hear anything, Andy,” she responded. She turned to the duo. “Can you describe the ruckus?” she added. 

Sid stifled his laughter. He wasn’t sure what exactly was happening, but he knew two things - Burky had screwed up again and Teddy was covering up for him. The Swede was the equivalent of a labrador puppy on his crew. He was simultaneously entertaining and endearing with his antics. However, he frequently left messes all over that required someone to clean it up.

 Lex pressed the issue slightly, “I am pretty sure I heard your voice, Teddy.“

Teddy smiled, “Oh that! My bracelet fell off. Andy here helped me find it. Didn’t you Andy?” 

Andre bit his tongue. He wanted to correct her but she was doing him a solid so he let it slide. “Yes, that must have been what you heard. Poor Teddy was quite flummoxed. You should really get that clasp checked. It’s very weak in my opinion.

Lex looked back and forth between the two. He was sure of one thing- something happened and Teddy would not tell him in front of Sid. Since she seemed to have the “situation” under control, he let it slide. 

“Are you almost done with your chat?” Teddy asked, desperate to end the stand-off. 

Sid smiled, “We’re just about done. Burky, take Teddy down to see the River cottage.” She tilted her head in confusion and he continued, “The job does come with either a housing allowance and/or use of one of the cottages on the compound. Why don’t you go take a look at it and see it will fit your needs?”

“Oh, that sounds like a fabulous idea,” she smiled. 

She held out her arm to signal Burky to lead the way. They were about ten yards outside the house before he spoke. “Why did you cover for me?” he asked. 

“Snitches get stitches,” she answered quickly.

“Not here,” he retorted immediately. She gave him a side eye. “Sid has very few rules, but rule number one is that there is no violence towards women or children. They're off limits.”

Teddy nodded her head in understanding, “So why did you steal my bracelet then?”

“Temporary insanity?” he laughed. When she did not return the laugh, he added, “I wanted to remind Sid that he needs me around for my special set of skills.” 

“Didn’t think that one one through, huh?” Teddy paused 

“Yeah,”  he sighed, “I am not the brains of the crew obviously..”

Teddy elbowed him, “Don’t worry Big Rig is smart enough for the both of you.” They stepped inside of the cozy three bedroom cottage. Teddy walked around from room to room and tried to keep her composure. It was a far cry from their cramped studio apartment. Mentally she started decorating it with their existing furniture. When she found the back door that led to a deck overlooking the Alleghany river, she was sold. 

Outside the cottage, Sid approached Burky with Lex. “Where’s Teddy?” Lex asked. Burky nodded his head to indicate that she was inside. They walked in and found her peacefully enjoying the view. She turned as she sensed their presence even though her eyes were closed. Sid’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. 

“Are you all done?” she asked brightly. 

Sid smiled, “I think that I may have him convinced to join the crew. I think that my only obstacle is you. Will the cottage work?” He was smart enough to know who the real decision maker would be.

Teddy glanced at her boyfriend then back to the river. She folded her arms across her chest. Then she replied with a smile, “The cottage is more than adequate.” Then she turned to Lex and asked, “Can you give Mr. Crosby and me a moment? I do have some questions for him.” 

His eyebrows shot up and he tilted his head, “Teddy, are you sure you want me to leave?”

‘Yes, it won’t take long. You should check out the shower to make sure that you fit,” she suggested. When he left, Sid and Teddy stood in silence for a moment. 

“Mr. Crosby,” she began, “Are there any of the other guys on the crew that have a wife or girlfriend?”

“No, you are the first,” he answered, “Truthfully, I thought you were going to be a dealbreaker for me when I saw you in the living room. Turns out that I was wrong.”

“How so?” she inquired. 

“You are much tougher than you appear,” he answered, “How hard did you take down Burky?”

Teddy’s mouth dropped before she smiled, “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Come on, you can tell me,” he encouraged, “What did he do?”

“Promise me that he won’t be punished?” she asked point blank. Sid held up his fingers in a “Scouts Honor” gesture. She nodded in understanding. 

“Apparently in a fit of desperation, he lifted my bracelet from my wrist,” she answered. Sid immediately frowned and his jaw tensed. “Hey, he is part of your crew. You can’t be surprised.” Teddy walked towards the edge of the deck before turning back to face him. “Seriously, he didn’t think it through but there was no harm and no foul,” she said as she held out her bracelet. 

“Back to my question,” he quizzed.

“I took him down hard enough to get my message through,” she stared at him defiantly, “he won’t try it again - at least not with me.” 

Sid smiled, “You way tougher than I thought you were.”

“I used to not be tough, but Lex taught me,” she said out loud, “He turned me from a sheltered rich girl into someone with street smarts.”

“I’d love to hear how that happened,” he replied. 

“Story for another time,” she sighed. She steeled herself. Then she blurted out, “Mr. Crosby, what kind of business is this? I am not naive enough to believe that this is a completely legitimate operation, but I need to know just how far across the line will this job take Jamie?” She was careful to use his proper name. 

“Wow, you've got nerves of steel to ask me that,” Sid balked. 

For a moment, Teddy doubted herself but she pushed through it, “Lex,” she stopped herself, “I mean Jamie is more than capable to do whatever this job requires. I know that he has had to make ethically gray choices in the past.” She paused and considered shutting up but her protective nature spurred her on. “But he is a man of honor. He is not mean or malicious. I don’t want him to be  in a position where he would have to compromise his principles and character.” She took a deep breath, “I don't want to lose the man I love to a world of darkness.” 

Sid studied her for a moment. If there had been any doubt left about Oleksiak, she had removed it. Anyone who could inspire such gumption and loyalty was a person he wanted on his crew. Finally Sid spoke, “I won’t ask him to do that. I will not lie. We break the law on occasion.” She gave him a side eye. “Okay, we break the law a lot, but we do have a code that we follow.”

“Will he have to hurt people?” she asked brazenly.

“Yes, but nobody gets hurt that doesn’t deserve to be hurt,” he countered. 

“And women and children are off limits?” she asked to get confirmation of Burky’s remark.

“They are off limits and anyone who breaks that rule gets hurt,” Sid answered. 

“Well, then I think you have answered my questions,” she stated. 

“Good,” he smiled, “I’ll send Big Rig in so you can make your decision.”

Once Sid and Burky had left the cottage, Lex came back out to the deck. He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist and bent down to place his chin on her shoulder. “What are you thinking, Foz?” he asked quietly. 

“I am thinking that I want to know how the interview went. Do you like him? Does he like you? What does the job entail?” she leaned her body weight back and turned her head to face him. He took her hand and led her to the chaise lounge. He removed his jacket and got comfortable. Then he pulled her on top of his massive body. 

“Well, after the guns were put away, it went well,” he started. 

“Guns? What the hell, Lex!” she shouted. 

He smiled, “We sized each other up so to speak”

“And?” she asked. 

“And there is a reason that he is Sidney Fucking Crosby and runs all of Pennsylvania and half of NYC. He’s smart, shrewd and has balls of steel,” he answered. She rested her head on his chest as he went on to explain the job. She could hear the excitement in his voice. She could also hear how he was trying to tamper it down. He knew that she would allow his excitement to cloud her judgment and she knew that he knew it. 

“So did he offer you the job?” she asked. 

“Yeah,” he tried to answer casually. 

“What’s the hold up then?” she joked. 

“The money,” he answered. He continued when she squinted in confusion, “He said that I can name my price. Foz, I have no idea on what to ask for. This job is so far out of my league. I just don’t know.” His voice trailed off. 

“Hey,” she interjected, “This is not out of your league. He basically offered you a job on the spot for a reason. Don’t doubt yourself, Jamieson.” 

“Okay boss,” he tickled her side. 

Suddenly an idea hit and she dug out her phone. She started texting Steve, the former Secret Service agent, who headed her father’s security team. 

Teddy gulped when she read the last line. 

“What?” Lex asked as his eyes filled with tears. 

She handed the phone to Lex who read over the messages. “Daddio never changed the code,” she whispered, “so I could go back if I needed to.” 

“Foz,” he whispered, “If you want to stay in Dallas, we can stay in Dallas. I’ll find a way to make more money.” 

Her eyes flashed up at him, “You know I don’t give a shit about the money. It’s never been about the money.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his face. “Listen to me Jamieson Oleksiak. I chose you. I chose you and I will choose you over and over again,” she spoke urgently. “This is a fresh start for us and we’re not going to throw it away for a possibility,” she said firmly, “They made their choice and nothing in those texts changes that.” 

“But Foz, they’re your family,” he countered.

“No, you are my family. They threw me away when they couldn’t control me” she protested, “Would you throw me away?

He recoiled in horror, “Never.

 “It’s you and me forever.” she began reciting the familiar words. 

“No matter what” he joined in reciting their motto.

“Whatever it takes,” she finished. 

“So we have a decision made?” he smiled.

“Let’s move to Pittsburgh,” she answered. 

“Foz, I didn’t even ask about the cottage,” he realized, “Do you like it?”

“It needs a little TLC, but I like it,” she assured him, “Factor in redecorating in your salary request.” 

They spent a few more minutes in silence before he nudged them up. After a few minutes to take measurements, they strolled hand in hand back to the main house. Teddy started to find a seat in the living room as Lex went to find Sid. However, he kept a firm grip on her hand. Together they knocked on the door and entered the office together. 

“So what’s the verdict?” Sid asked.

“We’re in for the right price,” Lex answered. He took a deep breath, “500K should do it.”

“Okay,” the Canadian crime boss answered without pausing, “When can you start?”

“Wait,” Teddy interjected. Sid turned to her, “And a reno budget for the cottage.”

Sid blinked and then smiled, “Welcome to the family. Let’s go celebrate.” 

The crew sat in the private dining of Ciliegia, Sid’s preferred Italian restaurant. The usually all male crew felt invigorated by the presence of a woman. There was a sly game of one-up manship as they vied for Teddy’s attention. It had not taken them long to realize that the key to getting into the new boss’s good graces was getting into HER good graces. 

After much prodding from Sid, Teddy finally spilled the beans on Burky’s failed attempt to steal her bracelet. 

“I lifted it without you noticing,” Burky protested as he blushed, “At least give me credit for that.” 

“Yes, Andy,” she teased, “You did do that. Now what you were going to do with it once you had it, I have no idea.” 

“Andre… if you are not going to call me Burky, call me Andre,” he begged. 

“Why would I do that, Andy?” Teddy answered, “I think you should be glad that this is the only punishment I am going to dole out.” Lex watched with a bemused smile as the two bantered. 

Later, Sid asked the server to send his compliments to the chef for the delicious meal. They were surprised when the fiery redhead walked into the room. She wiped her hands on her apron as she approached Sid at the head of the table.  He stared at her, suddenly unable to speak. Startled glances were exchanged among the group before Lex spoke up to pass along the praise. The chef, Lizzie, nodded her head as she listened but her eyes were transfixed on the brunette Canadian. When she stumbled out of the room as she kept her gaze in his direction, Teddy and Lex shared a look.

As they walked out to go their separate ways, Sid nudged Lex, “I am pretty sure I just met my future wife.”

Lex stopped suddenly, “Don’t you think that you should know her name first?”

“I know her name,” Sid corrected, “It’s Mrs. Crosby.”

Lex laughed out loud, “Those redheads, I’ll tell you.” He glanced over at Teddy who was busy exchanging phone numbers, instagrams and snapchats with Seggy and Burky. “They’ll snatch your soul out of your body in an instant and never give it back,” he said with a smile. She turned to him and flashed a smile that melted his heart.

Lex pulled Teddy in a tight hug. “I lied earlier today, Foz” he whispered as he kissed the top of her head. 

“You did?” she looked up into his eyes, “about what?”

“I said that I am the only criminal in this relationship,” he smiled as he spoke, “That’s not true.”

“I’m a criminal now?” she playfully pouted, “Fine - I’ll get the suit cleaned and returned to Daddio’s closet. No harm, no foul.”

“I’m not talking about that, Foz,” he kissed her forehead. 

“Then how am I a criminal?” she poked his rock hard abs. 

“You stole my heart, just like a seasoned professional,” he bent down to kiss her gently, “Much better than the Swede.”

“Oh,” she returned his kiss, “In my defense, you stole mine first.” 

“Well, I am not giving it back,” he lifted her up to kiss her more deeply.

“Me either,” she wrapped her arms around his neck, “I am yours forever. No takeback and no exchanges.”

“I wouldn’t think of it,” he grinned as he carried her out to their waiting car, “I wouldn’t think of it.”

Chapter One-Trouble with a capital T-https://starshine-hockey-girl.tumblr.com/post/653360134099288064/trouble-with-a-capital-t-magical-mystery

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

Angela Well, now Pam and Cece are in the car and they call Jim. They call daddy. This is really cute. So sweet. 

Jenna But this is where Pam is going to find out that Jim is still in Philly and he's not going to make the recital. This investor might back out and Jim can't leave. 

Angela So Jim says Pam will you please film the recital. And he sort of starts talking to her, kind of condescending about how to film it. And she's like, look, I know how to point a rectangle at something and film it. 

Jenna And then he's like, okay. And then it's time to say goodbye. And then there's this pause, and then he's like, hey, Pam, you have to press end, you know, which is sort of meant to be like a dig at her phone skills. Lady... 

Angela Why can't Jim just hang up the phone? 

Jenna This is the scene. 

Angela Oh, that people were pissed off about? 

Jenna For so many reasons. I saw the mail for this episode, and I couldn't believe it. Where should I begin? I'll begin with Amanda C from Montreal, Canada. Amanda says, I have to go on a little rant about Jim, but maybe not from the moment you think. What absolutely grinds my gears about Jim's behavior is when Pam is on the phone with him in the car, and he implies that she doesn't know how to use her phone to video the recital by saying, See, Pam, you still need to hang up the phone. Excuse me, sir. She is driving. Can you not hang it up yourself? And then it will automatically end the call on her phone. Samantha L from Tampa, Florida said, The thing I actually cannot get past is the incident when Pam is in the car on the way to Cece's recital. Why is Jim giving Pam such a hard time for being bad with technology because she doesn't hang up the phone? Pam is driving with your child in the backseat. You hang up the phone, Jim! You're not the one that would need to take your hand off the wheel of a moving vehicle! Let's see. Samantha goes on to say, Who's the one who's really bad with the cell phone technology, huh? Spoiler alert, not Pam. Another letter from Nora E in New Orleans, Louisiana. I want to go on record to say that the tipping point moment when Jim has clearly gone full ass (BLEEP) is in this episode, when he's on the phone with me and he berates her for not hanging up the phone. She's driving. He's at work. He's clearly not in a huge rush to return to his meeting, since he's able to stay at his desk and what? Have a gotcha moment with his own wife? This scene in the car makes me so deeply angry. I need this full dickhead moment to be acknowledged. 

Angela I love that she puts full in front of her curse word. 

Jenna I know. 

Angela Full (BLEEP). I want to use that. He's gone full (BLEEP). 

Jenna I know. I know. So Ange, it's literally what you said. You said it. You're like, why can't he hang up the phone? This is just three of the letters we got about this moment. But this is very good foreshadowing for what is going to happen later, and I think an interesting dynamic in their relationship, which is that and I think some relationships have this. They've got the gotcha person. Oh, I got to point out the little thing. Gotcha. You know, you said that you are good at cleaning out the fridge, but- gotcha. Found a rotten tomato or whatever it is. You know, the gotcha people, the gotcha moments which are just, like, so toxic for a relationship. 

Angela It's petty. 

Jenna Pettiness. 

Angela It's pettiness. 

Jenna Yeah. But Jim's in a mood. He's stressed. He's not handling it well. In conclusion, I hope that us discussing it today on the podcast has brought some of you relief, because the number of heated letters we got about this moment, I felt it. 

Angela We also asked Kelly Cantley about directing this scene, and here's what she had to say. 

Kelly Cantley Cece in the car. Surprisingly, Cece in the car was really hard to shoot because Cece was a little girl and little kids don't do lines. So Jenna, I don't know if you remember, we shot all of your dialogue and then we shot lots of both of us taking turns just saying the lines. I think we started with you doing it. And then we wanted to go from you to the little girl so we would see you talking. So you did it a few times where you would just say her line and she would say it back. And I believe I did it a bunch of times on the speaker in the car. So I actually had forgotten that until I watched the episode again. 

Jenna actually did remember that. I had such a great rapport with those little girls. Not to toot my own horn, but I'm 50 now, which is the decade of tooting your own horn. 

Angela It's time to toot. 

Jenna Bailey and Sienna. I just loved them so much, and we would do a thing where we would do, like, repeat me. So I would say their line and they would say their line, and we made a little game out of it. They did great. 

Angela I thought it was so cute. Those girls were so cute. 

[microsuedemouse]

oh god what’s happening in canada?

short answer: nationwide outages affecting internet & phone services, which started… about 16 hours ago now, as I’m writing this?

somewhat longer answer, with the disclaimer that I Am Not A News Source: Canada has three telecommunication companies - Rogers, Telus, and Bell. (this is a Whole Issue in itself, and one I am not qualified to explain.) all other phone/internet service providers are technically using the infrastructure of one of those companies. so like, my cell carrier is a company called Koodo, but Koodo uses Telus’s towers (etc.) for everything it does.

starting just before 5 am EST today, Rogers internet and phone services just Went Down. nationwide. coast to coast. as a result of this, Interac is largely down (that’s our interbank service - so no one can use their debit or credit cards anywhere, nor can they e-transfer money), most of our major banks are borked one way or another, 911 and emergency services are crippled in places and overloaded with panicked callers even where they’re working fine, public transit fare systems are reportedly affected??, public government services are a mess, basically everyone is lost. a massive The Weeknd concert in Toronto got cancelled lol? here’s an article from the globe and mail about where the impacts are being felt. basically imagine if roughly a third of your country just. lost all mobile and internet communication. yikes. (I haven’t looked up numbers btw, I don’t know how close it is to A Third, I’m just ballparking it bc Three Companies)

part of what’s crazy about this is that Rogers has yet to release any information about what caused this. they also can’t tell us when anything will be fixed. even the folks who still have internet and/or phone service are affected, especially by the debit/credit issue. like… especially after the last few years we’ve had, with everyone avoiding cash as much as possible, nobody’s prepared for a day of cash-only service essentially everywhere.

here’s the CBC article I’ve had an eye on with regular essential updates

as a somewhat more personal thought to add here - part of the problem with having only three telecommunication services in the entire country is that there’s essentially no competition, meaning their prices can be ridiculous. one place we feel that a lot is mobile data. so even though I’m lucky enough to still have cell/data service, I haven’t been using it most of the day. over the years my dad and I have used a series of special offers to get my plan up to 2 gigs a month at a fairly reasonable price, but I personally know plenty of folks with less! and I habitually try not to use much of it, in case I have a situation where I really need it. I could prob fuck around online more rn than I have been, but I wouldn’t want to watch videos or stream music or download anything. ESPECIALLY without knowing when the wifi will be back.

anyway. this is absurd and we’re all suffering. please cross your fingers for us lol

[apomaro-mellow]

oooh, wrong number for wip wednesday?? - matchingbatbites

The fact that you're on anon but also signed with a url really makes me feel like i'm talking to a person wearing a trench coat wearing @matchingbatbites icon for a mask but i got a low perception so i had you the money anyway

Eddie looked at the time. Had he really been texting this guy for over an hour? Eddie was a night owl by nature but it had been a while since he spent it just talking to someone.

[I should probably let you sleep. It's getting late]

Nevermind that he didn't even know what time zone the dude was in. He recognized the area code but the great thing about cell phones was that you could take them anywhere. This guy could be all the way in Canada for all he knew.

Send me a WIP and make me write

[aintmyjewelry]

heyy <3 what are the 8 seconds of static?

oh this was FUNNY lmao

we are, fittingly, going back to the 1989 era for this one!!

so, once again, let me set the stage for this one. this peculiar event occurred around late October 2014, i believe just a few days before the actual release of 1989. prior to this event, taylor had released three tracks early: Shake it Off, Out of the Woods, and Welcome to New York. we had already gotten a little taste of 1989 and were just itching for the rest. but it was like right around the corner and you think that would curb the swifties appetite but NO

anyways, before diving into what happened (this is probably the shortest story i've told yet lmao), i need to also give some context for what buying and listening to music was like at this time. In 2014, streaming was beginning to creep it's way on to dominating the music industry, but it wasn't the main way people listened to music. Spotify was around but iTunes (Apple Music wasn't a thing yet) was still the big man on campus and people would actively buy iTunes cards (or use their credit card) to purchase single songs for $1.29 or entire albums (they were usually about $12 or so?) off of iTunes.

i personally can attest to this as I was buying music this way until like 2017. I even purchased the first songs off 1989 from iTunes.

so with all of these components in mind, you will see how the 8 seconds of static became a ludicrous, hilarious event in the Swiftie History Books.

this particular event was localized to Canada! (Shout out canadian swifties, congrats on the rogers center shows!) I actually didn't realize this was just a Canada event because I had heard so much about it but didn't see it for myself I had just assumed I was too late to witness it on iTunes.

but basically what happened was in late October 2014, swifities were just chilling in the late hours of the night when all of a sudden they noticed that a new song from 1989 had hit iTunes. weirdly, though, there was no title. it was just called "Track 3" but it was available to purchase, it was on 1989, and taylor's name was attached to it. so before anyone could blink, the swifties were PURCHASING it. It was $1.29, just like any other single, and they went feral. throwing something out as a surprise hasn't really ever been taylor's thing, like we know at least a few hours before something happens that it's happening but the girlies did not care. they purchase this mysterious track from 1989 title "Track 3"

and it shot to number 1 on the iTunes charts immediately

now i can't remember the way that iTunes was set up back then, especially on cell phones (people were rarely using it on computers anymore), but i don't think people could see the length of this supposed song before purchasing or if they could, it didn't stand out.

so, when the swifties went to play the track, they were greeted by....nothing. absolutely nothing. it was static. 8 seconds of pure static noise.

there was no song. there was nothing. it was actually just a glitch in the iTunes system and thankfully nothing leaked......but also, swifties had shot a song of static to number one within minutes. it was hilarious.

it was hilarious that 1) they even noticed that something had been released and 2) that no one questions anything they just bought it

it was literally called Track 3, nothing else, and the girlies went crazy. they spent $1.29 on it.

i see some article suggest that people thought it was a "snippet" of the album but to spend $1.29 on that is wonderful. perfect comedy. AI couldn't write this!!

anyways, once people realized what it was they took to socials in completely confusion and amazement that the power of swifties and hype of taylor swift was THIS wild. eventually, though, the "song" was removed and neither taylor no iTunes really commented on it. but i'm not sure if people who spent their money were refunded (any Canadian swiftie who did spend their money, please let me know if you were refunded!)

i mean we have clowned and broken ticketmaster but this level of just blind spending is unmatched.

---

source 1 (photo 1)

source 2 (photo 2)

source 3

source 4

[unknownworlds4]

Aokigahara Forest, Japan. Aokigahara is forest located in Yamanashi Prefecture on the island of Honshu, Japan. It is on the Northwestern flank of Mount Fuji. It’s also known as the “Sea of Trees”. Although it’s a popular destination for tourists, the forest is historically associated as a popular destination for suicides, earning it the nickname “Suicide Forest”. Every year, dozens of people venture into the forest with the intention of taking their own lives. Some claim it’s between 30 to 100 each year. It’s gotten to the point where the government had stopped publishing the statistics in order to prevent further deaths. Signs have been posted along the trails encouraging those considering ending their own lives to think of their families and call a suicide prevention association. Every year, teams are assembled to comb the forest for bodies.

Japan has a long tradition of suicide as an honorable practice. For example, Samurai practiced seppuku - a ritualistic suicide method by plunging a blade into their abdomen and disemboweling themselves, followed by decapitation as an act of mercy. Samurai performed this to prevent themselves being taken prisoner or restore lost honor. According to folklore, the forest was also used in the practice of Ubasute. This was practice of taking an elderly relative into the wilderness during times of hardship or famine and abandon them to the elements, where they would die of exposure or starvation. There is, however, no evidence that this ritual was actually practiced. Suicide rates in Japan spiked during the financial crisis in 2008, and have risen again in recent years. The most common method used in the forest is hanging. According to legend, Aokigahara is also haunted. It’s said that the forest is inhabited by yūrei - vengeful and evil spirits of the dead who lure travelers off of the path and lead them to get lost and disoriented, or encourage them to take their own lives. They are said to be the ghosts of suicide or ubasute victims. According to myth, Yūrei are created if a person dies a sudden or violent death, dies with strong negative feelings like rage or depression, or is not buried properly.

Adding to tense atmosphere, is the condition of the forest itself. It’s very easy to get lost in the forest. The trees are incredibly dense in some places, and the ground consists of porous lava rock that absorbs sound, making it both very quiet and difficult for sound to travel. It gives this place a very isolated feeling. The soil has a high iron content that interferes with GPS and cell phone signals. There are some who claim that compasses have malfunctioned and only spun in circles. This, however, is regarded as false. The dense foliage can block light from reaching the forest floor, hiding rocks and roots from view.

If you, or anyone you know, is considering suicide, please know that you are not alone out there. There are people who can help you. If you’re considering taking your own life please contact a suicide prevention helpline. Numbers for various crisis hotlines can be found below. Help is out there.

United States: 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline, 988; Trans Lifeline, 1-877-565-8860; The Trevor Project, 1-866-488-7386; Veterans Crisis Line, 988 press 1

United Kingdom & Ireland: Samaritans, 116 123

Canada: Talk Suicide, 1-833-456-4566; Trans Lifeline, 1-877-330-6366

Australia: Lifeline, 13 11 14

New Zealand: Samaritans, 0800 72 66 66

Japan: TELL Japan, 03-5774-0992; Childline Japan, 0102-99-7777

[jheselbraum]

I don't understand why different countries have different emergency numbers.

I'm not even saying they all have to be 911 (though props to Ethiopia, Liberia, Saudi Arabia, Fiji, Marshall Islands, Micronesia, Palau, Tonga, Tuvalu, Belize, Costa Rica, Panama, Aruba, Cayman Islands, Grenada, St Kitts and Nevis, Dominican Republic, Bermuda, Canada, Mexico, Argentina, Bolivia, Ecuador, Paragua, Peru, and Uruguay for agreeing that 911 is the best emergency number) but at the very least we as a planet should just pick one emergency number and stick with it. Could be as stupid as 420 for all I care. I just.

Say you're from Greece. Your emergency numbers (yes, plural, because apparently some government sickos decided that everyone from small children all the way up through postgrad students are going to be able to effectively remember multiple emergency numbers when they're panicking and decide on their own which one to call. And this isn't a specific callout to Greece so many countries do this) are 100 166 and 199. So you go on like, a mini vacation over to, let's say Germany. I'm not sure why you'd go from Greece to Germany on vacation but whatever it's the next country I could think of that's in the EU. So you go over to Germany and you have to change over nothing. Both countries use the Euro and you don't have to show your passport, you don't even have to worry about cell phone service, everything will be charged exactly the same as if you were making phone calls from your home country. The only thing that's different is the last thing you're going to be thinking about in an emergency: what number you're supposed to call. In Germany, their emergency numbers are 110 and 112.

I'm not even pulling this out of my ass, there've been cases where people were in actual emergencies, who were residents of the country they were in when the emergency happened, but who dialed the emergency number from their home country instead because the whole point of an emergency number is to keep it short and simple so you just dial it on instinct when something happens, without having to stop and think about it.

Like. Regardless of if you're in one of the cool countries that only use one emergency number (redirects count for this, some countries you can dial a variety of common emergency numbers and get redirected to the local emergency dispatch) or one of the countries that doesn't... quite understand how people react in an emergency situation. (Some of these countries have as many as six potential emergency numbers you can call. Six), when you call your country's emergency number you're directed to your local dispatch, so it's not like if I call 911 in Mexico I'm going to get connected to 911 dispatch in the US accidentally, even if I'm pretty close to the border.

I don't care if it's 123, 666, 420, 69, 999, 112, 911, 10 111, 000, we need to pick one.

[misspetsyourcats]

Things men have offered me in exchange for ownership, a nonexhaustive list:

- goats

- heroin

- “as much alcohol as I want”

- “the good weed”

- a farm full of goats

- a house

- a cruise every year

- shoes

- an apartment

- legal guardianship over said man

- more goats

- dabs

- “you’ll feel better trust me”

- enlightenment and the knowledge of gods

- weed and a massage

- $5

- a boat

- canadian citizenship

- the truth behind the CIA

- goats but only 3 this time

- a nice fish

- a truck

- also a truck but it was a toy and he was 6

- 16 alpacas and 2 goats

- plumbing work

- a space on his private bunker homestead

- sex with his wife

- a nice rifle

- the blessings of the old gods on my womb

- the “joys of birthing the next aryan generation”

- an enchanted knife and spoon

- a gold thumb ring with some sort of spirit in it

- not making me pay for condoms

- a whiskey tonic

- carrying my bag

- a tick

- “my heart”

- his virginity

- 150 goats

- tricare

- a house in Canada

- the position of holy whore in his totally-not-cult

- a joint that was 90% sage

- “the privilege of being owned by a true alpha”

- a collection of automatic rifles

- position as head of the harem he did not have

- “it’s a secret drug formula from the russian mafia, just lick the powder off my hand”

- goats AND the pen they live in

- he will make me toast

- airfare to his apartment

- “if you never have to be sober you’ll be happy by my side regardless, just pick your poison”

- free tattoos

- a coffee

- a coffee and a trip to france

- just the trip to france

- a cell phone that he would pay

- a single goat

- pretty rocks

- “I won’t hit you”

- a whole group of goats and a nice dress and wellies to tend the goats

- 40 acres of logging and gravel pits

- his dad’s house

- a few goats and some sheep

- to never give me a traffic ticket

- a nice pocketknife

- his ex’s lingerie

- as much vodka as I want but no jäger

- a four course homecooked meal

- everything in my etsy favorites

- his sister

- his FAVORITE goat

- a beach house

- position as his first wife

- position as his second wife

- a firearm he made in his garage delivered to me every few weeks

- protection from his militia

- the blessings of a god from dungeons and dragons

- to never need to see him again (as long as we had sex)

- only 8 goats (the ninth was his mother’s)

- health insurance

- use of his home gym

- literal godhood, as in he would bestow the power upon me

- meth.

- him stabbing me 37 times (not 81, that was for more important people)

- I could meet his ghost

- he would keep the ghosts away

- psychic powers

- keys to a nissan altima currently located in a ravine 20+ miles offroad

- his plug’s phone number

- cheese

- a pen

- a goat pen *but not the goats in it*

- his dad’s house (don’t worry the dad will die soon)

- an illegally imported russian sniper rifle

- a dog

- flowers once a week forever

- “if you don’t marry me my mom will be sad”

- a horse

- country club membership

- shrooms

- his left kidney

- a few acres of forest and pasturelands

- a new iphone

- good grades in x class

- a baby goat

- a tractor WITH the gas in it

- cocaine

- a free tattoo (but only one)

- a plant (iirc a lily)

- a gangbang every month

- a cashew farm

- a room in his house to be mine forever

- goat cheese

[lettheladylead]

running in circles

chapter forty: desperate to have my heart returned summary: Goldie gets an unexpected phone call. warnings: references to sex, nothing explicit wordcount: 2246 playlist (will be updated as chapters are posted): shorturl.at/bfBCQ ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33776632/chapters/99134127 site link: https://sites.google.com/view/running-in-circles/chapters/chapter40

here’s chapter forty!! text will also be included in this post for those of you that don’t use ao3:

2006; Dawson:

When Dickie first entered her life, Goldie was unsure how things would change. Would she finally feel that maternal warmth that women were supposed to feel around vulnerable children? Would she feel responsibility and strength and unconditional love? Would she feel like she’d finally filled the empty hole in her heart that she could never fill no matter how many things she stole?

She would not.

She felt a sense of duty, at the very least, towards the late Dawsie of Dawson City. Knowing that she’d left such a significant impact on that girl was the biggest surprise of the last decade. And she certainly liked Dickie - she was a fun kid who didn’t want for much and didn’t whine when Goldie brought her on trips.

That being said…Goldie was starting to get exhausted.

She was ashamed of herself for it, considering the minimal amount of time she actually spent one-on-one with Dickie. Eight-year-olds weren’t exactly capable of taking care of themselves, so when they went on trips together Goldie would hire a babysitter to come with. It made things less intimate, but it was safer. For Dickie and for Goldie.

But it also meant that sometimes Goldie felt like she didn’t really know the kid at all. She’d mention a friend from school or a show she was watching and Goldie knew she was supposed to get the reference, but she didn’t. And unlike with Scrooge or Scrooge’s family, she couldn’t just say she didn’t care or dismiss it as nothing. She knew that kind of parental feedback had a weird and unforgiving effect on kids.

But she was really struggling. She wanted to give Dickie a good life. A better life than she’d had or Dawsie had had, if she could. And she was starting to realize that that better life wasn’t going to be in Canada with her ‘Grandma Goldie’.

(It didn’t help that Goldie had spent one hundred years double-crossing and stealing, earning herself a good number of enemies. Thanks to her decision to get out of the spotlight thirty years ago, no one had come after her in a long time. But there was always a possibility that someone would. And having a headstrong and rambunctious child around could make things messier.)

Goldie sat at her computer, patiently waiting for it to boot up. She wasn’t used to computers yet, but she liked having one around. It was good for Dickie, too - gave the kid something to play games on.

She needed to do some research on her options. She didn’t want to stop being Dickie’s guardian, but she didn’t think she should be taking care of her anymore. Maybe a boarding school kind of situation would be the best option. Dawson didn’t have any good schools and definitely no career opportunities for when Dickie got older. Goldie didn’t want to force another child to work at the Blackjack, and she deserved to go to a school that could give her plenty of options. Or maybe…

Her landline phone started to ring and Goldie sighed. Good thing she hadn’t opened up any internet browsers yet, though she couldn’t imagine who would be calling her landline. She only gave out her cell phone number nowadays, so it must’ve been someone…special.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Aunt Goldie…”

Goldie’s eyes widened. No one had called her that in years, especially not since she tore into the two kids who called her that most often. She wasn’t their aunt and didn’t particularly enjoy the reminder that she and Scrooge were constantly struggling with their relationship status.

“...Della?”

“Yeah. Um…yeah. How are you?”

The blonde rolled her eyes and looked back at the computer. Her research was put on hold for idle chit-chat? “I’m fine. Why did you call me?”

Della let out a short laugh. “Right. Always straight to the point with you.”

“Don’t act like that’s a bad thing. So what’s going on? Is something wrong with Scrooge?”

“No, no! Nothing like that.”

Goldie felt herself calm down, though she hadn’t even realized she was nervous in the first place. Her heart had jumped to some bad conclusions before her brain could notice. “Then what’s up?”

Della took a deep breath. “I…needed to talk to someone. About…something.”

“Uh-huh.”

“This is so-! Argh, okay, it’s like…” Della mumbled and stuttered, going back and forth over her words and leaving Goldie wondering what the hell was happening. “It’s like this…”

“Will you spit it out already?”

“I’m pregnant!”

The phone went completely silent after her outburst. Goldie pulled it away from herself and stared down at the receiver, not quite sure what to make of that. She brought it back against her head and tried not to sound too confused. “I…okay? Do you want me to say congratulations or is this about something else?”

Della laughed. “No! Well, maybe, but no! I need your advice. Woman-to-woman!”

Goldie felt like she was getting whiplash. What was happening? “Don’t you think your mother would be better suited for this? Or Matilda? Or, I don’t know, Twenty-Two?!”

“No! I needed to talk to someone, well…outside of the family.”

And there it was again. That little reminder that she wasn’t one of them. Goldie found the ‘Aunt Goldie’ nickname especially annoying because she was constantly being reminded of her outsider status. She couldn’t be family and also not be family, but Scrooge and his kids were inconsistent. She was family when they wanted her to be, and not when they didn’t. She wondered if anyone else out there was dragged around in the same way.

“Why’s that?”

“I’m just worried they’ll say something to Uncle Scrooge and I’m-...I don’t know. I want to tell him myself. Or maybe not tell him at all?”

“Oh.” Goldie hadn’t realized the nature of the advice Della was looking for until that moment. “You’re thinking of getting rid of it?”

“I-I don’t know! I just want to think about my options before I go announcing it to everyone, that’s all.”

“Well…what does the dad think?”

Della let out another short, awkward laugh. “Um…about that.”

“You didn’t tell him, either?” Goldie was a little surprised by that.

“No, no, I just…don’t know who the dad is.”

“...wow.”

“Wh-?! Don’t judge me! I was…it’s been a crazy summer, okay?”

Goldie held up a hand defensively, even though Della couldn’t see her. “No, no, no judgment here. You’re young, you should have all the crazy summers you want.”

“...”

“A little protection wouldn’t make your summer any less crazy, though.”

“Come on, I’m already kicking myself enough as it is!”

“Yeah, alright. Well you know I can’t help you make a decision like that. It’s your life.”

“Well, that’s not so much the issue as…like…” Della lost her words again and started mumbling. “...you’ve known Uncle Scrooge longer than anyone.”

“Probably not longer than your grandparents, but sure.”

“Do you think he’ll be mad at me?”

Goldie was caught off-guard by the question and blinked slowly. Would Scrooge be upset by an unplanned pregnancy? He was excited when his sister started trying and he loved her kids more than anyone in the world. He wasn't always great with change, but that'd been improving lately and he enjoyed certain changes more than others. A baby, even an unexpected one, would be welcome.

Though Goldie had spent most of their relationship thinking he had no interest in kids or a big family or anything like that, recent years had shown her otherwise. Either he’d changed his mind after having kids forced into his life, or she’d misinterpreted him from the beginning.

“...no, Flygirl. He’s not going to be mad.”

Della still sounded unsure when she responded with a quiet, “...really?”

Goldie knew Scrooge could be intimidating, but she felt a little bad for Della. Why was this girl so sure that he’d be angry? Had he said something rude about her sleeping around? Or maybe he hadn’t said anything about anything and she really didn’t know what to expect. It was certainly a unique situation they were in.

“Really. I think he’ll be more excited than you’ve ever seen him.”

“O-oh!” Della responded, noticeably perked up. “I…yeah, no, you’re…you’re right. I don’t know why I’m so nervous about this.”

“You’ve got an egg growing inside you, it’s going to make things weird for a while.”

“An egg,” Della repeated, sounding almost dreamy. “It’s so weird to think about. I mean, I always thought I’d be a mother someday, but…well, not this soon, but it’s no big deal, right? It’s not like I won’t be able to provide for the kid.”

“Uh-huh,” Goldie mumbled. She was glad that Della felt more comfortable, but she was also getting tired of their conversation. Scrooge and kids, Scrooge and family, Scrooge, Scrooge, Scrooge. It made her feel uncomfortable. It made her feel pathetic.

“Did you, um…” Della asked suddenly. “Did you ever want to be a mom?”

Goldie felt a harsh no on her tongue, ready to jump into the phone and strangle the girl on the other end of the line. She didn’t like personal questions like that, especially not from Scrooge’s family. The family that was distinctly not hers. And now she was in this odd sort of maternal relationship with Dickie, who hadn’t done anything wrong but still managed to make Goldie feel confused and conflicted just from her presence. But the specific question - did she want to be a mother - left an impact on her. The word want was heavy. Did she ever really want it? She thought about it, definitely thought about it. Got sad about not having the option. But did she ever actually want it?

“...no, not really,” Goldie finally said, though Della didn’t seem to notice any hesitation.

“Yeah, I get it,” Della started to ramble. “I think Aunt Matilda was the same way ‘til she took in Gladstone for a while. You know about that, right?”

“Della.” Goldie cut off the conversation with another sigh. “I have work I need to do.”

“O-oh, yeah. Right, of course.” Della sounded awkward and a bit disappointed, which wasn’t much of a surprise. “Thank you for talking to me. A-and for listening.”

“You caught me at a good time,” Goldie responded.

“Yeah?” Della asked, already having forgotten that the conversation was supposed to be ending. “We’re headed to Rio de Janeiro tonight. The three of us. Well, four, I guess!”

“Sounds like a blast.” Goldie massaged her forehead, trying her best not to get a headache from the young duck’s enthusiasm. “But like I said, I’ve got work to do, so…”

“Right! Yes, yeah, okay.” Della cleared her throat. “Thank you again. See you, um…see you around?”

“Who knows, Flygirl, maybe you will.”

Goldie hung up the phone and moved back towards her computer. Finally she could get back to what she had been doing, though obviously that conversation with Della had her a little rattled. She needed to focus on the task at hand and not focus on the subject of Scrooge and family and babies and-

Rio de Janeiro. Brazil. Goldie liked Brazil.

She tapped her fingers against the desk while the internet connected. Brazil had nice weather. It was a huge country with lots of people and opportunities and schools. Without even checking, Goldie knew of an English-speaking boarding school in São Paulo. There were probably more than that. But most importantly…Goldie had a guy there.

Papudo Pelicano - an old associate that helped her smuggle some artifacts on his ship many, many years ago. Goldie hadn’t exactly kept in touch with him, but in the late ‘70s they'd worked together enough times to build a rapport. She'd helped him out of one or two jams back in the day, and she would bet good money he'd said ‘I owe you one!’ to her at least once.

If she remembered correctly, he wasn’t far from São Paulo. She wouldn’t stick Dickie with him, of course, but if she wanted to send her somewhere far from Dawson and safe from harm, it’d be nice to know someone nearby. Dickie would feel more comfortable, probably. And she’d be able to make some friends instead of being stuck hanging out with hotel employees and a grumpy old lady all the time.

Explaining all of this to Dickie might take some time. She’d only been living in Dawson for four years, but before that she'd been over in Anchorage. The kid needed to live somewhere warmer. It would match her personality better. 

As the web page for Colegio Brasil Canada finally came up, Goldie frowned. Would Dickie feel like she was being abandoned? Goldie wasn’t a stranger to abandoning people that needed her, but she didn’t want Dickie to feel that way. If this was happening, then she’d have to go down and visit often. At least three or four times a year.

And she’d listen, of course. If Dickie said she hated it down there, Goldie would go grab her and try somewhere else. She deserved to be happy and comfortable and surrounded by friends.

Goldie sighed and scrolled down the page. It looked nice. She’d have to check it out for herself, of course, but…they even had movie nights and acting classes. Dickie would thrive at a place like that.

After an hour of research, she grabbed a nearby notebook and made a note to buy two tickets to Brazil. There was no time like the present, after all.

---

---

REAL HISTORY: - Colegio Brasil Canada is a real boarding school. You may be thinking, "Carro, was it really necessary for you to find a real Canada-Brazilian English speaking boarding school that takes children from preschool to high school and that existed in 2006?" Yes it was. - I don't know if all of my readers are old enough to remember dial-up, and maybe you'll think 2006 is late for dial-up. But in a tiny place in the middle of nowhere like Dawson City, they didn't have many options for internet until a little later. Anyway that's why Goldie couldn't be on the internet while also on the phone.

DUCK FRANCHISE: - I'm just gonna establish this now: in this fic, the boys were born in 2007. This means the series starts in 2016, with the Mount Neverrest episode being Christmas of 2016, and then Goldie first appears in the series in 2017. - Papudo is an unused character from Dickie's Brazilian comic series Os Adolescentes! He was listed as Dickie's "uncle" but I think it's obvious he's just a family friend referred to as uncle since that's what kids n teens do in many cultures and languages.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

This day in history

Tomorrow (June 5) at 7:15PM, I’m in London at the British Library with my novel Red Team Blues, hosted by Baroness Martha Lane Fox.

On Tuesday (June 6), I’m on a Rightscon panel about interoperability.

#15yrsago British Telecom’s eavesdropping software crashed browsers https://www.wired.com/2008/06/isp-spying-made/

#15yrsago Entertainment industry accuses campus laser-printers of downloading Indiana Jones https://archive.nytimes.com/bits.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/06/05/the-inexact-science-behind-dmca-takedown-notices/

#10yrsago Scenes from #OccupyGezi https://occupygezipics.tumblr.com/post/52217650905/a-young-girl-sells-anonymous-masks-in-taksim

#10yrsago Anonymizing is really hard really, so why is the EU acting like it’s easy? https://www.theguardian.com/technology/blog/2013/jun/05/data-protection-eu-anonymous

#10yrsago Beast Academy: grade three math textbooks in monster comics form https://memex.craphound.com/2013/06/05/beast-academy-grade-three-math-textbooks-in-monster-comics-form/

#5yrsago Rob Ford crack-smoking video is “gone” https://www.gawker.com/the-rob-ford-crack-video-might-be-gone-511254183

#5yrsago HOWTO make edible Aliens eggs and chestbursters https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0bxYD2fF1XA

#5yrsago Facebook is the hub of the global trade in endangered species: can securities law be used to force the company into action? https://www.wired.com/story/tusks-horns-and-claws-inside-the-fight-to-destroy-the-animal-parts-bazaar-on-facebook/

#5yrsago For more than a decade, Facebook shared your friends’ data and other sensitive info with phone makers, even after they claimed not to (they’re still doing it) https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2018/06/03/technology/facebook-device-partners-users-friends-data.html

#5yrsago Bayer and Monsanto merge into a new company called “Bayer” because Nazis have a better reputation than Big Ag https://www.reuters.com/article/us-monsanto-m-a-bayer-closing/with-deal-to-close-this-week-bayer-to-retire-monsanto-name-idUSKCN1J00IZ

#5yrsago This viral campaign video for a progressive New York Democratic primary challenger cost less than $10K and spread like wildfire https://theintercept.com/2018/06/05/ocasio-cortez-new-york-14th-district-democratic-primary-campaign-video/

#5yrsago It’s really easy to steal your cellphone number, and that’s a gateway to stealing everything else https://www.consumerreports.org/scams-fraud/cell-phone-account-fraud/

#5yrsago Rob Ford’s brother is running for Ontario Premier, but Rob Ford’s widow is suing him for stealing millions from the family https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/toronto/doug-ford-faces-multimillion-dollar-lawsuit-1.4691378

#1yrago The Big Box of Sparkly Unicorn Magic https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/05/heavenly-nostrils/#better-than-calvin

Catch me on tour with Red Team Blues in London and Berlin!